“Old age is dark and unlovely.”

OSSIAN.

O say not so! A bright old age is thine;

Calm as the gentle light of summer eves,

Ere twilight dim her dusky mantle weaves;

Because to thee is given, in strength's decline,

A heart that does not thanklessly repine

At aught of which the hand of God bereaves,

Yet all He sends with gratitude receives;—

May such a quiet, thankful close be mine.

And hence thy fire-side chair appears to me

A peaceful throne—which thou wert form’d to fill;

Thy children—ministers, who do thy will;

And those grand-children, sporting round thy knee,

Thy little subjects, looking up to thee,

As one who claims their fond allegiance still.