umberland, having on
its banks "Our Lady's Chapel," three-quarters of a mile west of Bothal.
It has been commemorated by Akenside.

THE TWEED VISITED.

O Tweed! a stranger, that with wandering feet
O'er hill and dale has journeyed many a mile,
(If so his weary thoughts he might beguile),
Delighted turns thy stranger-stream to greet.
The waving branches that romantic bend
O'er thy tall banks a soothing charm bestow;
The murmurs of thy wandering wave below
Seem like the converse of some long-lost friend.
Delightful stream! though now along thy shore,
When spring returns in all her wonted pride,
The distant pastoral pipe is heard no more;[9]
Yet here while laverocks sing could I abide,
Far from the stormy world's contentious roar,
To muse upon thy banks at eventide.

[9] Alluding to the simple and affecting pastoral strains for which
Scotland has been so long celebrated. I need not mention Lochaber, the
Braes of Bellendine, Tweedside, _et cet._

ON LEAVING A VILLAGE IN SCOTLAND.

Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave,
And bid farewell to each retiring hill,
Where musing memory seems to linger still,
Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve
That, mingled with the toiling crowd, no more
I may return your varied views to mark,
Of rocks amid the sunshine towering dark,
Of rivers winding wild,[10] or mountains hoar,
Or castle gleaming on the distant steep!--
Yet many a look back on thy hills I cast,
And many a softened image of the past
Sadly combine, and bid remembrance keep,
To soothe me with fair scenes, and fancies rude,
When I pursue my path in solitude.

[10] There is a wildness almost fantastic in the view of the river from
Stirling Castle, the course of which is seen for many miles, making a
thousand turnings.

EVENING.

Evening! as slow thy placid shades descend,
Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still,
The lonely, battlement, the farthest hill
And wood, I think of those who have no friend;
Who now, perhaps, by melancholy led,
From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts,
Retiring, wander to the ring-dove's haunts
Unseen; and watch the tints that o'er thy bed
Hang lovely; oft to musing Fancy's eye
Presenting fairy vales, where the tired mind
Might rest beyond the murmurs of man