She stood and listened with her eyes And ears and heart—cheek, lip and brow Serene with happiness which shone, Like sunlight over snow. And with a breathless eloquence Which, more than words or vows, exprest Her boundless confidence, she hid Her blushes in his breast. EPILOGUE. One day, in early autumn time, In spirit, I traversed the plain, And sought De Vere’s ancestral towers, And gazed on them again. They stood in green and glorious age; The rooks wheeled round the ancient walls, And peals of mirthful merriment Peopled the castle halls— Loud laughs, which made the watchful deer, With ears thrown forward, look and bleat And seek a covert, while the sounds Followed their pattering feet. The swallows, twittering in the air, Seemed sharers in the general gladness; The stares from oak and beach and elm, Chattered in merry madness. Across the drawbridge, as I gazed, A merry, laughing cavalcade, With dogs in leash and hawk on hand, Dashed madly down the glade. Among them, stateliest of them all, Sat one whose broad and ample brow, Though white with time, was full of life As lichen under snow. And by his side, with smiling eye, And swelling breast, in robes of green, Rode one, round whom the nobles prest As round a loving queen. And after, hand on hip, two youths Rode gayly onward, side by side, Returning with admiring love Their parents’ glance of pride. While in the distance, like a sire Who sees at Christmas festival His happy children laughing round, Smiled the baronial hall. * * * * * THE DIAL-PLATE. BY A. J. REQUIER. All rusty is the iron grate That girds the garden desolate, But there it stands, the dial-plate, A thing of antiquated date, Right opposite the sun. The wild moss and the fern have grown Upon its quaint, old-fashioned stone, And earthy mounds about it strown Seem each to say, in solemn tone, “A race is run!”