EPILOGUE.. ARE there no sympathies, no loves between us? Hath seem'd self-praise,-doth it indeed demean us The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words, Which is my grace and glory to possess, HACTENUS. THE NEW YEAR. THE old man he is dead, young heir! And gone to his long account; Come! stand on his hearth, and sit in nis chair, And into his saddle mount! The old man's face was a face to be fear'd, O, who would not choose for that stern white bea The old man he had outlived them all, But hundreds are wassailing now in the hall, The old man moaned both sore and long Of pleasures past, he said; But pleasures to come are the young heir's song, The living, not the dead! The old man babbled of old regrets. Alack! how much he owed; But the young heir has not a feather of debts His heart withal to load! The old man used to shudder, and seem Remembering secret sin; But the happy young heir is as if in a dream, - Alas! for the old man, where is he now? Reap wisdom from his furrowed face, Cull counsel from his fear; O, speed thee, young heir, in gifts and in grace, ALL'S FOR THE BEST. (To the same music as Never Give Up.") ALL'S for the best! be sanguine and cheerful, This is no dream of the pundit or poet, All for the best. set this on your standard, Who to the shores of Despair may have wander❜d, |