Lighting the lonely taper of a thought— Lone and forlorn, solely entranced I sit, While night, in silence deeper dipt for aye, Hushes to midnight in a weirdish calm. I may not muse the low abasing earth That ever yearn beyond its sensual coil— Nor all the stars, th’ ambitions stars sublime, Sprinkling the liquid blue on witching nights— But in the hazy precincts of a dream, Soft-pacing, like a shade, erring I roam. Go to, go to, ye winds with wasting moan, And chase the shadows through the woody aisles, And gild the sleep-drunk earth with slender beam, Ye stars that watch the undulating sea! While dimly I, with memory’s torch alight, And fancy’s shifting prism, chase my will, My own dear will, incessant through and through The antique halls of the Past’s dusky dome. And now the glimmering of a friendly face Grows haze-like through the gloom; and now a burst Of hateful passion in my childish soul; And now a coterie of friends enring My heart with sunshine, lighting up the dim For many a dream-land rood. But soon a shape Comes brightening on and on into a face Of serious loveliness and graceful form, With eyes lit up in sweet expectancy, And slanted earthward so to veil their joy:— My sister at her bridal, know’t is she! And then again, drooped as with hidden wo, As one doth bide a threatened stormy shock, And, trembling ever, yet affirmed and strong, Doth linger till its coming; her I see, Clinging with tendrils of enhanced love To one pale image ever at her side Until the cloud shall drop its deathly store. A rainy burial on a sullen day, When all the heaven showers its hoarded gloom, Melts in and out the vision as I dream, And the wild strangeness of the pale farewell— And scattered sobs unclosing all the heart— Blend darkly with the varying of my thought; Till the starred midnight and the homeless wind Thrill in upon the sense with light and sound, Bringing me back from visions unto tears. * * * * * =SPORTING ADVENTURES IN INDIA.= =FROM THE M. S. OF A HIGHLAND OFFICER.=