Though feebly in my harassed mind the light Of fancy burn, yet thy inspiring strain WORDSWORTH! has power to lull the sense of pain, And bring long lost illusions to my sight. Methinks the autumnal fields,--the mist-wreaths white,-- The woods,--the distant waters of the main Their wonted hues of wild enchantment gain, And, for a space, my cares are put to flight. Then, how much more shall this immortal Lay For the "_free Soul_" celestial sweets disclose!-- But, thine it is, oh Bard! with magic sway To charm each meaner passion to repose;-- To guide the faltering pilgrim on his way, And energise the weak, and soothe the mourner's woes. R. P. GILLIES. VARIANTS: [Footnote 33: 1820. Rise, *** rise: ... 1815. ] [Footnote 34: 1827. ... high ... 1815. ] [Footnote 35: 1827. ... fading grove: 1815. ] IV YARROW VISITED SEPTEMBER, 1814 Composed 1814.--Published 1815 [As mentioned in my verses on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, my first visit to Yarrow was in his company. We had lodged the night before at Traquair, where Hogg had joined us, and also Dr. Anderson, the Editor of the _British Poets_, who was on a visit at the Manse. Dr. A. walked with us till we came in view of the Vale of Yarrow, and, being advanced in life, he then turned back. The old man was passionately fond of poetry, though with not much of a discriminating judgment, as the Volumes he edited sufficiently shew. But I was much pleased to meet with him, and to acknowledge my obligation to his collection, which had been my brother John's companion in more than one voyage to India, and which he gave me before his departure from Grasmere, never to return. Through these Volumes I became first familiar with Chaucer, and so little money had I then to spare for books, that, in all probability, but for this same work, I should have known little of Drayton, Daniel, and other distinguished poets of the Elizabethan age, and their immediate successors, till a much later period of my life. I am glad to record this, not from any importance of its own, but, as a tribute of gratitude to this simple-hearted old man, whom I never again had the pleasure of meeting. I seldom read or think of this poem without regretting that my dear Sister was not of the party, as she would have had so much delight in recalling the time, when, travelling together in Scotland, we declined going in search of this celebrated stream, not altogether, I will frankly confess, for the reasons assigned in the poem on the occasion.--I.F.] In 1815 and 1820 this was one of the "Poems of the Imagination." In 1827 it became one of the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland" of 1814. The MS. readings to this poem are taken from a copy in a letter by Dorothy Wordsworth to Mrs. Clarkson, dated November 11, 1814.--ED.