•

-

J.c~ I: .r.c""a'.

I

o

PO~I194Lr.:\VPlU'S~o n;o

,.CfiO ,~.11 ,'R<dJ.;· ~'';l:'J ~ ;·6. ~.~

q"I' ·de•. ".' tat h,'"! .!l~ 'J.,,~

THOMAS ,,£AMPBELL:

IIfCLllDIJI'G

THEODRIC,

IIANY OTHElt PIECES NOT CONTAINED IN ANYFORMER EDITION.

PHIL4DEUHlA:

J. CRISSY, AND J. GRIGG.

1826.

F

....rd 00'" Ll'brtorFCHIt or

KiM LoacteDcnr.Kn.......an4 lin. 'l'Jao1P.

sao Deo.18H.

..~

1I

I

CONTENTS.

Pile.Pleasures of Hope, Part I. • • 7• •.• • • • • Part n. • • • !l9Gertrude of Wyoming, Part I. • • • 47• • • • • • • • Part n. . . 57• • • • • • • • Part 01. • . • • • • 65O'Connor's Child,or the Flower of Love lies bleeding 78Lochiel's Warning •••••••••• 87Specimens of Translation from Medea • • • • 90Speech of the Chorus in the same Tragedy • 91Love and Madnells, an Elegy • • • •• • 95The Wounded Hussar • • • • " • 97Gilderoy • • • • • • • • • • • • 98The Harper • • • • • • • • •• • 100Song-" My mind is my kingdom," &eo • 101The Beech Tree's Petition • • • • • • ib.Hohenlinden •.••..•••••• 10:1Ye Mariner's of England, a Naval Ode • 103Glenara . • . • • • • • • 105Battle of the Baltic • • • • • 106Lord Ullin's Daughter • • • • 108Lines on the Grave of a Suicide • IIIOde to Winter • : • 1HlThe Soldier's Dream • 114The Turkish Lady • 115Exile of Erin . • . . • • • . • • • . 116Lines written at tbereque8t of the Highland So-

eiet.y in London, when met to eommemoratethe 21st of March, the day of victory inEgyPt . . • . • • • . • . .~. 117

Lines wntten on visiting a 8cene in Argyles • 119Patriotic Stanzas composed and recited at Ii .et-

ing of North Britons, in London, on Monday. .the Bth of August, 1803. .• • • • • . ao

Page.ClI1'Oline, Part I. •••• • l!ll· . . Pm II. • • • • • • I!lSOde to the Memory of Bums • H14Theodric, a Domestic Tale • • • • IllSTo the Rainbow. • • • • • 145

. The Brave Roland. • • • • • • 147The Spectre Boat • • • • • 148Song-To the Evening Star ••••••• 150valediclE Stanzl\8 to J. P. Kemble, Esq. •• 157Linel, s en by Mr••••, at Drury Lane Theatre,

on t e first opening of the house after the de.tbof the Princess Cbarlotte, 1817 • • • • • ISS

Lines on receiving a Seal, with the Campbell crest,from K. M--. before her marriage • • • 155

Stanzas to the memory of the Spanish patriotslatest killed in resIsting the Regency and theDuke of Angouleme • • • • • • • • Hi7

Lines inscribed on the monumentofSirG. Campbell 158Song of the Greeks .'. • • • • •• • 159Tbe Lover to bis Mistress, on her birthday • 161Song-:-" Men of England,".. • • •• • 162Adelgitha •.••••••••• . 165Song_Cl Drink ye to ber," &C. " ., • ib.• • " When Napoleon was flying," &c. • 164• • Cl Ob bow bard it is to find," &c. ••• ib.;- • " Earl March looked on his dying child," &c. 165Absence • • • • . • • . . • • • • . 166Song-" Withdraw not yet thOlle lips," &c. ib.Tbe Last Man. • • • • • • • •• L67The Ritter Bann 169A Dream • • • 175Reu11ura. • • 177

NOTES.

Pleasures of Hope, Part I.. • • .}· . . • • . . Part II. • • 5Gertrude of Wyoming, Part I. • • • • • 6• • • • • • • • Part III. •••••• 21

O'Coi_ C~)d:or .the. FI.ow~ ~f ~v~ li~ ~le~-. !l4

Loehi~arning • • • • • • • • • • • SOTheodric . . . • • • • • • • • • • • 56

IV COlfTEJrl'l.

1i

1

• a.

PLEASURES OF HOPE.

• PART I.

St •.

ANALYSIS OF PART I.

The poem opens with a comparison betw_ the beauty ofremote objeet.l in a landlcape, and thole ideallCeMl of feticitywhich the imagination delights to cODtemplate-the inftuenceof anticipation upon the other pauione is next delineated-analllllioD is made to the wellimown fiction in pagan tradition,that, "heD all the guardian deities of IlI8lIkind abandoned theworld, Hope alolle was left behind-the couolations of thispassioD in otuatioDs of danger and distre-the seaman on hismidnight watch-the soldier ml1l'Ching into battle-1/llllion tothe interesting adventures of Byron.

The inspiration of Hope, III it acblates the eft'oN or geoilll,whether in the department of science or of taste-domemcfelicity, how intimely connected with "viewa of future hap­pineu-picture of a mother watching her infant when asleep­pictures of the prisoner, the maniac, and the wanderer.

From the consolations of individual misery, a transition is,made to prospects of political imprOTemeot in the future stateof society-the wide field that is yet ope!1 for the progress ofhumanizing arts amoo,; uncivilized natioDs-fi'om these Tiewsof amelioratioD of society, u.od the extension of liberty and truthOTer despotie and barbarolll countries, by melancholy contrastof ideas we are led to rellect upon the hard fate or a bravepeople, recently conspicuous in their strup;gles f'or indepen­dence-deseription of the capture of Warsaw, of the last con­test of the oppressors and the oppressed, lIDd the massacre ofthe Polish patriots at the bridge of Prague-apo-trophe to theselt·interested enemies of human improvement-the wrongsof Atnca-the barbarous policy of Europeans in India-pro­phecy in the Hindoo mythology of the expected descent of theDeity, to redress the miseries of their race, and to take T_geance on the violators ofjustice and mercy. '

•

'I'IUI

PLEASURES OF HOPE.

PART I.

AT summer eve, when Hearn'. aerial bowSpans with bright arch the glittering hilll below,Why to yon mountain tums the musiag eye,Whose sun-bright summit min~lel with the .Iry?Why do those cllifs of shadowy tint appearMore sweet than all the laudseape smiling Dear?­'Tis distance lends enehaotment to the riew,.lnd robes the mountain in it. azure hue.

Thus, with delight, we linger to sUlTeyThe promised joys of life's unmeasured way;Thus, from afar, each dim-dilCOvered sceneMore pleasing seems than all the past hath been;And every form, that f~y can repairFrom dark o~lirion, giows divinely there.

What potent spirit guides the raptured eyeTo pierce the shades of dim futurity?Can Wisdom lend, with all her hearnly power,The pledge of Joy's anticipated bour?Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man-Her dim horizon bounded to a span;Or, if she hold aD image to the view,'Tis Natore pictured too severely true.

With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly light,Tbat pours remotest rapture on the sight:Thine is t~ chum of life's bewilder'd way,That calls each slumb'ringpasaion into pia,:

r

8 CAMPBELL'S POEM8.

Wak'd by thy toucb, I see the sister band,On tiptoe watching, start at thy command,And fl.y wbere'er thy mandate bids them steer,To Pleasure's path, or Glory's brigbt career.

Primeval Hope, the Aonian Muses say,When Man and Nature mourned their first decay;.hen every form of death, and eyery wo,Shot from malignant stars to earth below;When Murder bared bis arm, and rampant WarYoked the red dragons of her iron car;When Peace and Merey, banished from the plain,Sprung on the viewless winds to Heav'n again ;

, .All, all forsook the friendletls guilty mind,But Hope, the charmer, lingered still behind.

Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels preplftFrom Carmel;s height to sweep the fields of air, _The Prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,Dropped on the world-a sacred gift to man.

Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden growW reath8 for each toil, a charm for every wo :Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hourThe way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bowel';There, as the wild-bee mUrmurs on the wing,What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring!What viewless forms th' Eolian organ play,And sweep the furrow'd lines of anxious thought away!

Angel of life! .thy glittering wings exploreEarth's loneliest bounds, and ocean's wildest shore.Lo I to the wint'ry winds the pilot yieldsHis bark careering o'er unfathomed fields ;Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar,Where Andes, giant of the western star,

eU'PBELL'S POEMS.

With meteor .tandard to the winda unfurled,Looks fiom his throAe of clouds o'er half the woftd.

9

Now tar he &Weeps, 'IIFbeft acarce a .ummer IlDilel,On Behring's rocks, or Greenland'. naked isles :Cold on hiimidnight watch the breezes blow,From wastet that .lumber in etemal snow;And waft, across the waves' tumultuou. roar,The wolr. long howl from Oonalaska's shore.

Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm,Sad are the woes that wreck thy manly form !Rocks, waves, and winds, the shatter'd bark delay;Thy heart is sad, thy home is far away.

But Hope can here her moonlight vigilslteep,And sing to charm the spirit of the deep.Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole,Her visions warm the watchman'. pensive sonl:His native hills that rise in happier climes,The grot that heard his song of other times,His cottage-home, his bark of slender sail,His glassy lake, and broomwood-bl06somed vale,RWlh on his thought; he sweeps before the wind,Treads the loved shore he sighed to leave behind ;Meets at each step a friend's familiar face,And flies at last to Helen's long embrace;Wipes from her cheek the rapture-spealring tear,And clasps, with many a sigh, his children dear!While, long neglected, but at length caressed,His faithful dog salutes the smiling guut,Points to the master's eyes (where'er they roam)His wistfulJace, and whines a welcome home.

,.\ Friend of the bra:ve! in peril's darkest hour,Intrepid Virtue looks to thee for power;

10 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

To thee the heart ita trembling homage yieldl,On atormy ftoodl, and camage-eovered fields.When front to front the bannered hosts combin~,Halt ere they dOle, and form the dreadful line ~

When all is still OIl Death'. devoted soil,The mlm:h-wom soldier mingles for the toil ;As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on highThe dauntless brow, and spirit-.peaking eye,Hails in his heart the triumph yet to come,And hears thy stormy music in~ drum.

And such thy strength-inspiring aid that boreThe hardy Byron to his ootiTe shore.-(a)In horrid climes, where Chiloo's tempesta sweepTumultuous murmurs o'er the troubled deep,~Twas his to moum misfortune's rudest shock,Scourged by the winds, and cradled on the rock,To wake each joyless morn, and search againThe famished haunts of solitary men,Whose race, unyielding as their native storm,Knows not a traee of Nature but the form;Yet, at thy call, the hardy tar pursued,Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued,Pierced the deep woods, and, hailing from afarThe moon's pale planet and the northem star ;Paused at each dreary cry, unheard before,Hyrenas in the wild, and mel'lJlAids on the shore;Till, led by thee o'er many a dill' sublime,He found a warmer world, a milder clime,A home to rest, a shelter to defend,Peaee and repose, a Briton and a frielld I (b)

Congenial Hope I thy passion-kindling power,How brig~t, how strong, in youth's untroubled hourOn yon proud height, with Genius hand ill hand,I see thee light, and wave thy golden W"aDd.

....

C~JlPBELL" ponl. fI

"Go, Child oCbeaVeD, (thy winged wordl ~laim)'Tis thine to search the boundleu fields of fame !1.o! Ne~n, priest of Nature, shines afar,Scans the wide world, and oumben every star! •Wilt thou, with him, mysterious rites apply, •And watch the shrine with wooder-beaming eye fYes, thou shalt mark, with magic art profound,The speed of light, the circling march of lOtlod ;With Franklin, grasp the lightning's fiery wing,Or yield the lyre of Heaven another string. (e)

" The Swedish sage admires, in yonder bowers, (11)His winged insects, and his rosy flowers ;Calls from their woodland haunts the savage trainWith sounding hom, and counts them on the plain­So once, at Heaven's command, the wand'rers cameTo ~'s shade, and heard their various name.

.. Far from the world, in yon sequestered clime,Slow pass the sons of Wisdom, more sublime;Calm as the fields of Heav'n his sapient eyeThe loved Athenian li.fta to realms on high;Admiring Plato, OD his spotless page,Stamps the bright dictates of the father sage;, Shall Nature bound to eart!!,s diurnal spanThe fire of God, th' immortA>ul of man?'

" Tum, Child of Heaven, thy rapture-lightened eyeTo Wisdom's walk,-the lIacred Nine are nigh:Hark! from bright spires that gild the Delphian height,From streams that wander in eternal light,Ranged on their hill, Harmonia's da,pghters swellThe mingling tones of hom, and harp; and shell ;Deep from his vaults the Loxian murmurs flow, (e)And Pythia's awful organ peals below.

CAMPBELL'S POOl.

" Beloyed of HIl&t'en I the smiling Muse shall shed I

Her moonlight halo on thy beauteous head;Shall swell thy heart to rapture unconfined,And J¥eathe a holy madness o'er thy mind. . I

I tee thee roam her guardian power beneath,And talk with spirits on the midnight heath ;Inquire of guilty wanderers whence they came,And uk each blood-stained form his earthly name ;Then weave in rapid verse the deeds they tell,And read the trembling world the tales of hell.

" When Venus, throned in clouds of rosy hue,Flings from her golden urn the vesper dew,And bids fond man her glimmering noon employ,Sacred to 10Te and walks of tender joy;A milder mood the goddess shall recall,And 10ft as dew thy tQJIes of music ran;

\ While Beauty's deeply-pictured smiles impartA pang more dear than pleasure to the heart~

W UIIlU thy sighs shall fiow the Lesbian strain,And plead in Beauty's ear, nor plead in vain.

" Or wilt thou Orphean hymns more sacred deem,And steep thy song in Mercy's mellow stream;To pensive drops the radiant eye beguile-For Beauty's.tears are lo»er than her smile;On Nature's throbbing aii[uish pour relief,

~, And teach impassioned souls the joy of grief?

" Yes; to thy tongue shall seraph words be giTen,And power on earth to plead the cause of heaven:The proud, the cold, untroubled heart of stone,That never mused c'n sorrow but its owo,Unlocks a generous store at thy command,Like Horeb's rocks beneath the prophet's hand. (n

IS

The living lumber of his kindred earth,Charmed into soul, receives a st"cond birth ;Feels thy dread power another heart afford,Whose passion-touched bJrmonioUB strings accordTrue as the circling spheres to Nature'l plan;And man, the brother, livel the friend of mlUll

" Bright as the pillar rose at Heaven's command,When Israel marched along the desert land,Blazed through the night on lonely wilds afar,And told the path-a never-setting star :So, heavenly Genius, in thy course divine,Hope is thy star, her light is e~r thine."

Propitious Power! wben I'llIIlding cares annoyThe sacred home of Hymenean joy;When doomed to Poverty's lIequestered dell,The wedded pair of love and virtue dwell,Unpitied by the world, unknown to Came,Their woes, their wishes, and their hearts the lame­Oh there, prophetic hope! thy smile bestow,And chase...the pangs that worth should never Imow­There, as the parent deals his scanty storeTo friendless babes, and weeps to give no more,Tell, that his manly race shall yet assuageTheir father's wrongs, .and shield his later age.What though for him no Hybla sweets distil,Nor bloolD¥ vines wavc purple on the hill;Tell, that when silent yelll'll have passed away,That wben his eyes grow dim, his tresses grey,These busy hands a lovelier cot shall build,And deck with fairer dowers his little field,And call from Heaven propitious dews to breatheA.rcadian beauty on the barren heath ;Tell, that while Love's spontaneous smile endearsrhe days of peace, the sabbath of bis years,

Jl

14 C.ulPBELL'S PORKS.

Health shall prolong to many a festive hourThe social pleu1l1'el of his humble power.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;She, while the lovely babe unconseiouslies,Smiles on her IIlumb'ring child with pensivll eyes,And weaves a song of melancholy joy-ce Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy:No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine;No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine;Bright lIB his manly s_, the son shall beIn form and soul; but, ah! more blest than he !Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at IllBt,Shall soothe this aching heart for all the l'lIBt­With many a .mile my solitude repay,And chase the world's ungenerous scom away.

" And say, when summoned from the world and thee,I lay my head beneath the willow tree,Wilt thou, sweet mourner! at my stone appear,And soothe my parted spirit ling'ring near?Oh, wilt thou come, at evening hour, to shedThe tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed;With aching temples on thy hand reclined,Muse on the last farewell I leave behind,Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low,And think on all my love, and all my wo ?"

So speaks affection, ere the inCant eyeCan look regard, or brighten in reply;But when the cherub lip hath learnt to claimA mother's ear by that endearing.name;Soon as the playful innocent· can proveA tear of pity, or a smile of love.

CAMPBELL'S POEM8.

Or cons his mv.rmaring taIlk beneath her cue,Or lisps with holy look his ev'ning prayer,Or gazing, mutely pensive, sits to hearThe mOllrnful ballad warbled in his ear;How fondly looks admiring Hope the while,At every artless tear; and every smile!How glows the joyous parent to descry.A guileless bosom, true to sympathy!

Where is the troubled heart, consigned to shareTumultuo1l8 toill, or solitary care,Unblest by visionary thoughtl that strayTo count the joys of Fortune's better day !La, nature, liCe, and liberty relumeThe dim-eyed tenant of the dungeon gloom,A long-lost friend, or hapleas child restored,Smiles at his blazing hearth and social board;Warm from his heart the teart of rapture flow,And virtue triumphs o'er remembered woo

Chide not his peace, proud Reason! nor destroyThe shadowy fonns of uncreated joy,'J11at urge the lingering tide of liCe, and pourSpontaneous slumber OD his midnight hour.

Hark! the wild maniac sings, to chide the galeThat wafts so slow her lover's dist8.}1t sail;She, sad spectatress, on the wintry shore

. Watched the rude surge his shroudless corse that bore,Knew the pale fonn, and, shrieking in amaze,Clasped her cold hands, and fixed her maddening gaze:Poor widowed wretch! 'twas there she wept in vain,Till memory fled her agonizing brain :-But Mercy gave, to charm the sense of wo,Ideal peace, that truth could ne'er beltaw ;

16 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Wann OB her heart the joys of Fancy beam,And aimless Hope delight. her darkest dream.

Oft when yon moon hils climbed the .midnight sky,And the lone seabird wakes its wildest cry,Piled on the .teep, her blazing faggots burnTo hail the bark that never can return ;And still she waits, but scarce forbears to weep.That conatant love can linger on the deep.

And, mark the wretch,wbose wanderings never knewThe world'. regard, that soothes, tlmtgh half untrue,Whose erring heart the luh of !IOITOW bore,But found not pity when it erred no more.Yon friendless man, at whose dejected eyeTh' unfeeling proud one lookS-'-and passes by;Condemned on Penury's barren path to roam,Scorned by the world, and leil without a home­Ev'n he, at evening, should he chance to strayDown by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way,Where, round-the cot's romantic glade are seenThe blossomed bean-field, and the stoping green,Leans o'er its humble gate, and thinks the while­Oh! that for me some home like this would smile.Some hamlet shade, to yield my sickly form,Health in the breeze, and shelter in the storm IThere should my hand no stinted booD assignTo wretched hearts with sorrow such as mine!That generous wish can soothe unpitied care,And Hope half mingles with the poor man's prayer.

Hope! when I mourn, with sympathizing mind.The wrongs of fate, the woes of hUBlllIl kind.Thy blissful omens bid my spirit see .~ . tThe hoWidless fields of rapture yet to be i

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

I watch the 'frbeels of Nature's mazy plan.And learn the future by the past of man.

Come, bright Improvement ! on the ear of Time,And rule the spacioUi world from clime te clime iThy handmaid arts shall every wild explore,Trace every wave, and culture every shore.

\ On Erie', banks, where tygel'1l steal along,And the dread Indian chants a dilmallODg,Where human fiends Oil midnight errands walk,And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk iThere shaD the flocks on thymy plUit1lre Itray,And shepherds dance at Summer's openiag day iEach wand'ring genius of the lonely glenShall Jltart to view the glittering haunts of men iAnd silent watch, on woodland heights around,The village curfew, as it tolls profound.

1'7

In Libyan groves, where damned rites are done,That bathe the rocks in blood, and veil the sun,Truth shall arrest the murderous arm profane,Wild Obi ~ies (I)-the. veil is rent in twain.

Where barb'rous hoards on Scythian mountains roam,Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall lind a home;Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines, (g)Truth shall pervade th' unfathomed darkness there,And light the dreadful features of despair.-Hark! the stem captive spurns his he/\Vy load,And asks the image back that Heaven bestowed:Fierce in his eyes the fire of valour bllms,And, as the slave depart'!, the man returns I

Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile,And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,

BI .

18 CAMPBELL'S POEM!J.

When leagued Oppression poured to northenr warsHer whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussarI,Waved her dread standard to the breeze of mom,Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet hom;Tumult)lous horror brooded o'er her nn,Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man I (h)

L Warsaw's last champion, (rom her height surveyed,Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,-Oh! Heaven! ~e cried, my bleeding country save;Is there no hand on high to shield the brave.Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains,Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains !By that dl't"ad name, we wave the sword on high,.And swear for her to live !-with her to die!

He said, BBd on the rampart-heights lRTayedHis trusty warriors, few, but undismayed!Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;

, Low, murmuring sounds along their banners tly,Revenge, or deatb,-the watchword and reply;Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm,And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm t-

In vain, alas t in vain, ye gallant few!From rauk to rank your volleyed thunder flew :_Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,Sarmatia fell, unwept, without n crime;Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,Strength ill her arms, nor mercy in her wo tDropt from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career 1­Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,A.nd Freedom shrieked-as Kosciwko fell'

OAMPBELL'S POEXS. 19

\

The sun went down, not ceased the eamage there,Tumultuoua murder shook the midnight air-On Prague's proud arch the fires or ruin glow,His blood-dyed waters munn'ring far below;The storm prevails, the ramparts yield away,Bursts the wild cry of horror aud dismay;Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,

• A thouaand shrieks for hopeless mercy eall !Earth shook-red meteol'll flashed along the sky,And conscious Nature·shuddered at the cry I

Oh! Righteous Heayen! ere Freedom funnd a grave,Why slept thy sword, omnipotent to save?Where was thine llI'IIl, 0 Vengeanee I where thy rod,That smote the foes or ZiOIl and oC God,That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron carWas yoked in wrath, and thundered from aCar?Where was the stonn that slumbered till the hOltor blood-stained Pharaoh left trleir trembling coast !Then bade the deep in wild commotion ftow,And heaved an ocean on their march below?

Departed spirits or the mighty dead IYe that at Marathon and Leuctra bled !F.riends llf the world 1 restore YOJlr swords to man,Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!Yet for Sarmatia's tears or blood atone,And make her llI'IIl puissant as your own!Oh! once again to Freedom's canse returnThe patriot TeU-the Bruce of Bannockburn!

Yes! thy proud lords, unpitymg land! shall seeThat man hath yet a soul-and dare be free;A little while, along thy saddening plains,The starless night or desolation reigns;

10 CAMPBELL'S POEMS

Truth shall restore the light bV Nature givenAnd, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven IProne to the dust Oppression shall be hurled,­Her name, her nature, withered from the world!

Ye that the rising moon invidioua mark,And hate the light-becaUlle your deeds are dark;Ye that expanding truth invidious view,And think, or wish the song of Hope untnie!Perhaps your little hands presume to spanThe march of Geniua, and the pow'rs of Man;Perhaps ye watch, at Pride's unhallowed shrine,

_Her victims, newly slain, and thus divine:-" Here -shall thy triumph, Genius, ceue; and here,Truth, Science, Virtue, close your short career."

Tyrants! iii vain ye trace the wizard ring ;In vain ye limit Mind's unwearied spring:What! can ye lull the winged winds asleep,Arrest the rolling world, or chain the deep INo :-the 1'\-ild wave contemns your sceptered hand j ........

It rolled not back when Canute gave command!

Man! can thy doom no brighter soul allow?Still must thon live l\ blot on Nature's brow?Shall War's polluted banner ne'er be furled? ,Shall crimes and tyrants cease but with the world? ,What! are thy triumphs, sacred Truth, belied?Why then hath Plato lived-or Sidney died?

Ye fond adorers oC departed fam!!,Who warm at Scipio's worth, or Tully's name;Ye that, ih fancied vision, can admireThe sword of Bl'Utus, and the Theban lyre!\Vrapt in historic ardour, who adoreEach classic haunt, and well-remembered shore,

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Where Valour tuned, amid her cbolen throng,The Tbracian trumpet and the Spartan loog;Or, wand'ring thence, behold the later chll1'DtlOf England's glory, and Helvetia's arms!See Roman fire in Hampden's boIom swell,And fate and freedom in the sbaft of Tell !8ay, ye fond zealots to the worth of yore,Hath Valour left the world-to live no more ?No more shall Brutus bid a tyrant die,And sternly smile with vengeance in his e!e?Hampden no more, when sutrering Freedom calls,Encounter fate, and tri\lmph as he falls iNor Tell disclose, through peril and alarm,The might that slumbers in a peasant's arm l

Ye8! in that generous cause for ever strong,The patriot's virtue, lind the poet's song,Still, as the tide of ages rolls away, .8hall charm the world, unconscious of decay !

Yes! there are he8rts, prophetic Hope may trust,That slumber yet in uncreated dust,Ordained to fire th' adoring sons of earthWith every charm of wisdom and of worth ;Ordained to light, with intellectual day,The mazy wheels of Nature as they play,Or, warm with Fancy's energy, to glow,And rival all but Shakspeare's name below!

tJ

And lay, supernal Powers! who deeply sClInHeaven's dark decrees, unfathomed yet by man,When shall the world call down, to cleanse her shame,That embryo spirit, yet witbout a name,-That friend of Nature, whose avenging handsShall burst the Libyan's adamantine bands?

CAJIPBELL'S POEllIS.

Who, sternly marking on hia native soil,The blood, the tears, the anguish, anel the toil"Shall bid each righteous heart exult, to seePeace to the slave, and vengeance on the free I

Yet, yet, degraded men I th' expected dayThat breaks your bitter cup, is far away;Trade, wealth, and fashion, ask you still to bleed,And holy men give scripture for the deed;Scourged and debased, no Briton stoops to saveA wretch, a coward; yes, because a slav~ I

Eternal Nature I when thy giant handHad heaved the fl\lods, and fixed the trembling land,When life sprung startling at thy plastic call,Endless her forms, and Man the lord' of all;8ay, was that lordly form inspired by theeTo wear eternal chains, and bow the knee?Was man ordained the slave of man to toil,Yoked with the brutes, and fettered to the soil ;Weighed in a tyrant's balance with his gold?No !-Nature stamped UII in a heavenly mould;8he bade no wretch his thankless labour urge,Nor, trembling, take the pittance and the scourge',No hol,1lelesll Libyan, on the stormy deep,To call upon hia country's name, and ,weep!

Lo! once in triumph on his boundless plain,The quivered chief of Congo loved to reign IWith fires proportioned to his native sky,Strength in his arm; and lightning in his eye IScoured with wild feet his sun-iUllmined zone,The spear, the lion, and the woods his own IOr led the combat, bold without a plan,An artless savage, but a fearlells man I

OAMPBELL'S POEK••

The ~IUDderer came :-alu! DO ~ory __For Coago'. ehicl' OD yODdel' IDdian Wei !For ever Callen! DO IOn oC Nature now,With Freedom chartered on his manly brow;Faint, bleeding, bound, he weeps the night away,And, when the seawind waftll the dewleu day,Starts, with a bU1'8ting hearl, Cor eYer moreTo CUl'lle the SUD that lights their guilty IboIe.The shrill bom blew I (k) at that alarum kDe1lHis guardian angel took a last Carewell !That funeral dirge to darkness hath reaigDedThe fiery grandeur of a gllneroull mind 1-Poor fettered man! I hear thee whispering lowUnhallowed vows to Guilt, the child of Wo!Friendless thy hearl! and, eaut thou harbour thereA wish but death-a passion but despair ?

The widowed Indian, when her lord expires,Mounts the dread pile. and braves·the funeral fires !So falls the heart at Thraldom's bitter sigh!So Virtue dies, the spouse Qf Liberty!

But not to Libya's barren climes alone,To Chili, or the wild Siberian zone,Belong the wretched heart and haggard eye,Degraded worth, and poor misfortune's sigh!Ye orient realms, where Ganges' waters run !Prolific fields! dominions of the sun !How long your tribes have trembled, and obeyed !How long was Timour's iron sceptre swayed! (I)Whose marshalled hosts, the lions of the plain,From Scythia's northem mountains tt the main,Raged o'er your plundered shrines and altars bare,With blazing torch and gory scimitar,-Stunned with the cries of death each gentle gale,And bathed in blood the verdure of the vale!

