But stronger still in earth and air,
And in the sea, the man of prayer,

And far beneath the tide:

And in the seat to faith assigned,
Where ask is have, where seek is find,
Where knock is open wide.

Beauteous the fleet before the gale;
Beauteous the multitudes in mail,

Ranked arms, and crested heads;
Beauteous the garden's umbrage mild
Walk, water, meditated wild,

And all the bloomy beds.

Beauteous the moon full on the lawn;
And beauteous when the veil's withdrawn,
The virgin to her spouse:

Beauteous the temple, decked and filled,
When to the heaven of heavens they build
Their heart-directed vows.

Beauteous, yea beauteous more than these,
The Shepherd King upon his knees,
For his momentous trust;
With wish of infinite conceit,

For man, beast, mute, the small and great,
And prostrate dust to dust.

Precious the bounteous widow's mite;
And precious, for extreme delight,
The largess from the churl:
Precious the ruby's blushing blaze,
And alba's blest imperial rays,
And pure cerulean pearl.

Precious the penitential tear;
And precious is the sigh sincere;
Acceptable to God:

And precious are the winning flowers,
In gladsome Israel's feast of bowers,
Bound on the hallowed sod.

More precious that diviner part

Of David, even the Lord's own heart
Great, beautiful, and new;

In all things where it was intent,
In all extremes, in each event,
Proof-answering true to true.

Glorious the sun in mid career;
Glorious the assembled fires appear;
Glorious the comet's train:
Glorious the trumpet and alarm;

Glorious the Almighty's stretched-out arm;
Glorious the enraptured main:

Glorious the northern lights a-stream;

Glorious the song, when God's the theme;

Glorious the thunder's roar:

Glorious Hosannah from the den;
Glorious the catholic Amen;

Glorious the martyr's gore:

Glorious, more glorious,-is the crown.
Of Him that brought salvation down,
By meekness called Thy Son;
Thou that stupendous truth believed;-
And now the matchless deed's achieved,
Determined, Dared, and Done.

302

ANONYMOUS

WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW

Down in yon garden sweet and gay
Where bonnie grows the lily,
I heard a fair maid sighing say,
'My wish be wi' sweet Willie!

'Willie's rare, and Willie's fair,

And Willie's wondrous bonny;

And Willie hecht' to marry me
Gin e'er he married ony.

'O gentle wind, that bloweth south,
From where my Love repaireth,
Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth
And tell me how he fareth!

'O tell sweet Willie to come doun
And hear the mavis singing,
And see the birds on ilka bush

And leaves around them hinging.

'The lav'rock' there, wi' her white breast
And gentle throat sae narrow;
There's sport eneuch for gentlemen
On Leader haughs and Yarrow.

'O Leader haughs are wide and braid
And Yarrow haughs are bonny;

There Willie hecht to marry me
If e'er he married ony.

'But Willie's gone, whom I thought on,
And does not hear me weeping;
Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e
When other maids are sleeping.

'Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,
The night I'll mak' it narrow,
For a' the live-lang winter night
I lie twined o' my marrow.

'O came ye by yon water-side?
Pou'd you the rose or lily?

Or came you by yon meadow green,
Or saw you my sweet Willie?'

1 Promised.

• Lark.

Meadows by a river.

Separated from my mate.

She sought him up, she sought him down,
She sought him braid and narrow;
Syne, in the cleaving of a craig,

She found him drown'd in Yarrow!

303

JOHN LOGAN
[1748-1788]

THE BRAES OF YARROW

THY braes were bonny, Yarrow stream,
When first on them I met my lover;
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,
When now thy waves his body cover!
For ever now, O Yarrow stream!
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;
For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow.

He promised me a milk-white steed
To bear me to his father's bowers;
He promised me a little page
To squire me to his father's towers;
He promised me a wedding-ring,-
The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow;-
Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow!

Sweet were his words when last we met;
My passion I as freely told him;

Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought
That I should never more behold him!
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost;
It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow;
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend,
And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow.

His mother from the window look'd
With all the longing of a mother;

304

His little sister weeping walk'd

The green-wood path to meet her brother;
They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough;
They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.

No longer from thy window look-
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!

No longer seek him east or west

And search no more the forest thorough;
For, wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.

The tear shall never leave my cheek,
No other youth shall be my marrow-
I'll seek thy body in the stream,
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.
-The tear did never leave her cheek,
No other youth became her marrow;
She found his body in the stream,

And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.

HENRY FIELDING

[1707-1754]

A HUNTING SONG

THE dusky night rides down the sky,
And ushers in the morn;

The hounds all join in glorious cry,
The huntsman winds his horn,
And a-hunting we will go.

The wife around her husband throws
Her arms, and begs his stay;
(c) HC XLI