203
No. XXI.
ALI BABA ALONE;
THE LAST DAY.
"Now the last of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last is dead.
Rise, memory, and write its praise."
How shall I lay this spectre of my own identity? Shall I leave it to melt away gracefully in the light of setting suns? It would never do to put it out like a farthing rushlight after it had haunted the Great Ornamental in an aurora of smiles. Is Ali Baba to cease upon the midnight without pain? or is he to lie
