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, FROM Stirling Castle we had seen Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, "Let Yarrow Folk, frae Selkirk Town, On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, But we will downward with the Tweed, There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, And Dryborough, where with the chiming Tweed There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land 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. Let beeves and home-bred kine partake Be Yarrow Stream unseen, unknown! We have a vision of our own; Ah! why should we undo it? The treasured dreams of times long past, If Care with freezing years should come, 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, YARROW VISITED, SEPTEMBER, 1814. AND is this- Yarrow? This the Stream Of which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream? O that some Minstrel's harp were near, To utter notes of gladness, And chase this silence from the air, That fills my heart with sadness! Yet why? a silvery current flows Nor have these eyes by greener hills Been soothed, in all my wanderings. And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake Is visibly delighted; For not a feature of those hills Is in the mirror slighted. A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow vale, Mild dawn of promise! that excludes Though not unwilling here to admit Where was it that the famous Flower His bed perchance was yon smooth mound Delicious is the Lay that sings The path that leads them to the grove, And Pity sanctifies the verse That paints, by strength of sorrow, The unconquerable strength of love; But thou, that didst appear so fair To fond Imagination, 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 Rich groves of lofty stature, With Yarrow winding through the pomp Of cultivated nature; And, rising from those lofty groves, Behold a ruin hoary! The shattered front of Newark's Towers, Renowned in Border story. Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, For sportive youth to stray in; For manhood to enjoy his strength; Yon Cottage seems a bower of bliss, A covert for protection Of tender thoughts that nestle there, How sweet, on this autumnal day, And on my True-love's forehead plant "Twere no offence to reason; The sober Hills thus deck their brows |