The One, yet unbreeched, is not three birthdays old, His Grandsire that age more than thirty times told ; There are ninety good seasons of fair and foul weather Between them, and both go a-stealing together.

With chips is the Carpenter strewing his floor?
Is a cart-load of turf at an old Woman's door?
Old Daniel his hand to the treasure will slide!
And his Grandson's as busy at work by his side.

Old Daniel begins, he stops short and his eye,
Through the lost look of dotage, is cunning and sly.
"Tis a look which at this time is hardly his own,
But tells a plain tale of the days that are flown.

He once had a heart which was moved by the wires
Of manifold pleasures and many desires:
And what if he cherished his purse? 'Twas no more
Than treading a path trod by thousands before.

'Twas a path trod by thousands; but Daniel is one
Who went something farther than others have gone,
And now with old Daniel you see how it fares;
You see to what end he has brought his

gray hairs.

The pair sally forth hand in hand: ere the sun Has peered o'er the beeches, their work is begun : And yet, into whatever sin they may fall,

This Child but half knows it, and that not at all.

They hunt through the streets with deliberate tread,
And each, in his turn, is both leader and led;
And, wherever they carry their plots and their wiles,
Every face in the village is dimpled with smiles.

Neither checked by the rich nor the needy they roam ;
The gray-headed Sire has a daughter at home,
Who will gladly repair all the damage that's done;
And three, were it asked, would be rendered for one.

Old Man! whom so oft I with pity have eyed,
I love thee, and love the sweet Boy at thy side:
Long yet may'st thou live! for a teacher we see
That lifts up the veil of our nature in thee.

V.

ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY AND DECAY.

A SKETCH.

THE little hedge-row birds,

That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression; every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought. He is insensibly subdued

To settled quiet: he is one by whom

All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
Long patience hath such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led

To

peace so perfect, that the young behold

With envy, what the Old Man hardly feels.

EPITAPHS

AND

ELEGIAC POEMS.