•

CA.MPBELL'S POEMS.

Yet eould DO pangs the immortallpirit tame, •When Bramel children perilhed Cor his name;The martyr Imiled beneath avenging pow'r,And braved the tyrant in hil torturing hour !

When Europe lought your subject realms .to gain,And Itretched her -giant seeptre o'er the main,Taught her proud barks their whlding way to shape,And braved the stormy spirit oC the Cape; (m)Children oC Brama! then was Mercy nighTo wash the stain or blood's eternal dye?

• Did Peace deseend, to triumph and to save,When Cree-bom Britons crossed the Indian wave?Ah, no I-to more than Rome's ambition true,The Nl11'Ie oC Freedom gave it not to you!She the hold route oC Europe's guilt begao,And in the march oC nations, led the vim !

Rich in the gems oC IJldia's gandy zone,And plunder piled from kingdoms not their own,Degenerate Trade! thy minions could de8piseThe heart-hom anguish oC a thousand cries ;Could lock, with impious hands, their teeming store,While Camished nations died along the shore; (n)Could mock the groans oC Cellow.men, and bearThe curse oC kingdoms peopled with despair 1Could stamp disgrace on man's polluted name,And barter, with their gold, etemal shame!

But hark! as bowed to earth the Bramin kneels,From heavenly climes propitious thunder peals !Of India's Cate her guardian spirits tell,Prophetic murmurs breathing on the shell,And solemn sounds, that awe the list'ning mind,Roll on the azure paths oC every wind.

25

,I

CAMP1lELL S POEMS.

"Foes of mankind! (her guardian spirita lay)Re~lring ~es bring the bitter day)When Heaven's unerring arm shall fall on yoa,And blood for blood these Indian plainl bedew ;Nine tUnes have Bruna's whee1ll of lightDing hurledHis awful presence o'er the alarmed world 1 (0)N"me times hath Guilt, through all his.giast frame,Convullive trembled as the Mighty came 1 .N'me times hath 81Itrering Mercy spated in vain-But Heaven shall burst her starry gates again ;He comes 1 dread Brama shakes the sunleu skyWith murmuring wrath, and thunders from on high !Heaven's fiery ~rse, beneath his warrior form,Paws the light clouds, and gallops on the storm !Wide waves his flickering sword, his bright arms glowLike summer suns. and light the world below!ElIl'tb, and her trembling isles in Ocean's bedAre shook, and Nafure rocks beneath his tread.

" To pour redress on India'. injured realm,The oppressor to dethrone, the 'proud to whelm;To ehase destruction from her plundered shore,With arts and arms that triumphed once before,The teRtb Avater comes! at Heaven's commandShall Seriswattee (P) wave her hallowedw~ !And CaJpdeo bright I and'Genesa sublime,Shall bless with joy their own propitious elime !­Come, ~eavenly Powers! primevJll peaee~ !Love !-Mercy I-Wisdom 1 rule for ever more '"

DD OJ' PAllT I'IAIT.C

....."

-

PLEA'SURES OF HOPE.

PART II•.

ANALYSIS OF PART II.

ApOITROPBZ to the power of Love-its intimate eonnexionwith generous and aoeial Senaibility-allllaion to that beautifulpassage in the beginning of the book of Geneaia, which repre­sents the happiness of PIll'8.lIi.ee itBelC incom'l>lete, till love wassuperadded to its other blesainga---the-dreama of future felicitywhich a lively imagination is apt to cheriBb, wben Hope is ani­mated by refined attachment-this disposition to combine, inone imaginary scene of residence, all that is' pleasing in our es­timate of happiness compared to trye skill of the great artist,who personified p;{ect beauty, in the picture or Venus, by anaasemblage of the most beautiful features he could find--a sum­mer and winter evening described, as they may be supposed toarise in the mind of one who wishes, with enthUBiaslJl, for the .union of ftientUhip and retirement.

Hope and imagination inseparable agentll-even in thosecontemplative moments when our imagination wanders beyondthe boundaries or this world, our mind. are not unattendedwith an impression that we shall IlOme day have a wider anddistinct prospect of the uhiverse, instead of the partial glimpsewe now enjoy. . .

The last and most sublime influence of Hope, is the eqn.eluding topic of the Poem,-the predominance of s: belief in afuture. state over the terrors attendant on dissolution-thebaneful influence of that sceptical philosophy which bars usfrom such comforts-allusion to the fate of a suicide-Episodeof Conrad and EllclWre-Conclusion.

1I

fI

PLEASURES OF HOPE.

PART ll.

In joyoUll youth, what soul hath never ImcnmTholight, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own 1Who hath not paused while Beauty'a penai1'O eyeAsked from his heart the homage oC a sigh iWho hath not owned with rapture-Bmitten frame,The power of grace, the magic of ~ name?

There be, perhaps, who barren hearts avow,Cold as the rocks on Tomeo's hoary brow;There be, whose loveless wisdom never £ailed,In self-adoring pride securely mailed ;-But, triumph not, ye peace-enamoured few IFire, Nature, Genius, never dwelt with you IFor you no fancy consecrates the sceneWhere rapture uttered vows, and wept between ;'Tis yours, unmoved to sever and to meet;No pledge is sacred, and no home is sweet I

Who thaf would ask a heart to dulness wed,The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead?No; the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy,And care and sorrow fan the fire of joy!And say, without our hopes, without our fe&!'tWithout the home that plighted love endeal'll,Without the smiles from partial beauty won,O! what were man ?-a world without a aun !

Till Hymen brought his lo't'e-delighted bow,There dwelt no joy in Eden's rosy bow'r I

ell

soIn nin the viewl.. aeraph liug'ring there,At atarry midnight charmed the silent air ;In vain the wild-bird carolled on the steep,To bail th9 IUIIt slOw-.wheeling from the deep;.In vain, to soothe the solitary shade,Aerial notes in mingling measure played ;The summer wind that shook the spangled tree,The whillpexUg.wa»-e, the IJlW'mlU of thQ bee.;­Still slowly puaed the melancltoly day,And stiU the straager wist not where to stra,.­The world was sad !-the garden was a wild!And Man, the hennit, sigbed-'till W OIDitn amiled !

True, the sad power to generous hearts may bringDelirious anpiah on hia fiery wing!Barred from delight by Fate's untimely hand,By wealthleaa lot, or pitiless command !Or doomed to gaze on heautiee that adOl'DThe smile of triumph, or the frown of &Gam;While Memory watchee o'er the sad review,Of joys that faded like the IDOrning dew !Peace may depart-and life and nature seemA barreD patb-a wildness, and a dream!

But, can the noble mind for ever brood,The williag victim of a weary mood,On heartleB8 cares that squander life away, .And clcJUd young Genius bright'Ding into ~ay ?Shame to the coward thought that e'er betrayedThe nOOB of manhood to a myrtle shade! (a)If Hope'e creative spirit cannot raiseOne trophy sacred to thy tUture days,Scom the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy I!hrmeOf hopeleu love to murmur and repine!But, sbould a eigh of milder mood expressThy heart-warm wisbee, true to hap,Piness,

CAKn£LL's POEMS. SlShould lIeu.'s fairo harbinger delight to povHer blissful visiolll OD thy penain hour,No tear to blot thy memory's pictured page,No fears but such 88 fmcy can III8uage ;

Though thy wild heart some hapless hour IIlaI mia,The peacetbl teDol' of wwaried bliN,(For love pursues an ever denoUi race,True to the windillg lineamentll of grace;)Yet still may Hope her tali8JDan employTo snatch from Heaven anticipated joy,And all her kindred energies impartThat bum the brighqlst in the. purest heart !

When first the Rhodian's mimic art arrayedThe queen of Beauty ib her Cyprian shade,The happy master mingled on his pieceEach look that charmed him in the fair of Greeee !To faultless Nature true, he stole a graceFrom every finer fonn and sweeter face !And, as he sojourned on the Egean isles,Wooed all their love, and treaaured all their llDIilee !Then glowed the tints, pure, precious, aad refined,.And mortal charms seemed heavenly when combined ~

Love on the picture smiled! Expression pouredHer mingling spirit there-and Greece adored !

So thy fair hed, enamoured Fancy! gleansThe treasured pictures of a thousand scenes ;Thy pencil traces on the Lover's thoughtSome cottage-home, from towns and toil remote,Where Love and Lore may claim allernate hours,With Peace emhosomed in Idalian how'rs ;Remote from bUBY life's bewildered way,O'er all bis heart shall Taite and Beauty sway;Free on ,the sunny slope, or winding shore,With hermit steps to wander and adore;

82 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

There shall he love, when genial mom appears.Like pensiv:e beauty smiling in her tears,To watoh the bright'Ding roses of the sky,And muse on Nature with a poet's eye!And when the sun's last splendour lights the deep,The woods, and waves, and murm'ring winds asl~p;

When fairy harp!! th' Hesperian planets hail,And the lone cuckoo sighs along the vale,His path shall be where streamy mountains swellTheir shadowy grandeur o'er the narrow dell,Where mouldering piles and forests intervene,Mingling with darker tints the living green!No circling hills his ravished eye to bound,Heaven, earth, and ocean, bl'azing all around!

The moon is up-the watch-tower dimly burna­And down the vale bis sober step returns;But pauses oft as winding rocks conveyThe still sweet fall of Music Car away!And oft he lingers from bis home awbileTo watch the dying notes I-and start, and smile!

Let Winter come! let polar spirits sweepThe darkening world, and tempest-troubled deep!Though boundless snows the withered heath deform,And the dim sun scarce wanders through the slonn ,Yet shall the smile of social love repay,With mental light, the melaneholy day!And, when its short and sullen noon is o'er,The ice-ehained waters slumbering 1m the shore,How bright the faggots in his little hallBlaze on the hearth, and warm the pictured wall !

How blest he names, in Love's familiar tone,The kind fair friend, by nature marked his own I

33CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

And, in the wueleu mirror of his mind,Views the fleet years of pleasure left bebiAd,Since Anna's empire o'er bis heart began ISinee fullt be called her his berore the boly man I

Trim the gay taper in his J'UItie dome,And light the wint'ry paradise of home IAnd let the halC-llDCurtained window hailSome way-worn man benighted in the nle INow, while the moaning night-wind rages high,As sweep the sbot-atars down the troubled sky,While fiery hosts in Heaven's wide circle play,And bathe in livid light the milky-way,Safe from the storm, the meteor, and the .hower,Some pleasing page shall charm the IOlemn bour-­With pathos shall command, with wit beguile,A generous tear of anguish, or a smile--Thy woes, Arion! and thy simple tale, (b)O'er all the heart shall triumpb and prevail !Charmed as they read the verse too sadly true,How gallant Albert, and his weary crew,Heaved all their guns, their foundering bark to save,And toiled-and shrieked-and perished on the wave!

Yes, at the dead of night, by Lonna's steep,The seamen's cry was heard along the deep;There on his funeral waters, dark and wild,The dying Cather blest his darling child!Oh! Mercy, shield her innocence, he cried,Spent on the prayer his bursting heart, and died !

Or will they learn how generous worth sublimesThe robber Moor, (c) and pleads for all his crqnes!How poor Amelia kissed with many a tear,His hand blood-stained, but ever ever dear!

54 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

HUDg on the tortured bolOID oC her lord,And wept, aad prayed perdition from hit aword INor aought in vain I at that ~piercingcryThe strings oC nature craeked with agony IHe, with delirious laugh, the dagger hurled,And burst the tiel that bound him to the world I

Turn from his dying worda, that IllDite with steelThe shuddering thoughts, or wind them oa the wheel­Turn to the gentler melodies that suitThalia'. harp, or Pan's Arcadilln lute;Or, down the stream of Tmth's historic page,From clime to clime descend, from age to age I

Yet there, perhaps, may darker scenes obtmdeThan Fancy Cashions in her wildest mood ;There shall he pause, with borrent brow, to rate .What millions died-that Cresar might be great! (rI)Or learn the fate that bleeding thousands bore, (e)Marched by their Charles to Dneiper's swampy shore iFaint in his wounds, and shivering in the blast,The Swedish soldier sunk-and groaned his last!File after file, the stormy showers benumb,Freeze every standard-sheet, and bush the dmm !Horsemen and horse confessed the bitter pang, •And arms and warriors fell with hollow clang!Yet, ere he sunk in Nature's last repose, .Ere life's warm torrent to the fountain froze,The dying man to Sweden turned his eye,Thought of his home, and closed it with a sigh IImperial pride looked sullen On his plight,And Charles beheld-nor shuddered at the .ight I

Above, below, in Oceau, Earth, and Sky,Thy Cau:r worlds, Imagination, lie.

CA.MPBELL'S POEMS.

And Hope attends, tIOIIlpanion of the way,Thy dream by night, thy visions of the day IIn yonder pensile orb, and every sphereThat gems the Iltarry girdle of the year !In thOle unmeasured worlds, she bids thee tell,Pure from their God, ereated millions dwell,Whose names and natures, unrevealed below,We yet-shall learn, and wonder as we know;For, as lona's Saint, a giant form, (f)Throned on her tow'n, conversing with the stonn,(When o'er each Runic altar, weed-entwined,The vesper cloek tolls mournful to the wind,)Couts every wave-wom isle, and mountain hoar,From Kilda to the green Ieme's shore; -So, when thy pure and renovated inindThis perishable dust hath left behind,Thy seraph eye shall count the starry train,Like distant isles ~mbosomed in the main;Rapt to the shrine where motion first-began,And light and life in mingling torrent ran,From whence each bright rotundity was hurled,The throne of God,-the centre of the world!

Ohr vainly wise, the moral Muse -hath sungo That .suasive Hope hath hut a Syren tongue!

True; she may sport with life's untutored day,-Nor heed the solace of its last decay,The guileless heart her happy mansion spurn,And part like Ajut-nevef to return I (g)

But yet, methinks, when Wisdom shall assuagerhe griefs and pasilions of our greener age,rhough dull the close of life, and far away~ach flow'r that hailed the dawning of the day;! et o'er her lovely hopes that once were dear,;'he time-taught sIlirit, pensive, not severe,

S5

S6 CAMPBELL'S POEMIL.

With milder pieri her aged eye shall fill.And weep their falsehood. though she loft them still 1

Thill, with forgiving tears, and recoDciled,The king of Judah mourned his rebel child IMusing on days, when yet the guiltlellf boySmiled on his sire, and filled his heart with joy IMy Absalom I (the voice oC nature cried I)Oh 1 that Cor thee thy father could have died IFor bloody was the deed and rashly done,That slew my Absalom I-my son !-my son 1

Unfading Hope; when liCe's last embers bum,When soul to soul, and dust to dust returnlHeaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour 1Oh 1 then, thy kingdom comes I Immortal Power IWhat though each spark of earth-born rapture fiyThe quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eyeBright to the soul thy seraph hands conveyThe moming dream of life's eternal day-Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin IAnd all the Phoonix spirit burns within !

,)

Oh! deep enchanting prelude to repose,The dawn of bliss, the twilight oC our woes I •Yet ha1C I hear the parting spirit sigh, ...»It is a dread and awfUl thing to die!Mysterious worlds, untravelled by the sun!Where Time's far-wand'ring tide has never mn,From your unfathomed shades, and viewless spheres,A warning comes, unheard by other ears.'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud,Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud 1While Nature hears, with terror-mingled trust,The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust ;

CAXP8ELL 8 POE~.·

And, like the trembliBg Hebrew, when he uodThe l'OlU'ipg waves, and called upon his GOO.With mortal terrol'll clouds immortal bliss,And shrieks, and hovers o'er the dark aby8ll !

Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illumeThe dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb!Melt, and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that r<tllCimmerian darkness on the parting soul!Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of Dismay,Chased on his night-steed by the star of day!The strife is o'er-the pangs of Nature close,And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her WOe!!.

Hark! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze,The noon of Heaven undazzled by the blaze,On Heavenly wind~ that waft her to the sky,Float the sweet tones of star-born melody;Wild as that hallowed anthem sent to hailBethlehem's shepherds in the lonely Ville,When Jordan hushed his waves, and midnight stillWatched on the holy towers of Zion hill!

Soul of the just! companion of the dead !Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled?Back to its heavenly source thy being gpes,Swift as the comet wheels to whence he l'OIIe ;Doomed on his airy path awhile to burn,And doomed, like thee, to travel and return.­Hark! from the world's e:r;ploding centre driven.With sounds that shook the firmament of Heaven.Careers the fiery giant, fast and far,On bick'ring wheels, and adamantine car;From planet whirled to planet more remote,He visits realms beyond the reach of thought;But, wheeling homeward, when his course is run.Curbs the red yoke, and mingles with the sun!

D

97

S8 CAMPBELL 8 POD8.

So hath the traveller of earth unCurledHer trembling wings, emerging from the world ;And o'er the path by mortal never trod,Spnmg to her source, the bosom of her God t

, Oh I lives there, Heaven I beneath thy dread explDle,One hopeless, dark Idolater of Chance,Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined,The lukewarm pauioDS of a lowly mind;Who, mould'ring earthward, 'reft of every trust,In joyless union wedded to the dust,Could all his parting energy dismiss,And call this barren world sufficient bliss ?­There live, alas I of Heaven-directed mien,Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene,Who hailed thee, Man! the pilgrim of a day,Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay!Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower,Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower!A friendless alave, a child without a sire,Whose mortal life, and momentary fire,Lights to "the grave his chance-created form,As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm ;And when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er,To Night and Silence sink for ever more !-Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim,Lights of the world, and demi-gods of Fame?I. this YOW: triumph-this your proud applause,Children of Truth, and champions of her cause lFor this hath Science searched, on weary wing,By shore and sea-each mute and living thing?Launched with Iberia's pilot from the steep,To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep ~

Or round the cope her living cbllriot driven,And wheeled in triumph through the signs of Heaven

CAXPB~LL'8 POEXI.

Oh! atar-eyed Science, but thou wandered tbeIe,To waft us home the mesSage oC de-pail" 1Then biDd the palm, thy sage'. brow to .uil,or blasted le~ and deatb-distilling fruit !Ah me! the laurelled wreath that murder reUII,Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's tearI,Seems not 10 Coul, io tainted, and 10 dread,AI waves the night-shade round the skeptic head.What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain 1I smile on death, if Heav'n-ward Hope remain IBut, if the warring winds oC Nature'. strifeBe all the faithless charter of my life,If Chance awaked, inexorable power!This Crail and feverish beiog of an baur,Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to lWeep,Swifl-as the tempest travels on the deep,To know Delight but by her parting .mile,And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while ;Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain

-This troubled pulse, and visionary brain IFade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom IAnd sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb tTruth, ever lovely, since the world began,The Coe oC tyrants, and the friend oC man,- _How can thy words from balmy slumber startReposing Virtue, pillowed on the heart!Yet, if thy 'Voice the note of tbunder rolled;And that were truro which Nature never told,Let wisdom smile not on ber conquered field;No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed!Oh! let her read, nor loudly, oar elate,The doom that bars uS' from a better fate ;But, lad as ang~18 for the good mlln's sin,Weep to record, and blush to give it in !

S9

40 CA.MPBELL'S POEMS.

ABel well mar Doabt, tM metber of DiRDaJ.PaUlfl at her IIW'tJr'l tGmb, aDd read tIM! ~.Down by the wilds of yOil deMrted vale,It darkly hints a me1aDehely tale!There, 81 the homeleu madman ,its alone,In hollow wiJads be bears a spirit moan !And there, they lay, a wizard orgie CI'OwGs,When the moon lights her watch-tower in the c:leud8,Poor, lost Alonzo! Fate'. neglected child !Mild be the doom of Heavell-M thoa wert mild !For oh! thy heart in holy mould was cut,And all thy deeda were b1amelele, but the lutePoor, lost Alonzo! atill I IeIlIIl to hearThe clod that lltruck thy hollow-sounding bier!When FrieDdship paid, in speechless sorrow drowned,Thy midniglit rites, but net on hallowed ground !

Cease every joy to glimmer on ~y mind,But leave-oh' leave the light of Hope behind!What though my winged hours of bliss have been,Like angel-visits, few, and far between!Her musing mood shall every pang appease,And charm-when pleasures lose the power to please!

Yes! let each rapture, dear to Nature, flee;Close not the light of Fortune's stormy sea­Mirth, Music, Friendship, Love's propitious smileChase every care, and charm a little while,Extatic throbs the fluttering heart employ,And all her strings are harmonized to joy !-'But why so short i~ Love's delighted hour?Why fades the dew on Beauty's sweetest flower?Why can no hymned charm of Music heal

. The sleepless woes impassioned spirits feel?Can Fancy's fairy hands no veil create,To hide the sad realities of fate ?-

41CAMPBELL 8 POEII••

No I Dot the quaint remark, the sapien l'ale,Nor an the pride of Wisdom's worldly 8C>'IOOl,,Have power to soothe, unaided and alone,The heart that 'Vibrates to a feeling tone I.,Wilen stepdame Nature every bliss recalls,Fleet as'the meteor o'er the desert Calls ;When, 'reft oC all, yon widowed .ire appearlA lonely hermit in the Yale oC years;Say, can the world one joyous thought bestowTo Friendship, weeping at the couch or W 0 !No I but a brighter soothes the lllllt adieu,­Souls of impassioned mould, she speaks to youWeep not, she says, at Nature's transient pain,'Congenial spirits part to meet again !- !

What plaintive sob. thy filial spirit drew,What sorrow choked thy long and lllllt adiell,Daughter oC Colll'8d! when be heard his knell,And bade his country and his ehild CarewelllDoomed the long isles of Sydney Cove to see,The martyr of his crimes, but true to thee 1Thrice the 88d rather tore thee from hi. heart,And thrice returned, to bless thee and to part;Thrice from his trembling lips be murmured lowThe plaint that owned unutterable 19'0 ;

Till Faith, prevailing o'er his sullen doom,As burst the morning on night's unfathomed gloom,Lured his dim eye to deathIen hoplla IUblime,Beyond the realms of Nature and of time I

" And weep not thill, (be cried) young Ellenore,My bosom bleeds, but soon shall bleed no more !Short shall this balf-extinguished spirit bum,And soon these limbs to kindred dust return!But not, my child, with life's precarious fire"The immortal tie. of Nature ,hall expire;

DI

42 CAMPBELL" POEMS.

These shall resist the triumph oC decayWhen time is o'er, and worlds have passed away ICold in the dust this perished heart may lie,But that which warmed it once lhall never die'That Ipark unburied in its mortal frame,With living light, eternal, and the same,Shan beam orrJoy's interminable years,Unveiled by darknellS-uDusuaged by tears'

" Yet on the barren shore and stormy d.eep,One tedious watch is Conrad doomed to weep;But when I gain the home without a friendAnd preis th'uneasy couch where none attend,This lut embrace, still cherished in my heart,Shall calm the stmggling spirit ere it part ,Thy darling Corm shall seem to hover nigh,And hush the groM oC liCe's last agony'

.. Farewell' when Strangers lift thy Cather's bier,And place my nameless stone without a tear;When each returning pledge hath told my childThat Conrad's tomb is on the desert piled ;And when the dream oC troubled Caney seesIts lonely rank grass waving in the breeze;Who then will soothe thy grieC whell mine is o'er lWho will protect thee, helpless Elleno~?

Shall seCret ·scenes thy filial sorrows hide, ~

Scorned by the world, to Cactious guilt allied?Ah! no; methinks the generous and the gOC)(t,Will woo thee Crom the shades of solitude' . )O'er friendless grief compassion ~han awake,And smile on Innocence, for Mercy's lake ," :

Inspiring thought of rllpture yet to be,The tean oC love were hopeless, but for thee 1

...

CAliPBELL'S POE.S.

If in that frame DO death1e.. spirit dwell,If that faint murmur be the last Carewell!If fate unite the Caithful but to part,Why it their memory sacred to the heart 1Why does the brother oC my ebildbood teem

Restored awhile in every pleasing dream ?Why do J joy the lonely spot to view,By artletlll iriendship blessed when liCe wu new P

Eternal Hope! wben yonder spheres sublimePealed their first notes to sound the march oC Time,Thy jeyous youth began-but not to Cade.-When all the sister planets have decayed ;When wrapt in fire the realma of ether glow,And Heaven's last thunder shakes the worl!! below;Thou, undismayed shalt o'er the ruins lInile,And light thy torch at Nature'. Cuneral pile!

UD OJ' 'UT .-cOIlD•

,

•

••

GHRTRUDE OF WYOMlNGi

OR TJm

PENNSYLVANUN OOTTAGE.

PART L

ADVERTISEMENT.

Most of the popular historie. of England, as "en as ofthe American war, give an authentic account of the d_olation of Wyoming, in Penll8flvania, which took placein 1178, by an incUI'8ion of the Indians. The Sceneryand Incidents of the following Poem are connected withthat event. The testimoniea of historians and travellenconcur in describing the infant colony as one of the ha~pielt spots of human existence, for the ~itable andmnocent manners of the inhabitants, the beauty of thecountry, and the luxuriant fertility of the IIOil andclimate. In an evil hour, the junction of~ withIndian arms, converted this terrestrial paradiIe into afrilthtful waste. Mr 1_ Weld informa UBl" ~.at thernms of many of the villages, perforated with DaIJ8, andbearing marks of co~tionwere still Prel8lTed bythe recent inhabitants, wieD he travelled throqb Amer­ica in 1'796.

GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.

PART I.

L0. Susquehanna', side, fair Wyoming!

Although the wild-flower on thy ruined wallAnd roofless homes a sad remembrance bringOf what thy gentle people did befall,Yet thou wert once the lol'liest land of allThat see the Atlantic wave their mom restore.Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,Whose beauty was the love oC Pennsylvania's shore.

II.Delightful Wyom~g! beneath thy skies,The happy shepherd swains had nought to do,But feed their flocks on green declivities,Or skim perchance thy lake with light canoe,From mom, till evening's sweeter pastime grew,With timbrel, when beneath the forests brown,The lovely maidens would the dance renew:And aye those sunny mountains half-Wily downWould echo flagelet from some tomantic town.

m._ Then, where)o Indian hills the daylight takes

H'u leave, how might you the flamingo seeDisporting like a meteor on the lakesAnd playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree:And every sound of life was full of glee,From merty mock-bird's song, or hum of men.While heark'ning, fearing nought their revelry•

••

48 CUJPBELL'S POEMS.

I«.

The wild deer arched his neck from glades, and thenUnhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again.

IV.And IClIree had Wyoming of war or crime

~ .. ' , Heard but in transatlantic story~.mg,For here the exile met from every clime,And spoke in friendship ev'ry distant tongue:M!!n from the blood of warring Europe sprung,Were but divided by the running brook j

( And happy where no Rhenish trumpet ~ung, ·rOn plain. no sieging mine's volcano shook, [hook.The blue-eyed German changed his sword. to pruning

v.Nor far some Andalu9ian saraband'Vould sound to many a native roundelay.But who is he that yet a dearer landRemembers over hills and far awalfGreen Albyn !8 what though he no more surveyThy ships,at anchor on the quiet shore,Thy pellochs rolling from the mountain bay j

Thy lone sepulchral cairn upon the moor,And distant isles that hear the loud Corbrechtan roar !t

VI.Alas poor Caledonia's mountaineer,That want's stem edic!l: e'er, and feudal grief,Had forced him from a home he loved so dear!Yet found he here a home, and glad relief,And plied the beverage from his own fair sheaf,That fired his Highland blood with mickle glee j

And England sent her men, of men the chief,

• Bcotland.t Tbe .._, whirlpool of lhe Weatern H"bridea.

CAMPBELL'. POEM'., f9

Who taught thole .ireI of Empire Jet to be,To plant the tree of liCe,-to plqt fair freedom's tree I

, VD.

Here wu riot mmgled in the city'! pomp'or liCe's extreme. the grandeur and the gloom;Judgment awoke not here her dismal tromp,Nor sealed in blood a fellow"Cl'eature'. doom,Nor mourned the ClIptive in a living tomb.One venerable man, beloved of all,

_Suttieed where innocence was yet in bloom,To sway the strife, that seldom might befall,And Albert was their judge in patriarchal halL

VIII.HoW' reverend was the l~k, serenely aged,He bore, this gentle Pennsylvanian sire,Where, all but kindly fervours were aBBuaged,Undimmed by weakness' shade, or turbid ire iAnd though alnidst the calm of thought entire,Some high and haughty features might betrayA soul impetuous once, 'twas earthly fireThat fled composure's intellectual ray, .As £tna's fires grow dim before the rising day•.

IX.I boast DO !lOng in magic wondertl rir:,But Yilt, oh Nature! is there nought to prize,Familiar in thy bosom-scenes of life!And dwells in daylight truth's salubrious skiesNo fonn with which the soul may sympathize?Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mildThe parted ringlet shone iii simplest guise,.lIt inmate in the home of Albert smiled,Or blest his noonday walk_he was his only child.

