Poems In Two Volumes, vol 2 | Page 4

thy forehead clear 30 The freedom of a Mountaineer.

A face with gladness overspread!
Sweet looks, by human kindness
bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about
thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and
eager visitings
Of thoughts, that lie beyond the reach
Of thy few
words of English speech:
A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife 40 That
gives thy gestures grace and life!
So have I, not unmov'd in mind,

Seen birds of tempest-loving kind,
Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull
For thee who art so beautiful?

O happy pleasure! here to dwell
Beside thee in some heathy dell;

Adopt your homely ways and dress,
A Shepherd, thou a Shepherdess!
50 But I could frame a wish for thee
More like a grave reality:
Thou
art to me but as a wave
Of the wild sea; and I would have
Some
claim upon thee, if I could,
Though but of common neighbourhood.

What joy to hear thee, and to see!
Thy elder Brother I would be,

Thy Father, any thing to thee!
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace 60 Hath led me to this lonely
place.
Joy have I had; and going hence
I bear away my recompence.

In spots like these it is we prize
Our Memory, feel that she hath
eyes:
Then, why should I be loth to stir?
I feel this place was made
for her;
To give new pleasure like the past,
Continued long as life
shall last.
Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart, 70 Sweet Highland
Girl! from Thee to part;
For I, methinks, till I grow old,
As fair
before me shall behold,
As I do now, the Cabin small,
The Lake,
the Bay, the Waterfall;
And Thee, the Spirit of them all!
7. SONNET.

(Composed at ---- Castle.)
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord!
Whom mere despite of
heart could so far please,
And love of havoc (for with such disease

Fame taxes him) that he could send forth word
To level with the dust
a noble horde,
A brotherhood of venerable Trees,
Leaving an
ancient Dome, and Towers like these,
Beggared and outraged!--Many
hearts deplor'd
The fate of those old Trees; and oft with pain
The
Traveller, at this day, will stop and gaze
On wrongs, which Nature
scarcely seems to heed:
For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks and bays,

And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,
And the green
silent pastures, yet remain.
8. ADDRESS TO THE SONS OF BURNS
after visiting their Father's Grave (August 14th, 1803.)
Ye now are panting up life's hill!
'Tis twilight time of good and ill,

And more than common strength and skill
Must ye display
If ye would give the better will
Its lawful sway.
Strong bodied if ye be to bear
Intemperance with less harm, beware!

But if your Father's wit ye share,
Then, then indeed, 10 Ye Sons of Burns! for watchful care
There will be need.
For honest men delight will take
To shew you favor for his sake,

Will flatter you; and Fool and Rake
Your steps pursue:
And of your Father's name will make
A snare for you.

Let no mean hope your souls enslave;
Be independent, generous,
brave! 20 Your Father such example gave,
And such revere!
But be admonish'd by his Grave,
And think, and fear!
9. 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,
Busk ye, busk ye my
winsome Marrow!"--)
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravell'd;
Had
trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travell'd;

And, when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my 'winsome
Marrow',
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the Braes of
Yarrow."
"Let Yarrow Folk, frae Selkirk Town,
Who have been buying, selling,
10 Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own,
Each Maiden to her Dwelling!

On Yarrow's Banks let herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits
burrow!
But we will downwards with the Tweed,
Nor turn aside to
Yarrow."
"There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;

And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The Lintwhites sing in
chorus; 20 There's pleasant Tiviot Dale, a land
Made blithe with
plough and harrow;
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search
of Yarrow?"
"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 seem'd of slight and scorn;
My True-love sigh'd

for sorrow; 30 And look'd 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 [1],
But we will leave it
growing.
O'er hilly path, and open Strath,
We'll wander Scotland
thorough;
But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the Dale of
Yarrow." 40
[Footnote 1: See Hamilton's Ballad as above.]
"Let Beeves and home-bred Kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill
meadow;
The Swan on still St. Mary's Lake
Float double, Swan and
Shadow!
We will not see them; will not go,
Today, nor yet
tomorrow;
Enough if in our hearts we know,
There's such a place as
Yarrow."
"Be