And back, on laden wings,
  The music of my better life it brings;
  For years of happiness, departed long,
      Are shrined in that old song.

      Its cadence on my ear
  Falls as the night falls in the moonlight clear—­
  The darkness lost in Luna’s glittering beams,
      As I am lost in dreams.

      Sing on, nor yet unbind
  The chain that weaves itself about my mind—­
  A chain of images which seem to rise
      To life before my eyes.

      The veil which hangs around
  The past is lifted by the breath of sound,
  As strong winds lift the dying leaves, and show
      The hidden things below.

      I listen to thy voice,
  Impelled beyond the power of will or choice,
  And to those simple notes’ mysterious chime,
      My rushing thoughts keep time

      The key of harmony
  Has turned the rusted lock of memory,
  And opened all its secret stores to light,
      As by some wizard sprite.

      But now the charm is past,
  My heart-strings are too deeply wrung at last,
  And harp-chords, stretched too far, refuse to play
      Longer an answering lay.

      The music-spell is o’er! 
  And that old song, oh, sing it nevermore
  It is so old, ’tis time that it should die! 
      Forget it—­so will I.

      Let it in silence rest;
  Guarded by thoughts which may not be expressed
  There was a love which clung to it of old—­
      That love has long been cold.

      Then sing it not again! 
  The voice that seemed to echo back the strain
  Has filled succeeding years with discords strange
      And won my heart to change

      And thou mayst surely cull
  Songs new and sweet, and still more beautiful: 
  Sing new ones, then, to which no memories cling—­
      Most memories have their sting.

* * * * *

COSTUMES OF ALL NATIONS.—­SECOND SERIES.

THE TOILETTE IN ENGLAND.

CHAPTER I

Ancient authors disagree in the accounts they give of the dress of the first inhabitants of Britain.  Some assert that, previously to the first descent of the Romans, the people wore no clothing at all:  other writers, however (and, probably, with more truth), state that they clothed themselves with the skins of wild animals; and as their mode of life required activity and freedom of limb, loose skins over their bodies, fastened, probably, with a thorn, would give them the needful warmth, without in any degree restraining the liberty of action so necessary to the hardy mountaineer.

Probably the dress of the women of those days did not differ much from that of the men:  but, after the second descent of the Romans, both sexes are supposed to have followed the Roman costume:  indeed, Tacitus expressly asserts that they did adopt this change; though we may safely believe that thousands of the natives spurned the Roman fashion in attire, not from any dislike of its form or shape, but from the detestation they bore towards their conquerors.