E

CAMPIELL'. POE"

L-The rose of England bloomed on Gertrttde'. tbeekWhat though these shadel had seen her birth, her .ireA Briton'. independence taught to seekFar western worlds i and there his boDiebold fireThe light of lIOCiallove did loog inspire,And many a halcyon day he lived to seeUnbroken, but by one misfortune dire,When Cate had 'reft his mutual heart-but she [knee.Was gone-and Gertrude climbed a widowed father'.

XI.A IO'fed bequest,-and I may haIr impartTo them that feel the stroug patel1lal tie,How like a new existence to his heartUprose that living /lower beneath his eye,Dear as she was, from cherub inCaney,From hours when she ~oulU round his garden play,To time when as the rip'ning years went by,Her lovely mind could culture well repay,And more engaging grew, from pleasing day to day.

XII.I may not paint those thousand infant cblll'lDl;Unconscious fascination, undesigned!)The orison repeated in his arms,For God to hless her sire and all mankind iThe book, the bosom on his knee reclined,Or bow sweet fairy-lore he heard her con,(~playmate ere the teacher of ber mind:)All uncompanioned else her years had gone [shone.Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue summer

xm.hd summer was the tide, and sweet the hour,When .ire and daughter saw, with /leet descent,

•

CAMPBELL'S POEM8. ~I

An Indian 1iom his bark approach their bow".r,or buakiD'd limb, and swarthy liJleameat;The red wild Ceathen on. hi. brow were bleDt,And.braeeleta bound the ann that helped to liPtA. boy, who seemed, as he beside him went,or ChrIstian vesture, and complexion bright,Led by his dusky guide like morning brolllht by nighL

XIV.Yet pensive seemed the boy Cor one llO young,The dimple .Crom his polished cheek had fled;When, leaning on his forest-bow unstrung,Th' Oneyda warrior to the planter said,And laid his hand upon the stripling's head,co Peace be to thee! my words this belt approve;The paths oC peace my steps have hither led :Thill little nunling, take him to thy lon, [doye.And shield the bird unfledged, since gone the pareDt

XV.co Christian! I am the foeman oC thy foe ;Our wampum league thy brethren did embrace :Upon tile Michigan, three moons ago,We launched our quivers for the bison chase;And with the Hurons planted for a space,With true and faithful hands, the olive-stalk;But snakes are in the bosoms of their race,And though they held with UB a friendly talk,The hollow peace-tree fell beneath their tomahawk!

XVI.co It was encamping on the lake's far port,A. cry of Areouskia broke our sleep,Where lltormed an ambushed fae thy nation's Cort,.And rapid rapid whoops eame o'er the deep; ,

• 'l'IIe IDIIaa 9al\ 01 War.

5! CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

But long thy eollDtry's waMign on the steepAppeared through ghastly intervals oC light,.And deathCully their thunders seemed to sweep,Till etter darlmell swallowed up the sight, •As if a .bower of blood had quenched the fiery fight I

XVll." I slept-it rose agaiD-On high their tow',SpNllg upwards like a torcb to light the skiee,Then down &gain it rained an embe: sbower,And louder lamentations beard we rise:As when the evil Manitou· that dries

~ The Ohio woods, eonsumes them in bis ire,In vain the desolated panther flies,And howls, amidst his wilderuess oC fire :Alul too late. we reached and smote those Hurons dire!

xvm." But as the Cox beneath the nobler bounel,So died their warriors by our battle brand;And from the tree we with her child unboundA lonely mother ofthe Christian land.Her lord-the captain oC the British band­Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers lay.Scarce knew the widow our delivering hand;Upon her child she sobbed and swooned away,Or shriekedunto the God to whom the Christians pray.-

XIX." Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowlsOf fever-halm, and sweet sagamite ;But she was journeying to the land of souls,And lifted up her dying head to prayThat we should bid an ancient friend conveyHer orphan to his home of England's shore;And take, she said, this token far away

• MlUlltou, Spirit or DelI1.

CAIIIPBELL'S POEIII••

To ODe thAt will remember us of yore, [wore.­When he beholds the ring that WaldegraYe'. Julia

XX.rc And I. the eagle of my tribe: have l'I1IbedWith thillorn dove."-A .age'.lelC-eommandHad quelled the tears from Albert'. heart that pabed ;But yetDis cheek-hie agitated band-That showered upon the .tranger of the landNo common boon, in grief but ill beguiledA lOul that was not wont to be unmanned;II ADd stay," he cried, rc dear pilgrim of the wild IPreserver of myoId, my boon companion'. child1-

XXI•.. Child of a race whOle name my boeom wanne,On earth's remotelt bounds how welcome here !Whoee mother oft, a child, has filled these anne,Young ~ thy.elf, and innocently dear,Whose grandsire was my early life's compeer.Ah happiest home of England's happy clime IHow beautiful ev'n now thy scenes appear,As in the noon and sunshine of my prime IHow golfe like yesterday these thrice ten years of time I

XXU." And, Julia I when thou wert like Gertrude now,Can I forget thee, fav'rite child of yore?Or thought I, in thy father's house wben thouWert lightest. hearted on his festive floorAnd first of all his hospitable door,To meet and kiss me at my journey's end?But where was I when 'Valdegrave was no more?

• Tile Indlano .;., dl8tlftlUllbed both penonal'" and by 11Ibe1 by the.arne of particular animal., ,,00. quftlltlee they .~I 10 reRmbleellb., Illr cunning, lIre"lllh, l"lIm., or other quallllee.-Aa the"lie. the .erpeDt, the fox. or bear,

EI

54 CdPaELL II POEMS.

And thou didat pale d1y gentle head eDeDd.Ia woes, -that ern the tribe or deIertI was thy meDII!"

XXIll.He said~d straiaed unto hill heart tile boy ~

Far ditl'erent11 the mute OIlefda tookHis calumet oC peace.. and eup oC M;As monumental bronze uaehanged. bil1oek:A. lOul &it pity touched but DeTer shook :Trained, from his tree-rocked eradlet to hi. bier,The fierce extremes of good and ill to brookhnpu~e--C~gbuttheshuneof~~

A stoic of the woods-a man without a tear.-

XXIVYet deem not goodness on the sange stoekOC Outalissi's heart disdained to groW';AI lives the oak unwithered on the rockB1 storms above, and barrenne!ll below;He scorned his own, who Celt another's wo:And ere the wolfslrin on his back he flung,Or laced his mocasins, in act to go,A lOng of parting to the boy he sung, [tongue.Who slept on Albert's couch, nor heard his friendly

xxv." Sleep wearied one! and in the dreaming llU1dShouldst thou to-morrow with thy mother meet,Oh! tell her spirit, tbat the wbite man's handHath plucked the thorns ~f sorrow from thy feet;While I in lonely wildernessShall greet

• CllIumel of Peace.-Tbe calumellalh. Indian name for tb. orna­mented pipe of t'rielldlblp, wblcb tbey amoke u a pled.. of amity.

t Troo-rocked oradl..-Tba Indian mothlll'll IllIpeud their cbUdrenIn tbeir cra4Ia from the IloucIaI ot tr_, &lid let tbam .... rocked b,&he wind.

CAMPBELL'S POE....

Thy 1!tt1e foot pri~r by traces ImcnrThe foWJtain, where at DOOR I thought it nreetTo feed thee with the quanyof my bow,And poured the lotu--horn,· or Ilew the moutaia ...

XXVL

" Adieu! sweet seion of the rising sun IBut should aftliction's storms thy blOllOll1 mock,Then corne again-rny own adopted one I.And I will graft thee on a nohle Itoc.k :The crocodile, the condor of the rock,Shall be tbe pastime of thy sylvan wars ;And I will teach thee, in the battle', shock,To pay with Huron blood thy father's searl,

.And gratulate his soul rejoicing in the stan I"

nVll.So finished he the rhyme (howe'er unconth)That true to nature's fervid feelings ran ;(And song is but the eloquence of truth:)Then forth uprose that lone way-faring man;But dauntless he, nor chart, nor journey's planIn woods required, whose trained eye was keenj.s eagle of the wI1dernellll, to seanHis path, by mountain, swamp, or deep ravine,Or ken far friendly huts on good savannas green.

XXVIII.

Old Albert saw him from t~e valley's side-His pirogue launched-his pilgrimage begun­Far, like the red-bird's wing he seemed to glide­Then dived, and vanished in the woodlands dun•

• Prom • ftower oIIapeel IIJle a bom, wbleb Cb_briaIKl ,....-u_ (0 be of &be ."'... 1dDd, lbe Indl In their trave" th........ theoIaen otIao ADd • draulbl of 4ew r tbaO 8I11olber w_.

66

Oft, to that .pot by tender memory won,Would Albert climb the promontory'B height,If but a dim .ail glimmered in the sun j

But DeTer more to bleu hiB longing Bigbt,WaB Outaliui bailed, with bark and plumage bright.

JUrI) 01' 'paT nalT.

I

J

GEltTRUDE OF WYOMING.

PART n.I.

A TJ.LLEY from the river shore withdrawnWas Albert's home, two quiet woods betweeD.Whose lofty verdure overlooked his lawn tAnd waters to their resting place sereneCame fresh'Ding, and reflecting all the scene:(A. mirror in the depth of flowery shelves;)So sweet a spot of earth, you'might, I ween,Have guessed lOme congregation of the elves [lelYei.To sport by summer moons, bad shaped it for them-

n.Yet wanted not the -eye far scope to muse,Nor vistas opened by tbewand'ring stream ;Both where at evening Allegany views,Through ridges burning in her western beam.Lake after lake interminably gleam:And past those settlers' haunts the eye might roam,Where earth's unliving silence all would leem ;Save where on rocks the beaver built his dome,Or buffalo remote lowed far from human home.

m.But silent not that adverse eastern path,Which saW Aurora's hill th' horizon crown ;There was the river heard, in bed of wrath,(A preeipiee.of foam from mountaillll brown.)Like tumults heard from some far distant town ;But 10ft'niDg in approachbe left his g~oom,

And murmured pleasantly, and laid him down

C.uI..ELL'. POEMS.

To kill thole eUT curving banks or bloom,That lent the windward air an exquiaite perfume.

IV.It lICemed U if those Icenes sweet intluence hadOn Gertrude's soul, and kindne88 like their ownIDlpired those eyes affectionate and glad,That seemed to love whate'er they looked upon iWhether with Hebe's mirth her features shone,Or it a Ihade more pleasing them o'ercast,(As if for heavenly musing meant alone ;)Yet ~ becomingly th' expression past,That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last.

v.Nor pell I, was that Pennsylnnian home.With all jts picturesque and balmy grace,And fields that were a luxury to roam,LOlt on the soul that looked from such a face!Enthusiast of the woods! when years apaceHad bound thy lovely waist with woman's zone,The sunrise path, at morn, I see thee traceTo hills with high magnolia overgrown,And joy to breathe the grove., romantic and alone.

VI.The sunrise drew her thoughts to Europe forth,That thus apostrophized its viewless scene:." Land of my father's love, my mother'l birth IThe home of kindred I have never leeD !We know not other-oceaDl are between ;Yet say! far friendly hearts from whence WI eatIlCl,

O( 111 does oft remembraDce intemme 1- My mother lure-.my sire a thottght may 1l1aiaa;­

But Gertrude is to 10. an~ed .ae.

U.K••ELL'. POIUI••

VB." And yet, lond England! when thy DAme I tneeIn many a pilgrim's tale and poet's song,How can I choose but wish for one embraceOf them, the dear unknown, to whom belongMy mother's looks,-perhaps her linnes, 'troh«?Oh parent! with wbat reverential awe,From features of thine own related throng,h image of thy face my lJOul could druw!And see thee once again whom I too shortly Ba"'"

VIn.Yet deem Dot Gertrude sighed for foreign joy;To soothe a father's couch her only care,And keep his rev'rend head from all annoy:For this, metbinks, ber homeward steps repair,Soon as the morning wreath had bound her hair ;While yet the wild deer trod in spangling dew,WlYle boatmen carolled to the fresh-blown l1ir,And woods a horizontal shadow threw,And early Cox appeared in momentary view.

IX.

Apart there was a deep untrodden grot,Where oft the reading hour sweet Gertrude wore •Tradition had not named its lonely spot; ,But here, methinks, might Indians' sons exploreTheir fathers' dust,· or lift, perchance, of yore,Their voice to the great Spirit :-rocks sublimeTo human art a sportive semblance bore,And yellow lichens coloured all the clime, (time.Like moonlight battlements, and towel'!! decayed b1

• [III a CUllom ot tbe Indian Irl.... \0 wslt lIMo lombe or lbelr an­teIlo" In lb. cullivated parta of America, who have been buried forapwarde or a GeIlt1UY.

60 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

X.But high in amphitheatre above,His arms the everluting aloes threw:Breathed bat an air of heaven, and all the groTeAt if with instinct living spirit grew,Rolling its Terdant gulfs of every hue;And now IUSpended was the pleasing din,Now from a murmur faint it Iwelled anew,Like the first note of organ heard withinCa~ aisles,-ere yet itslymphony begin.

XI.It wu in this lone valley she would charmThe ling'ring noon, where tlow'rs a couch had strown;Her eheek reelining, and her Inowy armOn hillock by the palm-tree half o'ergrown ;And aye that volume on her lap is thrown,Which every heart of human mould endears;With Shakspeare's self she speaks and smiles aloDe,And no intruding visitation fears, [tears.To shame th' unconscious laugh, 01' stop her Iweetest

XII.And nought within the grove wal heard or seenBut stoekdoves plaining through its gloom profound,Or winglet of the Cairy humming bird, .Like atoms oC the rainbow tluttering round; .When lo! there entered to its inmost groundA youth, the stranger oC a distant land;He was, to weet, for eastern mountains bound;But late th' equator suns his cheek had tanned,And Califomia's gales his roving bosom Canned.

XfiLA steed, whose rein hung loosely o'er hi. arm,He led dismounted; ere his leisure pace,

61CAlU'BELL'S POEJf8.

Amid the brown leavell, co11ld her ear al_.Close he had come, and worshipped for a spaceThose downcast features :-Ihe her lovely faceUplift on one whose lineaments and frameWere youth and manhood's intermingled grace:Iberian seemed his boot-his ro1le the same,And well the Spanish plume his lofty loob became.

XIV.For Albert's borne be sought-her finger fairHas pointed where the father's mansion stood.Retuming from the copse he soon was there;And soon bas Gertrude hied (rom dark gTeen wood.;Nor joyless, by the converse understood,Between the mall of age and pilgrim young,That gay congeniality of mood,And early liking from acquaintance sprung:Full1luently conversed their guest in England's tongue.

XV.And well could he his pilgrimage of tasteUufold,-and much they loved his fenid strain,'Vhile he each fair variety retrac'd.Of climes, and manners, o'er the eastern main:Now happy Switzer's hills,-romantic Spain,­Gay liliedfields of France,-or, more refined,The soft Ausonia's monumental reign;Nor less each rural image be designed,Than all the city's pomp and home of human ki!ld.

XVI.Anon some wilder portraiture he draws;Of Nature's savage glories he would speak,­The loneliness of earth that overawes,­Where, resting by some tomb of old cacique,,The lama driver on Pemvia's pel\k,Nor living voice nor motion marks around;

F

61 CA.MP.ELL'S POEMS.

But .tora that to the boundless forest shriek,Or wild-eane arch high flung o'er gulf profound,·That fluctuates when the storms of El Dorado 8Ound.-

Xvn.Pleased with his gueet, the good man still would plyEach earnest question, and his converse court;But Gertrude, as she eyed hfm, knew not whyA strange and troubling wonder stort her short... In England thou hast heen,-and, by report,An orphan's name (quoth Albert) may'st have known:Sad tale I-when latest fell our frontier fort,-One innocent-one soldier's child-alone [oWn.'Vas spared, and brought to me, who loved him as my

XVIII." Young Henry Waldegrave I three delightful yearsThese very walls his iIlfant sports did see;But most I loved him when his parting tearsAlternately bedewed my child and me :His sorest parting, Gertrude, was from thee;Nor half its grief his little heart could hold:By kindred he was sent for o'er the sea,They tore him from us when but twelve years old,

~) And scarcely for his loss have I been yet eonsoled."-

XIX.His face the wana'rer hid,-but eould not hideA tear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell ;-" And speak, mysterious stranger I" (Gertrude cried)" It is I-it is I-I knew-I knew him weIll'Tis Waldegrave's self of Waldegrave come to tell !

• The brldg.. over narrow streaml In many partl of Spanlah Am...rica are &lId to be built of cane, which bowever Itrong to I"pport thepoaeng.... ore yet waved In the agltatlon of the Itorm, and frequeDtlyadd to lbe effect of a mouDtalDoUl and plctureoquo ICODery.

CAMPBELL'S ~OEMS. 65

A burst of joy the father's lips declare ;But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell :At oMe his open arms embraced the pair,Was never group more bleat, in tWs wide world oC care.

xx." And will ye pardon then (replied the youth)YOIU' Waldegrave's feigned name, and false attire? 'Id~ not in the neighbourhood, in truth,The very fortunes of your house inquire;Lest one that knew me might some tidings direImpart, and I my weakness all betray;For had I lost my Gertrude, and my sire,I meant but o'er your tombs to weep a day,Unknown I meant to weep, unknown to pass away.

XXI.

" But here ye live,-ye bloom,-in each dear faceThe changing hand of time I may not blame;For there, it hath but shed more reverend grace,And here, of beauty perfected the frame;And well I know your hearts are still the same,They could not change-ye look the very way,As when an orphan first to you I came.And have ye heard of my poor guide, I pray?Nay; wJ1erefore weep we, friends, onsuch a joyous day?"

XXII.

" And art thou here? or is it but a dream?And wilt thou,'Valdegrave, wilt thou leave us more 1"­" No,.never! thou that yet dost lovelier seemThan aught on earth--than ev'n thyself of yore-I will not part thee from thy father's shore ;But we shall cherish him with mutual arms,And hand ~ hand again the path explore,

64 CJ.KPBELL'. POEM••

Which '"err ray oC yOUDg rem_bruce WVIDII,While thou Ibalt be .y OWJl witla all thy truth ...

chuma."xxm.

At mom, u ifbeDeath a pluyOf oTeI'-U'ChiDg I'OYei in blOllODllI white,Where all wu odToUl acent and harmony,And gladneu to the heart, nerve, ear, and sight:There if, oh gentle love I I read aright,The utterauce that sealed thy sacred bond,'Twu liat'uiug to these accents oC delight,She hid upon his breut those eyes, beyondExpreuion'. power to paint, alllauguishiDgly foud. .

XXIV." Flower of my life, so lovely, and so lone IWhom I would rather in this desert meet,Scoruiug, and Icomed by fortune's power, than OWJl

Her pomp and splendours lavished at my feet ITum not from me thy breath, more exquisiteThan odours cut on heaven's own shrine-to please­Give me thy love, than luxury more sweet,And more than all the wealth that loads the breeze,When Coromandel's ships return from Indian seas."

XXV.Then would that home admit them-happier farThan grandeur's most magnificent saloon, •While here and there, a solitary starFlushed in the dark'ning firmament oC JUDe;And silence brought the soul-felt hour, CulllOOA,Ineffable, which I_y not portray;For never did the HymeDean moonA p~dise of hearts more sacred sway,In all tbat slept beneath her 10ft voluptuou raJ-

UD OJ' !'AaT IJ:.COIm.

Coogle

r GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.

PART m.

Lo LOTE! in such II wilderness as this,Where transport and IeCUl'ity entwine,Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss,And here thou art a god indeed divine.Here shall no forms abridge, no hoW'll confineThe views, the walks, that boundless joy inspire IRoll on, ye days of raptured in1luence, shine INor blind with ecstasy's celeatial fire,Shall love hehold the spark of earth-hom time expire.

n.Three little moonl, how short, amidst the groTe,And pastoral savannas they consume!While she, beside her buskined youth to rove,Delights, in fancifully wild costume,Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume;And forth in hunter·seeming vest they fare ;But not to chase the deer in forest gloom; .'Tis but the breath of heaven-the blessed air­And interchange of hearts unknown, uuseen to share.

III.

What though the sportive dog oft round them note,Or fawn or wild bird bursting on the wing ;Yet who, in love's own presence, would devote.To death those gentle throats that wake the spnng,

FS

68

Or writbiBI from the brook its rictim briDglNo !-DOr let fear one 1ittle warbler rouse;But, fed b1 Gertru.de's band, Itilllet them sing,Acquaintance of her path, amidst the boughs, [yOWl.

That shade e'en now her love, and witneued first ~er

IV.Now labpintbs, which but thellllelves can pierce,Methinks, conduct them to some pleasant ground,Where welcome hills shut out the universe,And pines their lawny walk encompass round;There, if a pause delicious con'Yerse found,'Twas but when'o'er each heart th' idea stole,(Perchance awhile in joy's oblivion drowned)That come what may, while life's glad pulses roll,Indillolubly thus should soul be knit to soul

V.And in the risions of nnnantic youth,What years of endless bliss are yet to flow!But mortal pleasure, what art thou in truth!The torrent'. smoothness, ere it dash below!And must I change my song? and must I show,Sweet W,oming! the day, when thou wert doomed,Guiltless, to mourn thy lovelie~t bow'rs laid low!When where of yesterday a garden bloomed.Deathoverspreadhis pall, and black'ning sshes gloomP.d.

VI.Sad was the year, by.proud oppression driven,When transatlantic Liberty arose,Not in the sunshine, and the smile of heaven,But wrapt in wirlwinds and begirt with woes:"Amidst the strife 9f fratricidal foes,Her birth star was the light of burning plains ;.

• AUQdinI to Ibe mlNtIet that atteDded tile American c1Yi1 war.

CA.JII'IIELL'a POE... .7Her baptism is the weight oC blood that 8ow.From Iriodred heartl-the blood of British TeinI­And Camioe tmdII bu ItepI, aDd patiluqlJ paiDI.

vn.Yet, ere the stonn oC death bad raged remote, .Or siege UD8ee~, in heaTn reflects itt beams,Who now each dreadful cireulD8tance shall note,That tills pale Gertrude's thoughts, and nightly dream.:Dismal to her the Corge oC hattle gleamsPortentous light! and Music's voice is dumb;Save where the fife its shrill reveille screams,Or midnight streets re-echo to the drum, [to come.That speaks oC madd'ning strite, and blood-stained fields

vm.It was in truth a momentary pang;Yet how compn,ing myriad shapes oC wo !First when in Gertrude's ear the summon. rang,A husband to the battle doomed to go !"Nay, meet not thou," (she cries,) " thy kindred foe ;­But peaceful let us seek fair England's strand !"-" Ab, Gertrude! thy beloved heart, I knowWould feel like mine, the stigmatizing brand,Could I forsake the cause of freedom's holy band!

IX." But shame-but flight-a recreant's name to prove,To hide in exile ignominious fears;Say, ,e'en if this I brooked, the public loveTh)" father's bosom to his home endears :And how.could I his few remaining years,My Gertrude, sever' from so dear a child ?"

, So, day by day, her boding heart he cheers; .At last that heart to hope is balf beguiled, [smiled.And pale through tears suppressed the lJlQ\U'Ilful beauty

68 CAMPBELL'S POEHI.

X.Night came,-and in their lighted bow'r, full late.The joy or converse had endured-when hark 1Abrupt and loud, a summons shook their gate ;And heedless of the dog's obstrep'rous bark,A form haa rushed amidst them from the dark,And spread his arms,-and fell upon the floor:Of aged strength his limbs retain the mark;But desolate he looked, and famished poor,As ever shipwrecked wretch lone left on 'desert .hore.

. XI.Upm'n each wond'ring brow is knit and arched:A spirit from the dead they deem him first:To speak he tries; but quivering, pale, and parchedFrom lips, as by some pow'rless dream accursed,Emotions unintelligible burst;And long his filmed eye is red and dim ;At length the pity-protrerred cup his thirstHad half assuaged, and nel"Ved· his shuddering limb.When Albert's hand he grasped i-but Albert kn~w not

him.XII.

" And hast thou then forgot," (he cried forlorn,And eyed the group with half indignant air)" Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the mornWhen I with thee the cup of peace did share ?Then stately was this head, and dark this hair,That now is white as Appalachia's snow;But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair,And age hath bQwed me, and the tort'ring foe,Bring me my boy-and he will his deliverer know I"

Xill.It \vas not long, with eyes and heart of flame.. .Ere Henry to his loved Oneida flew:

.. 1

CAJIPBELL'. POEII•• 69

II Ble.. thee, my gnifIe I"'-but, baekwllrd u he eame,The chief his old bewildered bead witbmew, [tflroaP..And grasped his lIJ'IIl, atld looked aDd 10ebd him'Twas strang&-DOr eould the pollp a smile control­The long, the doubtful IIeI1ltmy to_new:-At lut delight o'er all his feabnu lItole,U It is-my cnm," be cried, ud clasped him tD his lOaL

XIV." Yes thou recall'st my pride of years, (or thenThe bowstring of my spirit was not slack,When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambushed men,I bore thee like the quiver on my back,Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack;Nor foemen then, nor congar's couch I feared,·For I was strong as mountain cataract:And dost thou not remember bow we cheered,Upon the last bill top, when white men's buts appeared?

xv." Tben welcome be my death song, ••d my death ISince I have see~ thee, alld again embraeed."And longel' had he spent his toil worn breath IBut, with aft"ectionate and eager bute,Was every arm outstretched around their guest,To welcome, and tll bless his aged bead.Soon was the hospit~ble balKJ.uet placed;ADd Gertrude's lovely hand a balSllm shedOn wounds with fevered joy that more profusely bled.

XVI."But this is not a time,"-he started up,.And smote biB breast WIth wo denouncing hand-

• ConI'" tbe AmenClUl TIler.

70 CAMP'BELL'S POEMS•

.. ThU is DO time to fill the jOYOUll cup,The Mammoth eomel,-the foe,-the Molliter Brandt,·With all his howling desolating band;-These eyes have seen their blade, and burning pineAwake at once, and lilence half your land.Red is the cup they drink; but not ,with wine:Awake, and watch to-night! or lee no morning shine

XVll." Scorning to wield the hatchet for his bribe,'Gainst Brandt himself I went to battle forth:Accursed Brandt! he left of all my tribeNor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth:No! not the dog, that watched my household hearth,Escaped, that night of blood, upon our plains!All perished!-I alone am left on earth !To whom nor relative nor blood remains,No !-DOt a kindred drop that runs in human veins I

XVIII."But~ and rouse your warriors i-for, if rightThese old bewildered eyes could guess, by signsOf striped and starred banners, on yon heightOf eastern cedars, o'er the creek of pines­Some fort embattled by your country shine. :Deep fOBrs th' innavigable gulf belowIts squared rock, and palisaded lines.Go! seek the light its warlike beacons show;Whilst I in ambush wait, for vengeance, and the foe !"

XIXScaree bad he uttered,-wben heav'n's verge extremeReverberates the bomb's descending star,..

• Brandl was tbe leader of tb_ Mobawkl, and otberaavaseo, wholaid waste Ibla part of Pennoylvanla.-Vlde tbe nOlllaltbe end ollllivolume.

CAMPBELL'S POF.Mq. -71

And IOtlDda. that mingled laugh,-and shout,-andTo freeze the blood, in one discordant jar, [Icream,Rung to the pealing thunderbolta of war.Whoop after whoop with rack the ear uniled ;As if unearthly fiends had buret their bar;While rapidly the marksman'I shot prevailed;-And aye, lUI if for death, Iqme lonely trumpet wailed.-

XX.Then leoked they to the hills, where fire o'erbtm«The bandit groups, in one Vesuvian glare ;Or swept, tar seen, the tow'r, whose clock UIlI'WI«,Tolli legible that midnight of despair.She faints;-lIbe falten not,-th' heroic fair,As he the sword and·plume in baste arrayed.One short embrace-he clasped his dearest care-But hark! what nearer war-drum shakes.the gladeJoy, joy I Columbia's friends are trampling through the

shade!

XXI.Tben came of every race the mingled swarm,

'Far mng the pves, and gleamed the midnight grassWith flambeau, javelin, and naked arm ;As warriors wheeled their culverins' of bras~,

Sprung from the woods, a bold athletic mass,Whom virtue fires, and liberty combines:And first the wild Moravian Yagere pass,His plumed host the dark Iberian joins-And Scotia's sword beneath the Highland thistle sbinel.

XXU.·And in, the buskined hunters of the deer,'ro Albert's home, witb sbout and cymbal throng:­Roused by their warHke pomp, and mirth, and cheer;Old Outalissi woke bis battle song,And, beating with his war-club cadence strong,

'71 CAMPBELL'S POEIU.

