ABBOTSFORD 109 



sunny vale, taking its free course through the 

 haugh, and glittering amongst sylvan bowers — 

 swelling out at times fair and ample, and again 

 contracted into gorges and sounding cataracts — lost 

 for a space in its mazes behind a jutting brae, and 

 reappearing in dashes of light through bolls of trees 

 opposed to it in shadow. 



Thus it holds its fitful course. The stranger 

 might wander in the quiet vale, and, far below the 

 blue summits, he might see the shaggy flock grouped 

 upon some sunny knoll, or straggling among the 

 scattered birch trees ; and, lower down on the 

 haugh, his eye perchance might rest awhile on some 

 cattle standing on a tongue of land by the margin 

 of the river, with their dark and rich brown forms 

 opposed to the brightness of the waters. All these 

 outward pictures he might see and feel ; but he 

 could see no farther : the lore had not spread its 

 witchery over the scene — the legends slept in 

 oblivion. The stark moss-trooper, and the clanking 

 stride of the warrior, had not again started into life ; 

 nor had the light blazed gloriously in the sepulchre 

 of the wizard with the mighty book. The slogan 

 swelled not anew upon the gale, resounding through 

 the glens, and over the misty mountains ; nor had 

 the minstrel's harp made music in the stately halls 

 of Newark, 1 or beside the lonely braes of Yarrow. 



Since that time I have seen the cottage of 

 Abbotsford with its rustic porch, lying peacefully 

 on the haugh between the lone hills ; and have 

 listened to the wild rush of the Tweed as it hurried 

 beneath it. As time progressed, and as hopes arose, 



1 The tower of Newark stands near Bowhill. 



