Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned That privilege by virtue.-" Ill," said he, Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, "And while my youthful peers, before my eyes "The wished-for wind was given:-I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea; And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be "Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang The paths which we had trod-these fountains, flowers; "But should suspense permit the Foe to cry, 110 120 130 "And Thou, though strong in love, art all too weak In reason, in self-government too slow; I counsel thee by fortitude to seek Our blest re-union in the shades below. The invisible world with thee hath sympathised; Be thy affections raised and solemnised. "Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend- Aloud she shrieked; for Hermes re-appears! Round the dear Shade she would have clung-'tis vain: Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, -Yet tears to human suffering are due; 140 150 160 1814.] From out of the tomb of him for whom she died; 1 YARROW VISITED, SEPTEMBER, 1814. And is this-Yarrow?-This the Stream Of which my fancy cherished, So faithfully, a waking dream? O that some Minstrel's harp were near, And chase this silence from the air, Yet why?-a silvery current flows Been soothed, in all my wanderings. And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake For not a feature of those hills Is in the mirror slighted. A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow vale, 1 For other endings of "Laodamia" consult Knight's Wordsworth. 170 10 Is round the rising sun diffused, Mild dawn of promise! that excludes Though not unwilling here to admit 20 Where was it that the famous Flower Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding? His bed perchance was yon smooth mound And haply from this crystal pool, The Water-wraith ascended thrice- Delicious is the Lay that sings The path that leads them to the grove, And Pity sanctifies the Verse That paints, by strength of sorrow, The unconquerable strength of love; 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 decayed, And pastoral melancholy. 30 40 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 shattered front of Newark's Towers, Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, For manhood to enjoy his strength; Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss, Of tender thoughts, that nestle there— How sweet, on this autumnal day, And on my True-love's forehead plant The sober Hills thus deck their brows I see but not by sight alone, And gladsome notes my lips can breathe, |