Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands 5 Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at carlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound 10 This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, 15 Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth 292 AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 5 And these gray rocks; that household lawn; Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn; A murmur near the silent lake; Like something fashioned in a dream; With earnest feeling I shall pray Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread! 35 Soft smiles, by human kindness bred! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays; 1 See Burns's To Ruin, st. 2. With no restraint, but such as springs From quick and eager visitings 40 Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach Of thy few words of English speech: A bondage sweetly brooked, a strife That gives thy gestures grace and life! So have I, not unmoved in mind, 45 Seen birds of tempest-loving kind— Thus beating up against the wind. What hand but would a garland cull For thee who art so beautiful? O happy pleasure! here to dwell 50 Beside thee in some heathy dell; Adopt your homely ways, and dress, A shepherd, thou a shepherdess! But I could frame a wish for thee More like a grave reality: 55 Thou art to me but as a wave Of the wild sea; and I would have Some claim upon thee, if I could, Though but of common neighborhood. What joy to hear thee, and to see! 60 Thy elder brother I would be, Thy father-anything to thee! Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace Hath led me to this lonely place. Joy have I had; and going hence 65 I bear away my recompense. In spots like these it is we prize As I do now, the cabin small, STEPPING WESTWARD "What, you are stepping westward?”— 'Twould be a wildish destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange land, and far from home, 5 Were in this place the guests of Chance: The dewy ground was dark and cold; 10 Behind, all gloomy to behold; And stepping westward seemed to be A kind of heavenly destiny: I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; 15 And seemed to give me spiritual right To travel through that region bright. The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native lake: The salutation had to me 20 The very sound of courtesy: Its power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought 25 Of travelling through the world that lay Before me in my endless way. THE SOLITARY REAPER Behold her, single in the field, 5 Alone she cuts and binds the grain, No nightingale did ever chaunt A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In springtime from the cuckoo-bird, 15 Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings?— Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, 20 And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay. Familiar matter of today? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? 25 Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending;; I listened, motionless and still; 30 And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. |