Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, And with the Tweed had travelled; And when we came to Clovenford, Then said my "winsome Marrow," "Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside, And see the Braes of Yarrow."
"Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town, Who have been buying, selling, Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their own; Each maiden to her dwelling! On Yarrow's banks let herons feed, Hares couch, and rabbits burrow! But we will downward with the Tweed, Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
"There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs, Both lying right before us;
And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed The lintwhites sing in chorus; There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land Made blithe with plough and harrow: Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?
"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!
"Oh, green," said I, "are Yarrow's holms, And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, But we will leave it growing. O'er hilly path, and open Strath, 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 The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow! We will not see them; will not go, To-day, nor yet to-morrow; Enough if in our hearts we know There's such a place as Yarrow.
"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, We'll keep them, winsome Marrow! For when we're there, although 'tis fair, "Twill be another Yarrow!
"If Care with freezing years should come, And wandering seem but folly,- Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy;
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
"Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth hath something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!"
[Begun probably in the spring of 1802. Composed 1804.-Published 1807.]
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
[Composed probably before 1804.-Published 1820.]
The following tale was written as an Episode, in a work from which its length may perhaps exclude it. The facts are true; no invention as to these has been exercised, as none was needed.
O happy time of youthful lovers (thus My story may begin) O balmy time, In which a love-knot on a lady's brow Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven! To such inheritance of blessed fancy
(Fancy that sports more desperately with minds Than ever fortune hath been known to do)
The high-born Vaudracour was brought, by years Whose progress had a little overstepped
His stripling prime. A town of small repute, Among the vine-clad mountains of Auvergne,
Was the Youth's birth-place. There he wooed a Maid Who heard the heart-felt music of his suit With answering vows. Plebeian was the stock, Plebeian, though ingenuous, the stock,
From which her graces and her honours sprung: And hence the father of the enamoured Youth, With haughty indignation, spurned the thought Of such alliance. From their cradles up, With but a step between their several homes,
Twins had they been in pleasure; after strife And petty quarrels, had grown fond again; Each other's advocate, each other's stay; And, in their happiest moments, not content, If more divided than a sportive pair
Of sea-fowl, conscious both that they are hovering Within the eddy of a common blast,
Or hidden only by the concave depth Of neighbouring billows from each other's sight.
Thus, not without concurrence of an age Unknown to memory, was an earnest given By ready nature for a life of love,
For endless constancy, and placid truth; But whatsoe'er of such rare treasure lay Reserved, had fate permitted, for support Of their maturer years, his present mind Was under fascination;-he beheld
A vision, and adored the thing he saw. Arabian fiction never filled the world
With half the wonders that were wrought for him. Earth breathed in one great presence of the spring; Life turned the meanest of her implements, Before his eyes, to price above all gold; The house she dwelt in was a sainted shrine; Her chamber-window did surpass in glory The portals of the dawn; all Paradise Could, by the simple opening of a door, Let itself in upon him:-pathway, walks, Swarmed with enchantment, till his spirit sank, Surcharged, within him, overblest to move Beneath a sun that wakes a weary world To its dull round of ordinary cares; A man too happy for mortality!
So passed the time, till, whether through effect Of some unguarded moment that dissolved Virtuous restraint-ah, speak it, think it, not! Deem rather that the fervent Youth, who saw So many bars between his present state And the dear haven where he wished to be
In honourable wedlock with his Love, Was in his judgment tempted to decline
To perilous weakness, and entrust his cause To nature for a happy end of all;
Deem that by such fond hope the Youth was swayed, And bear with their transgression, when I add That Julia, wanting yet the name of wife, Carried about her for a secret grief
The promise of a mother. To conceal
The threatened shame, the parents of the Maid Found means to hurry her away by night, And unforewarned, that in some distant spot She might remain shrouded in privacy,
Until the babe was born. When morning came, The Lover, thus bereft, stung with his loss, And all uncertain whither he should turn, Chafed like a wild beast in the toils; but soon Discovering traces of the fugitives,
Their steps he followed to the Maid's retreat. Easily may the sequel be divined-
Walks to and fro-watching at every hour; And the fair Captive, who, whene'er she may, Is busy at her casement as the swallow Fluttering its pinions, almost within reach, About the pendent nest, did thus espy Her Lover!-thence a stolen interview, Accomplished under friendly shade of night.
I pass the raptures of the pair;-such theme Is, by innumerable poets, touched In more delightful verse than skill of mine Could fashion; chiefly by that darling bard Who told of Juliet and her Romeo,
And of the lark's note heard before its time, And of the streaks that laced the severing clouds In the unrelenting east.-Through all her courts The vacant city slept; the busy winds,
That keep no certain intervals of rest,
Moved not; meanwhile the galaxy displayed Her fires, that like mysterious pulses beat Aloft; -momentous but uneasy bliss!
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