The weary Sun betook himself to rest. The glorious path in which he trod. Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them-but they Regard not her:-oh better wrong and strife, Better vain deeds or evil than such life! The silent Heavens have goings-on ; The stars have tasks-but these have none ! XXII. BEGGARS. SHE had a tall Man's height, or more; No bonnet screened her from the heat; A long drab-coloured Cloak she wore, What other dress she had I could not know; Only she wore a Cap that was as white as snow. In all my walks, through field or town, Her face was of Egyptian brown: Fit person was she for a Queen, To head those ancient Amazonian files: Or ruling Bandit's Wife, among the Grecian Isles. Before me begging did she stand, Pouring out sorrows like a sea; Such woes I knew could never be; And yet a boon I gave her; for the Creature Was beautiful to see; "a Weed of glorious feature!" I left her, and pursued my way; A pair of little Boys at play, The Taller followed with his hat in hand, The Other wore a rimless crown, Each whooping with a merry shout; Two Brothers seemed they, eight and ten years old; And like that Woman's face as gold is like to gold. They bolted on me thus, and lo! Your Mother has had alms of mine.” "That cannot be," one answer'd, "She is dead." "Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread." "She has been dead, Sir, many a day.” And in the twinkling of an eye, "Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado, Off to some other play they both together flew. XXIII. YARROW UNVISITED. 1803. (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, Busk ye, busk ye my winsome Marrow !"-) FROM Stirling Castle we had seen The mazy Forth unravell'd; Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay, |