Then I thought of seasons, when, long ago, Ere Hope's clear sky was dimm'd by sorrow, How bright seem'd the flowers, and the trees how green, How lengthen'd the blue summer days had been; And what pure delight the young spirit's glow, From the bosom of earth and air, could borrow Out of all lovely things. Then my heart leapt to days, when, a careless boy, 'Mid scenes of ambrosial Autumn roaming, The diamond gem of the Evening Star, Twinkling amid the pure South afar, Was gazed on with gushes of holy joy, As the cherub spirit that ruled the gloaming With glittering, golden eye. And oh! with what rapture of silent bliss. With what breathless deep devotion, Have I watch'd, like spectre from swathing shroud, The white moon peer o'er the shadowy cloud, Illumine the mantled Earth, and kiss The meekly murmuring lips of Ocean, As a mother doth her child. But now I can feel how Time hath changed My thoughts within, the prospect round us-- How boyish companions have thinn'd away; How the sun hath grown cloudier, ray by ray; How loved scenes of childhood are now estranged; And the chilling tempests of Care have bound us Within their icy folds. 'Tis no vain dream of moody mind, That lists a dirge i' the blackbird's singing; That in gusts hears Nature's own voice complain, And beholds her tears in the gushing rain; When low clouds congregate blank and blind, And Winter's snow-muffled arms are clinging Round Autumn's faded urn. DELTA. _Blackwood's Magazine_. * * * * * CALAIS Calais will merit to be described by every Englishman who visits it, and to be read of by every one who does not--so long as Hogarth, and "Oh! the Roast Beef of Old England!" shall be remembered, and--which will be longer still--till the French and English become one people, merely by dint of living, within three hours' journey of each other. Calais has been treated much too cavalierly by the flocks of English, who owe to it their first, and consequently most fixed impressions of French manners, and the English want of them. Calais is, in fact, one of the most agreeable and characteristic little towns in France. It is "lively, audible, and full of vent"--as gay as a fair, and as busy as a bee-hive--and its form and construction as compact.