And oh ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, 190 Think not of any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquish'd one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye 200 That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. _NOTES to the SECOND VOLUME_. _NOTES_. NOTE I. PAGE 4 (177); line 2.--"And wondrous length and strength of arm." The people of the neighbourhood of Loch Ketterine, in order to prove the extraordinary length of their Hero's arm, tell you that "he could garter his Tartan Stockings below the knee when standing upright." According to their account he was a tremendous Swordsman; after having sought all occasions of proving his prowess, he was never conquered but once, and this not till he was an Old Man. NOTE II. PAGE 11 (185).--_The solitary Reaper_. This Poem was suggested by a beautiful sentence in a MS Tour in Scotland written by a Friend, the last line being taken from it _verbatim_. NOTE III. PAGE 65 (239).--THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. The incident upon which this Poem is founded was related to me by an eye witness. NOTE IV. PAGE 106 (280); line 10.--"Seen the Seven Whistlers, &c." Both these superstitions are prevalent in the midland Counties of England: that of "Gabriel's Hounds" appears to be very general over Europe; being the same as the one upon which the German Poet, Burger, has founded his Ballad of the Wild Huntsman. NOTE V.