But men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,

And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

YARROW VISITED.

AND is this Yarrow?-this the stream
Of which my fancy cherish'd
So faithfully a waking dream,

An image that hath perish'd!

O! that some minstrel's harp were near,
To utter notes of gladness,

And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness!

Yet why?-a silvery current flows,
With uncontroll'd meanderings;
Nor have these eyes by greener hills
Been soothed, in all my wanderings.
And, through her depths, St. Mary's Lake
Is visibly delighted;

For not a feature of those hills
Is in the mirror slighted.

A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow Vale,

Save where that pearly whiteness
Is round the rising sun diffused,
A tender, hazy brightness;

Mild dawn of promise! that excludes

All profitless dejection;

Though not unwilling here to admit

A pensive recollection.

Where was it that the famous Flower
Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding?
His bed, perchance, was yon smooth mound,
On which the herd is feeding:
And haply from this crystal pool,
Now peaceful as the morning,
The Water-wraith ascended thrice,
And gave his doleful warning.

Delicious is the lay that sings

The haunts of happy lovers,
The path that leads them to the grove,
The leafy grove that covers:

And Pity sanctifies the verse

That paints, by strength of sorrow,

The unconquerable strength of love;
Bear witness, rueful Yarrow!

But thou, that didst appear so fair
To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day

Her delicate creation:

Meek loveliness is round thee spread,

A softness still and holy;

The grace of forest charms decay'd,
And pastoral melancholy.

That region left, the Vale unfolds

Rich groves of lofty stature,

With Yarrow winding through the pomp

Of cultivated nature;

And, rising from those lofty groves,

Behold a ruin hoary!

The shatter'd front of Newark's towers,

Renown'd in Border story.

YARROW VISITED.

Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,
For sportive youth to stray in
For manhood to enjoy his strength;

And age to wear away in!

Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,

A covert for protection

Of tender thoughts that nestle there,
The brood of chaste affection.