Too soon, too quickly from our longing sight, Fading he passed, and left us to deplore From all our Oxford day a lovely light Gone, which no after morning could restore. Through his own meadows Cherwell still wound on, And Thames by Eton fields as glorious shone―― He who so loved them would come back Among that scholar band the youngest pair In hall and chapel side by side were seen, Each of high hopes and noble promise heir, But far in thought apart a world between. The one,1 wide-welcomed for a father's fame, Entered with free bold step that seemed to claim Fame for himself, nor on another lean. So full of power, yet blithe and debonair, Rallying his friends with pleasant banter gay, Or half adream chaunting with jaunty air Great words of Goethe, catch of Béranger. We see the banter sparkle in his prose, But knew not then the undertone that flows, So calmly sad, through all his stately lay! 1 Matthew Arnold. The other of an ancient name, erst dear To Border Hills, though thence too long exiled, In lore of Hellas scholar without peer, a Reared in grey halls on banks of Severn piled: Reserved he was, of few words and slow speech, But dwelt strange power, that beyond words could reach, In that sweet face by no rude thought defiled. Oft at the hour when round the board at wine Friends met, and others' talk flowed fast and free, His listening silence and grave look benign More than all speech made sweet society. But when the rowers, on their rivals gaining, Close on the goal bent, every sinew straining Then who more stout, more resolute than he? T With that dear memory come back most Up Hincksey Vale, where gleamed the 'young primroses, And happy children gathered them in posies, Of that glad season meet accompaniment. Of that bright band already more than half Have passed beyond earth's longing and regret ; The remnant, for grave thought or pleasant laugh, Can meet no longer as of old they met : Yet, O pure souls! there are who still retain Deep in their hearts the high ideal strain' They heard with you, and never can forget. And, ere descending to the dusty strife, Gazed from clear heights of intellectual joy, That an undying image left enshrined, i Since then, through all the jars of life's routine, ,,"་ All that down-drags the spirit's loftier mood, I have been soothed by fellowship serene Of single souls with Heaven's own light endued, But look where'er I may--before, behind→→→ I have not found, nor now expect to find, Another such high-hearted brotherhood. "Will ye gang wi' me and fare To the bush aboon Traquair? Owre the high Minchmuir we'll up and awa', This bonny simmer noon, While the sun shines fair aboon, And the licht sklents saftly doun on holm and ha" und f 1 by foi bih, a va "And what wad ye do there, At the bush aboon Traquair ?,,. A lang dreich road, ye had better let it be ; Save some auld scrunts o' birk the hill-side that lirk 1 There's nocht i' the world for man to see. But the blythe lilt o' that air, The Bush aboon Traquair ? I need nae mair, it's eneuch for me; Owre my cradle its sweet chime Sae tide what may, I'll awa' and see.” ::" And what saw ye there, At the bush aboon Traquair ? Or what did ye hear that was worth your heed? "I heard the cushies croon Through the gowden afternoon, And the Quair burn singing down to the Vale o' Tweed. "And birks saw I three or four, The last that are left o' the birken shaw, Fond lovers did convene, They bonny, bonny gloamings that are lang awa'. 66 Fraemony a but and ben, By muirland, holm and glen, They came ane hour to spen' on the greenwood sward; But lang ha'e lad an' lass*** Been lying 'neth the grass, The green green grass o' Traquair Kirkyard. "They were blest beyond compare, When they held their trysting there, Amang thae greenest hills shone on by the sun; And then they wan a rest, The lonest and the best, I' Traquair Kirkyard when a' was done. |