The Traveller, at this day, will stop and gaze XI. 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, FROM Stirling Castle we had seen "Let Yarrow Folk, frae Selkirk Town, "There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, "Both lying right before us; "And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed "The Lintwhites sing in chorus ; J "There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land "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 seemed of slight and scorn; My True-love sighed for sorrow; And looked me in the face, to think I thus could speak of Yarrow! are Yarrow's Holms, "Oh! green," said I, "Fair hangs the apple frae the rock *, "We'll wander Scotland thorough; "But, though so near, we will not turn "Into the Dale of Yarrow. "Let beeves and home-bred kine partake 66 66 Enough if in our hearts we know "There's such a place as Yarrow. See Hamilton's Ballad as above. "Be Yarrow Stream unseen, unknown! "It must, or we shall rue it: "We have a vision of our own; "Ah! why should we undo it? "The treasured dreams of times long past, "If Care with freezing years should come, "And yet be melancholy; "Should life be dull, and spirits low, ""Twill soothe us in our sorrow, XII. IN THE PASS OF KILLICRANKY, AN INVASION BEING EXPECTED, OCTOBER 1803. Six thousand Veterans practised in War's game, For them whom precept and the pedantry O for a single hour of that Dundee, XIII. THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND. At Jedborough, my companion and I went into private Lodgings for a few days; and the following Verses were called forth by the character and domestic situation of our Hostess. AGE! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers, And call a train of laughing Hours; And bid them dance, and bid them sing; That there is One who scorns thy power: Nay! start not at that Figure there! Him who is rooted to his chair! Hath long been of thy Family. The joyous Woman is the Mate Of him in that forlorn estate! He breathes a subterraneous damp; But bright as Vesper shines her lamp: He is as mute as Jedborough Tower; She jocund as it was of yore, With all its bravery on; in times When all alive with merry chimes, Upon a sun-bright morn of May, It roused the Vale to Holiday, I praise thee, Matron! and thy due Is praise, heroic praise, and true! With admiration I behold Thy gladness unsubdued and bold: |