If Care with freezing years should come, Should life be dull, and spirits low, YARROW VISITED, SEPTEMBER 1814. ND is this-Yarrow ?-This the Stream Af which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream? O that some Minstrel's harp were near, And chase this silence from the air, Yet why?-a silvery current flows For not a feature of those hills A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow vale, Is round the rising sun diffused, Though not unwilling here to admit Where was it that the famous Flower Delicious is the Lay that sings That paints, by strength of sorrow, But thou, that didst appear so fair Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation; Meek loveliness is round thee spread, A softness still and holy; The grace of forest charms decayed, That region left, the vale unfolds With Yarrow winding through the pomp And, rising from those lofty groves, The shattered front of Newark's Towers, Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss, Of tender thoughts, that nestle there- How sweet, on this autumnal day, I see but not by sight alone, Loved Yarrow, have I won thee; A ray of fancy still survivesHer sunshine plays upon thee! Thy ever-youthful waters keep A course of lively pleasure: And gladsome notes my lips can breathe, Accordant to the measure. The vapours linger round the Heights, YARROW REVISITED. [The following Stanzas are a memorial of a day passed with Sir Walter Scott and other Friends visiting the Banks of the Yarrow under his guidance, immediately before his departure from Abbotsford for Naples. The title Yarrow Revisited will stand in no need of explanation for readers of the two previous poems, suggested by that celebrated stream.] HE gallant Youth, who may have gained, THE Was but an Infant in the lap When first I looked on Yarrow; Once more, by Newark's Castle-gate I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves Were on the bough, or falling; But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed— The forest to embolden; Reddened the fiery hues, and shot Transparence through the golden. For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on And slept in many a crystal pool Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth, Life's temperate Noon, her sober Eve, Past, present, future, all appeared In harmony united, Like guests that meet, and some from far, And if, as Yarrow, through the woods Did meet us with unaltered face, Though we were changed and changing; If, then, some natural shadows spread Eternal blessings on the Muse, And her divine employment! |