They rambled on o'er vale and hill,
They pass'd by cot and tower;
Through summer's glow and winter's chill,
Through sunshine and through shower:
But what did those fond playmates care

For climate or for weather?

All scenes to them were bright and fair,
On which they gazed together.

Sometimes they turn'd aside to bless
Some Muse and her wild numbers,
Or breathe a dream of holiness

On Beauty's quiet slumbers.

"Fly on," said Wisdom, with cold sneers;

They met stern Danger in their way,
Upon a ruin seated;

Before him kings had quaked that day,
And armies had retreated:

But he was robed in such a cloud,

As Love and Hope came near him, That though he thundered long and loud, They did not see or hear him.

A gray-beard join'd them, Time by name; And Love was nearly crazy,

To find that he was very lame,

And also very lazy:

Hope, as he listen'd to her tale,

Tied wings upon his jacket;

And then they far outran the mail,

And far outsail'd the packet.

HOPE AND LOVE.

And so, when they had safely pass'd
O'er many a land and billow,
Before a grave they stopp'd at last,
Beneath a weeping willow:
The moon upon the humble mound
Her softest light was flinging;
And from the thickets all around
Sad nightingales were singing.

"I leave you here," quoth Father Time, As hoarse as any raven;

And Love kneel'd down to spell the rhyme
Upon the rude stone graven:

But Hope look'd onward, calmly brave,
And whisper'd, "Dearest brother,

We're parted on this side the grave,

We'll meet upon the other."