"I cannot take leave of the country which we passed through to-day without mentioning that we saw the Cumberland Mountains, within half-a-mile of Ellisland, Burns's house, the last view we had of them. Drayton has prettily described the connection which this neighbourhood has with ours when he makes Skiddaw say: 'Seurfell [E] from the sky, That Anadale [F] doth crown, with a most amorous eye, Salutes me every day, or at my pride looks grim, Oft threatening me with clouds, as I oft threatening him!' "These lines recurred to William's memory, and we talked of Burns, and of the prospect he must have had, perhaps from his own door, of Skiddaw and his companions, including ourselves in the fancy, that we _might_ have been personally known to each other, and he have looked upon those objects with more pleasure for our sakes." Ed. [Footnote E: Criffel.--Ed.] [Footnote F: Annandale.--Ed.] * * * * * THOUGHTS SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITH, NEAR THE POET'S RESIDENCE Composed 1803. [A]--Published 1842 Too frail to keep the lofty vow That must have followed when his brow Was wreathed--"The Vision" [B] tells us how-- With holly spray, He faultered, drifted to and fro, 5 And passed away. Well might such thoughts, dear Sister, throng Our minds when, lingering all too long, Over the grave of Burns we hung In social grief--10 Indulged as if it were a wrong To seek relief. But, leaving each unquiet theme Where gentlest judgments may misdeem, And prompt to welcome every gleam 15 Of good and fair, Let us beside this limpid Stream Breathe hopeful air. Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight; Think rather of those moments bright 20 When to the consciousness of right His course was true, When Wisdom prospered in his sight And virtue grew. Yes, freely let our hearts expand, 25 Freely as in youth's season bland, When side by side, his Book in hand, We wont to stray, Our pleasure varying at command Of each sweet Lay. 30 How oft inspired must he have trod These pathways, yon far-stretching road! There lurks his home; in that Abode, With mirth elate, Or in his nobly-pensive mood, 35 The Rustic sate. Proud thoughts that Image overawes, Before it humbly let us pause, And ask of Nature, from what cause And by what rules 40 She trained her Burns to win applause That shames the Schools.