Tells how biI deep stung indignation smuts,or them that wrapt his houlIe·in flames, ere lcmg,To whet a dagger on their stoDy hearta,And smile avenged ere yet his eagle llpirit parts.-

XXID.Calm opposite the Christian father rose,Pale on his Tenerable brow its l'lIysOf martyr light the conflagration throws;Ooe hand upon his lovely child he lays,And one th' uncovered crewd to silence sways;While, though the battle flash is faster driv'n,­Unawed, with eye uostartled by the blaze, .He for his bleeding country prays to Heav'n,-Prays that the men oC blood thelDllelves may be forgiven.

XXIV.Short time iI now Cor gratulating speech;And yet beloved Gertrude; ere beganThy country's flight, yon distant tow'rs to reach,Looked not on thee the rudest partisanWith brow relaxed to love! And murmurs ranAs round and round their willing ranks they drew,From beauty's sight to shield the hostile van.Grateful, on them a placid look she threw,Nor wept, but as she bade her mother's grave adieu'

XXV.Put was the /tight, and welcome seemed the tow'rThat like a giant standard-bearer, frownedDefiance on the roving Indian I,ow'r.Beneath, each bold and flromontory moundWith embrasure embossed, and armour crowned,And arrowy frize, and wedged ravelin,\Vove like a diadem its tracery roundThe lofty s~mmit or that mountain green;Hel'e stood Secure the grollp, and eyed a distant scene.

CAMPBELL'S POE~lil. 73

XXVLA scene of death! w&ere fir. beneath the lUll,

And blended uml, and whi~ paviliOftI glow;And for the buainea of destruction done,Its requiem the war-hom seemed to blow.There sad-spectatrelS of bereountry'll wo!The lovely Gertrude, laCe from present hann,Had laid her cheek, and clasped her hands of Ino,..On \Valdegrave'l shoulder, half within his armEnclosed, that Celt hee heart, and hushed ita wild alarm!

XXVILBut short tnat contemplation~adand shortThe pause that bid each much-lovell scene adil!U !Beneath the very shl\dow of the fort,\Vhere friendly swords were drawn, and banners flew;Ah! who could deem that root of Indian crew'Was near ?'-:"yet there, with lust oC murd'rous deeds,Gleamed like a basilisk, from woods in view,The ambushed foeman's eye-his volley speeds,And Albert-Albert-falls! the dear old father bleeds!

XXVill.And tranced in giddy horror Gertrude swooned;Yet, while she ellillPS him lifeless to her zone,S~y, burst they, borrowed from her Cather's wounds,These drops ?-Oh God! the life-blood is her own;And falt'ring, on her Waldegrave's bosom thrown-"_ Weep not, 0 Love !"--':"She cries, "to see me bleed­Thee, Gertrude's sad survivor, thee aloneHeaven's peace commiserate; for scarce I heed [deed.These wounds;-Yet thee to leave is death, is death in-

XXIX." CIup me a little longer, on the brinkOf rate! while I can feel thy dear CU611 ;

G

74 CAMPBELL'. POEMS.

And when this heart hath ceased to heat-Oh I think,And let it mitigate thy Wo'l excell,That thou hut been to me all tenderneu,And friend to more than human friendship just.Oh! by that retrospect of happiness,And by the hopes of an immortal trust,God shall usuage thy pangs-when I am laid in dust!

XXX." Go, Henry, go not back, when I depart,The lcene thy bursting tears too deep will move,Where my dear father took thee to his heart,And Gertrude thought it ecstasy to roveWith thee, as with an angel, through the ~ve .Of peace,-imagining her lot was cast .In heaven; for ours wu not like earthly love.And must this parting be our very last fNo! I shall love thee still, when death itself is past.

XXXI." Half could I bear, methinlm, to leave this earth,­And thee, more loved than aught beneath the SUD,

If I had lived to smile but DB the birthOf one dear pledge ;-but shall there then be noneIn future times--no gentle little one,To clasp thy neck, and l~k, resembling me !Yet seems it, ev'n while life's last pulses run,A sweetneu in the cup of death to be, .Lord of my bosom's love! to die beholding thee !"

XXXII.Hushed were hit Gertrude's lips! but still their blandAnd beautiful expression seemed to meltWith love that could not die! and still his handShe presses to the heart no inore that felt.Ah heart! where once each fond affection dwelt,

rCAMPBELL'S POEMS. 75

And features- yet that spoke a lOul more fair.Mute, gazing, agonizing u he !melt,Of them that Itoed encircling his deapair, [were.He heard ~me friendly words; but !mew not what they

xxxm.For now, to mourn their judge and child, arrivesA faithful band. With solemn rites between,'Twas sung, how they were lovely in their livell,-And in their deaths had not divided been.Touched by the musicl and the melting scene,Was scarce one tevless eye amidst the crowd:Stern warriors, resting on their swords, were seen"0 veil their eyes, as pused each much-loved shroudWhile woman's soLler 10ul in wo dissolved aloud.

XXXIV.TbeD moumfully the parting bugle bidIts farewell o'er the grave of worth and truth ;Prone to the dust, affiicted Waldegrave hidHis face on earth; him watched in gloomy ruth',His woodland guide: but words had none to sootheThe grief that !mew not consolation's name:Casting his Indian mantle o'er the youth,He watched beneath its Colds, each burst that cameConvulsive. ague-like, across his shuddering frame I

XXXV.Y'" And I could weep;" th' Oneida chief

His descant wildly thWl begun;" But that I may not stain with griefThe death-eoDg of mylather's son IOr bow this head in wo ;For by my"wrongs, and by my wrath ITo-morrow, Areouski's breath,(That fires yon heaven with storms of death,)Sha1llight us to the toe :

CAMPBELL & POF.~8.

And we shall share, my ChrilltilD boy!The foeman's blood, the ."engers joy I

XXXVI.But thee, my flower whose breath was givenBy milder genii o'er the deep,The spirita of the white man's heavenForbid not thee to weep:Nor will the Christian host,Nor will thy fatherlspirit grieveTo see thee, 00 the battle'l eve,Lamenting take a mournful leaveOf her who loved thee most:She was the rainbow to th.y sight !Thy sun-thy heaveo-of lost delight I

XXXVII.To-morrow let us do or die!But when the bolt of death is hurled,Ah! whither then with thee to fly,Shall Outalissi roam the world?Seek we thy once-loved home?The hand is gone that cropt its flowers :Unheard their clock repeats its hours !Cold is the hearth within their bow'rs!And should we thither roam,Its echoes, and its empty tread,Would sound like yoices from the dead!

XXXVill." Or shall we cross yon mountailll blue,Whose streams my kindred nation quaffed ;Aad by my side, in battle true,A thousand warriors drew the shaft?Ah! there in desolation cold,

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

The desert erpent dwellll alone,Where P'U' o'ergrowl each mould'ring boneAnd stones themselves to ruin grown,Like me, are death-like old.Then seek we not their camp-for there­The silence dwells of my despair I

XXXIX."- "But bark, the trump l-to morrow thou

In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears :. Even trom the land of shadows nowMy father's awful ghost appears,Amidst the clouds that round us roll ;He bids my soul for battle thirst­He bids me dry the last-the first­The only te81'8 that ever burstFrom Outalissi's soul ;Because I may not stain with griefThe death song of an Indian chief."

END OF PART THIRD.

77

O'CONNOR'S CHILD,

oa,

THE FLOWER QF LOVE LIES BLEEDING.

l:-Oa once the harp oC InnisCaile

Was strung Cull high to notes of gladness ;But yet it often toid a taleOf more prevailing sadness.Sad was the note, and wild its Call,As wi¥s that moan at night forlom .Along the isles of Fion-Gael, /When for O'Connor's child to riloum,The harper told, how lone, how farFrom any mansion's twinkling star,From any path of social men, 'Or voice, but from the fox's den,The Lady in the desert dwelt,And yet no wrongs, no fear she felt:Say, why should dwell in place so wildThe lovely pale O'Connor's child 1

"lli

Sweet lady! she no more inspiretJGreen Erin's heart with beauty's po"'r,As in the palace of her siresShe bloomed a peerless fiow'r.Gone from her hand and bosom, gom!,The regal broche, the jewelled ring,

• Tile _ltIIt _ or 1nlaa4.

Coogle

CAMPBELL'. POEII••

That o'er her dauliol white.....boDeLike de'Q on lilie» of tile 1JlIinI.Yet why, though fallen her brother'. keme,eBeneath De Bourgo'. battle litem,While yet in Leiulter unexplored,Her friend. iurvive the. Englilh 1WOI'd;Why lingers .he from Erin'. holt,So far on Galway'••hipwrecked eout ;Why wanden .he a hutren wild­The Io~11 pale O'Connor'. child?

--m:And fixed OD empty space, why burnHer eyes with momentary wildness;And wherefore do they then returnTo more than woman's mildness?Dishevelled are her raven locks,On Connocht Moran's name she caUs;And oft amidst the lonely rocksShe sings sweet madrigals.Placed in the foxglove and the mOIl,Behold a parted walTi.or's crou !That is the spot where, evermore,The lady, at her shielingf door,Enjoys that in communion sweet,The living and the dead can meet:For lo! to lovelorn fantasy,The hero of her heart is. nigh.

·-W.Bright as the bowthat spans the storm,In Erin's yellow vesture elad,A son of light-a lovely Conn,He come. and makes her glad :

• Kame, the a.lNb footlOldl.".t lluft bllt, Ill' caiola.

79

80 CAMPBELL'S PO~MS.

Now on the gra8l:green turf be sits,His taaselled hom beside him laid;Now o'er the bills in chase be flits,The bunter and the deer a shade!Sweet mourner I those are shadows vain,That Ol'Oll the twilight of her brain ;Yet she will tell you, Ihe is blelt,Of Connoeht Moran's tomb pOlSelsed,More riebly than in .A.gbrim'. how'r,When bards high prailed her beaUty'l pow'r,And kneeling pagel offered upThe mora~ in a golden cup.

v." A hero's bride! this desert bow'r,It ill befits thy gentle breeding :And wherefore dost thou love this 110w'rTo call-My love lies bleeding ?"

" This purple flow'r my te!U'5 have nursed;A heme's blood supplied it. bloom:I love it, for it was the firstThat grew on Connocbt Moran's tomb.Oh! hearken, stranger, to my voice! .This desert mansion is my choice;And blest, though fatal, be the starThat led me to its wilds afar:For here these pathless mountains freeGave shelter to my love and me;And every rock and every stoneBare witness that he was my own.

VI." O'Connor's child, I was the budOf Erin's royal tree of glory;But wo to them that wrapt in bloodThe tissue of my story!

• A drink wade or the juice of mulberry ..i"ed wltb boney.

81

Still as I elalp flY! baJ'lliag ......A delltlMc:eDe name. GIl myligbt;It rises o'er and o'er again,The bloody feud,-the fatal nigbt,When chafin,; Coonocbt Moran's leoN,

They eal!ed my hero botly bam;And bade him choose a meaner brideThan from O'Conoor's bouse of pride.Their tribe, they said, their high deg~,

Was sung in Tara's psaltery;­Witness their Eath's victorious braad,tAnd Cathal or the bloody baod,-Glory (they said) and power aod bolkJarWere in the manlion of O'Connor ;But he, my lord one, bare in fieldA meaner crest 1lpon lU .meld.

Vfi.CI Ab, brothers! what did it avail,Tbat fiercely and triumphantlyYe fought the English or the pale,And stemmed De Bourgo's chivalry?And what was it to love and me,That barons by your standard rode ;Or beal-firest for your jubilee, ,Upon a hundred mountains glowed.What tho' the lords of tower and domeFrom Shannon to the Nortb-sea foam,­Thought ye ,Y{)ur iron hands of prideCould break the Iwot that love had tied ?No :-let the eagle change his plume,The leaf ita hue, the flower its bloom;

• Tbe puller of Tara wu Lbe P'Wol JIlI&ioalII roPIer or thllDeleD&lriIb.

t Vide lbe not8 upon lbe v1clorlee of lbe !lou.. of O'ClIIIftOf.t Fitee Jlchted on May-de)' DO tbe h1U IOpi b)' lbe IrIIh. Vide the

- on IIlanza VU.

82 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

But ties around this heart were spUD,That could not, would not, be undone I

VID:" At bleating of the wild watch foldThua sang my love-' 0 come with me:Our bark is on the lake: behold,Our Iteeds are fastened to the tree.Come far from Castle-CODDOr'S clans­Come with thy belted forestere,And I, beside the lake of swans,Shall hunt for thee the fallow deer;And build thy hut and bring thee homeThe wild fowl and the hoDeycomb;And berries from the wood provide,And play my clarsbeeh* by thy side.Then co!'De, my love !'-How could I ltay?Our nimble stag-hounds tracked the way,And I pursued by moonless skies,The light of Connoeht Moran's eye&.

IX." And Cast and Car, before the starOf dayspring rushed me tKro' the Klade,And saw at dawn the lofty bawntOf Castle Connor fade.Sweet was to us the hermitageOC this UDploqghed, untrodden shore :Like birds all joyous Crom the cage,For man's neglect we loved it more.And well he knew, my hufttsman dear,To search the game with hawk and spear ;While I, his evening food to dress,Would s~ to hbn in happiness.

• The harp. t Ancient fortlJlcation.

C.ulPBELL;lI POEMS.

But oh, that midnight or cJe.pUr IWhen I was doomed to reDd my hlW':The night, to me, oC IhriekiDg IOrroW IThe Dight, to him, that had DO morrow I

'x." When all W1l8 hushed at eYeDtide.I heard the baying of their beagle:Be hushed! my Connocht Moran cried,

, 'Tis but the screaming oC the eagle.Alas! 'twas not the eyrie's 1Ound,Their bloody bands had tracked UI O11t:Up-list'ning starts our couchant hound­And hark! again, that nearer shout .Brings. CJI8ler on the murderers.Spare--epare him-Bazil-Desmond fierce !In vain-no voice the adder charms ;Their weapons crossed my sheltering arms :Another's sword has laid him low­Another', and another's;And eTery hand that dealt the blow­Ah me! it was a brother's IYes, when his moanings died away,Their iron hands had dug the clay,And o'er his burial turC they trod,And I beheld-Ob~ I Db God !His liCe-blood oozing Crom the sod !

XI." Wann in his death-wounds sepulchred,Alas! my warrior's spirit brave,Nor mass nor uUa-lulla- heard,Lamenting 8OOthehi,s grave.Dragged to their hated manaioD back,How long in thraldom's grasp I lay,

• The Itillb lamentation for the dee4

8S

84 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

I know not, Cor mYlloul was black,And knew no ehange oC night or day.One night oC horror I'01lIld me grew;Or if I law, or felt, or knew,'Twall but when those grim visages,The angry brothel'l of my race,Glared on each eyeball's aching throb,And checked my bosom's pow'r to sob ;Or when my heart with pulses drear,Beat like a deathwatch to my ear.

XII." But Heav'n, at last, my soul', eclipseDid with a vision bright inspire:I woke, and Celt upon my lipsA. prophetess's lire.Thrice in the east a war-drum beat,I heard the Saxon's trumpet sound,And ranged as to the judgment seat

- My guilty, trembling brothers round.Clad in the helm and shield they came j

For now De Bourgo's sword and flameHad ravaged Ulster's boundaries,And lighted up the midnight skies.The standard of O'Connor's swayWas in the turret where I lay:That standard, with so dire a look,A.s ghastly shone the moon and pale,I gave,-that every bosom shookBeneath its iron mail.

XIII." And go! I eried, the combat seek,Yet hearts that unappalled boreThe anguish of a sislPr's shriek,Go !-and return no more t

...CAMPBELL 8 POEMS.

For sooner guilt the ordeal brandShall grasp UIlhurt, than ye sball holdThe banner with vletoriOUll hand,Beneath a sister's curse unrolled.Oh stranger! by my country's losl !And by my love! .and by the croSB !-I swear I never could haTe spokeThe curse that severed nature's yoke ;But that a spirit o'er me stood,.And fired me with the wrathful mood;And frenzy to my heart was giv'n,To speak the malison of heav'n.

XIV.

8.5

" They would have crosBed themselves all mute,They would have prayed to burst the spell ;But at the stamping of my footEach hand down pow'rless fell !And go to Athunree !- I cried,High lift the banner of your pride!But how that where its sheet unrollsThe weigbt of blood is on your !louls !Go where the havoc of your kerneShall float as high as mountain fern!Men shall no more your mansion know!The nettles on yoW" heart shall grow!

.Dead as the green oblivious flood,That mantles by your walls, shall beThe glory of O'Connor's blood !Away! away to Athunree !Where downward when the nD shall fallThe raven's wing shall be your pall;

• Athllnree, the battle fought In 1314, wbicb decided tbe fate ofIreland.

D

R6 CAMPBELL'S, POEMS.

.!ad DOt a "ueal .hall unlaceThe vizor from yoar dying taee I

XV." A bolt that overhung oar domeSuspended till my curse was given,Soon as it passed these lips of foamPealed in the blood-red heaven.Dire was the look that o'er their backsThe angry parting brothers threw ;But now, hehold! like cataracts,Come down the hills in view.O'Connor's plumed partisans,Thrice ten Innisfallian clans'Vere marching to their doom,A sudden storm their plumage tossed,A flash of lightning o'er them crossed,And all again was gloom;But once again in heaven the lIands~f thunder spirits clapt their bands.

XVI." Stranger! ! fled the home of grief, .At Connocht Moran's tomb to fall ;I found the helmet of my chief,His bow still hanging on our wall ;And took it down, and vowed to roveThis desert place a huntress bold;Nor would I change my buried loveFor any heart of living mould.No! for I am a hero's child,I'll hunt my quarry in the wild;And still my home this mansion make,Of all unheeded and unheeding,And cherish for my warrior's sake,The flower of love lies bleeding."

r

, J

CAMPBELL S POEJlS.

LOCHIEL'S WARNING.

WIZARD-LOCillEL.

87

WIZARD.

LOCHn:L! Loehiel, beware of the dayWhen the.Lowlanda shall meet thee in battle array!For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight,And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight:They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown;W 9, wo to the riders that trample them down !Proud Cumberlandjlrances, insulting the slain,And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.But hark! through the fast-flashing lightning of war,What steed to the desert flies frantic and far?'Tis thine, oh Glenullin! whose bride shall await,Like a love-lighted watchfire, all night at the gate.A steed comes at moming: no rider is there ;But its bridle is red with the sign of despair.Weep, Albin I to death and captivity led!Dh weep !but thy tears cannot number the dead:For a merciless sword on. Culloden shall waye,Culloden.! that reeka with the blood of- the brave.

LOC8lZL.

Go, preach to the coward, thou death telling seer!Or, if gory Culloden 10 dreadful appear,Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight!This mantle, to cover the phantoms of' fright.

88 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

WJZJ.llD.

Ha ! laugh'lIt thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!Say, rushed the tMlld eagle exultiD9Y forth,From his home, in the dark rolling clonds of the north ?Lo! the death-shot of foeman outspeeding, he rodeCompanionless, bearing destruction abroad;But down let him stoop from his haroe .on high!Ah! home let him speed-for the spoiler is nigh.Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blastThose embers, like stars from the firmamenteast?'Tis the fire-shower of ruin all dr~adfully drivenFrom his eyrie, that beacons the darknesittf heaveQ.Oh, crested Lochiel! the peerless in might,Whose banners arise on the battlements' height,Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn;Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return !For the hlackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood~

LOCHIEL.

False Wiz&rd avaunt! I have marshalled my clan:Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one!They are true to the last of their blood and their breath,And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock!Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on the rock!But wo to his kindred, and wo to his cause,When Albin her claymore indignantly draws;When her bonnetted chieftains to victory crowd,Clanranald the dauntless, and Moray the proud;All plaided and plumed in their tartan array-

WIZARD.

--Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day!For, dark anti despairing, my sight I may seal,But man cannot cover what God would reveal:

89.CAMPBELL'S l!O£JU.

'Tis~ sunset of life gives me mystical lore,And coming events cast their shadows before.J tell thee, Culloden's-dread echoeI shall ringWith the bloodhounds, ttiat bark for thy Cugitiye king.Lo! anointed by heaYeD with the viala oC wrath,Bebold, where he flies on biB.desolate path !Now, in darkne88 and billows, he eweepe from my sight:Rise! rise! ye wild tempests, and conr his flight!'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ;Culloden is lost, and my country deplores;But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, Corlom,Like a limb from biB country Calt bleeding and tom?Ah no! Cor a darker departure is near ;The war~m is mufiled, and black is the bier;His death-bell is tolling; oh! mercy, dispelYon sight, thai: it freezes my spirit to tell !Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.Accursed be the faggots, that blaze at his feet,Where biB heart shall be thrown ere it ce8IeB to beat,With !.be smoke of its ashes to poison the gale-

LOCJl'IEL.

--Down soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: [gore,Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in theirLike ocean-weeds helped on the surf-beaten shore,Loehiel, untainted by Sight or by chains,While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,8halll'ictor exult, or in death be laid low,With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!And leaving in battle no blot on his name,Look proudly to heaTeD from the deatlrbed oC Came.

Hi

90 CAMPBELL'S POE.If.

SPECIMENSOF

TRANSLATION FROM 'MEDEA.

:EM.", I.~ adi.. T' f"04'lilCT., ,...C'ori• .8fOT'1C ..... ~TOI;.

~edea,v. 194,p.55,(t~g.edu.

TELL me, ye bards, whose skill sublimeFirst channed the ear of youthful Time,With numbers wrapt in heav'nly fire;Who bade delighted Echo llwellThe trembling transport of the lyre,The munnur of the shell,-Why to the burst of Joy aloneAccords sweet Music's soothing tone?'Vhy can no bard, with magic strain,In slumbers steep the heart of pain?While varied tones obey your sweep,The mild, the plaintive, and the deep,Bends not despairing Grief to hearYour golden lute, with ravished ear?

.-Dh! has your sweetest shell no power to bindThe fiercer pangs that shake the mind,And lull the wrath, at whose commandMurder bares her gory hand?When flushed with joy, the rosy throng'Veave the light dance, ye swell the song!Cease, ye vain warblers! cease to charmThe breast with other raptures warm!Cease! till your hand with magic strainIn slumbers steep the heart of pain!

I

Coogle ,J

CAMPBELL'S POElU.

SPEECH OF THE CHORUS

THE SAME TRAG~DY.

91

To dissuotIP Medea from her purpose of 1"ltting herchildren tQ death, andftyillg f(;l' protettion to oilthem.

o haggard queen! to Ath~ns dost thou guideThy glowing chariot, steeped in kindred gore ;

Or seek to hide thy damned parricideWhere Peace and Mercy dwell for ever more ?

The land where Truth, pure, precious, and sublime,, Woos the deep silence of sequestered bowers,And warriors, matchless since the first of Time,

Rear their bright banners o'er unconquered towers!

Where joyous Youtb, to Music's mellow ~train,

Twines in the dance with Nymphs for ever fuir,While Spring eternal, on the Hlied plain,

Waves amber radiance througb tbe fields of air!

The tuneful Nine (so sacred legends tell)First waked their heavenly lyre these scenes among;

Still in your greenwood bowers they love to dwell ;Still in your vales they swell the cboral song!

For there tbe tuneful, chaste, Pierian fair,The guardian nymphs of green Parnassus now,

Sprung from Hal'lJl.onia, while ber graceful hair.Waved in bright auburn o'er her polished brow!

,

91 CAMPBELL'S POE1UI.

AlIITISTaoPHE I.

Where Bilent vales, and glades of green array, .The murm'ring wreaths of cool Cephisus lave,

There .. the Muse hath sung, at noon of day,The Queen of Beauty bowed to taste the wave;

And blett the stream, and breathed across tbe land,The Boft sweet gale that fans yon summer bowers;

And there the sister Loves, l\ smiling band,Crowned with the fragrant wreaths or rosy flowers I•" And go, she cries, in yonder valleys roveWith Beauty's torch the solemn lcenell illume; •

Walee in each eye the radiant light of Love,Breathe on each cheek young Passion's tender bloom!

Entwine with myrtle chains; your soft control,To sway the hearts of Freedom's darling kind!

\Vith glowing charms enrapture Wisdom's soul,Alld mould to grace ethereal Virtue's mind."

STROPHE n.

The'land where Heaven's own hallowed waters play,.Where friendship binds the ~erous and the good,

Say, shall it hail thee from thy frantic way,Unholy woman! 'with thy hands imbrued

In thine own children's gore ?-Oh! ere they bleed,Let Nature's voice thy ruthless heart appal !

Pause at the bold, irrevocable deed-The mother strikes-the guiltless babes shall fall !

Think what remorse thymaddeniog tboughtsBhall sting,When dying pangs their gentle bosoms tear;

Where shalt thou sink, when ling'ring echoes ringThe screams or horror in thy tortured ear?

CAMPBELL'S POE3fS.

No I let thy bosom melt to Pity's cry,-In dust we kneel-by sacred Heaven implore­

O! stop thy lifted arm, ere yet they die,Nor dip thy horrid hands in iItfant gore!

ANTISTROPBJ: D.

93

Say, how shalt thou thatbarb'rous soul assume,Undamped by horror at the daring plan?

Hast thou a heart to work thy children's doom?Or hands to finish what thy wrath began ?

\

When o'er each babe you look a last adieu,And gaze on innocence that smiles asleep,

Shall no fond feeling beat, to nature true,Charm thee.to pensive thought-and bid thee weep?

When the young suppliants clasp their parent dear,Heave the deep sob, andpour the artless prayer,­

Ay! thou shalt melt i-and many a heart-shed tearGush o'er_ the hardened features of despair !

Nature shall throb in ev'ry tender string,Thy trembling heart the ruffian's task deny;

Thy horror:.smitten hands afar shall flingThe blade, undrenched in blood's eternal dye!

CHORUS.

Hallowed Earth! with indignationMark, oh mark, the murd'rous deed I

Radiant eye of wide creation,Watch the damned parricide!

Yet, ere Colchia's rugged daughterPerpetrate the dire design,

And consign to kindred slaughterChildren of thy golden line; -

94

,

GAJlPBELL'S POEMS.

Shall the hand, with murder gory,Cause immortal blood to flow?

Sun of Heav'n--tl1Tllyed in glory IRiae,-forbid,-avert the blow I

In the vales of placid gladnessLet no rueful maniac range;

Chase afar the fiend of MadneslWrest the dagger from Revenge I

Say, bast thou, with kind protection,Reared thy smiling race in vain ;

Fost'ring Nature's fond affection,Tender cares, and pleasing pain?

Hast thou, on the troubled ocean,Braved the tempest land and strong,

Where the waves, in wild commotion,Roar Cyanean rocks among?

Didst thou roam the paths of danger,Hymenean JOYI to prove?

Spare, 0 sanguinary stranger,Pledges of thy sacred love I

Shall not Heaven, with indignationWatch thee o'er the barb'rous deed?

Shalt thou cleanse, with expiation,Monstrous, murd'rouI, parricide?

CAM-PBELL'S POEHS.

LOVE AND MADNESS.

\ AN ELEGY.

Written in 1795.

Hark! from the battlements of yonder tower­The solemn bell hM tolled the midnight hour!Roused from drear visions of distempered sleep,Poor B-k wakes-in solitude to weep!

96

" Cease, Mem'ry cease (the friendless mourner cried)To probe the bosom too severely tried !Oh ever cease, my pensive thoughts, to strayThrough the bright fields of Fortune's better day:When youthful hope, the music of the mind,Tuned all its charms, and E--n was kind!

" Yet, can I cease, while glows this trembling frame,In sighs to speak: thy melancholy name?I hear thy spirit wail inevery storm !

. In midnight shades I view thy, passing form !Pale as in that sad hour, when doomed to leel,Deep in thy perjured heart the bloody steel!

" Demons of Vengeance! ye at whose commandI grasped the sword with more than woman's balldSay ye, did Pity's trembling voice control,

.Or horror damp the purpose of my soul?No! my wild heart sat smiling o'er.the plan,Till Hate fulfilled what baffled Love began!

• Warwick Cutl•.

....

96 CAMPBELL'S POEYS. 1"Yes; let the clay-cold breast, that never knew

One tender pang to generous Nature true,Half mingling pity with the gall of scorn,Condemn this heart that bled in love forlorn !

" And ye, proud fair, whose BOul no gladness warms,Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms! ..Delighted idols of a gaudy train !III can your blunter feelings guess the pain,When the fond faithful heart, inspired to proveFriendship refined, the calm delight of love,Feels all ita tender strings with anguish torn,And bleeds at perjured Pride's inhuman scorn!

