From Balluu's Dollar Montlilf . Nor look, nor footstep backward turn, Though niany a vanished scène be fair ; There's less Nepeuthe in the urn Of Memory than despair. The Future we can carve at will - The sculptured past deües our skill. Why suramon up the wierd array üf specters ialse- Delusion's train t The idols Time has proved of clay Will ne'er be gold again : Nor deafest Alchemy restore The treasure that we prized of yore. Onward Life's river bravely pours - Aud when we've won the skill to guide The enginery ofsalis and oars, Why backward cleave the tide 1 If Beauty charmed the vanished scène, We'll look to flnd sume new Undine. The wreaths that decked our youthful brows Have lost their brightness and perfume ; We'll weave our crowns from fresher boughs And iiowers of richer bloom 1 And brighter sunbeams than of old öhall change our sails to beaten gold. We will not think of reef or wreek, Of latent daugers hurried o'er, Of storms that whilom swept our deck ; Our Pharos slu'nes before And gilds the waves that ceaseless sweerj On to the vast eternal deep.