Float double, swan and shadow ! Enough if in our hearts we know '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, '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!' 374 YARROW VISITED [September, 1814] AND is this-Yarrow?-This the stream So faithfully, a waking dream, An image that hath perish'd? O that some minstrel's harp were near And chase this silence from the air, Yet why?-a silvery current flows 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 Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding? His bed perchance was yon smooth mound On which the herd is feeding: And haply from this crystal pool Now peaceful as the morning, The water-Wraith ascended thrice, Delicious is the Lay that sings The haunts of happy lovers, The path that leads them to the grove, The leafy grove that covers: And pity sanctifies the verse That paints, by strength of sorrow, The unconquerable strength of love; Bear witness, rueful Yarrow! 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 decay'd, That region left, the vale unfolds With Yarrow winding through the pomp And rising from those lofty groves Behold a ruin hoary, The shatter'd front of Newark's Towers, Renown'd in Border story. Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, For sportive youth to stray in, For manhood to enjoy his strength, And age to wear away in! Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss, A covert for protection Of studious ease and generous cares How sweet on this autumnal day The sober hills thus deck their brows I see but not by sight alone, And gladsome notes my lips can breathe The vapours linger round the heights, But that I know, where'er I go, Thy genuine image, Yarrow! Will dwell with me, to heighten joy 375 YARROW REVISITED THE gallant Youth, who may have gained, Or seeks, a 'winsome Marrow,' Was but an Infant in the lap When first I looked on Yarrow; I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, Their dignity installing In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed- Reddened the fiery hues, and shot Transparence through the golden. For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on In foamy agitation; And slept in many a crystal pool No public and no private care The freeborn mind enthralling, We made a day of happy hours, 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, By cordial love invited. And if, as Yarrow, through the woods. Did meet us with unaltered face, Though we were changed and changing; The soul's deep valley was not slow Eternal blessings on the Muse, And her divine employment! The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons Has o'er their pillow brooded; And Care waylays their steps-a Sprite For thee, O SCOTT! compelled to change For warm Vesuvio's vine-clad slopes, Oh! while they minister to thee, With Strength, her venturous brother; And Tiber, and each brook and rill Renowned in song and story, With unimagined beauty shine, |