" Say, then, did pitying Heav'B condemn the deed,When Vengeance bade thee, faithless lover! bleed?Long had I watched thy dark Coreboding brow,What time thy bosom scorned its dearest vow!Sad, though I wept the friend, the lover changed,Still thy cold look was scornful and estranged,Till from thy pity, love, and shelter thrown,I wandered hopeless, friendless, and alone I

" Oh! righteous Heav'n! 'twa's then my tortured soulFirst gave to wrath unlimited control!Adieu the silent look! the streaming eye!The murmured plaint I the deep heart-heaving sigh!Long slumb'ring Vengeance wakes to better deeds ;He shrieks, he Calls, the perjured Lover hleeds!Now the last lau!h oC agony is o'er,And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more!

" 'Tis done! the .flame oC hate no longer burns ;Nature relents, but ah! too late returns!'Vhy does my soul this gush oC Condness feel ~

Trembling and faint, I drop the guilty steel!

97• CAMPBELL 8 POEMS.

Cold on mj heart the band of terror lie..And .hades of horror close my languid eyel !-

er Oh! 'twas a deed of Murder'a deepest grain !Could B , k's lOW 10 true to wrath remain?A friend long true, a once fond lover fell !­Where Lon waS fostered, could not Pity dwdl?

.. Unhappy youth! while yon pale Cl'elIC:ent glows,To wateh on silent Nature's deep repose,Thy sleepless spirit, breathing from the tomb,Foretelb my fate, and SummODi me to come!Onee more I see thy sheeted spectre stand, ,Roll the dim eye, and wave the paly hand!

.. Soon,may this fluttering spark of vital flameForsake its languid melancholy frame ISoon may these eyea their trembling lustre clGle,Weleome the dreamleu night of long repose ISoon may this wo-wom svirit seek the bourue !Where, lulled to slumber, Grier forgeta to mourn '"

v'THE WOUNDED HUSSAR.

ALon by the banlm of the dark rolling DanubeFair Adelaide hied when the battIe was o'er:

Qh whither, ahe cried, hut thou wandered, my lover,Or here dOlt thou welter, and..bleed on the shore !

What voice did I bear? 'twas my Henry that sighed ,All moumfulshe hastened, nor wandered she far,

When bleeding, and low, on the heath she descried,By the light of the moon, her poor wounded HUisar!

I

•'CdP.ELL'. POEMS.

Fromhit boIom that heaYec!, the last torrent was 1Jtream-. iDg,

And pale was his visage, deep marked with a IICllJ' ;

AnCl dim was that eye, once expressively bea.miD«,That melted in love, and that kindled illwar!

How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight!How hittq she wept o'er the victiM of war!

Hast thou come my fond Love, this last sorrowful night,To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?

Thou shalt lift, she replied, Heav'n's lI1erty relievingEach anguishing wound, shall forbid me to mourn !

Ah, no I the lut pang in my bosom is heaving INo light of the mom shall to HeD1'Y return !

Thou charmer of liCe, ever tender and true :Ye babes of my love that await me aflll" !-

Hia faltering tongue IClrCe could murmur adieu,When he sunk in her anQa-the poor wounded

H\1I8&I'!

GILDEROY.

THE last, the fatal hour is come.That bears my love from me;

I hear the dead note of the drum,I mark the gallows tree I

ne bell has tolled; it shakes ml heart ;The tfumpet speaks thy name;

And must my Gilderoy departTo bear a death of shame?

C.ulPBELL'S POl;lllB.

No bolOm trembles for thy doom;No mourner wipes a tear;

The gallows' Coot is all thy tomb,The sledge is all thy bier I

Oh, Gilderoy I bethought we thenSo soon, 10 sad, to part,

When tint in Roslin's lovely glenYou triumphed o'er my heart?

Your loeb they glittered to the sheenYour hunter garb was trim;

And graceful was the ribbon greenThat bound your manly limb I

Ah I ~ttle thought I to deplore 'These limbs in fetters bound;

Or hear, UPOll thy scaffold floor,The midnight hammer lOund.

Ye et'l1e1, eruel, that combinedThe guiltless to pursue;

My Gilderoy W&I ever kind,He could Dot injure you!

A long adieu I but where sba1l flyThy widow all forlorn,

When every mean and cruel eyeRegards my wo with scorn?

Yes! they will mock thy widow's telU'l,And hate thine orphan boy ;

Alas! his infant beauty wearsThe form of Gilderoy!

Then" will I leek the dreary mound'That wraps thy mouldering clay;

And weep and liDger OD the pund,And High my heart away.

100 C.ulPaELI.'. POUU.

THE HARPER.

0. the green banks oC SbanDoa, when Sheelah wuNo blithe lriah lad was 10 happy as I ; [nighNo harp like my own could 10 cheerily play,And wherever I went "as my poor d~ Tray.

When at lut I was f'oreed from my Sheelah te part,She aid (while the sorrow was big at her heart)Oh! remember your Sheelah "beD Car, Car a"ay;ADd be kiDd, my dear Pat, to our poor dos Tray.

Poor dog I be "as Caithful and JriDd, to be sure,And he COIIItant1y loved me, although I wu. poor;When the lOur-looking folks sent me·beartleal away,I bad always a friend in my poor dog Tray.

WheD the road was 80 dark, and the night was so cold"And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,How snugly we slept in myoid coat oC gray,And he licked me for lrlndness-my poor dog Tray.

Though my wallet was seant, I remembered his easeNor rewed my last erust to his pitiful faee;But he died at my feet OD a eoJd winter da.,.,And I played a sad lament for my poor dog Tray.

Where now shall I go, poor, Conaken, and blind?Can I find one to guide me; 80 faithCul and kind?To my sweet native village, 10 Car, far away, .I can Dever more return with ml poor dOl Tray.

CAIIPBELL!s 'PO....

SONG.

101

My mind is my kingdom, bat if thou wilt deigaA queen there to sway without meuure ;

Then come, o'er its wishes and homage to reip,And make it an emJ;lire or pleuure.

Then of thoughts and emotions each mutinous crowd,That rebelled" at stem reason and duty,

Returning_ball yield all their loyalty proudTo the Halcyon dominion of beauty.

THE BEECH TREEtS PETITION.

OR! leave this barren spot to me,Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.

" Though shrub or flow'ret Dever grow,My wan unwanning shade below,Nor fruits or autumn blOlsom bom,My green IlIld glOisy leaves adom,Nor murmuring tribes from me deriveThe ambrosial treasures of the hive,Yet leave this little spot to me,Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.

Thrice twenty summers I have stoodIn bloomIes., fruitless solitude;Since childhood in my ruatling bowerFirat spent its sweet and sportive hour,Since youthful lovers in my shadeTheir TOWS of truth and rapture paid,

I !J

102 CAMPBELL" POEIlIIF.·

ADd on my truDk's lUJ'riyiDg CrImeCalTed mlUlJ a long forgotteD name.Oh, by the .,OWl of gentle lOund'

i'int breathed upOll this Baaed grouJltI,By all that Love hath whispered here,Or beauty beard with rariahed ~, .As Love's own altar honour me,Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.

HOHENLINDEN.

O. Linden, when the lun was low,All bloodless lay th' untrodden mow,

• ADd dark as winter was the dow /Of her; rolliDg rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,When the drum beat, at dead of night,Commanding fires of death to light

The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fut arrayed,Each horseman drew bis battle blade,And furious every charger neighed,

To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n,Then rushed the steed to battle driv'n,And louder than the bolts of beaven,

Far dashed the red artillery.

And redder yet those fires shall glow,On Linden'l hills of blood stained snow,And darker yet shall be the dow

Of 1Ier, rolling rapidly.

•

CA.-UELL·S POE.S. 108

'Tis mom, but ICaI'ee yon land IUD

Can pierce the war-elouda, rolliDg dun,Where furiOUI Frank, and fiery HUD,

Shout mid their sulpb'roua caDopy.

The combat deepens. 00, ye brave,Who rush to glory, or the grave IWave, Munich, all thy bannera wave I

And charge with all thy chivalry I

Ah I few shall part where many meet IThe IDOW shall be their wincJin« sbeet,And every turf beneath their feet,

Shall be a soldier's IIepulcbre.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.

A NAVAL ODE.

I.

VJ: Mariners of England!That guard our native seu ;.Whose ftag bas braved, a thousand years,The battle and the breeze!Your glorious standard launch agllinTo match another foe! -And sweep througb the deep,While the stormy tempests blow;While the battle rages loud lind long,ADd the stormy tempe~ts blow.

1~ C.lIIPaELL'. POUII.

n.The lpirits of your r&thenSballltart from every Wlve,-For the deck it was their field ot tame,And Ocean was their grave:Where Blake aDd mighty Ne1Ion fen .Your manly heartllIhal1 glow,As ye llWeep through the deep,While the stormy tempests blow;While the battle rages loud and long, ,.And the stormy tempests blow.

m.BritaDnia needs no bulwark,No towers along the steep;Her mareh is o'er the mountain waves,Her borne is on the deep. .With thunders from her native oak,She quella the flood, below-As they roar on the shore,When the stormy tempests blow;When the battle rages loud and loug,And the stonDY tempests blow.

IV.

The meteor flag of EnglandShall yet terrific burn ;Till dan~er's troubled night depart,And the star of peace return.Then, then, ye ocean warriors !Our song and feast shall flowTo the fame of .your name,When the storm has ceased to blow;When the fiery fight is heard no more,.And the storm bas eellled to blow.

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

GLENARA.

105

o IILUlD ye yon pibroch lOund lad in the gale,Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail !'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;A.nd her sUe, IUld the people, are called to her bier.

Glenara came first with tile lDOumera and shroud;Her kinsmen they followed, but mourned not aloud:Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around:They marched allin sileoce-they looked on the groUPd.

In silence they reached over mountain and moor,To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar •

. " Now here let us place the gray stone of her cairn,Why speak ye no word !"-said Glenara the stem.

II And tell IDA!, I charge yoU! ye clan ot JDY 8pOUJe,Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud18 your brows ?"So spake the rude chieftain :-DO answer is made,But each mantle unfolding a dagger displayed.

" I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,"Cried a voice from the kinSmen, all wrathful and loud·II And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem :Glanara! Glanara I DOW read me my dream I"

O! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween,When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen;When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn,'Twas tlie youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:

"I dre&Ul:t of my lady, I dreamt of·her grief,I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief:On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;Glenara I Glenara I DOW read me my dream I"

106 C.lJI..I:LL'. pous.

In dUlts low the traitor has knelt to the poUDd,And the deIat reYealed where his lady wu foUDd;From a rock of the ocean that beauty is bome,Now jo, to the houe of fair Ellen of Lorn I

BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.

L01' Nelson and the North,

Sind the gJoriou day's renown,'Vben to baWe fieree came forthAD the might of Denmark'. croWD,And her arms along the deep proudly ahoDe;By each gun the lighted brand,In a bold determined hand,And the Prince of all the landLed them ou.-

D.Like leviathaDs afloat,Lay their bulwarks·on the brine;While tbe sign of battle ftew·On the lofty British line :It W8S ten of AprD mom by the chime.As they drifted on their path,There was silence deep as death ;And the boldest held his breath,Foratime.-

In.But the might of England flushedTo anticipate the scene;And her van the fteeter rushed·O'er the deadly space between.

CAMP.ELL'S PODS. 107

"Heutlofoak," oureaptaiDacriedj wbeDeacbgunFrom itt adamantine li.,.Spread a-deatlHhade I'OWId the IbipI.Like the llurrieaJUl eclipaeOf the sUPo-

IV.Again I again I again IAnd the havoc did DOt I1ack,Till a feeble cheer the DaDeTo our cheering sent U8 back;-Their shots along the deep slowly boom:­Then ceased-:"and all is wail,As they strike the shattered sail j

Or, in conflagration pale,Light the gloom.-

V.Outspoke the victor then,As he hailed them o'er the wave," Ye are brothers! ye are men IAnd we conquer but to save :-So peace instead of death let us bring.But yield, proud foe, thy fteet,With the crews, at England's feet.And make submission meP.tTo our king."

VI.Then Denmark blest'our chief,That he gave her wounds repose ;And the sounds of joy and grief,From her people wildly rose ;As death withdrew bis shades from the day.While the lun looked smiling brightO'er a wide and wofulsight,Where the fires of funeralliahtDied away.-

/

lOB CAJlPaELL'S POEJIB.

vn.Now joy, old Eagland, I'lUIe IFor the tidin~ of thy might,By the festal cities' blue,While the wine cup shines in light;And yet amidst that joy and uproar,Let UI think or them that sleep,Full many a fathom deep,By thy wild and stormy steep,Elainorel-

vm.Brave hearta I to Britain's prideOnce 10 faithful and so true,On the deck of fame that died,­With the gallant good Riou :.Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their graft IWhile the billow mournful roUs, •And the mermaid's song eondolellSinging glory to the lOuIsOf the brave !-

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

A CBDI'TAI1f to the Highlands bound,Cries, " Bontmen, do not tarry !

And PU give thee a silver pound,To row UI o'er the ferry."- ,

• CaptalD RIou, JutI1 entitled the pUant and tile aoodt '" LeftNelmD, WbllD be WIllte boale bla tItIIpeR....

CAMPBELL'S POEMS•

.. Now who be ye, would cross Locbgyle,This dark and stormy water !"-

.. Oh I'm the cbief Of Ulva's isle,And this Lord Ullin's daugbter.--

" And fast before her father's OlenT1tree days we've fled together,

For should he find us in the glen,My blood would stain the heather.

" His horsemen hard behind"1lll ride;Should they our steps discover,

Then who will cbeer my bonny brideWhen they have slain ~er lover?"

Outspoke the hardy Highland wight,"I'll go, my chief-I'm ready :­

It is not for your silver bright,But forsour winsome lady:

, And by my word! tbe bonny birdIn danger shall not tarry;

So, tbough the waves are raging white,I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the storm grew loud apace,The water wraith was shri~in'g;·

And in the scowl of heav'n each faceGrew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,And as the night grew drearer,

Adown the glen rode armed men,Their trampling sounded nearer.-

• Tbe evil opIrU ortbe waler..K

109

110 C.ulPBELL'S POEMS.

" 0 hute thee, haste I" the lady eriel," Though tempests round us gather;

I'll meet the raging of the skies :But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,A stormy sea before her,-

When oh! too strong for human hand,The tempest gathered o'er her.-

And still they rowed amidst the roarOf waters fast prevailing :

Lord Ullin reached that fatal .hore,His wrath was changed to wailing:-

For Bore dismayed, through storm and shadeHis child he did discover:

One lovely hand she stretched for aid,And one was round her lover

" Come back I come back !" he cried in grief,Across this stormy water:

" And I'll forgive your Highland chief,My daughter !-oh my daughter !"-

'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shoreReturn or aid preventing :-

The waters wild went o'er his child­And he was left lamenting.

~ .'

- CAJIPBELL'S POEM8.

LINES

0.11 TIm

GRAVE OF A SUICIDE.

111

By strangers left upon a lonely ahore,U nlmown, unhonoured, was the friendless dead:

For child to weep, or widow to deplore,There never came to his unburied bead­All from his dreary habitation tIed.

Nor will the lantemed fisherman at eveLaunch on the water by the witches' tow'r,

Where hellebore and hemlock seem to weaveRound its dark vaults a melancholy bow'p,For spirits of the dead at night's enchanted hour

They dread to meet thee, poor unfortunate!Whose crime it was, on life's unfinished road

To feel the stepdame buffetings of fate,And render back thy being's heavy lond.Ah! once, perhaps, the social passiollll glowed

In thy devoted bosom-and the handThat smote its kindred heart, might yet be prone

To deeds of mercy. Who may understandThy many woes, poor suicide, unknown ?-He who thy being gave shall judge of thee alone.

112 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

ODE TO.WINTER.

WRElf first the fiery-mantled lunHis heavenly race began to run,Round the earth and ocean blue,His children four the Seasons flew.

First, in green apparel dancing,The young Spring smiled with angel grace;

Rosy Summer next advancing,Rushed into her sire's embrace :

Her bright-haired sire, who bade her keepFor ever nearest to his smiles,·

On Calpe's olive-shaded steel',Oft India's citron-covered isles:

More remote and bUJ:om-brown,The Queen of vintage bowed before hiB throne

A rich pomegranate gemmed her crown,A ripe sheaf bound her zone.

But howling Winter fled afar,To hills tbat prop the polar star,And loves on deer bome car' to ride,With barren darkness by his side.

, Round the shore where loud LofodenWhirls to death the roaring whale,

Round the hall where Runic OdinHowls his war-song to the gale;

Save when adowD the ravaged globeHe travels on his native storm,

Deflow'ring nature's grassy robe,And trampling on her faded form·:-

Tilllight;s retuming lord assume ' ,The shaft that drives him to his polar field,

118C.lJIPBELL·S POEMS.

OC power to pierce his raven plume,And crystal covered shield.

Ob, sire oC storms I whose savage earThe Lapland drum delights to hear,When Frenzy with her bloodshot eyeImplores thy dreadCul deity.Archangel! power oC desolation!

Fait descending as thou art,Say, hath mortal invocation

Spells to touch thy stony heart ?Then sullen Winter hear my prayer,And gently rule the ruined year ;Nor chill the wand'rer's bosom bare,Nor Creeze the wretch's Calling tear ;­To shuddering want's unmantled bed,

Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lend,And gently on the orphan head

DC innocence descend.-But chiefly spare, 0 Iring oC clouds IThe sailor on his airy shrouds :When wrecks and beacons strew the steep,And spectres walk along the deep.l\Jilder yet thy snowy breezes

Pour on yonder tented shores,Where the Rhine's broad billow t'reezet,

Or the dark-brown Danube roars.Oh winds oC winter! list ye there

To many a deep and dying groan;Or start, ye demons oCthe midftight air,

At shrieks and thunders louder than';rour own.Alas I ev'n your unhallowed breath

May spare the victim, Callen low;But man will Mk no truce to tleath,­, No bounds to human wo.-

• Thill ode w... written Ia Germany, III die clOlll of 1800 before tilecollclU8loIl of boot11Id-.

Ki

114 CAMPBELL's POEMS.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

Ova bugles sang truce-for the night-eloud had loweredAnd the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain;

At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

N:ethought from the battle-field's dreadful array,Far, far I had roamed Oft a desolate track;

'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the wayTo the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oftIn life's morning march, when my bosom was young;

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine-cup. and fondly I sworeFrom my home and my weeping friends never to psrt;

My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'erAnd my wife sobbed aloud in her fulnesH of heart.

Stay, stay with us....,...rest, thou art weary and wornAnd fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;

But sorrow returned with the dawning of mom,And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

CAMPBELL'S PO£MS.

THE TURKISH LADY.

'TWAS the hour when rites unholyCalled each Paynim voice to prayer.

And the star that faded slowlyLeft to dews the freshened air.

Day her sultry fires had wasted,Calm and sweet the moonlight rose;

Ev'n a captive's spirit tastedHalf oblivion of his woes.

Then 'twas from an Emir's palaceCame an eastern lady bright;

She, in spite of tyrants jealons,, Saw and loved an English knight.

"Tell me, captive, why in anguishFoes have draggedthee here to dwell,

Where poor Christians as they languishHear no sound of sabbath bell?"-

" 'Twas on Transylvania's BannatWhen the crescent shone afar.

Like a pale disastrous planetO'er the purple tide of war-

.., In that day of desolation,Lady, I was captive made;

Bleeding for my Christian nationBy the walls of high Belgrade."

" Captive! could the brightest jewelFrom my turban set thee free ?"­

" Lady, no !-the gift were cruel,Ransomed, yet if ref\. of thee.

115

J

116 CAMPBELL'S POEMS. '

" Say, fair priaeeu \ would it grieve theeChriltian climes should we behold ?"­

" Nay, bold knight \ I would not leave theeWere thy ransom paid in gold \"

Now in heaYep's blue esplllllionRose the midnight star to view.

When to quit her father's mansion,Thrice,she wept, and bade adieu \

" Fly we then, wJWe none discover;Tyrant barb, in vain ye ride \"

Soon at Rhodes the British loverC1uped his blooming EuteJ'D bride.

EXILE OF ERIN.

TIRKJ: eame to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,The dew on hiI thin robe was heavy and chill :

For his country he aighed, when at twilight repairingTo wander alone by the wind beaten hill.

But the daystar attracted his eye's sad devotion,For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,

He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.

Sad ia my fate! said the hearl-broken stranger,The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee;

But I have no refuge from famine and danger,A home and a country remain not to me.

Never again in the green sunny bowers, [hours,\Vhere my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweetOr cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,

And strike to the numbers of Erin go braih !

CAMPBELL'S POE:\IS. 117

Erin my country! though sad and fOl'llaken,in drealDl I revisit thy seabeaten shore~

But alas! in a fair foreign lalld I awaken,And sigh for the friends who can meet me no morel

Oh crnel fate! will thou never replace meIn a· mansion of peace-where no perils can chase me ?Never again, shall my brothers embrace me?

They died to defend me, or live to deplore !

Where is my cabin-door, Cast by the wild wood ?Sisters and sire! did ye weep Cor its Call?

Where is the mother that looked on my ehildhooMAnd where is the bosom Criend, dearer than all ?

Oh! my sad heart! long abandoned by pleasure,Why did itdoat on a Cast Cading treasure!Tears like the rain drop, may fall without measure ;

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.

Yetall its sad recollection suppressing,One dying wis~ my lone bosom can draw,

Erin! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing !Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh !

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,Green be thy fields-sweetest isle oC the ocean!And thy harp striking bards sing aloud with devotion­

Erin mavournin !-Erin go bragh!-

LINES,Written at the requat of the Highlancl Society in Lon­

don, 'When met to cO'll't7llefMrate the 21Mt of March. theday of mctory in Egypt.

PLEDGE to the much loved land that gave us birth. Invincible romantic Scotia's shore !

'" Ireland my darling-Ireland for eYer.

118 CAJIPBELL'S rOE.I.

Pledge to the memol')' of her parted worth 1.ADd first amid the brave, remember Moore 1

And be it deemed not wrong that name to give,In festive ho1l1'l, which prompts the patriot's sigh I

Who would not envy such as Moore to live?And dill(! he not u heroea wish to die?

Yes, thongh too lOOn attaining glory's goal,To us his bright career too short was giv'n;

Yet in a mighty cause his phamix lIOulRose on the flames of victory to Heav'n 1

flow oft (if beats in subjugated SpainOne patriot heart) in secret shall it mourn

I<'or him I-how oft on fair Corunna's plainShall British exiles weep upon his urn 1

Peace to the mighty dead l-our bosom thanksIn sprightlier strAins they living may inspire !

Joy to the chiefs that lead old Scotia's ranks,Of Roman garb and more than Roman fire !

Triumphant be the thistle still unfurled,Dear symbol wild! on freedom's hills it grows,

\Vhere Fingal stemmed the tyrants of the world,And Roman eagles found uneonquel'!ld foes.

Joy to the band- this day on Egypt's coast\Vhose valour tamed proud France's tricolor,

And wrenched the banner from her bravest host,Baptized Invineible in Austria's gore 1

Joy for the day on red Vimeria's strand,When bayonet to bayonet opposed

First of Britannia's hosts her Highland bandGave but the death shot once, and foremost closed 1

·Tbe4ld~

" . F

CAMPBELL'S POEM8.

Is there a IOn or generoUII England hereOr fervid Erin ?-he with us shall join,

To pray that in eternal union ~ear,

The rose, the Ihamrock, and the thistle twine !

Types of a race who shan the invader scorn,As rocks resist the billows round their shore ;

Types of a race who shall to time unbornTheir country leave unconquered as of yore !

LINES,

JJ9

WItrrTmr ON VISITlNG ... SCEn Ui" ARGYLESHlllE.

AT the silence of twilight's contemplative hour,I have mUlled in a sorrowful mood,

On the wind shaken weeds that embosom the bower,\Vhere the home of my forefathers stood.

AU ruined and wild is their roofless abode,And lonely the dark raven's sheltering tree

And travelled by few is the grass covered road,Where the hunter of de'er and the warrior trode

To his hills that encircle the sea.

Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk,By the dial stone aged and green,

One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk,To mark where a garden had been.

Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race,An wild in the silence of Nature, it drew,

From each wandering sunbeam, a lonely embrace;For the night weed and thorn overshadowed the place,

W'here tlse ftower of my forefathers grew.

no CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Sweet bud of the wildemelS! emblem of allThat remains in this desolate heart !

The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall;But patience shall never depart !

Though the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and brigut,In the days of delusion by fancy combined,

With the vanishing phantoms of love and delightAbandon my soul like a dream of the night,

And leave but a desert behind.

, Be hushed, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemnsWhen the faint and the feeble deplore ;

Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stemsA thousand wild waves on the shore!

Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain.May thy front be unaltered, thy CQurage elate!

Yell! even the name I hlLVe worshipped in vainShall awake not the sigh of remembrance again;

To bear is to conquer our fate.',

PATRIOTIC STANZAS,-

COfItpo,ed and recited at a meeting of North Britom, U&London, 07J Monday, the Sth of .aUgUllt, lS03.

OUR bosoms we'll bare to the glorious strife,And our oath is recorded on high,

To prevail in the Clluse that is dearer than life,Or, crushed in its ruins to die.

Then rise, felIow freemen, and stretch the right-hand,And swear to prevail in your dear native land.

'Tis the lJotne we hold sacred is laid to our trust.God bless the green Isle of the brave!

CAXPBELL 8 rOElllS.

Should a conqueror tread on oar fonfatben' dUlt,It would raise tbll old dead from their grave.

Then rise, &c.

In a Briton's sweet home shall a spoiler abide,Profaning its loves and its charms i

Shall a Frenchman insult a loved fair at our side iTo arms-O my Country, to arma !-

Then rise, &c.

Shall tyrants enslave'us, myeountrymen?-No­Tlieir heads to the sword shall be given;

Let a death-bed repentance await the proud foeAnd his blood bll an offering to Heavea!

Then rise, &c.

CAROLINE.

PART I.

I'LL bid my hyacinth to blow,J'll teach my grotto green to be;

And sing my true love, all belowThe holly bower and myrtle tree.

There, all his wild-wood scents to bring,The sweet South Wind shall wander by ;

And with the music of his wing,Delight my rustlin;rnopy.

- Come to my e1o&d clustering l>ower,Thou spirit orr"milder clime!

Fresh with the dews of fruit and flower,Of mountain he!lth llnd moory thyme.

L

Itt

122 CAMPBELL's POEMS

With all thy rural echoeI eome,Sweet comrade of the~ day,

Wafting the wild bee'. gentle hum,.Il Or cuclroo's plaintive roundelay-

Wbere'er ~y moming breath hal played,Whatever islea of ocean fanned,

Come to my blouom woven Ihade,Thou.wandering wind or flirT land !

For lure from lOme enebanted isle,Where HelY'n and love their sabbllth bold,

Where pure and happy Ipirits Imile,or beauty'. fairest, brightelt mould:

From lOme green Eden of the deep,Where pieaswoe'l ligh alone is heaved,

Where tears or raptwoe lovers weep,Endeared, undoubting, undeceived ;

From lome sweet paradise arar,Thy music wandeJ'll, distant, lost;

Where natwoe lights her leading star,And love is never, never crossed.

Oh! gentle gale or Eden bowers,Ie back thy rosy feet lhould roam,

To revel with the cloudless hours,In natwoe's more propitious home-

Name to thy loved Elysian groves,That o'er enchanted spiriQi twine,

A rairer form than cbe. loves,And let the name he Caee-

rI

"

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

C A.R 0 LIN E.

PART II.

Go !Jf the crimson coloured even,Companion of retiring day

Why at the closing gates of heaven,Beloved star, dost thou delay?

So fair thy peBsile beauty bUrDll,'When 10ft the tear of twilight flows,

So due thy plighted step returns,To chambers brighter than the rose i

To peace, to pleasure, and to loveSo kind a still' thou seem'st to be,

Sure some enamo'Ured orb aboveDeseendi and burns to meet with thee.

Thine is thebreatbing, blushing hour,When all unheavenly passions fly i

Chased by the lOulsubduing powerOf love'i delicious witchery.

Oh! sacred to the fall of day,Queen of propitious stars, appelU'!

And early rise, and long delay,When CaToline herself is here.

Shine on her chosen green resort,Whe~ trees the suoward summit crown i

And wanton flowers, that well may courtAn angel's feet to tread them down.

Shine on her sweetly scented road,Thou star of evening's purple dome!

Thllt lead'st the nightingale a~ad,And guid'lIt the piJ&rim to bis home.

128

124 C.UII'BEI.I.'lj POE)IS.

Shine, where my ehl\ft1ler's sweeter breathEmbalms thy soil exhllling dew;

Where dying winds l\ lligh bequeathTo kiss her cheek oC rosy hue.

Where, winnowed by the gentle air..Her silken tresses darkly flow,

And fall upon her brows 80 Cair,Like .hadows on the mountain snow.

