NOW OR NEVER.

He who loses luck abuses.

We stalked the great stag down the glen,
Once more, alas! I failed to kill;
Such is the lot of luckless men,
Despite their energy and skill.
And now he's safe beyond our ken
Upon the steep and misty hill.
He'll come again, but not to-day,
Where meet in one the foaming burns,
While I in fortune's windy play
Am tossed afar from braes and ferns,
So plaineth he who throws away
The happy chance that ne'er returns.

LABOUR LOST.

The roads were rock, the sky was flame,
The seething mob filled strand and quay,
Where came an ancient curious dame
Three leagues afoot the launch to see.
Now as she stooped amid the crowd,
Stooped to remove a galling stone,
She heard a shouting rash and loud;
She raised her head—the launch was gone.
O dame! as thou art such are they
Who after years of care and cost,
The burning hope of many a day
By one ignoble stoop have lost.