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II.

The

eye that kindled, as the sod is cold ! The sod shall wake in blossoms! but no more Unclos’d, shall that illumin'd

eye

behold My Minstrel on the sky-ting'd mountain hoar,

The mossy cairne, the cliff, the surging shore,
As candour would assign the poet's meed;

Or now, (where lorn amidst the Yarrow's roar,
One impulse, one alone, doth Edwin heed)
Shall cordial love look up, and listen to my reed !

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pace,

Yet can I fancy, so benign and arch,

That smile, my friend, effus'd upon thy face, Where Edwin, midst his desultory march,

Would pause, then run, and slackening then his

From sorrow snatch the muse's pensive grace; And from his moody melancholy start,

And clasp some lovely form with fond embrace, As if for ever from that form to part, And rue the vision vain, and sigh forth all the heart.

IV.
Sad exile from his hills, no more the crook,

The nightly pen, the pipe, the tinkling bell,
Shall Edwin hail; nor hurry from the brook

(That his pinebridge o'erthrew with instant swell) His reckless flock; nor whistling o'er the fell, Bid honest Tray a bleating lamb chase hack;

Nor, tho' his progress drifted snows repel,
And, at each step the frozen current crack,
Pursue the vagrant kid, and trace its fading track,

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Sad exile from his hills, where life began,

With his paternal harp had Edwin fled !
By feudal vengeance was dispers'd his clan,
Where his old laird by Glenvon's dagger bled !

His honour'd parents grey had long been dead,
And matted were their graves with moss and fern!

And lo! poor Edwin fain would earn his bread To his harp trusting ! hard, alas! to earn, If to endure the scoff must heaven-born genius learn.

VI.

Lone wanderer ! all from clan to clan he rov'd;

The heath-roof'd cottage, and the lofty dome Rang to the madrigals his fathers lov'd;

When, once would the broad blaze of hearths illume,

Amidst high cheer, each hospitable room ! And still sweet hope to faery-land would waft

His spirit far from spleen's cold gathering gloom ; And love capricious on the peasant laugh’d, As now he sobb'd in grief, now hugg'd the golden shaft.

VII.

II. In unison with Edwin's pensive breast,

The sounds of population died away,
On the pale wood as twilight dropp'd her vest,

And, as to silence breath'd the whispering spray,

And all the rills that slumber'd through the day, Each gurgling rill distincter yet, drew near,

'Twas where the north star shone with purest ray, Their lapse through shades unseen he seem'd to hear, With some new sentiment, to hope and fancy dear.

VIII.

Ah! never never did he hear before,

The purling cadence of a stream so sweet, Nor ever (but still sighed for something more)

So soft a sound in gentle zephyr meet!

Yet was the simple music incomplete ! Still did he listen to the brooks, the trees,

Sauntering along, their murmurs fond to greet : And in each liquid fall, in every breeze, Some sympathy perceived, to mar the loiterer's ease.

IX.

Nor wonder, that the enthusiast listen'd still,

Where from the bosom of an unknown wood, One evening, sweeter than the pebbly rill,

Or down smooth rocks the fast-receding flood,

Tones he had heard, which in delicious mood
Expired. Ah! not so sweet the zephyr dies !

Then, as bereft of motion had he stood !
Then, as dissolv'd by heavenly symphonies,
Had he effus’d his spirit in one soft waste of sighs!

And now, he slop'd his solitary way,

To seek where sole on earth could pleasure flow : The bird of eve prelusive trilld her lay,

Where with faint blush he saw the buck-briar blow :

And, fading from a cloud with finer glow,
Wav'd o'er the west a crimson radiance clear :-

And, bark! (yet, yet, he fear’d, it was not so !)
The same celestial music met his ear,
And ceas'd, as if escap'd from a far distant sphere.

XI.

To where wild Yarrow winds its shadowy stream,

As on he press’d, in rapt attention mute,
Oft from the current through the leaves a gleam

Would, twinkling, tremulous, his strain' eye salute :

And each unquivering aspin seem'd to suit The silent temper of his soul so well.

Who but a seraph, who could execute Such melodies ? Again, so sweet a swell! Sweeter than sounds from lute, or harp, or horn, or shell.

XII,
Yet was he sure, it was some charming maid

Mingling her voice with each harmonious wire,
And panted to explore the sacred shade

That bower'd the fairest of the immortal choir !
The Minstrel seem'd to mount on flames of fire!.

amidst the foliage, rose more bright,
The star which sooths the lover's fond desire,
When one rich tone, as if to meet that light,
Was breath'd through the hush'd air, and all was lost

in night.

And now,

XIII.

Thrill’d by such sweetness at the watery brink,

He stole (and homeward with the treasure hied) From his dear lutanist a dulcet link;

Nor to his harp till many a touch applied

Its mimic modulations deftly tried, Did he a moment rest. That star again

Beam'd forth. Again he stood by Yarrow's side, Heard with new joy the same symphonious strain, And tun'd the according strings, responsive all in vain.

XIV.

Eve follow'd eve. “ Alas! (he cried) I hail

• The secret maid ; but where her wonted note ? I rove, unheeded, all through Yarrow's dale!

Yet, hark! the springtide numbers round me float! Ah! happier far the feather'd lover's lot! “ Hark! from the hazel copse, the whitening thorn,

“ Each gladsome warbler pours his little throat! « Nor does he court a dumb cold mate forlorn ! I only utter plaints, repelled by silent scorn.

XV.

“ Yet, midst the light leaves of yon purple birch,

“ I see that finch her pert pursuer fly; “ Now, flirtish, on a trembling osier perch,

Now hop away, or petulant or shy, “ As if she were averse from vernal joy! “ But soon shall she relent and hail hin blest!

“Soon, though she flutter, a coquet so coy, “ Steal the soft moss to weave her genial nest, “ And twitter love for love, and pant to be carest!”

XVI.

He ceas'd, and struck his harp. Spontaneous strains

Along the chords instinct with amorous fire Express'd the lover's fears, the lover's pains;

And in the chasten'd dalliance of desire

As the tones swell'd, to languish and expire,
He deem'd the effect for mortal hand too much;

But when across the wave some answering wire
He caught, the ravishment of sound was such,
His arms he rais'd and clasped, entranc'd at every

touch.

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