There list the chant of the familiar chimes,
And the fond glance of young affection greet.
There, too, at eve--before the twilight grey
Led the dark hours, when sprites are wont to walk--
With his sweet Nancy how he joy'd to stray,
And tell his rustic love in homely talk.

Now, home return'd, far other thoughts he owns,
Though still the same the scene that meets his view!
The same sun glistens o'er the lichen'd stones--
Scarce one year more seems to have gnarl'd the yew.
There, too, the hamlet where his boyhood pass'd
Sends, as of old, its curls of smoke to ken--
So near, his stalwart arm a stone might cast
Among the cots that deck the coppiced glen!

But ere the joys of that domestic glade
Can wipe the tear from off his rugged brow,
A stone beneath the yew-tree's ebon shade
Deep o'er his heart a heavier shade doth throw.
(Oh! sad indeed, when thus such tidings come
That stun, even when by slow degrees they steal,)
That tablet tells how cold within the tomb
Are hands whose fond warm grasp he long'd to feel.

The "Painter of the Olden Time."--"His shop is his element, and he
cannot, with any enjoyment to himself, live out of it.--Dr South." This
is very good. The painter has his back to you, and is at work apparently
on a wall. Little wots he of the world without. He is embodying angels,
and spreading angelic light; himself, slipshod and loosely girdled,
centring the radiance he creates. How differently arrayed are body and
mind! By the title, we presume Mr Cope means to satirize some modern
fops of the profession. Of all Mr Cope's etchings in the volume, we
mostly admire "Love's Enemies." It is from the well-known passage of
Shakspeare, "Ah me! for aught that ever I could read," &c. The
conception is excellent. War, Death, and Sickness are taking off their
prisoner Cupid, chained, from the door of an aged couple willing enough
to part with him, while their poor broken-hearted daughter, with
disheveled hair, hides her face with her hands; and, above her, the hard
father's uplifted crutch is ready to speed the departure. It is lightly
etched, in very good keeping; so that the grouping is clear, and the
moral is perceptible at a glance. His "Rejected Addresses" is of another
cast. Here he is in the common and beggarly world: yet represents he no
common beggar; for, though he be often so nam