| |
| 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; | |
| Once more, by Newark’s Castle-gate | 5 |
| Long left without a warder, | |
| I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, | |
| Great Minstrel of the Border! | |
| |
| Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day, | |
| Their dignity installing | 10 |
| In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves | |
| Were on the bough, or falling; | |
| But breezes played, and sunshine gleamed— | |
| The forest to embolden; | |
| Reddened the fiery hues, and shot | 15 |
| Transparence through the golden. | |
| |
| For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on | |
| In foamy agitation; | |
| And slept in many a crystal pool | |
| For quiet contemplation: | 20 |
| No public and no private care | |
| The freeborn mind enthralling, | |
| We made a day of happy hours, | |
| Our happy days recalling. | |
| |
| Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth, | 25 |
| With freaks of graceful folly— | |
| Life’s temperate Noon, her sober Eve, | |
| Her Night not melancholy; | |
| Past, present, future, all appeared | |
| In harmony united, | 30 |
| 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, | 35 |
| Though we were changed and changing; | |
| If, then, some natural shadows spread | |
| Our inward prospect over, | |
| The soul’s deep valley was not slow | |
| Its brightness to recover. | 40 |
| |
| Eternal blessings on the Muse, | |
| And her divine employment! | |
| The blameless Muse, who trains her Sons | |
| For hope and calm enjoyment; | |
| Albeit sickness, lingering yet, | 45 |
| Has o’er their pillow brooded; | |
| And Care waylays their steps—a Sprite | |
| Not easily eluded. | |
| |
| For thee, O SCOTT! compelled to change | |
| Green Eildon-hill and Cheviot | 50 |
| For warm Vesuvio’s vine-clad slopes, | |
| And leave thy Tweed and Tiviot | |
| For mild Sorrento’s breezy waves; | |
| May classic Fancy, linking | |
| With native Fancy her fresh aid, | 55 |
| Preserve thy heart from sinking! | |
| |
| Oh! while they minister to thee, | |
| Each vying with the other, | |
| May Health return to mellow Age | |
| With Strength, her venturous brother; | 60 |
| And Tiber, and each brook and rill | |
| Renowned in song and story, | |
| With unimagined beauty shine, | |
| Nor lose one ray of glory! | |
| |
| For Thou, upon a hundred streams, | 65 |
| By tales of love and sorrow, | |
| Of faithful love, undaunted truth, | |
| Hast shed the power of Yarrow; | |
| And streams unknown, hills yet unseen, | |
| Wherever they invite Thee, | 70 |
| At parent Nature’s grateful call, | |
| With gladness must requite Thee. | |
| |
| A gracious welcome shall be thine, | |
| Such looks of love and honour | |
| As thy own Yarrow gave to me | 75 |
| When first I gazed upon her; | |
| Beheld what I had feared to see, | |
| Unwilling to surrender | |
| Dreams treasured up from early days, | |
| The holy and the tender. | 80 |
| |
| And what, for this frail world, were all | |
| That mortals do or suffer, | |
| Did no responsive harp, no pen, | |
| Memorial tribute offer? | |
| Yea, what were mighty Nature’s self? | 85 |
| Her features, could they win us, | |
| Unhelped by the poetic voice | |
| That hourly speaks within us? | |
| |
| Nor deem that localized Romance | |
| Plays false with our affections; | 90 |
| Unsanctifies our tears—made sport | |
| For fanciful dejections; | |
| Ah, no! the visions of the past | |
| Sustain the heart in feeling | |
| Life as she is—our changeful Life, | 95 |
| With friends and kindred dealing. | |
| |
| Bear witness, Ye, whose thoughts that day | |
| In Yarrow’s groves were centred; | |
| Who through the silent portal arch | |
| Of mouldering Newark enter’d; | 100 |
| And clomb the winding stair that once | |
| Too timidly was mounted | |
| By the ‘last Minstrel,’ (not the last!) | |
| Ere he his Tale recounted. | |
| |
| Flow on for ever, Yarrow Stream! | 105 |
| Fulfil thy pensive duty, | |
| Well pleased that future Bards should chant | |
| For simple hearts thy beauty; | |
| To dream-light dear while yet unseen | |
| Dear to the common sunshine, | 110 |
| And dearer still, as now I feel, | |
| To memory’s shadowy moonshine! | |
| |
