No public and no private care The freeborn mind enthralling, We made a day of happy hours, Our happy days recalling. Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth, With freaks of graceful folly,— Life's temperate Noon, her sober Eve, Her Night not melancholy; Past, present, future, all appeared In harmony united, Like guests that meet, and some from far, By cordial love invited. 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 Our inward prospect over, The soul's deep valley was not slow Eternal blessings on the Muse, And her divine employment! The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons For hope and calm enjoyment; Albeit sickness, lingering yet, Has o'er their pillow brooded; And Care waylays their steps-a Sprite Not easily eluded. For thee, O SCOTT! compelled to change For warm Vesuvio's vine-clad slopes; O! while they minister to thee, With Strength, her venturous brother; And Tiber, and each brook and rill With unimagined beauty shine, For Thou, upon a hundred streams, Hast shed the power of Yarrow ; And streams unknown, hills yet unseen, A gracious welcome shall be thine, Dreams treasured up from early days, And what, for this frail world, were all Yea, what were mighty Nature's self? Her features, could they win us, Unhelped by the poetic voice. That hourly speaks within us? Nor deem that localised Romance Ah, no! the visions of the past Life as she is our changeful Life, Bear witness, Ye, whose thoughts that day By the last Minstrel,' (not the last!) Flow on for ever, Yarrow Stream ! Well pleased that future Bards should chant And dearer still, as now I feel, To memory's shadowy moonshine! LI ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT I WAS thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep; Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, |