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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, no

And dearer still, as now I feel,

To memory's shadowy moonshine!

ON THE DEPARTURE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT FROM
ABBOTSFORD, FOR NAPLES.

A Trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,
Nor of the setting sun's pathetic light
Engendered, hangs o'er Eildon's triple height:
Spirits of Power, assembled there, complain 4
For kindred Power departing from their sight;
While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe

strain, Saddens his voice again, and yet again. Lift up your hearts, ye Mourners! for the

might Of the whole world's good wishes with him

goes; Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue 10

Than sceptered king or laurelled conqueror

knows,
Follow this wondrous Potentate. Be true,
Ye winds of ocean, and the midland sea,
Wafting your Charge to soft Parthenope!

A PLACE OF BURIAL IN THE SOUTH OF SCOTLAND.

Part fenced by man, part by a rugged steep That curbs a foaming brook, a Grave-yard lies; The hare's best couching - place for fearless

sleep; Which moonlit elves, far seen by credulous

eyes, Enter in dance. Of church, or sabbath ties, 5 No vestige now remains; yet thither creep Bereft Ones, and in lowly anguish weep Their prayers out to the wind and naked sides. Proud tomb is none; but rudely-sculptured

knights, By humble choice of plain old times, are seen 10 Level with earth, among the hillocks green: Union not sad, when sunny daybreak smites The spangled turf, and neighbouring thickets

ring With jubilate from the choirs of spring!

IV.

On The Sight Of A Manse In The South
Of Scotland.

Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills—
Among the happiest-looking homes of men
Scattered all Britain over, through deep glen.
On airy upland, and by forest rills,
And o'er wide plains cheered by the lark that

trills 5

His sky-born warblings—does aught meet your

ken More fit to animate the Poet's pen, Aught that more surely by its aspect fills Pure minds with sinless envy, than the Abode Of the good Priest: who, faithful through all hours 10

To his high charge, and truly serving God,
Has yet a heart and hand for trees and flowers,
Enjoys the walks his predecessors trod,
Nor covets lineal rights in lands and towers.

v.

COMPOSED IN ROSLIN CHAPEL, DURING A STORM.

The wind is now thy organist;—a clank
(We know not whence) ministers for a bell
To mark some change of service. As the swell
Of music reached its height, and even when

sank
The notes, in prelude, Eoslin! to a blank 5
Of silence, how it thrilled thy sumptuous roof,
Pillars, and arches,—not in vain time-proof,
Though Christian rites be wanting! From

what bank Came those live herbs? by what hand were

they sown Where dew falls not, where rain-drops seem

unknown? 10

Yet in the Temple they a friendly niche
Share with their sculptured fellows, that, green

grown, Copy their beauty more and more, and preach, Though mute, of all things blending into one.

THE TROSACHS.

There's not a nook within this solemn Pass
But were an apt confessional for One

Taught by his summer spent, his autumn

gone, That Life is but a tale of morning grass Withered at eve. From scenes of art which

chase 5

That thought away, turn, and with watchful

eyes Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities, Bocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than

glass Untouched, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy

quest, If from a golden perch of aspen spray 10

(October's workmanship to rival May)
The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast
That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,
Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!

VII.

The pibroch's note, discountenanced or mute;
The Roman kilt, degraded to a toy
Of quaint apparel for a half-spoilt boy;
The target mouldering like ungathered fruit;
The smoking steam-boat eager in pursuit, 5
As eagerly pursued; the umbrella spread
To weather-fend the Celtic herdsman's head—
All speak of manners withering to the root,
And of old honours, too, and passions high:
Then may we ask, though pleased that thought
should range 10

Among the conquests of civility,
Survives imagination—to the change
Superior? Help to virtue does she give?
If not, O Mortals, better cease to live!

ViII.
COMPOSED IN THE GLEN OF LOCH ETIVE.

"This Land of Rainbows spanning glens whose

walls, Eock-built, are hung with rainbow-coloured

mists— Of far-stretched Meres whose salt flood never

rests— Of tuneful Caves and playful Waterfalls— 4 Of Mountains varying momently their crests— Proud be this Land! whose poorest huts are

halls Where Fancy entertains becoming guests; While native song the heroic Past recalls." Thus, in the net of her own wishes caught, 9 The Muse exclaimed; but Story now must hide Her trophies, Fancy crouch; the course of

pride Has been diverted, other lessons taught, That make the Patriot-spirit bow her head Where the all-conquering Roman feared to

tread.

IX.

EAGLES.

Composed at Dunollie Castle in the Bay of Oban.

Dishonoubed Rock and Ruin! that, by law
Tyrannic, keep the Bird of Jove embarred
Like a lone criminal whose life is spared.
Vexed is he, and screams loud. The last I saw
Was on the wing; stooping, he struck with awe
Man, bird, and beast; then, with a consort
paired, 6

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