Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 097.djvu/136

126 All, all return; and with them comes a throng

Of withered hopes, and loves made desolate;

And high resolves, cherish'd in silence long,

Yea, struggling still beneath the incumbent weight

Of spirit-quelling Time, and adverse fate.

These only live; all else have passed away

To Memory's spectre-land; and She, who sate

'Mid that bright choir so bright, is now as they—

A morning dream of life, dissolving with the day.

The following Vindicæ Margartuanæ may be given in evidence of Walker's more sportive manner; the lines are such as one might look for, on the same subject, from Elia, or Leigh Hunt, or Hartley Coleridge; and with them, and with reference to them, we utter our Vos plaudite: