Of yore, in vernal beauty smiled This spot of earth so drear and wild, And you might chance to see a child, Up-scrambling on the gray stones piled Around the dial-plate; Then might you hear his laughter ring Clear as the chime of bells in spring, When, like a pompous little king, He strutted on that queer old thing In mock estate. Long years have circled slowly round Upon that wheel which hath no sound; The urchin has in manhood found A beauteous maid, and they are bound By Hymen’s silken tie; There stand the couple, side by side, The bridegroom and his dainty bride, The sunbeams from the dial slide Deep in their cells beneath the tide— As deep Love’s sigh! Comes tottering age with thin, white hair, And that same youth is standing there! But now his head is almost bare, And twinkles in his eye a tear, Fresh from his withered core; Gone are the loved ones of his breast, Gone to their everlasting rest, Grim Death has robbed the old man’s nest, And they are now his mouldering guest For evermore! Ye pilgrims on the shores of Time! Of every age and every clime, Like flowers ye spring up in your prime, Like them ye fade at vesper chime In twilight of the tomb; Oh! pluck the roses while ye may, Each instant heralds Life’s decay, Mark well the dial’s fleeting ray, There is a world beyond the clay— Beyond its gloom. Old father Time expects his fee, Look how he rubs his hands in glee, A mighty pair of scales hath he, To weigh Earth and Eternity, “As misers count their gold;” From earth he plucks each minute-pin, And down the other he drops it in— Take heed! the weigher soon must win He stares upon you with a grin— Your days are told! * * * * * [Illustration: W.P. Frith Addison THE BRIDAL NIGHT. Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine] * * * * * UNEQUAL MARRIAGES. BY CAROLINE. H. BUTLER. “Sister, are you determined, then, to marry Annette to Mr. Eccleson?” asked Mr. Goodman of his sister, Mrs. Doily.