Thus, ever thus, at day'. dee1i.Re. In conftrse sweet to wander far,Oh! bring with thee my Caroline,

And tho. shalt be my rulin& star I

ODE

'1'0 THte

MEMORY OF BURNS.

SOUL of the Poet! wheresoe'erReclaimed from earth thy genius plume

Her wings or immortality;Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,And with thine influence illume

The gladness of our jubilee.

And fly like fiends from secret spell,Discord and strife, at Bllflll', name,

Exorcised by his memory;For he was cbief of bards that swellThe heart with 8Oo","1J of sociRl flame,

And high delicious revelry.

." ..;<

OAJIPBELL'S POEMS.

And Lovel• 0WJl ItraiD to him was girDTo warble all its ecstasies.

With Pythian words WIllOugbt, 1unrilled,Love the surviving gift of Heaven,The cboieeet .weet of Paradise

In life'. else bitter cup distilled.

Who that has melted o'er his layTo Mary'a soul in Heav'n above,

But pictured sees in fancy strong,The landscape and the livelllng dayThat smiled upon their mutual love,­

Who that bas felt forgeta tilt song?

Nor skilled one flame alone to fan­His country's high souled peasantry

What patriot pride he taught !-how mucbTo weigh the inborn worth of man !And rustic life and poverty

Grow beautiful beneath his touch.

Him in his clay-built cot:- the museEntranced and showed him all the fol'Dlll

Of fairy-light and wizard gloom,(That only gifted Poet Tiew,)The Genii of the floods and stol'lll8,

" And martial ahades from glory'. tlDmb.

On Bannock field what thoughta arouseThe Swain whom Bmm', long inspin:a?

Beat not his Caledonian veins,As o'er the heroic turf he ploughs,With all the spirit of his sire!!,

And all their scorn at death and ehailll ?

125

• DIU. wu born iD a Clay eoll"l", whlcb bil father had buill ",llhhil 0". blUldo.

L2

126 CAMPBELL'S POEM'.

And lee the Scottish eme taaned,By many a far and foreign clime,

Bend o'er hit bomebom vel'lle and weep,In memory of his native land,With love that seoms the lapee of time,

And ties that stretch beyond the deep.

Encamped by Indian rivel'll wildThe soldier resting on his arms,

In B_', carrol sweet reca1lllThe scenes that blest him when a child,And glows and"iladdens at the charDll

Of Scotia's ~oods and waterfalla.

o deem not midst this worldly strife,An idle art the poet brings,

Let high Philosophy controlAnd sages calm the stream ~f life,'Tis he refines its fountain springs,

The nobler passions of the soul.

It is the muse that consecratesThe native banner of the brave,

Unfurling at the trumpet's breath,Rose, thistle, harp; 'tis she elatesTo sweep the field or ride the wave,

A sunburst in the storm of death.

And thou, young hero, when thy pallIs crossed with mournful sword and plume,

When public grief begins to fllde,And only tears of kindred fall,Wbo but the BArtl shAll dress thv tomh,

And greet with fame thy gal1a~t shade?

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Sucb was the IOldier,-Burm forgiveThat sorrows oC mine own intrude,

In strains to thy great memory due.In verse like tbine, Qh! could he live,The friend I mourned-the brave, the good­

Edward that died at Waterloo !-

Farewell, higb chief of Scottish lOng,That could'llt alternately impart

Wisdom and rapture in tby page,And brand each vice with satire strong,Whose lines are mottoes of tbe heart,

Whose u'Uths electrify the sage.

Farewell, and ne'er may envy dareTo ring one baleful poilOD drop

From the crusbed laurek of thy bust ;But wbile the lark sings sweet in airStill may the grateful pilgrim stop,

To bless the spot that holds thy dust.

127

• Major Edward Hodge, of tbe 7th HuMan, wbo feD allhe bealI orIIio Iquacirou lu the atlllek of !be PoIIJll LaDcen.

THEODRIC;

DOMESTIC TALE.

'TwAI sunset, and the Raoz des Vaches was sWIg,And lights were o'er the Helvetian mountains BIlllg,That gave the glacier tops their richest glow.And tinged the lakes like molten gold below.Warmth dushed the wooted regiooa of the iHonIl, ,Where, Phalnix-Iike, you saw the eagle's form,That high iA Heav'n's Yemillion wheeled and soared.Woods nearer Crowned, and cataractsdashed and roared,From heights broued by the bounding bouquetiA;Herds tinkliDg l'08DIed the long-drawn vales between,And hamlets glittered white, IUld gardens flourished'Twas transport to inhale the bright sweet air! [green.The mountain-bee was revelling in its glare,And roving with his minstrelsy acrossThe scented wild weeds, and enamelled moss.Earth's features 80 harmoniously were Iiok'd,She seemed nne great glad form, with life instinct,That felt Heav'n's ardent breath, and smiled belowIts flush of loYe, with consentaneous glow. ....

A Gothic church was near; the spot aroundWas beautiful, even though sepulchral ground;For there nor yew nor cypress spread their gloom;But roses blossomed by each rustic tomb.Amidstthem one of spotless marble shone-A maiden's grave--and 'twas inscribed thereon.

CAMPaELL':i fOtll9.

That young and loved 8~ died whose dllllC 1ft8 there:.. Yes," said my comrade, .. yoortg sbe died, aad fair IGrace formed her, and the IOUl 01 gladnell playedOnce in the blue eyes oC that mountain-maid :Her fingers witched the chords they passed alo1l!,And ber lips seemed to kiss~ IOttl in song:Yet wooed, and worshipped as abe was, tillle.,Aspired to hope, 'twas sadly, strangely true,That beart, the martyr or its fondoess buraedAnd died oC love that cottld not be retnmed.

Her father dwelt where yonder Cutle sbiDesO'er clust'ring trees and terraee-mantli.ug vineLAs gay as ever, the labumlUD'. pride\Vaves o'er each walk where.1.e waa wont to glide,­And still the garden WMACe sbe grseed bu brow,As lovely blooms, though trode by .traugen IIoOW.

How oR from yonder window g'e.r the lake,Her song of wild Helvetian swell IlIId shake,Has made the rudeet &her bead hilt ear,And rest enchllllted aD his oar 18 bear I

. Thus bright, accomplished, spirited, and bland,\Vell-born, and wealthy for that simple land,Why had no gallant native youth the artTo win so wann-lo exquisite a heart?She, midst these rocks inspired with feelings strongBy mountain-freedom-musie-fancY-SODg,Herself descended from the brave in arma,And conscious of romance-ipspiring chlll'llll,Dreamt of heroic beings; hoped to findSome extant spirit of chivalric kind ;And scorning wealth, looked cold e'en on the claimOf manly worth, that lacked the wreath of fame.

Her younger brothe.r, sixteen summers old,And much her likeness both in mind and mottld,

ISO CA.IIPBELLt S POEII8.

Had gone, pool' boy \ in soldiership to lhine,And bore all AWltriall banner on the Rhine.'Twas wbeD, alas I ov empire'. erustarShed all the plagues, without the pride of war;When patriotll bled, and bitterer anguiah erossedOur brave, to die in battles foully lost. .The youth wrote home the rout of many a day;Yet still be said, and still with troth could ny,One corpll had ever made a valiant stand,- .The corps in which he served,-Theodric'. band.HiM fame, forgotten chief, is now gone by,Eclipsed by brighter orbs in glory's sky;Yet onee it shone, lUld veterans, when they showOur fielda of battle twenty years ago, .Will tell you feats his small brigade performed,In charges nobly faced and trenches stormed.Time was, when songs were chanted to his fame,And soldiers loved the mBl'Ch that bore his name;The zeal of martial hearts was at his call,And that Helvetian., Udolph'., most of all.'Twas touching, when the storm of war blew wild,To see a blooming boy,-almost a child,-Spur fearlels at his leader's words lind signs,Brave death in reconnoitring hostile lines,And speed each task, and tell each message clear,In scenes where war-trained menwere stunnedwithfr.'lr.

Theodric praised him, and they wept for joyIn yonder house,-when letters from the boyThanked Heav'n for life, and more, to use his phrase,Than twenty lives-his own commander's praise.Then followed glowing pages, bluoning forthThe fancied image of his leader's worth,With such hyperboles of youthful styleAs made his parents dry their tears and smile:

CAMPBELL'S POEM•• lSI

,But dift'ereDt1y Car his w01'dl impreuedA wond'ring silter's well-believing breut;­She_ eaught th' illusion, bleat Thadric', nUDe,And wildly magnified his worth and Came ;Rejoiemg life's reality containedOne, heretoCore, her Caney had but Ceigned,Whose love could make her proud; and time and chanceTo passion raised that day-dream oC Romance.

Once, when with hasty eharge oC horse ud manOlll' were guard had eheeked the Gallie van,Theodric, visiting tIre outpo~ts, f'lundHis Udolp1f, wounded, weltering on the ground :­Sore erushed,-halC-swooning, halC-upraised he lay,And bent bis brow, Cair boy! and gra.qped the clay.His fate moved e'en the common soldier'. ruth­7'heotlrU; succoured him; nor left the youthTo vulgar bands, but broughtbim to his tent,And lent what aid a brother would have lent.

Meanwhile, to save his kindred half the smart, The war-gazette's dread blood-roll might impart,

He wrote th' event to them; and soon could tellOf pains assuaged and symptoms auguring well ;And last of all, prognosticating cure,Enclosed the leech's vouching signature.

Their answers, on whose pages you might noteThat tears had fallen, whilst trembling fingers wr.oteGave boundless thanks for benefits conferred,Of whieh the boy, in secret, sent them word,Whose memory Time, they said, would never blot;But which the giver had himself forgot.

In time the stripling, vigorous and healed,Resumed his barb and banner in the field.

1S2 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

And bore himself right IOldier-like, till nowThe third campaign had manlier bronzed hia brow;When peace, though but a scanty paule for breath,­A cnrtain-drop between the acta of death,-A check in frantic war', unfinished game,Yet dearly bought, and dir.ely welcome, came.The camp broke up, and Udolph left hia chief.As with a son's or yolUlg1lr brother's grief:But journeying. home, how rapt his spirits rose!How light his footsteps crushed St. Gothard's snows!How dear seemed ev,n the waste and wild Sl:u"eekhorn,Though wrapt in clouds, and frowning as in scornUpon a downward world of pastoral charms iWhere, by the very smell of dairy-farms,And fragrance from the mountain-herbage blown,Blindfold hia native hills he could have known!

His coming down yon bke,-his boat in viewOf windows where love's fluttering kerchief flew,- .The arms spread out for him-the tears that burst,­('Twas Julia'., 'twas his sister's met bim first I)Their pride to see war's medal at his breast,And all their rapture's greeting, may be gueased.

Ere long, his bosom triumphed to unfoldA gift he meant their gayest room to hold,­The picture of a friend in warlike dress;And who it was he first bade Julia guess." Yes," she replied, "'twas he methought in sleep,When you were wounded, told me IIDt to weep."The painting IOllg in tbat sweet mansion drewRegards its living semblance little knew.

Meanwhile Theodric, who had years beforeLearnt England's tongue, and loved her e)assic lore,A glad enthusiast now explored the land,Where Nature, Freedom, Art, smile hand in hand:

CAMPBELL'S POEMS. IJ3

Her women Cair; her men robust Cor toil ;Her vigorous souls, high-cultured as her soil ;Her 'towns, where civic independence flingsThe gauntlet down to senates"courts, and kings;Her works of art, resenibli~ 'magic's powel'll ;Her mighty fleets, and learning's beauteous bowel'll,These he had visited, with wonder's smile,And scarce endured to quit 80 fair an isle.But how our Cates Crom unmomentous thingsMay me, like rivel'll out oC little springs !A trivial chance postponed his parting day,And public tidings caused, in that delay,An English jubilee. 'Twas a glorious sight;*,t eve stupendous London, clad in light,Poured out triumphant multitudes to gaze ;Youth, age, wealth, penury, smiling in the blaze:111).' illumined atmosphere was warm and bland,And Beauty's groups, the fairest of the land,Conspicuous, as in some wide festive room,In open chariots passed with pearl and plume.Amidst them he remarked a lovelier mienThan e'er his thoughta had shaped, or eyes had seen :The throng detained her till he reined his steed,And, ere the beauty passed, had time to read .The motto and the arms her carriage bore.Led by that clue, he left not England's shoreTill he had known her: and to know her wellP~longed, exalted, bound enchantment's spell ;For with affections warm, intense, refined,She mixed such calm and holy strength of mind,That, like Heav'n's image in the smiling brook, ,Celestial peace was pictured in her look.Her's was the brow, in trials unperplexed,That Cbeerea the sad and tranquillized the vexed:

M

154 CAMPBELL'S POEMS

She ltudied not the meanelt to eclipse,And yet the wilelt listened to ber lips;She sang ~ot, knew not Music's magic skill,But yet her voice had tones that swayed the will.He sought-he won he~lIIld resolved tolnakeHia future home in England for her sake.

Yet, ere they wedded, matters of conumTo C~, Court commanded biB return,A leason's spau,-and on hil Alpine way~

He reached those bowe!'ll, that rang with joy that day:Toe boy was half beside himself,-tI!e sire,All frankness, honour, and Helvetian fire,Of speedy partiog would not hear him speak;And. tears bedewed and brightened Julia'. cheek.

Tbus, loth to lVound their hospitable pride,A month he promiled with them to abide;As blithe he trode the mountain-sward as they,And felt his joy make ev'n the young more gay.How jocund was their breakfast parlour fannedBy yon blue water'.s breath,-tbeir walks bow bland !Fair Julia seemed ber brother's softened sprite-A gem reflecting Nature's purest )ight,-And with her graceful wit there was inwroughtA wildly sweetunworldine88 of thought,That almost cbildlike10 his kindness drew,­And twin with UMlph in hi. friendship grew.But did his thoughts to love one moment range?­No! he who had loved C01l8wnce could not change!Besides, till grief betrayed her undesigned,The unlikely thought could scarcely reach his mind,That eyes so young 0[1 years like his should beamUnwooed devotion back for pure esteem.

True she sang to his very !\Oul and brougbtThose trains before him of luxuriant thought,

IJJCAMPBEI,L'S P0k;1l3.

Which only Music's Heav'n-born art can bringTo sweep across the mind with angel wing,Once, as he smiled amidst that wakillg trance,She paused o'ercome: he thought it might be chance,And, when bis first suspicions dimly stole,Rebuked them back like phantoms from his BOutBut when he saw his caution gave her pain,And kindness brought sWlpense's rack again,Faith, bonour, friendship bound him to unmaskTruths which her timid fondness feared to ask.

And yet with graeefully ingenuous powerHer spirit met the explanatory hour;-Even conscious beauty brightened in her eyes,That told she knew their love no vulgar prize iAnd pride, like that oC one more woman-grown,Enlarged her mien, enriched her voice'. tone.'Twas then she struck the li:eys, and music madeThat mocked all skill her hand had e'er displayed:Inspired and warbling, rapt from things around,She looked the very Muse oC magic sound,Painting in sound the forms of joy and wo,Until the mind's eye saw them melt and glow.Her closing strain composed and calm she played,And lang no words to give its pathos aid;But grief seemed liog'ring in its lengthened swell,And like so many tears the trickling touches Cell.Of Constance then she heard Theodric speak,And steadfast smoothness still possessed her cheek;But when he told her how he oft had plannedOlold a journey to their mountain-land,That might have brought him hither years before," Ah! then," she c;ried, "you knew not England's shore iAnd, had you came,-lUld wherefore di~ you not ?"\I Yes," be replied, "it would have changed our lot I'

186 CAMI'8ELL'S POEMS.

Then burst her tears through pride's restraining bands,And with her handkerchief, and both her hands,She hid her face'and wept.-Contriti,?11 stungTheodric for the tears his words had wrung. '" But no," she cried, " unsay not what you'Te said,Nor grudge one prop on which my pride is staye~ ;To think I could have merited your faith,Shall be my solace even unto death I"":.Juiia," Theodoric said, with purposed lookOf firmness, "my reply deserved rebuke;But by your pure and sacred peace of mind,And by the dignity of womankind,Swear that when· I am gone you'll do your bestTo chase this dream of fondness from your breast"

Th' abrupt appeal electrified her thought ;­She looked to Heaven, ail if its aid she sought,Dried hastily the tear-drops from her cheek,And signified the vow she could not speak.

Ere long he communed with her mother mild:" Alas I" she said, "I warned-conjured ·my child,And grieved for this aftection from the first,But like fatality it has been nursed ;For when her filled eyes on your picture fixed,And when your name in all she spoke was mixed,'Twas hard to chide an. over-grateful mind!Thl;ll each attempt a likelier choice to find.Made only fresh-rejected suitors grieve,And UMlph's pride-perhaps her own-believeThat could she meet, she might enchant eV'lI you.You came.-I- augured the event, 'tis true,But how was UMlph's mother to excludeThe guest that claimed our boundless gratitude!And that uncQllscious you had cast a spellOn Julia's peace, my pride refused to tell.

CAMPBELL'S POElU.

Yet in my ehild's illusion I have SeeD,

Believe me well, bow blamelCss you have been :Nor c:aD it c:aDcel; bowsoe'er it end,Our debt .of friendship to our boy's best frieDll."At night.he pllJ'ted with the aged pair ;At" early mom rose JuliG to prepareThe lut repast her bands for him should make ;And UdolpA to convey him o'er the lake.The parting was to her such bitter grief,That of her own accord she made it brief;But ling'ring at her window, long surveyedHis boat's last glimpses melting into sbade.

TModrie sped to Austria, and achievedHis jouroey's object. Much was he relievedWhen Udalp"" letters tola tbat Julia', mindHad bome his 1011II firm, tranquil, and resigned.He took the Rhenish rout to England, highElate with hopes,-fnlfilled their ecstasy,And interchanged with ConIttmu', own breathThe 8weet clem."l VOWI that bound their raith.

To pamt that being to a groveiling mindWere like portraying pictures to the blind.'Twas needful even infectiously to feelHer temper's rond aDd firm and gladsome zeal,To share existence with her, and to gainSparks from her love's electrifying chain, .Of that pure pride. which ley'Ding to her breastLiCe's ills, gave all its joys a treble zest,Before the mind completely understoodThat mighty truth-how happy are the good!-

Ev'n when Iier light forsook him, it bellueathedEnnobling sorrow; and her memory breathedA sweetness that survived her living daysAs od'rous seenltl outlast the censer's blaze.

M!l

137

IS8 CA~PBELL':!, POl,;MS.

Or if a trouble dimmed their golden joy,'Twas outward dross, and not infused alloy:Their home knew but affection's -looks and speech­A little Heaven, above dissention's reach.But midst her' kindred there was strife and gall;Sue one congenial sister, they were aUSuch foila to her bright intellect and grace,As if she had engrossM the virtue_of ber neeHer nature strove th' unnatural feuds to beal,Her wisdom made the weak to her appeal;And though the wound. she cured were soo,l1 unclosed,Unweanellstill her kindne8ll interposed.

OCt on those errands though she went, in vain,And home, II blank without her, gave \lim pain;He bore her absence for its pious end•.But public grief hi, spirit came to bend;For war laid waste his native land once more,And German honour bled at every pore.Oh! were he there, he thought, to rally backOne broken band, or perish in the wrack!Nor think that Comtance sought to move or m,eltHis purpose: like herself she spoke and felt:­" Your fame is mine, and I will bear all woExcept its-loss !-butwith you let me goTo arm you for, to embrace you from, the fight;Harm will not reach me-hazards will delight !"He knew those hazards better; one campaignIn England he conjured her to remain,And she expressed assent; although her heartIn secret bad resolved they should not part.

How oft the wisest on misfortune's shelvesAre wrecked by errors most unlike themselves!That little falilt, tliat fraud of love's romance,That plan's concealment, wroughttheirwholemi~chllnce.

CAMPBELL'S POEMS. " 139

He !mew it not preparing to embar~

But felt extinct his comfort's latest spark;When, 'midst those numbered days, she made repairAgain to kindred worthless of her care.

. 'Tia true she said the tidings she should writeWould make her absence on his heart sit light;But, haplessly, revealed not yet her plan,And left him ill his home a lonely man.

Thus damped in thoughts, be mused upon the put :'Twas long since he had heard from Udolph lot,And deep misgivings on his spirit fell,That all with Udolph'. household was not well.'Twas that too true prophetic mood of fearThat augurs griefs inevitably near,Yet makes them not less startling to the mind,When come. Least looked-for then of human kind,His Udolph ('twas, he thought at first, his Iprite)With mournful joy that mom surprised his sight.How changed was Udolph; Scarce Theodric durstInquire his tidiags,-he revealed the worst." At first," he 88id, as " JuliA bade me tell, .She bore her fate" high-mindedly and well,Resolved from common eyes her grief to hide,And from the world's compassion saved our pride;But still her health gave way to seeret wo,And long she pined-for broken hearts die slow IHer reason went, but came returning, likeThe warning of her death-bou~oonto strike;And all for which she now, poor sufferer Lsighs,Is once to see Theodric ere she dies.Why should I come to tell you this caprice?~'orgive me! for my mind has lost its peace,I blame myself, and ne'er shall cease to blame,That my insane lImb~tion for the name

140 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Of brother to TllHdric, foUDded allThose high-bailt hopes that eraalaed her by their fall.I made her slilht a mother'. counsel sage,But now my parents droop with grief aad age ;And thou!h my siater'1 eyes mean no rebuke,They overwhelm me with their dying look.The journey's lOll!. but you are full oC ruth ;And she who .bares your heart, and lmowt ita truth,Has Caith in your affection, Car above 'The fear oC a poor dying object's love-"-" She has, my UJolph," he replied, " 'tis true;

, And oft we talk or~ft of you."Their converse came abruptly to a elOlle ;For.~ could each his troubled looks compose,When visitants, to Corulmice near alrln,(In all but traits of IOu!) were ushered in.They brought not her, nor 'midst their kindred bandThe sister who alone, like her, was bland;But said-and smiled to see it give him pain­That Corulame would a fortnight yet remain.Vexed by their tidings, and the haughty viewThey cast on Udolph as the youth '!ithdrewTheodric blamed his Comtanu's intent.-The demons went, and left him as they went,To read, when they were gone beyond recall,A note from her loved hand, explaining all.She said, that with their hottse she only staidThat parting peace might with them all be made;But prayed for love to share his foreign life, .And shun all future chance of kindred strife.'He wrote with speed, hissouI's consent to say:The letter missed her on her homeward way.In six hours COMtame was within his arms :Moved, flUshed, unlike her wonted calm of charms,And breathless-with uplifted hands outspread­Burst into tears upon his neck, and said,-

CAMPBELL'S POEMS. 141

" I knew that those who brought your melsage laughedWith poison of their own to point the shan;And this my one kind sister thought, yet loathConfessed ,he feared 'twas true you had been wroth.But here you are, and smile on me: my painIs goue, and Cmutance is herself again."His ecstasy, it may be guessed, was much,Yet pain's extreme and pleasure's seemed to toueh.What pride! embracing beauty's perfect mould;What terror! lest his few rash words, mistold,Had agonized her pulse to fever's heat;But calmed again 10 soon it healthful heat,And such sweet tones were in her voice's sound,Composed herse~ she breathed composure round.

Fair being! with what sympathetic graceShe heard, bewailed, and pleaded Julia'll case;Implored he would her dying wish attend,.. And go," she said, " t~morrow with your friend;I'll wait for your return on England's shore,And then we'll cross the deep and part no more."

To-morrow both his soul's compassion drewTo Julia', call, and Comtat,u:e urged anewThat not to heed her now would be to bindA load of pain for life upon his mind.He went with Udolph-from his Comtance went­Stifling, alas! a: dark presentiment&me ailment lurked, ev'n whilst she smiled, to moekHis fears of harm from yester-morning's shock.Meanwhile a faithful page he singled out,To watch at home, a,hd follow straight his route,If aught of threatened change her health should show:-With Udolph then he reached the house of woo

That winter's eve how darkly Namre's browScowled on the scenes i$ lights so ~ovely now!

142 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice,Shook Cragmentl from the rifted precipice ;And wbilat their Calling echoed to the wind, .The wolfs long bowl in d~smal discord joined,While white yon water's foam was raised in cloudsThat whirled like spiritl wailing in their shrouds ;Without wu Nature's elemental din-And beauty died, and friendahip wept within !

Sweet Julia, though her fate was finished half,Stilllmew him_miled on him with feeble laugh,And bleat him, till she drew her latest sigh!But lo! while Udolp1&'. bursts of agony,And age's tremulous wailings, round him rose,What accents pierced him deeper yet thnn those!'Twas tidings-by his English messengerOf C07Utance--brief and terrible they were.She still was living when the page set outFrom home, but whether now was left in doubt.Poor Julia / saw he then thy death's reliet­Stunned into stupor more than wrung with grief?It was not strange; for in the human breastTwo master-passions cannot coexist. ,And that alarm which now usurped his brainShut out not only peace, but other pain.'Twas fancying C07Utance undemeath the shroudThat covered Julia made him first weep loud,And tear himself away from them that wept.Fast hurrying homeward, night nor day he slept,Till, launched at sea, he dreamt that hilt soul's saintClung to him on a bridge of ice, pale, faint,O'er cataracts of blood; Awake, he blessedThe shore; nor hope left utterly his breast,Till reaching home, terrific omen! thereThe straw-laid' street prelude~ his despair---

The servant's look-the table that reveal~Hit letter sent to CtmII4nu last, still sealed,Though speech and hearing left bim, told too clearThat he had now to su1fer--llot to fear.He felt as if he ne'er should cease to feel-A wretch live-broken on misfortune's wheel: [Heaven.Her death's cause-he might make' bis }J4!ace \' thAbsolved from guilt, but never self-forgiven.

The ocean has its ebbing&-80 has grief.'Twas vent to anguish, if 'twas not relief,To lay his brow even on ber death-cold cbeek. •Then first he heard her one kind sister speak:She bade him, in the name of Heaven, forbearWith self-reproach to deePen his despair:te 'Twas blame," she said, " I shudder to relate,Butnone of yours that caused our dar~ng's fllte ;Her mother (must I call ber such?) foresa~,.

Should Comtance leave the land, she would withdrawOur house's cbarm against U1e world's neglect,The only gem that drew)t some respect.Hence, when.you went, she c;une and vainly spokeTo change her" ~urpose-grew incell.led, and brokeWith execrations from her kneeling child.Start not! your angel from ber knee rose mild,Feared 'that she should not long the 8C8I)e outlive,Yet bade e'en you the unnatural one forgive.Till then her ailment had been slight, or none;'But fast she drooped, and fatal pains came on :Foreseeing their event, she dictatedAnd silJlled these words for you." ~e letter said-

" Theodric, this is destiny aboveOur power ta baffle; bear it then, my love!Rave not to learn the usage I have borne,For one true 'sister left me not forlorn ;

CAMPBELL'S POEMS. 143

144 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

,I

And though you're absent in another land,Sent from me by my own well-meant command,Your lOul, I know, as firm is knit to mineAs these clasped hands in blessing you now join:Shape not imagined bolTOl'l in my fate­Even now my sufi'erings are not very great;And when y~ur gi'ief's tint transports shall subside,( call upon your streDgth of lOul and prideTo pay my memory, if 'tis worth the debt,Love's glorying tribute-not forlorn regret:I eharge my name with power to conjure upReflection's balmy, not its bitter cup.My pard'ning angel, at the gates of Heaven,Sball look not more regard than you have givenTo me; and our life's union has beell cladIn smiles of bli88 as sweet as life e'er had.Sball gloom be from such bright remembrance east ?Sball bitternes8 outflow from sweetness past r 'No! imaged in the sanctuary of your breast,There let me smile, amidst bigb thoughts at rest;And let contentment 00 your spirit shine, .As if its peace were still a part of mine:For if you war not proudly witb your pain,For you I shall have worse than lived in vain.But I conj~ your manliness to' bearMy loss with ndble spirit-not despair :I ask you by your love to promise this,And kin these words where I have left a kiss,­The latest from my living lips fOl' yours."-

Words that will solace him wbile life endllre8 :For thougb his spirit from afRiction's 8urgeCould ne'er to life, as life had been, emerge,Yet still that mind whose harmony elateRang sweetness, ev'n beneath tbe crush of fate,

That mind in wboee regard all things were placedIn views that softened them, or lights that graced,­That soul's enmple could not but dispenseA portion of its own blessed inAuence ;Invoking him to peace, and that self-llwayWhich forfune cannot give, nor take away:And thoUgh he molirned her long, 'twas with such wo,As if her spirif watched him still below.

~

Ir

rI

CAJIPBELL'61 POEMS.

TO THE RAINBOW.

