In the cabinet of M. Villaneu is an antique vase of elegant proportions and beautiful workmanship that was fished up from the sea. It is wreathed with coral and madripore, in the most grotesque manner. The play of Imagination I hope will not be considered too free in supposing it had been used in ancient sacrifices, at the founding of cities, and the revels of royalty. Ages have passed since, amid the gale, A votive gift to the god of the sea Thou wert cast where the Tyrian’s broidered sail O’er the Adrian wave swept wildly free: And we muse, as we gaze on thy tarnished gleam, On the vanished past in a quiet dream. Where ancient temples once flashed with gold Thou hast stood with the priest at the holy shrine— Where in amber wreaths the incense rolled, Thou hast shed thy treasure of votive wine: Now the temples are fallen—the altars lone, And the white-robed priest and his gods are gone. Where the augur waved and the monarch prayed Thy font has the full libation poured; And when the city walls were laid The palace rose and the castle towered: But they sunk by the engine and Time’s dark flood, And the wild grass waves where the columns stood. In the festal halls where eyes grew bright, And pulses leaped at the viol’s sound, Thou hast winged the hours with mystic flight, As the feast and the mazy dance went round: Now mosses the mouldering walls encrust, And the pulseless hearts of the guests are dust. Yes creeds have changed, and forms have grown old— Empires and nations have faded away Since the grape last purpled thy shining gold; And grandeur and greatness have met decay Since the beaded bubbles of old did swim, Like rubies, around thy jewelled brim. * * * * * THE OLD WORLD. BY GEORGE LUNT. There was once a world and a brave old world, Away in the ancient time, When the men were brave and the women fair, And the world was in its prime; And the priest he had his book, And the scholar had his gown, And the old knight stout, he walked about With his broadsword hanging down. Ye may see this world was a brave old world, In the days long past and gone, And the sun it shone, and the rain it rained, And the world went merrily on. The shepherd kept his sheep, And the milkmaid milked the kine, And the serving-man was a sturdy loon In a cap and doublet fine. And I’ve been told in this brave old world, There were jolly times and free, And they danced and sung, till the welkin rung, All under the greenwood tree. The sexton chimed his sweet sweet bells, And the huntsman blew his horn, And the hunt went out, with a merry shout, Beneath the jovial morn.