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"Tis thine to range in busy quest of

prey,

AN INSCRIPTION.
Thy feathery antlers quivering with delight,
Brush from my lids tbe hues of heaven away,

SHEPHERD, or Huntsman, or worn Mariner,
And all is Solitude, and all is Night!

Whate'er thou art, who wouldst allay thy thirst, -Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly,

Drink and be glad. 'This cistern of white stone, Unsheathes its terrors in the sultry air !

Arch'd, and o'erwrought with many a sacred verse, No guardian sylph, in golden panoply,

This iron cup chain'd for the general use, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear.

And these rude seats of earth within the grove, Now near and nearer rush thy whirring wings,

Were given by FATIMA. Borne hence a bride, Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore.

| ’T was here she turn'd from her beloved sire, Hark, thy shrill horn its fearful larum flings!

To see his face no more.' Oh, if thou canst,
-I wake in horror, and dare sleep no more!

('T is not far off) visit his tomb with flowers ;
And with a drop of this sweet water fill
The two small cells scoop'd in the marble there,

That birds may come and drink upon his grave,
A WISH.

Making it holy!?
MINE be a cot beside the hill,
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,

WRITTEN IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, With many a fall, shall linger near.

SEPTEMBER 2, 1812. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch

Blue was the loch, the clouds were gone Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;

Ben Lomond in his glory shone, Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,

When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze, And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Bore me from thy silver sands,

Thy kirk-yard wall among the trees, Around my ivied porch shall spring

Where, grey with age, the dial stands; Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;

That dial so well known to me! And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing

– Though many a shadow it had shed, In russet gown and apron blue.

Beloved Sister, since with thee

The legend on the stone was read.
The village-church, among the trees,

The fairy-isles fled far away;
Where first our marriage-vows were given, That with its woods and uplands green,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze,

Where shepherd-huts are dimly seen,
And point with taper spire to heaven.

And songs are heard at close of day;
That, too, the deer's wild covert, fled,

And that, the asylum of the dead :
WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT. 1786.

While, as the boat went merrily,
While through the broken pane the tempest sighs, Much of Rob Roy the boatman told ;
And my step falters on the faithless floor,

His arm, that fell below his knee, Shades of departed joys around me rise,

His cattle-ford and mountain-hold.
With many a face that smiles on me no more;

Tarbat, thy shore I climb'd at last;
With many a voice that thrills of transport gave, And, thy shady region pass'd,
Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave!

Upon another shore I stood,
And look'd upon another flood ; 5

Great Ocean's self! ('T is He who fills
AN ITALIAN SONG.

That vast and awful depth of hills);

Where many an elf was playing round Dear is my little native vale,

Who treads unshod his classic ground; The ring-dove builds and murmurs there ;

And speaks, his native rocks among, Close by my cot she tells her tale

As Fingal spoke, and Ossian sung. To every passing villager.

Night fell; and dark and darker grew The squirrel leaps from tree to tree,

That narrow sea, that narrow sky, And shells his nuts at liberty.

As o'er the glimmering waves we flew ;

The sea-bird rustling, wailing by. In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers,

And now the grampus, half-descried, That breathe a gale of fragrance round,

Black and huge above the tide ; I charm the fairy-footed hours

The cliffs and promontories there, With my loved lute's romantic sound;

Front to front, and broad and bare ; Or crowns of living laurel weave,

Each beyond each, with giant-feet
For those that win the race at eve.

Advancing as in haste to meet;
The shepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danced in twilight glade,

1 See an anecdote related by Pausanias, iii, 20. The canzonet and roundelay

2 A Turkish superstition. Sung in the silent greenwood shade,

3 A famous outlaw. These simple joys, that never fail,

4 Signifying, in the Erse langunge, an Isthmus. Shall bind me to my native vale.

5 Loch-Long

The shatter'd fortress, whence the Dane

TO THE BUTTERFLY,
Blew his shrill blast, nor rush'd in vain,
Tyrant of the drear domain :

Child of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, All into midnight-shadow sweep,

Mingling with her thou lovest in fields of light; When day springs upward from the deep!' And, where the flowers of Paradise unfold, Kindling the waters in its fight,

Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold. The prow wakes splendor; and the oar,

There shall thy wings, rich as an evening-sky, That rose and fell unseen before,

Expand and shut with silent ecstacy! Flashes in a sea of light!

-Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept Glad sign, and sure! for now we hail On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept. Thy flowers, Glenfinnart, in the gale; And such is man; soon from his cell of clay And bright indeed the path should be To burst a seraph in the blaze of day! That leads to Friendship and to thee!

Oh blest retreat, and sacred too! Sacred as when the bell of prayer Tolld duly on the desert air,

WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. And crosses deck'd thy summits blue.

OCTOBER 10, 1806.'
Oft, like some loved romantic tale,
Oft shall my weary mind recall,

WHOE'ER thou art, approach, and, with a sigh, Amid the hum and stir of men,

Mark where the small remains of greatness lie.2 Thy beechen grove and waterfall,

There sleeps the dust of Fox, for ever gone : Thy ferry with its gliding sail,

How near the Place where late his glory shone! And her—the Lady of the Glen!

And, though no more ascends the voice of Prayer,
Though the last footsteps cease to linger there,

Still, like an awful dream that comes again,
A FAREWELL.

Alas! at best as transient and as vain,
ONCE more, enchanting maid, adieu!

Still do I see (while through the vaults of night I must be gone while yet I may;

The funeral-song once more proclaims the rite) Oft shall I weep to think of you,

The moving Pomp along the shadowy aisle,

That, like a Darkness, fill'd the solemn Pile ; Bat here I will not, cannot stay.

The illustrious line, that in long order led, The sweet expression of that face,

Of those that loved Him living, mourn'd Him dead; For ever changing, yet the same,

Of those the Few, that for their Country stood Ah no, I dare not turn to trace

Round Him who dared be singularly good :

All, of all ranks, that claim'd Him for their own; It molts my soul, it fires my frame!

And nothing wanting—but himself alone! 3 Yet give me, give me, ere I go,

Oh say, of Him now rests there but a name; One little lock of those so blest,

Wont, as He was, to breathe ethereal flame? That lend your cheek a warmer glow,

Friend of the Absent, Guardian of the Dead ! 4

Who but would here their sacred sorrow's shed ? And on your white neck love to rest.

(Such as He shed on Nelson's closing grave; -Say, when to kindle soft delight,

How soon to claim the sympathy He gave!)

In Him, resentful of another's wrong,
That hand has chanced with mine to meet,
How could its thrilling touch excite

The dumb were eloquent, the feeble strong.

Truth from his lips a charm celestial drew A sigh so short, and yet so sweet?

Ah, who so mighty and so gentle too ? O say—but no, it must not be.

What though with War the madding nations rung,

Peace," when He spoke, was ever on his tongue ! Adieu! a long, a long adieu ! -Yet still, methinks, you frown on me,

Amidst the frowns of Power, the tricks of Stale, Or never could I fly from you.

Fearless, resolved, and negligently great!
In vain malignant vapors gather'd round;
He walk'd, erect, on consecrated ground.
The clouds, that rise to quench the Orb

day, INSCRIPTION FOR A TEMPLE

Reflect its splendor, and dissolve away!
DEDICATED TO THE GRACES.
APPROACH with reverence. There are those within

1 After the funeral of the Right Hon. Charles James Fox. Whose dwelling place is Heaven. Daughters of Jove,

2 Venez voir le peu qui nous reste de tant de grandeur, etc. From thern flow all the decencies of life;

Bossuet. Oraison funibre de Louis de Bourbon. Without them nothing pleases, Virtue's self

3 Et rien enfin ne manque dans tous ces honneurs, que celui Admired, not loved ; and those on whom they smile, a qui on les rend.-Ibid. Great though they be, and wise, and beautiful, Shine forth with double lustre.

4 Alluding particularly to his speech on moving a new writ for the borough of Tavistock, March 16, 1802.

5 See that admirable delineation of his character by Sir James 1 A phenomenon described by many navigators.

Mackintosh, which first appeared in the Bombay Courier, Jan2 At Woburn-Abbey.

uary 17, 1807.

