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197
THE THREE SISTERS.
[_]
Loch Awe.—Three large Ash-trees by the road-side are know by the name of the Three Sisters, from the persons who planted them; and this was all we heard. A more durable monument these Sisters, whoever they were, might have left, but not a more beautiful nor a more affecting one, under whatever circumstances they may have planted the trees which have already so long survived them,—whether in the joyousness of childhood, with no fore-thought and fore-feeling to disturb their enjoyment; or perhaps with too much of that feeling, when they were about to be separated for the first time, or for ever. Mr. Southey's Scotch Journal, p. 247.
Stop, Traveller! rest and contemplate
A moment on thy way,
Those three fair spreading Ashen trees,
That gently in the noon-day breeze
Wave light their feathery spray.
A moment on thy way,
Those three fair spreading Ashen trees,
That gently in the noon-day breeze
Wave light their feathery spray.
Thou walkest on thy worldly way,
And seek'st the crowded mart.
Yet pause—thou never wilt repent
(Stolen from the world) these moments spent
In quietness of heart.
And seek'st the crowded mart.
Yet pause—thou never wilt repent
(Stolen from the world) these moments spent
In quietness of heart.
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“The world is too much with us” all—
It is a blessed thing
To find a little resting-place,
A secret nook—a charmed space,
Safe from its entering.
It is a blessed thing
To find a little resting-place,
A secret nook—a charmed space,
Safe from its entering.
Where hoarded thoughts, pure, spiritual,
Imaginative, holy,
(Released awhile from clinging clay,)
May revel—innocently gay,
Or mildly melancholy.
Imaginative, holy,
(Released awhile from clinging clay,)
May revel—innocently gay,
Or mildly melancholy.
Where Memory's inward eye may dwell
On consecrated treasures,
Too precious to be gazed upon
Where Life's cold common round runs on,
Of heartless cares and pleasures.
On consecrated treasures,
Too precious to be gazed upon
Where Life's cold common round runs on,
Of heartless cares and pleasures.
Where Fancy may in Cloudland build,
Or smallest earthly space,
As here—and so we come at last
To an old story of the past,
Connected with this place—
Or smallest earthly space,
As here—and so we come at last
To an old story of the past,
Connected with this place—
199
Yet not a story:—just a sketch—
A shadowy outline rude;
Such as, methinks, 'twere pleasant play
To sit and fill this summer day,
With apt similitude.
A shadowy outline rude;
Such as, methinks, 'twere pleasant play
To sit and fill this summer day,
With apt similitude.
These Ash trees—(mark their number well;
Their equal growth you see,
Their equal ages: vigorous, green
As their first leafy prime was seen)—
Are called—“The Sisters Three.”
Their equal growth you see,
Their equal ages: vigorous, green
As their first leafy prime was seen)—
Are called—“The Sisters Three.”
By whom—or after whom so called,
None living now can say;
Nor planted how long since—nor more
Than that the name they bear, they bore
In a long distant day,
None living now can say;
Nor planted how long since—nor more
Than that the name they bear, they bore
In a long distant day,
Memorial of a mortal three
Who set them where they stand,
Their pensile branches still to wave
When long long mouldered in the grave,
Each planter Sister's hand—
Who set them where they stand,
Their pensile branches still to wave
When long long mouldered in the grave,
Each planter Sister's hand—
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Unsculptured, fragile monument!
Who wills, may read in thee
—Reading with thoughtful heart, and mind
To dreamy questioning inclined—
A touching mystery.
Who wills, may read in thee
—Reading with thoughtful heart, and mind
To dreamy questioning inclined—
A touching mystery.
What were those Sisters?—young or old?—
Of high or humble birth?
Simple or wise—admired or scorned?
Loved and lamented, or unmourned
Passed they away from earth?—
Of high or humble birth?
Simple or wise—admired or scorned?
Loved and lamented, or unmourned
Passed they away from earth?—
Came they in joyous childhood here,
From sad fore-feeling free,
To set—by hands parental led—
The Sapling trees that overhead
Inarch so loftily?
From sad fore-feeling free,
To set—by hands parental led—
The Sapling trees that overhead
Inarch so loftily?
Or hither, in short after-time,
(Tears from their young eyes starting)
Came they with saddened mien sedate,
And arms entwined, to consecrate
The eve of a first parting?
(Tears from their young eyes starting)
Came they with saddened mien sedate,
And arms entwined, to consecrate
The eve of a first parting?
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Each calling by a Sister's name
The youngling Ash then set;
And blessing, as she turned away,
The frail memorial of a day
It stands recording yet.
The youngling Ash then set;
And blessing, as she turned away,
The frail memorial of a day
It stands recording yet.
Or was it, of the Sisters three
When two were dead and gone,
That, all-absorbed in mournful thought,
This spot the sad survivor sought—
The last and lonely one!—
When two were dead and gone,
That, all-absorbed in mournful thought,
This spot the sad survivor sought—
The last and lonely one!—
This spot, in childish joyance oft
Where they had played together,
Merry as blossoms on the bough,
Or birds, their fairy sports I trow
Scarce startled from the heather.
Where they had played together,
Merry as blossoms on the bough,
Or birds, their fairy sports I trow
Scarce startled from the heather.
Two soundly sleep in distant graves—
And one stands all alone,
Fading and failing fast—with her
To perish the last chronicler
Of those to dust gone down.—
And one stands all alone,
Fading and failing fast—with her
To perish the last chronicler
Of those to dust gone down.—
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So thought she, reasoning with herself,
Perchance, that thing forlorn;
And, gazing sadly round, sighed on—
“Here all will look when we are gone
As we had ne'er been born!”
Perchance, that thing forlorn;
And, gazing sadly round, sighed on—
“Here all will look when we are gone
As we had ne'er been born!”
A natural thought! most natural,
The fond desire to leave
Some record (than elaborate tomb
More fitting here) of those for whom
None would be left to grieve.
The fond desire to leave
Some record (than elaborate tomb
More fitting here) of those for whom
None would be left to grieve.
And so perhaps she caused to plant
These trees that self-same day.—
Traveller! I've dreamt my dream—Grudge not
Thy tarriance in this quiet spot—
Pass peaceful on thy way.
These trees that self-same day.—
Traveller! I've dreamt my dream—Grudge not
Thy tarriance in this quiet spot—
Pass peaceful on thy way.
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