A ROCK there is whose homely front

The passing traveller slights;

Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps,

Like stars, at various heights;

And one coy Primrose to that Rock

The vernal breeze invites.

What hideous warfare hath been waged, What kingdoms overthrown,

Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft

And marked it for my own;

A lasting link in Nature's chain
From highest heaven let down!

The flowers, still faithful to the stems,
Their fellowship renew;

The stems are faithful to the root,
That worketh out of view;

And to the rock the root adheres

In every fibre true.

Close clings to earth the living rock,
Though threatening still to fall;
The earth is constant to her sphere ;
And God upholds them all:

So blooms this lonely Plant, nor dreads
Her annual funeral.

Or seeks, a winsome Marrow," Was but an Infant in the lap

When first I looked on Yarrow: Once more, by Newark's Castle-gate Long left without a warder,

I stood, looked, listened, and with Thee, Great Minstrel of the Border!

Grave thoughts ruled wide on that sweet day,

Their dignity installing

In gentle bosoms, while sere leaves
Were on the bough, or falling;
But breezes played, and
gleamed-

sunshine

The forest to embolden; Reddened the fiery hues, and shot Transparence through the golden.

For busy thoughts the Stream flowed on
In foamy agitation;

And slept in many a crystal pool
For quiet contemplation :
No public and no private care
The freeborn mind enthralling,
We made a day of happy hours,
Our happy days recalling.

Brisk Youth appeared, the Morn of youth,

With freaks of graceful folly,Life's temperate Noon, her sober Eve, Her Night not melancholy : Past, present, future, all appeared In harmony united,

Like prests that meet, and some from

By scrutal love av bed.

And if. as Yarrow, through the woods
Vid down Ne neɑiew ranging,
Dik, meet us with unaltered face,
Though we were changed and chang-

It, then, some natural shadows spread
Our ward prospect over.

The sour's deep valley was not slow
Its digitaless te recorer.

Eternal blessings on the Muse.

Vid her divine employment!

The bia neless Muse, who trains her Sons
For hope and calm enjoyment ;
Ubeit sickness, lingering yet.
Has o'er their pillow brooded ;
And Care way lays their steps--a Sprite
You easily eluded.

For thee, O Scort! compelled to change
Green Fildon hill and Cheviot
For warm Vesuvio's vine-clad slopes ;
And leave thy Tweed and Tiviot
For mild Sorrento's breezy waves;
May classic Fancy, linking
With native Fancy her fresh aid,
Preserve thy heart from sinking!
Oh! while they minister to thee,
Fach vying with the other,
May Health return to mellow Age
With Strength, her venturous brother;
And fiber, and each brook and rill
Renowned in song and story,
With unimagined beauty shine,
Nor lose one ray of glory!

For Thou, upon a hundred streams,
By tales of love and sorrow,
Of faithful love, undaunted truth,
Hast shed the power of Yarrow;
And stresams unknown, hills yet unseen,
Wherever they invite Thee,
A parent Nature's grateful call,

With gladness must requite Thee.

A gracious welcome shall be thine,
Such looks of love and honor
As thy own Yarrow gave to me
When first I gazed upon her:
Behold what I had feared to see,
Unwilling to surrender

Dreams treasured up from early days,
The holy and the tender.

And what, for this frail world, were all
That mortals do or suffer,

Did no responsive harp, no pen,
Memorial tribute offer?

Yea, what were mighty Nature's self?
Her features, could they win us,
Unhelped by the poetic voice

That hourly speaks within us?

Nor deem that localized Romance
Plays false with our affections;
Unsanctifies our tears-made sport
For fanciful dejections:
Ah, no! the visions of the past
Sustain the heart in feeling
Life as she is-our changeful Life,
With friends and kindred dealing.

Bear witness, Ye, whose thoughts that

day

In Yarrow's groves were centred ; Who through the silent portal arch

Of mouldering Newark entered; And clomb the winding stair that once Too timidly was mounted

By the last Minstrel," (not the last!)
Ere he his Tale recounted.

Flow on for ever, Yarrow Stream!
Fulfil thy pensive duty,

Well pleased that future Bards should chant

For simple hearts thy beauty; To dream-light dear while yet unseen, Dear to the common sunshine, And dearer still, as now I feel, To memory's shadowy moonshine! 1831 1835.

THE TROSACHS

As recorded in my sister's Journal, I had first seen the Trosachs in her and Coleridge's com pany. The sentiment that runs through this Sonnet was natural to the season in which I again saw this beautiful spot; but this and some other sonnets that follow were colored by the remembrance of my recent visit to Sir Walter Scott, and the melancholy errand on which he was going. (Wordsworth.)

THERE'S not a nook within this solemn Pass,

But were an apt confessional for One Taught his summer spent, his autumn

Untouched, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,

If from a golden perch of aspen spray (October's workmanship to rival May) The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,

Lulling the year, with all its cares, to
rest!
1831. 1835.

IF THOU INDEED DERIVE THY
LIGHT FROM HEAVEN

IF thou indeed derive thy light from
Heaven,

Then, to the measure of that heaven

born light,

Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be content: The stars pre-eminent in magnitude, And they that from the zenith dart their beams,

(Visible though they be to half the earth, Though half a sphere be conscious of their brightness)

Are yet of no diviner origin,

No purer essence, than the one that burns,

Like an untended watch-fire on the ridge Of some dark mountain; or than those which seem

Humbly to hang, like twinkling winter lamps,

Among the branches of the leafless trees. All are the undying offspring of one Sire: Then, to the measure of the light vouchsafed,

Shine, Poet! in thy place, and be con1832. 1836.

tent.