POETRY.

THE LOST YEAR.

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RING out, 0 ye bells ! the merriest chime That ever ye rang at this New Year's time,

With tumult and clangour of jubilant tone,—

Ring out the old year that is gone,—is gone !

Swept away without grief or moan,

The dolefullest year that ever was known,—

Vanished away, with its chilly skies, Its days of want and long miseries,— Its sowing from whence no harvest came, Its pilfered honour, its branded shame, Its blossoms crushed by the driving rain, Its fair fields soiled with the broad blood-stain, Its fruits by the blight and canker withered, Its boasted piles by the tempest shivered, Its ventures wrecked upon every strand By the steersman's blundering and reckless hand, Its greed for empire, its trust in might Of guile and force,—not of truth and right, Its less of faith in a life divine, For the lilies' evangel—its science of swine, "Each for himself, and no God for us all, And the devil to take the hindmost that fall."

Ring out, 0 ye bells ! in your ancient might,

To scatter the fiends of this gruesome night, And gather pure angels to watch the morn When a New Year shall come to the world forlorn.

Ring on, 0 ye bells ! But a sadder strain In our hearto responds, that your message is vain. The year may be new, but men's hearts are old, With their passions and lusts and thirst for gold. The year may change, but we change not too,— An altered date ! and nought else is new ; As all things have been, so they still will be,— The old tale repeated-endlessly !

Thus sadly we muse, while the echoes fade Of the midnight music the bells have made, And more clearly the sad, low tones are heard Of the answering chords by memory stirred,— Now like a dirge of wild despair, A hopeless cry, or an anguished prayer !

And methinks, as ray silent vigil I keep, I can hear in the stillness, strange and deep, From the desolate earth to the darkened skies The plaint of the earth-worn watchers rise,-- " 0 Thou who dwellest beyond the height Of the stars, look down through the muricy night !

Pity thy children, and send them a sign

Thine still is the world that once was thine,— That thou hast not forgotten thine ancient reign,—

Ruler and Lord, wilt return again In thy glory and might, and with Thee bring To the earth that has waited, sorrowing, The long .looked-for days of the golden year,

That can only be when Thou dwellest here,—

When all ills of men shall have redress,

And the rule of the world shall be righteousness,—

When the old things shall all have passed away, And Earth shall be glad on her New Year's Day !"

J. J. BROWNE.