The most lighthearted sons of song have succumbed to the general feeling. Wordsworth himself would have preferred to strike another note, but the enchantment of the spot held him fast: "O that some Minstrel's harp were near To utter notes of gladness, And chase this silence from the air, That fills my heart with sadness!" All the verse writers of the last century were mere continuators of their fellow-bards centuries before. There are, to be sure, some flippant spirits who would dare to alter the very atmosphere of Yarrow, but what a poor attempt at the impossible! Yarrow must ever abide the embodiment of the most heart-piercing, and at the same time, the most winsome melody the world has listened to. Popularly speaking, the best of the Yarrow ballads concerns itself with the famous "Dowie Dens" tragedy, of which there seems to be some authentic reference in the Selkirk Presbytery Record for 1616. It is there narrated how Walter Scott of Tushielaw made "an informal and inordinate marriage with Grizell Scott of Thirlestane without consent of her father." Just three months later, the same Record contains entry of a summons to Simeon Scott, of Bonytoun, an adherent of Thirlestane, and three other Scotts "to compear at Melrose to hear themselves excommunicated for the horrible slaughter of Walter Scott." We have here probably the precise incident on which the unknown "makar" founded his crude but intensely picturesque and dramatic lay. How much of womanly winsomeness and heroism, of knightly dignity and daring, and the unconquerable strength of love are portrayed in the following stanzas! There are, indeed, few ballads in any language that match its strains: "She kiss'd his cheek, she kaim'd his hair, As oft she had done before, O; She belted him with his noble brand, And he's away to Yarrow. * * * * * "'If I see all, ye're nine to ane; And that's an unequal marrow; Yet will I fight, while lasts my brand, On the bonnie banks of Yarrow.' * * * * * "Four has he hurt, and five has slain; On the bloody braes of Yarrow, Till that stubborn knight came him behind, And ran his body thorough. * * * * * "Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream; I fear there will be sorrow! I dream'd I pu'd the heather green Wi' my true love on Yarrow. * * * * * "She kiss'd his cheek, she kaimed his hair; She search'd his wounds all thorough; She kiss'd them till her lips grew red, On the dowie houms of Yarrow."