The same Subject

The Faëry Chasm

Hints for the Fancy

Open Prospect .

O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot

From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play

American Tradition

Return

Seathwaite Chapel

Tributary Stream.

The Plain of Donnerdale

Whence that low voice? A whisper from the heart

Tradition.

Sheep-washing.

The Resting-place

Methinks 't were no unprecedented feat
Return, Content! for fondly I pursued
Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap
Journey renewed

No record tells of lance opposed to lance.

Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce

The KIRK of ULPHA to the pilgrim's eye

Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep

Conclusion

After-thought

YARROW REVISITED, AND OTHER POEMS,

Composed (two excepted) during a Tour in Scotland, and on the Eng-

lish Border, in the Autumn of 1831.

The gallant Youth, who may have gained

271

On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford,

for Naples.

276

A Place of Burial in the South of Scotland.

276

On the Sight of a Manse in the South of Scotland

Composed in Roslin Chapel, during a Storm

The pibroch's note, discountenanced or mute

Composed in the Glen of Loch Etive

Eagles. Composed at Dunollie Castle in the Bay of

Oban

In the Sound of Mull

Suggested at Tyndrum in a Storm

279

280

282

The Earl of Breadalbane's Ruined Mansion, and Family

Burial-place, near Killin.

"Rest and be Thankful! At the Head of Glencroe 283

Highland Hut

The Highland Broach

The Brownie

To the Planet Venus, an Evening Star. Composed at

Loch Lomond

Bothwell Castle. Passed unseen, on Account of Stormy

Weather

284

285

288

289

290

Picture of Daniel in the Lion's Den, at Hamilton Palace 291

The Avon. A Feeder of the Annan

Suggested by a View from an Eminence in Inglewood

291

Fancy and Tradition.

Countess' Pillar

Roman Antiquities. From the Roman Station at Old

Penrith ..

Apology for the foregoing Poems

NOTES

295

296

298

THE gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains
Might sometimes covet dissoluble chains;
Even for the tenants of the zone that lies
Beyond the stars, celestial Paradise,
Methinks 't would heighten joy, to overleap
At will the crystal battlements, and peep
Into some other region, though less fair,

To see how things are made and managed there.
Change for the worse might please, incursion bold
Into the tracts of darkness and of cold;

O'er Limbo Lake with aëry flight to steer,
And on the verge of Chaos hang in fear.

Such animation often do I find,

Power in my breast, wings growing in my mind,
Then, when some rock or hill is overpast,
Perchance without one look behind me cast,

Some barrier with which Nature, from the birth
Of things, has fenced this fairest spot on earth.
O pleasant transit, Grasmere! to resign.

Such happy fields, abodes so calm as thine;
Not like an outcast with himself at strife;
The slave of business, time, or care for life,
But moved by choice; or, if constrained in part,
Yet still with Nature's freedom at the heart;
To cull contentment upon wildest shores,
And luxuries extract from bleakest moors;
With prompt embrace all beauty to enfold,
And having rights in all that we behold.
Then why these lingering steps?-A bright adieu,
For a brief absence, proves that love is true;
Ne'er can the way be irksome or forlorn
That winds into itself for sweet return.

II.

AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS.

1803.

SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH.

I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold,
At thought of what I now behold:
As vapors breathed from dungeons cold
Strike pleasure dead,

So sadness comes from out the mould

Where Burns is laid.

And have I then thy bones so near,
And thou forbidden to appear ?
As if it were thyself that 's here,
I shrink with pain;

And both my wishes and my fear
Alike are vain.

Off weight,

nor press on weight! — away
Dark thoughts!-they came, but not to stay;
With chastened feelings would I pay
The tribute due

To him, and aught that hides his clay
From mortal view.

Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth
He sang, his genius "glinted" forth,
Rose like a star that, touching earth,
For so it seems,

Doth glorify its humble birth

With matchless beams.

The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow,
The struggling heart, where be they now?-
Full soon the Aspirant of the plough,
The prompt, the brave,

Slept, with the obscurest, in the low
And silent grave.

I mourned with thousands, but as one
More deeply grieved, for He was gone