“in that original shape Scott always recited it, and few lines in the
  language were more frequently in his mouth.”

Compare Burns’ ‘Verses on the destruction of the Woods near Drumlanrig’, which refer to the same subject.—­Ed.

* * * * *

YARROW UNVISITED

Composed 1803.—­Published 1807

See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the Banks of the
Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton, beginning: 

  “Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,
  Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow!”

W. W. 1807.

One of the “Poems of the Imagination” in 1815 and 1820.—­Ed.

  From Stirling castle we had seen
  The mazy Forth unravelled;
  Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
  And with the Tweed had travelled;
  And when we came to Clovenford, 5
  Then said my “winsome Marrow,”
  “Whate’er betide, we’ll turn aside,
  And see the Braes of Yarrow.”

  “Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
  Who have been buying, selling, 10
  Go back to Yarrow, ’tis their own;
  Each maiden to her dwelling! 
  On Yarrow’s banks let herons feed,
  Hares couch, and rabbits burrow! 
  But we will downward [1] with the Tweed, 15
  Nor turn aside to Yarrow.

  “There’s Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
  Both lying right before us;
  And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
  The lintwhites sing in chorus; 20
  There’s pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
  Made blithe with plough and harrow: 
  Why throw away a needful day
  To go in search of Yarrow?

  “What’s Yarrow but a river bare, 25
  That glides the dark hills under? 
  There are a thousand such elsewhere
  As worthy of your wonder.” 
—­Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn;
  My True-love sighed for sorrow; 30
  And looked me in the face, to think
  I thus could speak of Yarrow!

  “Oh! green,” said I, “are Yarrow’s holms,
  And sweet is Yarrow flowing! 
  Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, [A] 35
  But we will leave it growing. 
  O’er hilly path, and open Strath,
  We’ll wander Scotland thorough;
  But, though so near, we will not turn
  Into the dale of Yarrow. 40

  “Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
  The sweets of Burn-mill meadow;
  The swan on still St. Mary’s Lake
  Float double, swan and shadow! [B]
  We will not see them; will not go, 45
  To-day, nor yet to-morrow;
  Enough if in our hearts we know
  There’s such a place as Yarrow.