What have they seen, those changed and vanish'd years? Uplifted, soaring thoughts, all quelled by fate; Affection, mournful in its gushing tears; And midst the crowd that at the funeral wait, A widowed mother's heart made desolate O'er a war-honor'd Sire's low place of rest; These are the tales that Memory may relate: They have a moral for the aspiring breast, A lesson of Decay on earthliness impress'd. Yet Hope still chaunts unto the listening ear The witching music of her treacherous song; Still paints the Future eloquent and clear, And sees the tide of Life roll calm along, Where glittering phantoms rise, a luring throng; And voiceful Fame holds out the laurel bough: Where rapturous applause is loud and long, Frail guerdon for the heart!--which lights the brow With the ephemeral smile of Mind's triumphant glow. C. THE HOUSEHOLDER. BY JOHN WATERS. 'For the kingdom of Heaven is like unto a man that is an householder, which went out early in the morning to hire labourers into his vineyard. And when he had agreed with the labourers for a penny a day, he sent them into his vineyard. And he went out about the third hour, and saw others standing in the market-place, and said unto them; Go ye also into the vineyard, and whatsoever is right I will give you; and they went their way. Again he went out about the sixth and ninth hour, and did likewise. And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing idle, and saith unto them, Why stand ye here all the day idle? They say unto him, Because no man hath hired us. He saith unto them. Go ye also into the vineyard; and whatsoever is right that shall ye receive.'--ST. MATTHEW: XX, 1-7. O thou blest Householder! the starry dawn, The light crepuscular, the roseate morn, Long since had melted into day! Long since the glow of Youth's THIRD hour, And the bird's song, and Fancy's magic power, Long since have, traceless, pass'd away! Ent'reth the sun into its zenith height! Ent'reth the mortal into manhood's might! Op'neth again the vineyard Gate And Labourers are call'd! but Honour's dream Entranc'd my soul, and made Religion seem As nought, Glory was man's Estate! The NINTH hour found me in the market place; Fierce passion ruled my heart, care mark'd my face; In vain, in vain, Thy blessed call! To glitter, to achieve, to lose or gain, Form'd every hope, or thought, delight, or pain: The world, the world, was still my All! The TENTH hour sounded in my startled ear! Thy gracious Spirit touched my heart with fear! The harvest ended with the day; That thought imbued my mind--'not saved? too late?' I left the throng; I sought the Vineyard Gate; 'Twas shut-- Death-struck, I turn'd away!