Lockhart has mentioned in his life of him what I heard from several quarters while abroad, both at Rome and elsewhere, that little seemed to interest him but what he could collect or heard of the fugitive Stuarts and their adherents who had followed them into exile. Both the "Yarrow revisited" and the "Sonnet" were sent him before his departure from England. Some further particulars of the conversations which occurred during this visit I should have set down had they not been already accurately recorded by Mr. Lockhart. I first became acquainted with this great and amiable man-Sir Walter Scott-in the year 1803, when my sister and I, making a tour in Scotland, were hospitably received by him in Lasswade upon the banks of the Esk, where he was then living. We saw a good deal of him in the course of the following week: the particulars are given in my sister's Journal of that tour.] TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ., AS A TESTIMONY OF FRIENDSHIP, AND ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF INTELLECTUAL OBLIGATIONS, THESE MEMORIALS ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. RYDAL MOUNT, Dec. 11, 1834. I. The following Stanzas are a memorial of a day passed with Sir Walter Scott, and other Friends visiting the Banks of the Yarrow under his guidance, immediately before his departure from Abbotsford, for Naples. The title Yarrow Revisited will stand in no need of explanation, for Readers acquainted with the Author's previous poems suggested by that celebrated Stream. 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; Long left without a warder, I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed— Reddened the fiery hues, and shot For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on And slept in many a crystal pool The freeborn mind enthralling, We made a day of happy hours, Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth, 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 And down the meadow ranging, Did meet us with unaltered face, Though we were changed and changing; If, then, some natural shadows spread The soul's deep valley was not slow Eternal blessings on the Muse, Has o'er their pillow brooded; And Care waylays their steps-a Sprite Not easily eluded. For thee, O SCOTT! compelled to change 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, At parent Nature's grateful call, A gracious welcome shall be thine, Dreams treasured up from early days, And what, for this frail world, were all Did no responsive harp, no pen, 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 ; Plays false with our affections Unsanctifies our tears-made sport For fanciful dejections: 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! Fulfil thy pensive duty, Well pleased that future Bards should chant Dear to the common sunshine, And dearer still, as now I feel, To memory's shadowy moonshine! II. ON THE DEPARTURE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT FROM ABBOTSFord, FOR NAPLES. A TROUBLE, not of clouds, or weeping rain, |