* * * * *


LAST DAYS OF, AND ROUGH NOTES ON, 1828.

(_For the Mirror_.)


It was but yesterday the snow
Of thy dead sire was on the hill--
It was but yesterday the flow
Of thy spring showers increased the rill,
And made a thousand blossoms swell
To welcome summer's festival.....
And now all these are of the past,
For this lone hour must be thy last!

Thou must depart! where none may know--
The sun for thee hath ever set,
The star of morn, the silver bow,
No more shall gem thy coronet
And give thee glory; but the sky
Shall shine on thy posterity!...


So there's an end of 1828; "all its great and glorious transactions
are now nothing more than mere matter of history!" What wars of arms
and words! what lots of changes and secessions! what debates on
"guarantee," "stipulations," and "untoward" events! what "piles of