Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave,
Utterly to desert, the haunts of men,
Though simple thy companions were and few ;

And through this wilderness a passage cleave
Attended but by thy own voice, save when
The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pursue!

XLVI

AFTER-THOUGHT

II

I THOUGHT of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away.-Vain sympathies !
For, backward, Duddon, as I cast my eyes,

I see what was, and is, and will abide ;

Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied

The elements, must vanish ;-be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;

And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,

Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent. dower,

We feel that we are greater than we know.

XLVII

YARROW UNVISITED

See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the banks of the Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton beginning

'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow ! —

FROM Stirling castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;

Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my 'winsome Marrow,
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow."

"Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling,
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own;
Each maiden to her dwelling!

On Yarrow's banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
But we will downward with the Tweed,
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;

And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus ;

There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land

Made blithe with plough and harrow:
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?

What's Yarrow but a river bare,

That glides the dark hills under?

There are a thousand such elsewhere

As worthy of your wonder."

-Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn;

My True-love sighed for sorrow;

And looked me in the face, to think

I thus could speak of Yarrow !

"Oh! green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms,

And sweet is Yarrow flowing!

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock*,

But we will leave it growing.

*See Hamilton's Ballad as above.

O'er hilly path, and open Strath,
We'll wander Scotland thorough;

But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.

Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
The swan on still St. Mary's Lake
Float double, swan and shadow !
We will not see them; will not go,
To-day, nor yet to-morrow;
Enough if in our hearts we know
There's such a place as Yarrow.

Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it :
We have a vision of our own;

Ah! why should we undo it?

The treasured dreams of times long past,
We'll keep them, winsome Marrow !
For when we're there, although 'tis fair,
'Twill be another Yarrow !

If Care with freezing years should come,
And wandering seem but folly,-
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy;

Should life be dull, and spirits low,
'Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow !"

1803

XLVIII

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes

To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;

Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.

If Thought and Love desert us, from that day Let us break off all commerce with the Muse: With Thought and Love companions of our way, Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,

The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews Of inspiration on the humblest lay.