Or shall we say an age too soon? For, were the bold Man living now, How might he flourish in his pride, With buds on every bough! Then rents and factors, rights of chase, Sheriffs, and lairds and their domains, Would all have seemed but paltry things, Not worth a moment's pains. Rob Roy had never lingered here, But thought how wide the world, the times And to his Sword he would have said, 'Tis fit that we should do our part, Of old things all are over old, Of good things none are good enough :We'll shew that we can help to frame A world of other stuff. I, too, will have my kings that take From me the sign of life and death: Kingdoms shall shift about, like clouds, Obedient to my breath." And, if the word had been fulfilled, Oh! say not so; compare them not; Here standing by thy grave. For Thou, although with some wild thoughts, The liberty of man. And, had it been thy lot to live For thou wert still the poor man's stay, Bear witness many a pensive sigh And by Loch Lomond's braes! And, far and near, through vale and hill, Are faces that attest the same; The proud heart flashing through the eyes, At sound of ROB ROY's name. XII. SONNET. COMPOSED AT CASTLE. DEGENERATE Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord! A brotherhood of venerable Trees, XIII. 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, ર "Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town, There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed What's Yarrow but a river bare, 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 holins, And sweet is Yarrow flowing! Fair hangs the apple frae the rock*, But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path, and open Strath, Let beeves and home-bred kine partake Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown! It must, or we shall rue it: *See Hamilton's Ballad as above. If Care with freezing years should come, 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!" XIV. SONNET IN THE PASS OF KILLICRANKY, An invasion being expected, October 1803. SIX thousand veterans practised in war's game, Tried men, at Killicranky were arrayed Against an equal host that wore the plaid, Shepherds and herdsmen.-Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry, thundering down his mountain-road, Was stopped, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies.-'Twas a day of shame For them whom precept and the pedantry Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. O for a single hour of that Dundee, Who on that day the word of onset gave! Like conquest would the Men of England see; And her Foes find a like inglorious grave. XV. THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND. At Jedborough, my companion and I went into private lodgings for a few days; and the following Verses were called forth by the character and domestic situation of our Hostess. AGE! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, Take to thy heart a new delight; If not, make merry in despite That there is One who scorns thy power:- Nay! start not at that Figure-there! Him who is rooted to his chair! Look at him-look again! for he With legs that move not, if they can, The joyous Woman is the Mate Of him in that forlorn estate! He breathes a subterraneous damp; But bright as Vesper shines her lamp: He is as mute as Jedborough Tower: She jocund as it was of yore, With all its bravery on; in times When all alive with merry chimes, Upon a sun-bright morn of May, It roused the Vale to holiday. I praise thee, Matron! and thy due Is praise, heroic praise, and true! With admiration I behold Thy gladness unsubdued and bold: Thy looks, thy gestures, all present The picture of a life well spent: This do I see; and something more; A strength unthought of heretofore! Delighted am I for thy sake; And yet a higher joy partake: Our Human-nature throws away Its second twilight, and looks gay; A land of promise and of pride Unfolding, wide as life is wide. Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclosed Within himself as seems, composed; To fear of loss, and hope of gain, The strife of happiness and pain, Utterly dead! yet in the guise Of little infants, when their eyes Begin to follow to and fro The persons that before them go, He tracks her motions, quick or slow. Where common cheerfulness would fail ; Of July suns; he feels it sweet; The more I looked, I wondered more-And, while I scanned them o'er and o'er, Some inward trouble suddenly Broke from the Matron's strong black eyeA remnant of uneasy light, A flash of something over-bright! Nor long this mystery did detain My thoughts; she told in pensive strain So be it!-but let praise ascend To Him who is our lord and friend! Who from disease and suffering Hath called for thee a second spring; Repaid thee for that sore distress By no untimely joyousness; Which makes of thine a blissful state; And cheers thy melancholy Mate! XVI. FLY, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale! XVIL THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDE, AFTER RETURNING TO THE VALE OF GRASMERE. Now we are tired of boisterous joy, Have romped enough, my little Boy! Jane hangs her head upon my breast, And you shall bring your stool and rest; This corner is your own. |