105

When in retreat He laid his thunder by, For letter'd ease and calm Philosophy, Blest were his hours within the silent grove, Where still his godlike Spirit deigns to rove; Blest by the orphan's smile, the widow's prayer, For many a deed, long done in secret there. There shone his lamp on Homer's hallow'd page; There, listening, sate the hero and the sage ;

And they, by virtue and by blood allied,
Whom most He loved, and in whose arms He died.

Friend of all human-kind! not here alone
(The voice that speaks, was not to thee unknown)
Wilt Thou be missed.-0'er every land and sea,
Long, long shall England be revered in Thee!

And, when the Storm is hush'd-in distant years, Foes on Thy grave shall meet, and mingle tears!

THE END OF ROGERS'S WORKS.

THE

POETICAL WORKS

OF

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

Contents.

Page

V

ib.

56

MEMOIR OF THOMAS CAMPBELL
THE PLEASURES OF HOPE.

1 Notes

10 GERTRUDE OF WYOMING

12 Notes

20 THEODRIC; A DOMESTIC TALE

26 Notes

31 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

O'Connor's Child; or “The Flower of Love
lies bleeding"

32 Lochiel's Warning

35 Batile of the Baltic

37 Ye Mariners of England, a Naval Ode. ib. Hohenlinden

38 Glenara.

ib. Exile of Erin.

ib. Lord Ullin's Daughter .

39 Ode to the Memory of Burns

ib. The Soldier's Dream ...

40 Lines written on visiting a Scene in Argyleshire

ih. To the Rainbow

41 The Last Man

ib. Valedictory Stanzas to J. P. Kemble, Esq.com

posed for a Public Meeting held June 1817 42 A Dream

43 Lines written at the request of the Highland

Society when met to commemorate the 21st

of March, the Day of Victory in Egypt . ib. Stanzas to the Memory of the Spanish Pa

triots latest killed in resisting the Regency
and the Duke of Angoulême.

44 Song of the Greeks.

ib. Song of Hybrias the Cretan.

45 Fragment from the Greek of Aleman ib. Martial Elegy, from the Greek of Tyrtus ib. Specimens of a New Translation of the Medea of Euripides

ib. Speech of the Chorus, same Tragedy ib. Ode to Winter

46 Lines spoken on the first opening of Drury

Lane Theatre after the death of the Prin-
cess Charlotte, 1817. .

47 Lines on the Grave of a Suicide

ib. Reullura.

48 The Turkish Lady .

49 The Wounded Hussar

50 Lines inscribed on the Monument erected by

the widow of Admira! Sir G. Campbell,
K. C. B. to the Memory of her Husband ib.

Page The Brave Roland .

.. 50 The Spectre Boat.

51 The Lover to his Mistress on her Birth-day ib. Lines on receiving a Seal with the Campbell

Crest, from K. M-, before her marriage ih. Gilderoy.

52 Adelgitha Absence.

io. The Ritter Bann

ib. The Harper.

54 Song, To the Evening Star

ib “ Men of England"

ib. The Maid's Remonstrance

55 " Drink ye to Her"

ib “ When Napoleon was flying

ib. The Beech-tree's Petition

ib Song, “ Earl March ".

ib. Love and Madness, an Elegy Song, " Oh, how hard it is to find".

ib. Stanzas on the Threatened Invasion, 1803. ib. Song, “ Withdraw not yet "

57 Hallowed Ground

io Caroline.-Part I.

58 -Part II. To the Evening Star ib Field Flowers

ib Stanzas on the Battle of Navarino

59 Lines on leaving a scene in Bavaria ib. Stanzas to Painting.

60 Drinking-song of Munich

61 Lines on revisiting a Scottish River Lines on revisiting Cathcart

ib The “ Name Unknown;" in imitation of Klopstock

62 Trafalgar

. Lines written in Sickness

ib. Lines on the State of Greece; occasioned by being pressed to make it a subject of poet

ib Lines on James IV. of Scotland, who fell at the Battle of Flodden.

ib. To Jemima, Rose, and Eleanore; three celebrated Scottish beauties.

63 Song—"'T is now the hour"

il Lines to Edward Lytton Bulwer, on the Birth of his Child ..

ib. Song, “When Love came first to Earth ”. ib. Dirge of Wallace

64 Song, “ My mind is my kingdom

ib. Oh cherub Content!"

ib. The Friars of Dijon ..

ab.

ry, 1827

108

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