TaWMPlUL arch, that fill'at the skyWhen storms prepare to part,

I ask not proud philosophyTo teach me what thou art-

Still seem as to my childhood's sight,A midway atation given

For happy spirits to alightBetwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optic teach, unfoldThy form'to please me 80,

As when I dreamt of gems and goldHid in thy radiant bow?

When Science from Creation's faceEnchantment's veil withdraws,

What lovely visions yield their placeTo cold material laws !

:N

145

CAlinELL'. POII:III.

ADd yet, fair bow, DO fatlia« cJloeaIDI,Batwordl of the Most Higb,

Hue told wily fint thy robe ofheamIWas wo~eu"in the .ky. '

When o'er the green undeluged earthHeuen'. covenant thou didet ehine,

How came the world'. gray rathel'8 rorihTo watch thy sacred sign.

And when it. yellow luetre emiledO'er mountains yet untrod,

Each mother held aloft ber childTo bless the bow of God.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,The first made anthem rang

On earth delivered from the deep,And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the MUle'. eyeUnraptured greet thy beam :

Theme of primeval prophecy,Be still the poet's theme I

The earth to thee her ineense yields,The lark thy welcome sings,

When glittering in the freshened fieldsThe snowy mushroom springs.

,How glorious is thy girdle cast

O'er mountain, tower, and town,Or mirrored"in the ocean VIlst,

A thousand fathoms down !

As fresh in yon horizon dark,As young thy beauties seem,

As when the eagle from the ark,First sported in thy beam.

CAMPBELL'S rOEHS.

For. faithful to itt .aered page,Heaven .till rebuilds thy 'plUl,

Nor leta the type grow pale with qeThat first .poke peace to man.

THE BRAVE ROLAND.·

In

Tm: braft Roland !-the brave Roland 1­False tidings reacbed the Rhenilh atrand

That be bad fall'n in,figbt:And thy faithful bosom swooned with pain,o loveliest maiden oC Allemayne!

For the 10IIs of thine own true knigbt.

But WbY80 rash bas she ta'eo ~YeiJ, ­In yon Nonaenwerder's cloiste1'll pale?

For her vow had scarce been IIWOI'II,

And the fatal mantle o'er ber ftung,When the Drachenfells to a trumpet rung,

'Twas her own dear warrior's bom 1

Wo! wo 1 each bead shall bleed-sball break!She would have bung upon bis neck,

Had be come but yeslh-even ;And be bad clasped those peerless charmsThat shall never, never fill his 1Ll'1D!I,

Or meet him but in beaYen.

• The ~t1on wlllcb fonu the sublltanee of theoe ItlInU8 ill otIllpreeerved In Germany. An IIJIClent tower on a beIPt, eatIecI the llo­IaDdMct, a few mil. above Bona DB lbe llblne, .. obown eo the habita­tion wblcb Boland bn1lt In IIcbt of a nunnery, Into wblch bl. mist.....bad retired, on bavlog beard aD unfounded account of bl. deatb.Wbatever may he thought 0{ the credibility Dr the legend, III _nerymalt lie r-ueeled ..... pIeMure by ewIIY Doe who bu ever vI8lted theIOmantic 1aDdKape 0{ the Dracbanre1llo, the Roland_t, anol the lIeau­t1tol adjacct iIIIM of tile B.b1De, w!fen a nunn..,. IItIJI modo.

148 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Yet Roland the brave-Roland the true­He could not bid that spot adieu;

It wu dear still 'midst his woes ;For he loved to breathe the neighb'ring air,And to think she blest him in her prayer,

When the Halleluiah rose.

There's yet one window of that pile,Which he built above the-Nun's green Isle;

Thence sad and oft looked he(When the chant and organ sounded slow)On the mansion of his love below, .

For herself he might not lee.

She died !-He sought the battle-plain ;Her image filled his dying brain,

When he fell, and wished to fall;And her name was in his latest sigh,When Roland, the flower of chivalry,

Expired at Roncevail.

THE SPECTRE BOAT.•

A BALLAD.

LIGHT rued false Ferdinand, to leave a lovely maidforlorn,

Who broke her heart and died to hide her. blushingcheek from scorn.

One night he dreamt he wooed her in their wonted. bower of love,

Where the flowers sprang thick around them, and thebirds sang sweet above.

CAMPBELL'S POI:3IS. 149

But the seene wu switUy changed into a church-yard'.dismal view,

And her lips grew black beneath his kin, from love'.delicioll8 hue.

What more he dreamt, he told to none; but .l1uddering,pale, and dumb,

Looked out upou the waVeI, like ODe that mew his hourwu come.

'Twu now the dead watch of the night,-tbe helm wuluhed a-lee,

And the ship rode wheft Mount Etna lightl the deepLevantine sea;

When beneath its glare a boat came, rowed by a womanin her shroud,

Who, with eyes that made our blood run cold, stood upaud spoke aloud:

"Come, Traitor, down, for whom my ghost still wandersunforgiven!

Come down, false Ferdinand, Cor whom I broke mypeace with heaven !"-

It was vain to hold the victim, Cor lie plunged to meether call,

Like the bird that shrieks and flutters in the gazingaerpent's thrall.

You may guess' the boldest mariner shrunk daunted, from the sight, ,

For the spectre and her winding-sheet shone blue witl.hideous light;

Like a fiery wbeel the boat spun with the WRVing of herhaud,

And round they went, and down they went, a8 the cockcrew froin the land.

N 2 '

160 CAJIPBELL'S POEJlI.

SONG.

TO THE EVENING STAR.

STU that bringelt home the bee,And sett'st the weary labourer Cree!If any star shed peace, 'tis thou,

That send'lt it &om abo"e,Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow,

Are sweet u her'. we lo"e.

Come to the luxuriant skies,Whilst the land'scape's odours rise,Whilst far-off lowing henD are heard,

And songs, when toil is done,From cottages wbose smoke unatirred

Curls yellow in the lun.

Star of love'l Ion· interviewI,Parted lovers on thee muse;Their remembrancer in HeaYen .

Of thrilling VOWI thou art,Too delicious to be riven

By absence from the heart.

!!!!!!!!!!!

VALEDICTORY STANZAS

TO J. P. KEMBLE, Es~.

Compoled for II public muting jleld in June, 1817.

PRIDJI of the British stage,A long and last adieu!

Whose image brought tb' heroic ageRevived to Fancy's view

j

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Like fields refreshed with dewy lightWhen the sun smiles his last,

Thy parting presence makes more brightOur memory of the past;

And memory conjures feelings upThat wine or music need not swell,

As high we lift the festal' cupTo Kemble! fare thee weill

His was the spell o'er heartsWhich only acting lends,-

The youngest of the sister Arts,Where all their beauty blends :

For ill can Poetry expressFull many a tone of thought sublime,

And Painting, mute and motionleu,Steals but a glance of time.

But by the mighty actor brought,Illusion's perfect triumphs come­

Verse ceases to be airy thought,And Sculpture to be dumb.

Time may again revive,.But ne'er eclipse the charm,

When Cato spoke in him alive,Or Hotspur kindled warm.

What soul was not resigned entireTo the deep sorrows of the Moor,­

What English heart was not on fireWith him at Agincourt?

And yet a majesty possessedHis transport's most impetuous tone,

And to each passion of his breastThe Graces gave their zone.

High were the task-too high,Ye conscious bosoms here !

In words to paint your memoryOf Kemble and of Lear;

151

152 CAMPBELL'S POEJlS.

But who Corgetl that white diaerowBed head,TholebW'ltloCreaaon's halC-eDiDguiBh'd glare­

Tboee fIeaJ'I upon Cordelia's bosom shed,In doubt more touehin! than ,despair,

It 'tWIll reality be felt 1Had Sbabpeare'. self amidst you been,

Friends, he had seen you melt,And triumphed to hue seen I

And there wu maar an hourOC blended kiodred fame,

When Siddoll" auxililll' powerAnd sister magic came.

Together at the Muse's BideThe trap: paragon. had grown­

They were the children oC her pride,The coluDIIII of her throne, '

And undivided fayour ranFrom heart to heart in their applause,

Save for the gaIlaBtr)' of man,In lovelier woman's cause.

Fair a8 lome clu8ic dome,Robust and richly graced,

Your Kemble', spirit was the homeOf genius and of taste:-

Taste like the .ileatdial'. power,That when Bupemallight is given,

Can measure inspiration'. hour,And tell its height in heaven.

At once ennobled and correct,·His mind surveyed the tragic page,

And what the actor could effect, 'The sl(holar could presage.

These were his traits of worth:­And must we lose them now I

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

And shall the scene no more show forthHis sternly pleasing brow 1

Alas, the moral brings a tear 1-"fu all a transient hol\l' below;

And we that would detain thee here.Ourse}ves as fleetly go 1

Yet shall our latest ageThis parting scene review:­

Pride of the British stage,A long and last adieu!

LINES,

153

SPO.KJ:N BY MR...... AT DRURY LANJ: TBJ:ATJlE.

On the fir.t opening of the HOllie after the detJfh of thePrincess Charlotte, 1817

BRITONS! although our task is but to showThe scenes and passions of fictitious wooThink not we come this night without a partIn that deep sorrow of the pnblic heart.Which like a shade hath darkened ev'ry place.And moistened with a tear the manliest face!The bell is scarcely hushed in Windsor's piles.That tolled a requiem from the solemn aisles.For her, the royal flower, low laid in dust,That was your fairest hope, your fondest trust.Unconscious of the doom, we dreamt, alas!That ev'n these walls, ere many months should pass,Which but return sad accents for her now,Perhaps had witnessed her benignant brow.

154 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Cbeered by tbe 't'Oice you would haft raiMd • high,In bUl'ltl of British love and loyalty.But, Britain! no.... thy chief, thy people moum,ADd Claremont'. home of loft is left foriol'll:­There, where the happiest or the .PP7 dwelt,The 'eeutcheon giOOlDl, and royalty bath feltA ....ouDd that ev'ry bosom feels it! 0 .....,.-

The bleuing of a Callier'. Iaeut o'erthroWD­The mOlt beloved and IDOIt devoted brideTom from an agonized hUiband'. lido,Who lC long as memory holds her teat" shall 'fie....That speecbleu, more than spoken last adieu,When the fixed eye long looked connubial faith,And beamed aft"eetion in the trance of death.Sad was the pomp that yeetemight beheld,AI with the moumer'. heart the anthem swelled ;While torch IllCCeeding torch illumed each highAnd blnDered arch oC England's chivalry.The rich plumed canopy, the gorgeous pall,The sacred march, and sable-vested wall­These were not rites oC inexpressive show,But hallowed as the types oC real wo IDaughter of England 1 Cor a nation's sigbl,A nation's heart went with thine obiequies1- .And oft shall time revert a look of grieCOn thine eDitence, beautiful and brief.Fair spirit I send thy blessing Crom aboveOn realms where thou art canonized by love IGive to a Cather's, husband'. bleeding mind,That peace that angels lend to humankind iTo us who in thy loved remembrance CeelA sorrowing, but a soul ennobling zeal-A loyalty that touches all the bestAnd loftiest principles oC England's breast IStill may thy name speak concord from the tomb iStill in the Muse's breath thy memory bloom I

CAJIPBELL'S POEMS.

They .baD delcribe thylile-thyl'orm portrayBut all the Ion that IDOW'III thee ."ept .".y,'Til DOt in language or expretlllin utiTo paiDt-ye teel it, BritoDl, in yoar heartll

LINES,

155

On r~ II leal tJ!iIh the C-.pbell er.I, fromK. M.-, before her lIIIIn"iIIge.

TBIB wax retur'DI not back more fair,Th' impreuion of the gift you .end,

Than stamped upon my thoughts I bearThe image of your worth, my friend !-

Weare not friends of yesterday:-But poet's (ancies are a little

Di.polled to heat and cool, (they say,)­By~ imJl!'9Sible and brittle.

Welll Ihould ita frailty e'ep condemnMy heart to prize or please you less,

Your type i.1till the sealing gem,And mine the waxen brittleness.

What transcripta oC my weal and woThis little signet yet may lock,­

What utt'rances to friend or foe,In reason'. calm or passion'. shock!

What scenes of life's yet curtained pageMay own its confidential die,

WhOlle stamp awaits th' unwritten pageAnd feel.ings of futurity !-

166 C.t.JIPBELL'S PO£MS.

."

Yet wbereeoe'er my pen I liftTo date th' epistolary aheet,

The bleat occasion of the giftShall make ita reoollection sweet;

Sent when the atar that rules your fatesHath reached its in1lucnce most benign­

When every heart congratulates,And Done more cordially than mine.

So speed my song-marked with the crestThat erst th' advent'rous Norman- wore,

Who won the Lady of the West,The daughter of Macaillain Mor.

Crest of my sires! whose blood it sealedWith glory in tbe strife of swords,

Ne'er may the scroll that beirs it yieldDegenerate thoughts or faithless words !

Yet little might I prize the stone,H it but typed the feudal tree

From wbence, a scattered lea~ I'm blownIn Fortune's mutability.

No I-but it tells me of a beart,Allied by friendship's living tie;

A prize beyond the herald's art­Our lOul-sprung consanguinity!

KtJtherine! to many an bour of mineLigbt wings and sunshine you have lent;

And so adieu, and still be thineTbe all in-all of life-Content!

• A Norman leader, In the ...rvice or the king of I!l,,!,tland, marriedtho hoI.... or Lochow In the lWelt\h cenlury, and from him llIe Camp­ben. are IJprul1l.

CUIPB£LL'S POEMS.

STANZAS

157

To the memo'I'!I of the Spanuh Patriot,latut killed in re-nsting the Regemy lind the Duke of .8ngouleme.

BUVE men who at the Trocadero fell-Beside your cannons conquered not, though slain,There is a Victory in dying wellFor Freedom,-and ye have not died in vain;For come what may there sball be hearts in SpainTo hODOur, ay embrace your martyred lot.Cursing tbe Bigot's and the Bourbon's cbain,A.nd looking on your graves, thougb trophied not,As holier, ballowed ground than priests could make the

spot!What though your cause be baffled-freemen eastIn dungeons-:dragged to death, or forced to tl"!e ;Hope is not withered in affliction's blast-The patriot's blood's the seed of Freedom's tree ;And short your orgies of reTenge shall be,Cowled demons of the Inquisitorial cell IEarth shudders at your victory,-for yeAre worse than common fiends from Heaven that fell,The baser, ranker sprung .B.utochthone, of heD!

Go to your bloody rites again-bring backThe hall of borrors and the assessor's pen,Recording answers shrieked upon the rack;Smile o'er the gaspings of spine:broken men ;­Preach, perpetrate damnation in your den ;-Then let your altars, ye blasphemers! peal'Vith thanks to Heaven, that let you loose again,To practise deeds with torturing lire and steelNo eye may search-no tongue may challenge orreveal !

o'.

lISS CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Yet laugh DOt in your caminl of crimeToo proudly, ye oppreaon I-Spain wu Cree,Ber IOU baa felt the foot-priata, and her crimeDeeD winaolIr'd by the wings of Liberty;And these eYen parting seatter u they BeeTboughta-inftuencel, to live in hearil unboru,OpiniODl that lhall wrench the prison-keyFrom Pmeeutioll-lhow her muk oft'-torn,And tramp her bloated head beneath the foot of Scorn !

Glory to them that die in thia great cause!lUngs, Bigou, can inflict no brand of ahame,Or Ihape of death, to Ibrond them from applaaae:No !-manglera of the mutyr's earthly frame !Your hangmen 1ingera cannot touch his fame.Still in your proatrate land there Ihall be someProud heartl, the IhrineI of Freedom's vestal flame.Long traiDa of ill may pUI unheeded, dumb,But vengeance is behind, and jUltice is to come.

!!I!!!!!

LINES

IlfIOIUHD Olf 'I'1Dl IIOlfUHElf'l' LJ.'l'ELT J'llfIlIDlD IT

1IUl. CH..Ufl'llET,

Which 1uu been erected by the 1DidotD of.admiral Sir GCampbeU, K. C. B.lo the memory of her htubaml.

To him, whose loyal, brave, and gentle heartFulfilled the bero's and the patriot's part,- .Wbose cbarity, like tbat which Paul enjoin'd,Was warm, beneficent, and uneon1ined,-

j

This stone is reared to pllbli~ duty true,The seaman's friend, the father of his crew­Mild in reproof, sagacious in command,He spread fraternal zeal throughout his band,And led each ann to ae~ each heart to feel,What British valour owes to Britain's weal.

These were 1Iis public virtues :-but to traceIlia private life's fair purity and grace,To paint the traits that drew affection strongFrom friends, an ample and an ardent throng,And, more, to speak his memory's grateful claimOn ber who mourns him most, and bears his name­O'ercomes the trembling hand of widowed grief,O'ercomea the hea~ unconscious of relief.SaTe in religion's high and holy trust,Wbilat placing their memorial o'er his dust.

,,-

0"

rCAMPBELL'S POEHS. 159

SONG OF THE GREEKS.

AG.uB to the battle, Achaians !Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance:Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree-It has bet;n, and shall yet be the land of the free :For the cross of our faith is replanted,The pale dying crescent is daunted,And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slavesMay be washed out in blood from our forefathers' graves.Their spirits are hovering o'er us, 0

And the.sword shall to glory restore us.

Ah! what though no succour advances,Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances

160 CAMPBELL'S POE¥S.

Are stretched in Olll' aid-be the combat our own !And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone:For we've sworn by our Country's assaulters,By the virgins they've dragged from our allan,By our manacred patriots, our children in chains,By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins,That living, we shall be victorious,Or that dying, our deaths shall be gloriou.

A breath of submission we breathe not ;The sword that we've drawn we will sbeathe not!Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid,And the vengeance of ages hu whetted ibl btade.Earth may hide-waves engulf-fire consume us,

,But they shall not to slavery doom us:If they rule, it shall be o'er our Illlhes ami graves ;But we've smote them already with fire on the ",aTes, ,And new triumphs on land are before us.To the charge !-Heaven's banner is o'er us.

This day shall ye blush for its story,Or brighten your lives with its glory?Our women, Oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,Or embrace us from eonquest with wreaths in their hair IAccursed may his memory blacken,If a coward there be that would slaeken [worthTill we've trampled the turban alld shown ourselvesBeing sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.Strike home, and the world shall revere usAs he~es descended from heroes.

Old Greece lightens up with emotionHer inlands, her isles of the Ocean;Fanes rebuilt and fair towns shall with jubilee ring,And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon'. sprillC:

CA.MPBELL'S POEMS. 161

Our hearths .hall be kindled in gladnell,That were cold and extinguished in sadnen; [arms,Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waringSinging joy to the brave that delivered their chlU'lDl,When the blood oC yon Mussulman eravens,Shall have purpled the beaks oC our ravens.

THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS

ON HER BIRTHDAY.

IF any white winged Power aboveMy joys and griefs su"ey,

The day when thou wert bom, my love­He surely blessed that day.

I laughed (till taught by thee) when toldOf beauty's magic powers,

That ripened liCe's duJl ore to gold,And changed its weeds to flowers.

My mind had lovely shapes portrayed;But thought I earth had one

Could make e'en Fancy's risions fadeLike stars before tbesun?

I gazed and felt upon my lipsTh' unfinished accents hang:

One moment's bliss, one burning kiss,To rapture changed each pang.

And though as swift as lightning's fluhThose tranced moments flew,

Not all the waves of time shall washTheir memory from my view.

01

101 CAMPBELl!. POEMI.

Bllt duly ahaU my raptvecJ IClIIItAnd «ladly .haJJ my eyes,

Still bIeu this day's returD, u Joac.Aa thou Ibalt lee it riee

SONG

.Mu oC England! who inheritRightl that cost your sirel their blood I

Men whose undegenerate spiritHu been proved on land and flood :-

By the Coes ye've Cought uncounted,By the glorious deeds ye've done,

Trophies captured-breaches mounted­Nanea conquered-kingdoms WOR I

Yet, remember, England gathersHence but fruitless wreaths oC CIlIIle,

If the patriotism oC your rathersGlow not in yOl11' hearts the lame.

What are monuments or bravery,Where no public virtues bloom?

What avail in lands oC slavery,Trophied temples, areh and tomb?

Pageants !-Let the world revere UI

For our people's rights and lawa,And the breasts oC civic heroes

Bared in Freedom's holy cause.

Youra are Hampden's, Russell's glory,Sydney's matehle8S shade is youra,-

CAMPBELL S POEMS.

Martyrs in heroic Itory,Worth a hundred Agincourtll

We're the sons of sires tbat baftledCrowned and mitred tyranny:

They defied the field aud sca1l'oIdFor their birthrightl-so will we I

ADELGITHA.THE ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded,

And sad pale .JJ.delgitha came,When forth l\ v~lil\nt champien bounded,

And slew the slanderer of her fame.

She wept, delivere$l from her danger;But when he knelt to claim her glove

" Seek not," she cried, "oh! gallant stranger,For hapless Jl.delgitha', love.

" For he is in a Coreign Car landWhose ann should now have set me Cree:

And I must wear the willow garlandFor him that's dead, or false to me."

" Nay! say not that his faith is tainted!"He raised his vizor-At the sight

She fell into his IInns and fainted;It was indeed her own true knight'

SONG.DRINK ye to her that eseh loves best,

And if you nurse a flameThat'. told but to her mutual breast,

We will not ask her name.

l6S

164 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Enough, while memory tranced and gladPainta lilently the fair,

That each lhould dream oC joys he'. had,Or yet may hope to share.

Yet Car, Car henee be jest or boutFrom hallowed thoughta 10 dear:

But drink to them that we love JDOIt,.Aa they would love to hear.

SONG.

Wsu Napoleol1 wu flyingFrom the field of Waterloo,

A. British soldier dying,To his brother bade adieu!

" And take," be said, .. this tokenTo the maid that owns my faith,

With the words that I have spokenIn affection's latest breath."

Sore mourned the brother's heart,When the youth beside him fell;

But the trumpet warned to part,And they took a sad farewelL

There Wlli many a friend to 10le him,For that gallant soldier sighed;

But the maiden of hi. bosomWept when all their tears were dried.

SONG

OH how hard it is to findThe one just suited to our mind;

And it that one should be

CAMPBELL'S POEM8. 165

False, unkind, or found too lateWhat can we do but sigh at fate,

And sing \Vo's me-Wo's mel

Love's a boundless burning waste,Where bliss's stream we seldom taste,

And still more solemn fleeSuspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings;Yet somehow Love a something brings

That's sweet-ev'n when we sigh Wo's me I

SONG.

EARL March looked on his dying child,And smit with grief to view her­

The youth, ire cried, whom I exiled,Shall be restored t6 woo her.

She's at the window many an hourHis coming to discGver: .

And her love looked up to Ellen's bower, •And she looked on her lover-

B\lt ah I so pale, he !mew her .ot,Though her smile 00 him was d~.

And am I then forgot-forgot l­It broke the heart of Ellea.

In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,Her cheek is cold as ashes;

Nor love's own kiss shall walre those eyesTo lift their silken lashes.

166 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

ABSENCE.

,'TIl DOt t¥ lou of love's llIIurance,

It it DOt doubting what thou art,But 'tit the too, too long endurance

or abeeDce, that atBicts my heut.

The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish,When each is lonely doomed to weep,

Are fruits on delert isles that perish,Or riches buried in the deep.

What though, unto~ched by jealous madDea,Our bosom's peace may fan to wreck;

Th' undoubting heart, that breaks with sadneu,fa but more llowly doomed to break.

AbeeDce I it Dot the soul tom by itFrom more than light, or life, or breath ?

'Tis Lethe's gloom, but Dot its quiet­The pain without the pea~ oC death !

SONG.W'JTBDBAW not yet those lips and fingers,

Whose touch to mine is rapture'l lpell ;Life's joy Cor us a moment lingers,

And deatb seems in the word-CarewelL, The hour that bids us part alid go,It sounds Dot yet, oh! no, no, no.

Time, while I gaze upon thy sweetness,Flies like a courser nigh ihe goal ;

To-morrow where shall be his lleetness,When thou art parted from my soul?

Our hearts shall beat, our tears shallllow,But not together-DO, no, no!

CAJIPBELL'S POEMII.

THE LAST MAN.ALL worldly shapes sball melt in gloom,

The Sun himself mUlt die,Before this mortal shall assume

Its Immortality II law a vision in my sleep,That gave my spirit strength to sweep

AdoWD the gulf of Time II saw the last of human mould,That shall Creation's death behold,

As Adam saw her prime!

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare:The Earth with age was wan,

The skeletons of natioDs wereAround that lonely man!

Some had expired in fight,-the brandsStill rusted in their bony hands;

In plague and famine some IEarth's cities had no sound nor treadAnd ships were drifting with the dead

To shores where all was dumb I

Yet, prophet like, thatJone one stood,With dauntless words and high,

That shook the sere leaves from the woodAs if a storm passed by,

Saying, Weare twins in death, proud Sun,Thy face is cold, thy race is run,

'Tis Mercy bids thee go.For thou ten thousand thousand yearsHaSt seen the tide of human tears,

That shall no longer flow.

What though beneath thee man put forthHis pomp, his pride, his skill;

167

168 CAIIP¥LL'S. P01:H8.

And arts that made fire, floods, IlIId earth,The vassals of his will ;

Yet moom not I thy parted .""y,Thou dim discrowned king of day :

For all those trophied artsAnd triumphs that beneath thee 1lpr8D!,

Healed not a passion or " pangEntailed on human hearts.

Go, let oblivion's curtain fallUpon the stage of men,

Nor with thy rising beams recallLife's tragedy again.

Its piteous pageants bring not back,Nor waken flesh upon the rack

Of pain anew to writhe;StJetched in disease's shapes abhorred.Or mown in battIe by the sword,

Like grass beneath the scythe.

Ev'n I am weary in yon skiesTo watch thy fading fire ;

Test of all sumless agonies,Behold not me expire.

My lips that speak thy dirge of death­Their rounded gasp and girgling breath

To see thou shalt not beast.The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall.­The majesty of Darkness shall

Receive my parting ghost!

This spirit shall return to HimThat gave its heavenly spark;

Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dimWhen thou thyself art dark!

No! it shall live again, an"d shineIn bliss unknown to beams of thine,

By him recalled to breath.

CAMPBELL'S POEM••

Who captive led captivity,'\'ho robbed the grave of Vietory,­

And took the stiOl; from death I

Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me upOn Nature's awfal waste

To drink this last and bitter cupOf grief that man shall taste­

Go, tell that night tbat bides thy taee,Thou saw'st the last of Adam'. race,

On Earth's sepulchral clod,The dark'ning universe defyTo quench bis lmmortlllity,

Ot shake his trust in God I

THE RITTER BANN.

TBJ: Ritter Bann from HungaryCame back, renowned in arms,

But scorning jousts of ehivalryAnd love and ladies' charms.

While other knights held-revels, beW llll wrapt in thoughts of gloom,

And in VieDDa's hostelrieSlow paced his lonely room.

There entered one whose face he lmew,­Whose voice, he was aware,

He oft at mass bad listened to,In tbe boly house of prayer.

'Twas the~Abbotof St. James's mpnb,A fresh and fair old man;

His reverend air arrested ev'nThe gloomy Ritter Bann.

P (1;

169

170 CAJIPBELL'S POEIIS.

Bill: IeeiDg with him an ancient dameCome clad in Scotch attire,

The Ritters colour went and came,ADd loud he spoke in ire,

.. Ha I Dane of her that was my baDe,Name DOt her nllJlle to me;

I with it blotted from my brain :.Art poor?-take alma, and dee."

.. Sir Knigbt," the abbot interposed,.. This cue your ear demands ;"

And the crone cried, with a cross enclosedIn both her trembling hands :

.. Remember, eacb his lentence waits;And he that sball rebut

Sweet Mercy'iI suit, on him tbe gatesor Mercy shall be .hut.

You wedded unmspenaed by Church,Your cousin Jane in Spring;-

In Autumn, when you went to searchFor Cburchmen's pardoning,

Her house denouneed ,.our marriage-band,Hetrothed her to De Grey,

And the ring you put upon her handWas wrenched by force away

Then wept your Jane upon my neck,Crying, •Help me, nurse, to flee

To my Howel Bann's Glamorgan billa :'But word arrived-ah me !-

You were not there; and 'twas their threat,By foul means or by fair,

To-morrow moming was. to setThe seal on ber despair.

ICAMPBELL'S POEMS.

I had a s9n, a sea-boy, inA ship at Hartland bay;

By his aid from her cruel kinI bore my bird away.

To Scotland from the Devon'sGreen myrtle shores we fled;

And the Hand that sent the ravens .To Elijah, gave us bread.

She wrote you by my son, but heFrom England seat us word

You had gone into some far countrie,In grief and gloom he heard.

For they had wronged you, to eludeYour wrath, defamed my child;

And you-ay, blush; Sir, as you should­Believed, and were beguiled.

