WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. A creature not too bright or good And now I see with eye serene YARROW UNVISITED. FROM Stirling Castle we had seen 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, Go back to Yarrow, 't is their own, Each maiden to her dwelling! On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, Hares couch, and rabbits burrow! But we will downward with the Tweed, Nor turn aside to Yarrow. "There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, Both lying right before us; 101 "O, green," said I, "are Yarrow's And sweet is Yarrow flowing! "Let beeves and home-bred kine partake "Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown! Ah! why should we undo it? "If care with freezing years should come, Should life be dull, and spirits low, "T will soothe us in our sorrow That earth has something yet to show, The bonny holms of Yarrow!" And Dryburgh, where with chiming ON A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE IN Tweed The lintwhites sing in chorus; There's pleasant Teviotdale, 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." A STORM. thee: I saw thee every day; and all the while -- Strange words they seemed of slight So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! So like, so very like, was day to day! there; It trembled, but it never passed away. How perfect was the calm! It seemed no sleep, No mood, which season takes away, or brings: I could have fancied that the mighty Deep Was even the gentlest of all gentle things. Ah! then if mine had been the painter's hand To express what then I saw; and add the gleam, The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration, and the poet's dream, I would have planted thee, thou hoary pile, Amid a world how different from this! A picture had it been of lasting ease, Such, in the fond illusion of my heart, Such picture would I at that time have made; And seen the soul of truth in every part, A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. That hulk which labors in the deadly swell, This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear! And this huge castle, standing here sublime, I love to see the look with which it braves Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone, Housed in a dream, at distance from the kind! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Is to be pitied; for 't is surely blind. But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here: Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. ODE TO DUTY. STERN daughter of the voice of God! So once it would have been, 't is so no Who art a light to guide, a rod more; I have submitted to a new control: A power is gone, which nothing can restore; A deep distress hath humanized my soul. Not for a moment could I now behold This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the friend, If he had lived, of him whom I deplore, This work of thine I blame not, but commend; This sea in anger, and that dismal shore. O, 't is a passionate work!-yet wise and well, Well chosen is the spirit that is here; To check the erring, and reprove; There are who ask not if thine eye Serene will be our days and bright, WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. Live in the spirit of this creed; I, loving freedom, and untried, Through no disturbance of my soul, name, I long for a repose which ever is the same. Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear thee, are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful power! 103 While we, the brave, the mighty, and | "O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in the wise, We men, who in our morn of youth Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord defied war, Lochinvar?" He swam the Esk River where ford there And the bride-maidens whispered, "T were better by far have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!" One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near, So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung. "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar. SIR WALTER SCOTT. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of There was racing and chasing on Canno- But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see! So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young A SERENADE. AH! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The lark, his lay who trilled all day, 105 I hate to learn the ebb of time No more at dawning morn I rise, The village maid steals through the shade A blithesome welcome blithely meet, Her shepherd's suit to hear; To Beauty shy, by lattice high, The star of Love, all stars above, Now reigns o'er earth and sky, And high and low the influence know, - And lay my trophies at her feet, THE TROSACHS. THE western waves of ebbing day |