And the ruddy rays of the eventide Were gilding the skirts of a forest wide; The moss of the trees looked old, so old! And valley and hill, the ancient mould Was robed in sward, an evergreen cloak; And a woodman sang as he felled an oak. Him asked the Shadow--"Rememberest thou Any trace of a Sea where wave those trees?" But the woodman laughed: Said he, "I trow, If oaks and pines do flourish and fall, It is not amid seas;-- The earth is one forest all." And after a thousand years were o'er, The Shadow paused over the spot once more. And what saw the Shadow? A city agen, But peopled by pale mechanical men, With workhouses filled, and prisons, and marts, And faces that spake exanimate hearts. Strange picture and sad! was the Shadow's thought; And, turning to one of the Ghastly, he sought For a clue in words to the When and the How Of the ominous Change he now beheld; But the man uplifted his care-worn brow-- "Change? What was Life ever but Conflict and Change? From the ages of eld Hath affliction been widening its range." Enough! said the Shadow, and passed from the spot At last it is vanished, the beautiful youth Of the earth, to return with no To-morrow; All changes have checquered Mortality's lot; But this is the darkest--for Knowledge and Truth Are but golden gates to the Temple of Sorrow! M. ANCIENT MUSIC OF IRELAND.