14 DECEMBER 1878, Page 14

AN ESSAY IN QUANTITY.

Lo! the day, dawning with a rosy brightness,

Leaps to each mountain over all the valleys, While the grey twilight, vanishing before it, Clings to the lowlands ; Where the hoarse tumult of an angry torrent, Lonely in silence as of old eternal, Roars a rough nocturn, ever in the darkness

Thundering onward,—

Like a forlorn soul that a gloomy passion

Urges, and dark mists gather all around him,—

But the high mountains, if he gaze upon them, Glow with the sunlight.

T. A. LACEY.