Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

14 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

tJoctvg.

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

tJoctvg. J SONG OF THE OLD YEAR. (From the New Monthly Magazine.) Oh I have been running a gallant career On a courser that needeth nor bridle nor goad But he'll soon change his rider, and leave the Old Year Lying low in the dust on Eternity's road. Wide has my track been, and rapid my haste, But whoever takes heed of my journey will find, That in marble-built city and camel-trod waste I have left a f::ir set of bold waymarks behind. I have choked up the earth with the sturdy elm board, I have chequer'd the air with the banners of strife Fresh are the tomb-stones I've scattered abroad, Bright are the young eyes I've opened to life. My race is nigh o'er on Time's iron-gray steed, Yet he'll still gallop on as he gallops with me And you'll see that his name will be flying again Ere you've buried me under the green holly tree. If ye tell of the sadness and evil I've wrought, Yet remember the share of "good works'' I have done, Ye should balance the clouds and the canker I've brought W ith the grapes I have sent to be crush'd in the sun. If I've added gray threads to the worldly-wise heads, I have deepened the chesnut of infancy's curl If I've cherish'd the germ of the shipwrecking worm, I have quickened the growth of the crown-studding pearl If I've lengthened the yew till it brushes the pall, I have bid the sweet shoots of the orange bloom swell; If I've thickened the moss on the ruin's (lank wall, I have strengthened the love-bower tendrils as well. Then speak of me fairly, and give the Old Year A light-hearted parting in kindness and glee, Chant a roundelay over my laurel-decked bier, And bury me under the green holly-tree. Ye have murmured of late at my gloom-laden hours, And looked on my pale wrinkled face with a frown But ye laughed when I spangled your pathway with flowers, And flung the red clover and yellow corn down. Ye shrink from my breathing, and say that I bite- So I do—but forget not how friendly we were When I fann'd your warm cheek in the soft summer night, And just toy'd with the rose in the merry girl's hair. Fill the goblet and drink as my wailing tones sink, Let the wassail-bowl drip and the revel shout rise— But a word in your ear-from the passing Old Year, f is the last time he'll teach ye—" be merry and wise!" Then sing, while I'm sighing my latest farewell, The log-lighted ingle my death pyre shall be Dance, dance, while I'm dying, blend carol and bell, And bury me under the green holly-tree.

*—-'———dfatt, dFfctioit, atibi…

MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.—No. 12.

SWANSEA FARMERS' CLUB.

PRINCE ALBERT'S VISIT TO THE…

INDIA AND CHIN"A. !

COURT OF BANKRUPTCY, BRISTOL…

THE TRUCK SYSTEM.

CWMBAIIGOED COLLIERY.

COPPER ORES SOLD AT SWANSEA'

BUTE DOCKS. CARDIFF. I

GLAMORGANSHIRE CAXAL. f

--NEATII SHIPPING LIST. '<

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