Poems In Two Volumes, vol 2 | Page 3

laid at last
Where rocks were sudely heap'd, and
rent
As by a spirit turbulent; 10 Where sights were rough, and sounds
were wild,
And every thing unreconciled;
In some complaining,
dim retreat,
For fear and melancholy meet;
But this is calm; there
cannot be
A more entire tranquillity.
Does then the Bard sleep here indeed?
Or is it but a groundless creed?

What matters it? I blame them not
Whose Fancy in this lonely Spot
20 Was moved; and in this way express'd
Their notion of it's perfect
rest.
A Convent, even a hermit's Cell
Would break the silence of
this Dell:
It is not quiet, is not ease;
But something deeper far than
these:
The separation that is here
Is of the grave; and of austere

And happy feelings of the dead:
And, therefore, was it rightly said 30
That Ossian, last of all his race!
Lies buried in this lonely place.
5. THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND.
At Jedborough we 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!
And call a train of
laughing Hours;
And bid them dance, and bid them sing;
And Thou,
too, mingle in the Ring!
Take to thy heart a new delight;
If not,
make merry in despite!

For there is one who scorns thy power.


--But dance! for under Jedborough Tower
There liveth in the prime of
glee,
A Woman, whose years are seventy-three, 10 And She will
dance and sing with thee!
Nay! start not at that Figure--there!
Him who is rooted to his chair!

Look at him--look again! for He
Hath long been of thy Family.

With legs that move not, if they can,
And useless arms, a Trunk of
Man,
He sits, and with a vacant eye;
A Sight to make a Stranger
sigh!
Deaf, drooping, that is now his doom: 20 His world is in this
single room:
Is this a place for mirth and cheer?
Can merry-making
enter here?
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 it's bravery on; in times, 30 When, all alive with merry
chimes,
Upon a sun-bright morn of May,
It rouz'd 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; 40 A strength unthought of heretofore!

Delighted am I for thy sake;
And yet a higher joy partake.
Our
Human-nature throws away
It's second Twilight, and looks gay:
A
Land of promise and of pride
Unfolding, wide as life is wide.
Ah! see her helpless Charge! enclos'd
Within himself, as seems;
compos'd;
To fear of loss, and hope of gain, 50 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.

Her buoyant Spirit
can prevail
Where common cheerfulness would fail:
She strikes
upon him with the heat
Of July Suns; he feels it sweet; 60 An animal

delight though dim!
'Tis all that now remains for him!
I look'd, I scann'd her o'er and o'er;
The more I look'd I wonder'd
more:
When suddenly I seem'd to espy
A trouble in her strong black
eye;
A remnant of uneasy light,
A flash of something over-bright!

And soon she made this matter plain;
And told me, in a thoughtful
strain, 70 That she had borne a heavy yoke,
Been stricken by a
twofold stroke;
Ill health of body; and had pin'd
Beneath worse
ailments of the mind.
So be it! but let praise ascend
To Him who is our Lord and Friend!

Who from disease and suffering
Hath call'd for thee a second Spring;

Repaid thee for that sore distress
By no untimely joyousness; 80
Which makes of thine a blissful state;
And cheers thy melancholy
Mate!
6. TO A HIGHLAND GIRL.
(At Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond.)
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!

Twice seven consenting years have shed
Their utmost bounty on
thy head:
And these gray Rocks; this household Lawn;
These Trees,
a veil just half withdrawn;
This fall of water, that doth make
A
murmur near the silent Lake;
This little Bay, a quiet Road
That
holds in shelter thy Abode; 10 In truth together ye do seem
Like
something fashion'd in a dream;
Such Forms as from their covert peep
When earthly cares are laid
asleep!
Yet, dream and vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human
heart:
God shield thee to thy latest years!
I neither know thee nor
thy peers;
And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray 20 For thee when I am far away:
For
never saw I mien, or face,
In which more plainly I could trace


Benignity and home-bred sense
Ripening in perfect innocence.

Here, scatter'd like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not
need
The embarrass'd look of shy distress,
And maidenly
shamefacedness:
Thou wear'st upon