But the sun had sunk behind the horizon, and the shades of evening, fast closing around, warned me that it was time to cease my musings, and seek, for the last time, the shelter of the hospitable convent-roof. Early next morning, I was back again to the noisy world, with its crowded streets, bustling hotels, and busy railways; but I shall ever bear in my memory the pleasant recollections of that wonderful combination of the austere charms of monastic life with the most varied beauties of nature, which I have endeavored to describe in these few pages on La Grande Chartreuse. TO NATURE. Nature, to me thy face has ever been Familiar as a mother's; yet it grows But younger with the wearing years, and shows Fresher--unlike all others I have seen. The "beings of the mind," though "not of clay"-- "Essentially immortal,"[45] and "a joy For ever"[46]--even these may pall and cloy, For all that poets gloriously say. Yea, and thy own charms, Nature, when portrayed By hand of man, become the spoil of time. The seasons mar, not change, them: in sublime Repose they reign--but evermore to fade. Whence comes, then, thy perennial youth renewed? Thy freshness as of everlasting morn? God's breath is on thee. Of it thou wast born, And with its fragrance is thy life bedewed. Nor can I need aught sterner than thy face To wean me from the things that pass away. _Not_ by autumnal lesson of decay, Or vernal hymn of renovating grace, But by this fragrance of the Infinite; For here my soul catches her native air, And tastes the ever fresh, the ever fair, That wait her in the Gardens of Delight. LAKE GEORGE, August, 1873. FOOTNOTES: [45] "The beings of the mind are not of clay: Essentially immortal, they create And multiply in us a brighter ray And more belov'd existence." --_Byron._ [46] "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever." --_Keats._ PARIS HOSPITALS FROM THE FRENCH OF M. L'ABBE O. DELARC.