Yarrow Revisited
The
gallant
Youth,
who
may
have
gained,
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
sunshine
gleamed-
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
guests
that
meet,
and
some
from
far,
By
cordial
love
invited.
And
if,
as
Yarrow,
through
the
woods
And
down
the
meadow
ranging,
Did
meet
us
with
unaltered
face,
Though
we
were
changed
and
changing;
If,
then,
some
natural
shadows
spread
Our
inward
prospect
over,
The
soul's
deep
valley
was
not
slow
Its
brightness
to
recover.
Eternal
blessings
on
the
Muse,
And
her
divine
employment!
The
blameless
Muse,
who
trains
her
Sons
For
hope
and
calm
enjoyment;
Albeit
sickness,
lingering
yet,
Has
o'er
their
pillow
brooded;
And
Care
waylays
their
steps-a
Sprite
Not
easily
eluded.
For
thee,
O
Scott!
compelled
to
change
Green
Eildon-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,
Each
vying
with
the
other,
May
Health
return
to
mellow
Age
With
Strength,
her
venturous
brother;
And
Tiber,
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
streams
unknown,
hills
yet
unseen,
Wherever
they
invite
Thee,
At
parent
Nature's
grateful
call,
With
gladness
must
requite
Thee.
A
gracious
welcome
shall
be
thine,
Such
looks
of
love
and
honour
As
thy
own
Yarrow
gave
to
me
When
first
I
gazed
upon
her;
Beheld
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!
William Wordsworth
The English poet William Wordsworth is considered to be one of the most important literary figures in modern history, as well as one of the leading purveyors of the Romantic Movement. He was born in 1770, in Cumbria, and was one of four children. Over the course of his life, he continued to return to the Lake District, and eventually passed away in Cumbria, in 1850. The influence of William Wordsworth should not be underestimated, as he not only helped to kick-start the Romantic Age, he also formed half of one of the most famous literary partnerships in history. The friendship that he shared with fellow poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge is now the stuff of legend, as is the subsequent fallout after the friendship fell apart.