To die but at your feet, she vowedTo roam the world; and we

Would both have sped and begged our bread,But so it might not be.

For when the snow-storm beat our roor,She bore a boy, Sir Bann,

Who grew as fair your likeness proofAs child e'er grew like man.

'Twas smiling on that babe one mom ., . While health bloomed on the moor,

Her beauty struck young Lord KinghomAs he hunted past our door.

She shunned him, but he raved of Jane,And roused his mother's pride ;

Who came to us in high disdain,, And where's the face,' she cried,

171

171\

CAMPBELL'S POJ:IIS.

• Hu witched my boy to wish for ODeSo wretched for his wife 1

Doet love thy husbud 1 Know, my 10.

Has Iwom to ~ek hit life.'

Her anger lore dismayed us,For our mite wu wearing seant,

And, unless that dame would aid u,There wu none to aid our want.

So I told her, weeping bitterly,What all our woes hIld been ;

ADd, though she wu a stem lame,The tears stood in her een.

And she housed us both, when, cheerfully.My child to her had sworn,

That even if made a widow, sheWould never wed Kinghom."--

Here paused the nurse, and then beganThe abbot, standing by:

" Three months ago a wounded maDTo our abbey came to die.

He heard me long, with ghastly eyesAnd hand obdurate clenched,

Speak of the worm that never dies,And the fire that is not quenched. \

At last by what this scroll attestsHe left atonement brief, .

For years of anguish to the breastsHis guilt had wrung with grief.

• There lived,' he said, 'a fair young dameBeneath my' mother's roof;

I loved her, but against my flameHer purity was proof.

CAMPBELL'S POEMS. 178

I feigned repentance, friendship }Jure;That mood she did not check,

But let her husband's miniatureBe copied from her neck.

As means to selll'flh him, my deceitTook care to him was borne

Nought but his picture's counterfeit,And Jane's reported scorn.

The treachery took: she waited wild;My slave came back and lied

Whate'er I wished; Ihe clasped her child,And swooned, and all but died.

I felt her tears for years ~d yearsQuench not my flame, but stir :

The very hate I bore her mateIncreased my love for her.

Fame told us of his glory, whileJoy flushed the face of Jane;

And whilst she blessed his name, her smileStruck fire into my brain.

No fears could damp; I reached the camp,Sought out its champion;

And if my broadsword failed at last,'Twas long and well laid on.

This wound's my meed, my name's Kinghom,My foe's the Ritter Bano.'--

The wafer to his lips was borne,And we shrived the dying man.

He died not till you went to fightThe Turks at Warradeio ;.

But I see my tale has changed you pale."The Abbot went for wine;

P2

ADd brouKbt • little page who JIO'Ift'1It out, aDd knelt and smiled:

The ltunned knight saw himself restoredTo childhood in his child ;

ADd .looped and caught him to his lJreut,Laughed loud and wept anon, .

And with a shower of kisses pressed_ The darling little one.

co ADd where went J aue ?" _co To a nunnery, Sir­Look not again 80 pale-

KiDghom's old dame grew harsh to her."­co And has she ta'en the nil ?"

.. Sit down, Sir," said the priest, co I barRash words."-They sat all three,

And the boy played with the knight's broad IW,As he kept him on his knee.

co Think ere you ask her dwelling-place,"The abbot further said;

co Time draws a veil o'er beauty's faceMore deep than cloister's shade.

Grief may have made her what you canScarce love perhaps for life."

" Hush, abbot," cried the Ritter Bann,." Or tell me where's my wife."

The priest undid two doors that hidThe inn's adjacent room, •

And there a lovely woman stood,Tears bathed ber beauty's bloom.

One mOD;lent may with bliss repayUnnumbered hours of pain i

Such was the throh and Dlutual sobOC'the Knight embracing Jane.

CAMPBELL'S POE...

A DREAM.

WUoL may sleep present UI fictioDl,Since our waking IIIOIIIeIltI teem

With IUch faDciCul eeanctioDlAs make life itlle1f a dream.­

Half our daylight faith'. a fable;Sleep disports with .badow. too.

Seeming in their turn as stableAI the world we wake to view.

Ne'er by day did Reason's mintGive my thoughts a clearer printOf assured reality,Than was left by PhantasyStamped and coloured on my spriteIn a dream of yesternight.

In a bark, methought, lone steering,I was cast on Ocean's strife;

This, 'twas whispered in my hearing,Meant the sea of life.

Sad regrets from past existenceCame, like gales of chilling breath ;

Shadowed in the forward distanceLay the land of death.

Now seeming more, now less remote.On that dim-seen shore, methought,I beheld two hands a spaceSlow unshroud a spectre's face;And my flesh's hair upstood,­'Twas mine own similitude.

But my soul revived at seeingOcean, like an emerJl1d spark,

Kindle, while an air-dropt beingSmiling steered my bark.

175

178 CAMPBELL'S POEM••

Heaven-like-yet he looked as humanAs supernal beauty can,

More compassionate than woman,Lordly more than man.

And as lOme sweet elarion's breath8tin the aoldier's ICOI'D of death­So hit aeeenta bade me brookThe spectre'. eye. of icy look,Till it shut them-tumed ita head,Like a beaten foe, and ded.

" Types not this," I said, " fair lJlIirit !That my death-hour is not come?

Say, what day. shall I inherit ?­Tell my lOul their sum."

" No," he said, " yon phantom's aspect,Trust me, would appal thee woJ'lle,

Held in clearly measured prospect :-A.k not for a cl1l'8e !

Make not, for I overhearThine unspoken thoughts as clearAs thy mortal ear could catchThe close brought tickings of a watch.Make not the untold requestThat's now revolving in thy breast.

" 'Tis to live again, remeasuringYouth's years, like a scene rehearsed,

In thy second lifetime treasuringKnowledge from the first.

Hast thou felt, poor self-deceiver ILife's career so void of pain,

As to wish its fitful feverNew begun again?

Could experience, ten times thine,Pain from Being difientwine-

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Threads by Fate together spun?Could thy flight heaTen's lightning abo ?No, nor could thy foresight's glance'&ape the myriad shafts of chance•

.. Would'.st thou bear again Love'. trouble­Friendship's death-dissevered ties;

Toil to grasp or miss the bubbleOf ambition's prize?

Say thy life's new-guided actton. Flowed from Virtue's fairest .prings­Still would Envy and Detraction

Double Dot their stings ?Worth itself is but a charterTo be mankind's distinguished martyr."-I caught the moral, and cried, " Hail.Spirit! let us onward sailEnvying, fearing, hating none,Guardian Spirit, steer me on I"

REULLURA·.

177

ST.lR of the mom and eve,Reullura shone like thee,

And well fat' bel' might Aodh grieve,The dark-attired Cllldee.t

Peace to their shades! the pure CuldeetWere Albyn's earliests priests of God,

• Rlullura, In Gaelic, Ilgnlfl..... beaulifulltar."t The Culd_ were Ihe primiliYe e1el'JD' of Scotland, and apparf'1111y

Iler only clergy (rom the lixth 10 tbe eleventh century. The,. were oflri.Ih orillin. and lhelr moaR9tery on Ute Island of loaa Dr Ikolmlll, wallbe _Inary of Chrillianlly 10 North Drltaln. Preobyterlan writ....bue wllhed to proyO them to han been a Inrt of Pr...byterl, strange",10 Ibe Boman Church and Eplocopacy. It _mIlo be eltabliahed thatthey were not eneml.. to Ep'llCOpaey :-but that tbey were 1101 slaVishlylubjected to Roml. like the c1e'IJ of later per\oll.. appal'" by tbetr re­""tlD« tbe Papal ordloanc... "",p"c,I"I tbl celibae,.ofrellllioul men. onwblcb account the,. were ultlmatel,. dllpiaced 11, thal!ooltlC IDYareiplI11I8ake way for wore Poplal> caDOU.

178 CAJIPBEU.'S POEMS.

Ere yet an island oC her seaBy Coot oC Saxon monk wa trode,

Long ere her churchmen by bigotryWere barred from holy wedlock's tie.'Twa then that Aodh, famed aCar,

In lana preacheJ the word with power,And Reullura, beauty's star,

Wa the partner oC hit bower.

But, Aodh, the rooC liee low,And the thistle-down waves bleaching,

And the bat flits to and froWhere the Gael once heard thy preaching ;

And CaIrn in is each columned.lialeWhere the chiefs and the people !Dielt.

'Twa near that temple's goodly pileThat honoured oC men they dwelt.

For Aodh was wise in the sacred law,And bright Reullura's eyes oft saw

The veil oC Cate uplifted.Ala, with what visions oC awe

Her soul in that hour was gifted-

When pale in the temple and Caint,With Aodh she stood alone

By the statue or an aged saint!Fair sculptured was the stone,

It bore a Ci'Ilcifix ;Fame aaid it once had graced

A Christian temple, which the PictsIn the Briton's land laid waste:-

The Pictish men, by St. Columb taught,Had hither the holy relic brought.Reullura eyed the statue's face,

And cried, " It is, he shall come," Even he in this very place,

To avenge my martyrdom.

179

il

CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

For, ""a to the Gael people!Ulvfagre is on the main,

And Iona .halllook from tower and lIteepleOn the coming ships of the Dane;

And, dames and daughters, shall all your locaWith the spoiler's grasp entwine?

No! some shall have shelter in eaves and roeb,And the deep sea shall be mine.

Baffied by me shall the Dane return,And here shall hiB torch in the temple bam.Until that holy man shall plough

The waves from Innilfail.His sail is on the deep e'en now,

And swells to the southern gale."

" Ah I -knowest thou not, my bride,"The holy Aodh said,

" That the saint whol!'e form we stand besideHas for ages slept with the dead?"

" He liveth, he liv~th," she said again," For the span of his life tenfold extends

Beyond the wonted yean of men.He sits by the graves of well-loved friends

That died ere thy grandsire's grandsire's birth;The oak is decayed with old age on earth,WhOle acorn-tleed had been planted by him;

And biB parents remember the day of drelldWhen the sun on the cross looked dim,

And the graves gave up their dead.

Yet preaching from clime to clime,He hath roamed the earth for ages,

And hither he shall come in timeWhen the wrath of the heathen rages,

In time a remnant from the sword-Ah! but a remnant to deliver:

180 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

Yet, bleat be the DllDle of the Lord!His mart)Tll shall go into bliss fer ever,

Loehlin,· appalled, ,hall put up her steel,And thou ,halt embark on the bounding keel ;Safe shalt thou paiS through her hundred shipe,

With the Saint aDd a remnimt of the Gael,And the Lord will in,tmct thy lips

To preach in Inni,fail.''1

The SUD, DOW about to set,Was burning o'er Tiriee,

And DO gathering cry rose yetO'er the isles of Albyn's sea,

Whilst Reullura saw far rowers dipTheir oars beneath the sun,

And. the phantom of maDy II Danish ship,Where ship there yet was DODe.

And the shield of alarmt was dumb,Nor did their warning till midnight come.'Vhen watchfires burst from acroBS the main

From Rona and Uist and Skey,To tell that the ships of the Dane

And the red-haired slayers were nigh.

Our islemen arose from slumbers,And buckled on their arms;

But few, alas i were their numbersTo LocbliD'S mailed swarms.

And the blade of the broody NorseHas filled the shores of the Gael

'With many a floating corse,And with many a woman's wail.

They have lighted the islands with ruin's torch,And the holy men of lana's church

• • Denmark. . f Ireland.. l'llrlkln, the shield WWI lUI anclenl mode of convocatloD 10 ".,

anJUIlK the (;ael.

181

II!.

I

~,CA.MPBELL'S POEMS.

In the temple of God lay slain;All but Aodh, the lut culdee,

But bound with many an iron chain,Bound in that church was he.

_And where is Aodh's bride?Rocks of the ocean flood!

Plunged she not from your heights in pride,And mocked the men of blood? .

.Then Ulvfagre and his bandsIn the temple lighten their banquet up,

And the print of their blood-red handsWas left on the altar cup.

'Twas tlien that the NorsemlUl to Aodh said," Tell where thy church's treasure's Wd, .Or I'll hew thee limb from limb."

AfJ he spoke the bell struck three,And every torch grew dim

That lighted their revelry.

But the torches again burnt brigbtj

And brighter than before,When an aged man of majestic height

Entered the temple door. .Hushed was the reveller's sound,",

They were struck as mute.as the dead,And their hearts were appalled by the very sound

Of his footstep's measured trea<l.Nor word was spoken by one beholder, [der.While he flung hill white robe back on his sboul.And stretching his arms-as eath. UDriveted Aodh's banda,

As if the gyves had been a wreathOf willows in his bands.

All saw the stranger's .similitudeTo the ancient statue's form;

Q.

181 CAMPBELL'S POEMS.

The Saint hefore his own image ltood,And grasped mvfagre'llU'IIl.

Then uproMl the Danes at last to deliverTheir chief, and shouting with one accord,

They drew the shaft from its rattling quiver,They HAed the spelP' and sword,

And levelled their spears in rows.But down went axes and spears and bows,When the Saint with his crosier signed,

The archer's hand on the string WlUl ttopt,And down, like reeds laid tlat by the wiJld,

Their lifted weapons dropt•.

The Saint then gave a signal mute,And though U1vfagre willed it Dot,

He came nnd stood at the statue's foot,Spell-riveted to the spot,

Till hands invisible shook the wall,And the torturing image was dashed

Down from its lofty pedestal.On Ulvfagre's hclm it crashed­

Helmet, and skull, and tlesh, and brain,It crushed as millstone crushes the grain.Then spoke.the Saint, whilst all arid each

Of the Heathen trembled round,And the pauses amidst his spee~h .

Were as awful as the sound:

" Go back, ye wolves, to your dens;" {he cried,)i, And tell the nations abroad,

How the fiercest of your herd has dieaThat slaughtered the tlock of God.

G~ther hIm' bone by bone, .And take with you o'er the flood

The fragments of that avenging stoneThat drank his Leathen blood.

183C.A.MPBELL'S POEMS.

Tbeae are the spoils ffllm .Iona's sack,The only spoils ye shall carry back;For the hand that up.lifteth spear or sword

Shall be "Withered by palsy's shock,ADd I come in the name of the Lord

To deliver a remnant of his flock."

A remnant wa~ called together,A doleful remnant of the Gael, [hither

And the Saint in the ship that had brought himTook the mourners to Innisfail.

Ull8C&tbed they lell Iona's strnnd,When the opal mom first flushed the sky,

For the None dropt spear, and bow and brand,ADd looked on them silently;

Safe from their hiding-places cameOrphans mil mothers, child and dame:But, alas! when the search of Reullura spread,

No answering voice was given,For the sea had gone o'er her lovely head,

ADd her.spirit was in heaven.

. .

NOTESON 1'N&

PLEASURES OF HOPE.

PART J.

Note (a) .and mch thy Itrength-impiring aid that boreThe hardy Byron to /iii natif1ti .hore.

.... The following picture of his own distress, given byByron in his simple and interesting narratiYe, justifiesthe description in page 10. I

After relating the barbarity of the htdian cacique tohis child, he proceeds thus :-" A day or two after, weput to sea ~ain, and crossed the great bay J mentionedwe had been"lit the bottom of when we first bauled awayto the westward. The land here was ver:}" low andsandy, and something like the mouth of a river whichdischarged itself into the sea, and which had been takenno nptice of by us before, as it was so shallow that theIndians were obliged to take eve1thing out of their

. canoes, and carry it over land. '" e rowed up the riverfour or five leagues, IlDd then took into a branch of itthat ran first to the eastward, and then to the northward;here it became much narrower, and the stream exces­sively rapid, so tbat we gained but little way, though wewrougbt very hard. At night we landed upon its banks,and bad a most uncomfortable lodging, it being a perfectswamp;. and we had nothing to cQI'er us, though It raincd excessively. The Indians were little better off thanwe, as there was no wood bere to make their wigwams;so that all they could do was to prop up. the bark, whichtbey carry in the bottom of their canoes, and sbeltertbemllelves as well l\II they could to the leeward of it,Knowing the difficulties ther had 10 encounter here, theybad provided themselvel With 8Ilme seal; but we hadnot a morsel to eat, after the heavy fatigues of the day,excepting a lort of root we saw the Indianl make use lOIf,

Q!

~OTES.

wbich wu yery dilqreeable to tbe taste. We lahomedall next day~ the Itream, and fared as we had donethe day before. The next day brought lIS to the carry­ing place. Here was plenty of wood, but nothing to begot for .ustenance. We pused this night as we hadfrequentlf done, under a tree; but what we suffered atthis time IS not easy to be expressed. I bad been threedays at die oar, without any kiud of nourishment exceptthe wretcbed root above mentioned. I had no shirt, forit had rotted off by bits. All my clothes consisted of albort vieko, (something like a beaMIkin,) a piece ofted cloth whicb bad once been a waistcoat, and aragged pair of trow.ers, without shoes or stockings."

Note (b.) .IJ. Br;(o,. and IJ friend.Don Patricio Good, a Scotch pbysician in one of the

Spanisb settlements, hospitably relieved Byron and biswretched associates, of which the Commodore speaksin the 'Yarmest terms of gratitude.

Note (c.) Or ?field t1&e lyre o[1&etWe1l aaother dring.The Beven stnngs of Apollo s harp were the symboli­

cal representation of the seven planets. Her.schel, bydiacovering an eighth, might be said to add another.tring to the instrument.

Note (d.) T1&e SuJedUh .age. . LinnllllJs:Note (e.) Deep from. hil ,,/lUlU t1&e Lozian murmuT'jlow.

Loxias is a name frequently given to Apollo byGreek writers: it is met with more than once in theCbrephorre of 2Eschylus. .Nate (j.) Unlock. II genermu .tore cit thy commaud, •

. Like Horeb'. rock beneath the prophet'. hanS.See Esodus, chap. xvii. S, 5, 6.

Note (to) . Wild Obi jlie••Among the negroes of the West Indies, Obi or Obiah

is the name of a magical power, which is believed bythem to affect the object of its malignity with dismalcalamities. Such a belief mustundoubtedly have beendeduced from the superstitious mythology of their kiOl­men on the coast ofAfrica. I have therefore personifiedObi as the evil spirit of the African, although the his­torf of ~h~ African tribes ~entions the evil spirit oftheu rehgu)us creed by a ddferent appellation. .

NOTES. 8

• Note (g.) SiMr', dreary millU.Mr. Bell of Antermony, in his travels through Sibe­

ria, infonns us that the name of the country is univer­sally pronounced Sibir by the RUlli.nll.

Note (h.) Presaging wrath to Poland-and to fIItJ7I!The history of the partition ot Poland, of the massa­

cre in the suburbs of 'Varsaw, and on the bridge ofPrague, the triumphant entry of Suwarrow into thePolish capital, and the inllUlt offered to buman nature,b;r the blasphemous thanks offered up to Heaven, forVlctories obtained over blen fighting in the sacred causeof liberty, by murderers and oppressors, are' eventsgenerally known.

Note (k.) The ,hriU hcp blm.The ne~oes in the West Indies are summoned to

their mornmg work by a shell or a born.

Note (1) HC1W long tDlU Timour', iron ace,Pere mayed 'JTo elucidate this passage, I shall SUbjOID a quotation

from the Preface to letters from Ii Bindoo Rajah, awork of elegance and celebrity.

" The impostor of Mecca had established, as one ofthe principles of his d~etrine, tile merit of extending it,either by persuasion, or the sword, to all part. of theearth. How steadily this injunction was adhered to byhis followers, and with what success it was pursued,is well known to aU who are in the least conversant inhistory. .

" The same overwhelming torrent, which had inun­dated the greater part of Africa, burst its way into thevery heart of Europe, and covered many kingdoms· ofAsia with unbounded desolation, directed its bafefu]course to the flourishing provinces of Rindostan. Hen;these fierce and hardy adventurers, whose only im­provement had been in the .science of destruction, whoadded the fury of fanaticism to the ravages of war,found the great end of their conquests opposed by ob­jects \vhich neither the ardour of their persevering zeal,nor savage barbarity could surmount. Multitudes weresacrificed by the cruel hand of religious persecution,and whole countries were deluged in blood, in the vainhope, that by the destruction of a part, the remainder

, 1

.~i

\l

I

"

4 NOTES.I

might be pernaded, or terrified, iDto the pNlession ofMabomedaniam; but all these a!lnguiDary efforts wereiaeft'ectual; and at length, being fully convinced, thattbollIh they might extirpate, they could never hope toconvert aoy number of the Hindoos, they relinquishedthe impracticable idea, with which they had enteredu~ their CJner of conqueat, and eontented themselvesWlth the acquirement of the civil claminion and almost1Uliveraal empire of Hindostan." .

Leuen from GHindoo ll.'fiGh, l1y .J!?l'zG HamiUon.Note (-.) .I1nd brmled,he "1fIoway IPirit Qf ,he Cape;. See the deaeription of the Cape of Good Hope, tran..

lated from Camoena, by Miekle.Note (II.) WAik.fplit1&ed Mliont died along ,ke .hore.

The following account of the British conduet, and itsconsequenees, in Bengal, will afford a sufficient idea ot"the fact alluded to in this paslage. After deseribingtbemonopoll of salt, oetel nut, and tobaeeo, the historianproceeds thus :-" Money in this eurrent eame but bydrops; it could not queneh the thirst of those who wait­ed In India to receive it. An expedient, sueh all it was,remained to quicken itsjace. ~he natives could livewith li~e salt, bul COld not WlK\t food. Some of theagents laW themselves well situated· for colleeting therice into stores: they did 80. They knew the Gentoo!would rather die than. violate the principles of their re­ligion by eating /lesh. The alternative would t\,lereforebe between giving what they had or dying. The inha­bitants sunk ;-thel that eultivated the land, and sawthe ~arvest at the disposal of otbers, planted in doubt­searcityensued. Then tbe monopoly was easier managed-sickness ensued. In some districts the languid livingleft the bod~s of their numerous dead unburied." .

Short Hilrory of Englilh Tralllactiona in theEatt Indie., page 145. '

Note (0.) Nine timelluJth BrMlUJ.'. tIIMeZ, oj lightning- hurled. Hi. atllful preunce o'er the proatrale tDOl'ldlAmong the sublime fietions of the Hindoo mythology,

it is one article of belief, that the Deity Brama has de­aeended nine timea upon the world in VarioUl forms, and

NOTES. 5

that be is yet to appear a tenth time, in the figure of awarriQr upon a white horse, to cut off all incorrigible of­fenders.. Avater is the word used to express his descent.

Note (p.) JJ.nd Camdeo bright, and GaneM IUblime.Camdeo is the God of Love in the mythology of the

Hindoos. Ganesa and Seriswattee .£:orrespond to thePagan deities Janus and Minerva.

~OTES

011 TIIII

P~EASURES OF HOPE.

PART II.

Note (0.) The noon of Manhood to a myrtle .hade!Sacred to Venus is the myrtle shade.-Dryden.

Note (b.) Thy woes, JJ.rion!F'Ilconer in his poem, The Shipwreck, 8~ak8 of him­

self by the name of Mion.-See Falconer s Shipwreck,CantoIII.' .

Note (c.) The robber Moor.See Schiller's tragedy of the Rvhbers, scene·v.

Note (d.) What millions died that Cresar might be great.The carnage occasioned by the wars of Julius Cresar

. bas been usually estimated at two millions of men.Note (e.) Or learn the/ate that £leeding thoU8a~ bore,

Marched by their Charles to Dneiper', mampy./wre. .

In this extremity, (says the biographer of CbarlesXU. of Sweden, speaking of his military exploits beforethe battle of Pultowa,) the memorable winter of 1709,which was still more remarkable in that part of Europethan in Ftance, destroyed numbers of his tro0E": forCharlel resolved to bra.ve the seasons as he haa done

6 NOTES.

bit flIIelDlel, and ventured to make long marchel duringthis mortal cold. It "al in one of these marches that twotboUADd men fell down dead with cold before hireye..

Note (f.) .11. on 10M" Might.The nativel of the island of lona have an opinion,

that on certain eveningl every year, the tutelary saintColumba is seen on the top of the church spires eourit­ing the SUftOunding islands, to see that they have Dotbeen lunk by the power of witchcraft. '

Note (g.) .8.fIIl parl,like .8.jut,~er to mum!See the history of Ajut and Amringait in_the Rambler.

NOTES011

GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.

paT I.

Stanza S. L 6•. From merry moek-bird'• •ong.

The mocking bird is of the form, but larger, than thethrus~; and the colours are a mixture of black, white,and gray. What is said of the nightingale, by itagreatest admirers, is, what may with more proprietyapply to this bird, who, in a natural state, 8lDgII withvery superior taste. Towards evening I have beardODe belin IIOftly, resemng its breath to ·swell certainnotes, which, by this means, hll,d a mosJ astonishing ef­fect. A gentleman in London had one of these birds forlix years. During the space of a min~ he was heardto imitate: the woodlark,.-ehaffinch, blackbird, thrush,and sparrow. In this country (America) I have fre­quently known-the mockingbirdslo'engaged in tbia mi­mic~.,., tbat it was with much difficulty I Could everobtain an opportunity ofhearing their om natural note.

NOTES~ 7

Some go 10 far as to say, that they have neither peeu­liar notes, nor favourite imitatiODI. Thi. may be de­nied. Their few natural notes resemble those of the(European) nightingale. Their lOng, however, has agreater compass and volume than the nightingales', andthey have the facult, of varying all intermediate notesin a manner which IS truly delightfal.-Jl.he'. Travelsin America, Vol. II. p. 7S.

Stanza 5. L 9.Or flwlJ1It ialu that hear the loutl Corbrechlan roar.The Corybrechtan, or Corbrechtan, is a whirlpool on

the western coast of Scotland, near the island of Jura,which is heard at a prodigious distance. Its naille signi­fies the whirlpool of the prince of Denmark; and there.is a tradition that a Danish prince once~nderto&k, 'for awager, to cast anchor in it. He is sald to have usedwoollen instead of hempen ropes, for greater strength,but perished in the attempt. On the shores of Argyle­shire I have often listened with great delight to the soundof this vortex, at the distance of many leagues. Whenthe weather is calm, and the adjacent sea scarcely heardon these picturesque shore if, its sound, w:hich is like thesound of innumerable chariots, creates a magnificentand fine effect.

Stanza 1s. 1. 4.Of bmkined limb and lJ'lDarthy linemnenl..

In the Indian tribes there is a great similarity in theircolour, stature, &.c. They are all, except the Snake In­dians, tall in stature, straight and robust. It is very sel­dom they are deformed, which has given rise to the sup_position that they put to death their deformed children.Their skin is of a copper colour; their eyes large, bright,black, and sparkling, indicative of a subtle and discern­jng mind: their hair is of the' same colour, and prone tobe long, seldom or never curled. Their teeth al'e large~nd white; I never ob~erved any decayed lImong them,which makes their breath as sweet as tne air they inhAle..... Travels through America by. Captains Lewis andlJlarke, in 1804-5-6.

. . Stanza 14. 1. 6. •. Peace be to thee-my !oords thil belt approve.;The Indians of North America accompany every

•

8 NOTES.

formal addreu to ItraDJel'll, with"whom they form or re­cognize a treaty of amity, with a present of a string, orbelt, of wampum. Wampum (says Cadwallader Col·lien) ill made oC the large whelk shell, Briccinium, andlbaped like long beade~ it ill the cu~nt money of the1ndiaM.-Hilltory of the five Indian Nations, page S4,New-York editioa. '

Stanza 14.1. 7.T1u palIN of puIU my *PI 1IIIfJe hither led.

In reJatinlr an intemewof Mohawk Indians with thegoyemoroC~ew-York, Colden quotes the following pas­sage. as a speeimen of their metaphorieal manner:.. Where aball I seek the .ebair of peace? Where shall Ifind.it but upon our path? lind wlUtber doth o~ path leadUS but unto tbia houle ?" ,

Stanza 15. I: !1.OurtD~ ~lJgue thy brelhren did embrace.

When they solicit the alliance, offensive or defensive,of a whole nation, they send an embassy with a largebelt of wampum and a bloody hatchet, inviting them tocome and drink the blood of their enemies. The wam­pum made ule oC on these and other occasions beforetheir acquaintance with the Europeans, was nothing butsmall sheIla which they pickei:l up by the seacoasts, andon the banks of the lakes; and now it is nothing but akind of c~lindrical beads, made of shells, white andblaek, which are esteemed among them as silver andgold are among us. The black they call the most valu­able, and both together are their greatest riches and or­naments; these among them answering all the end thatmoney does among us. They have the art of stringing,twisting, and interweaving them into their belts, collars,blankets, and moccasins, &c., in ten thousand different,sizes, forms, and figures, ISO as to he ornaments tor everypart of dress, and eIpressive to them of all their impor­tant transactions. They dye the wampum ofvarious co­IDurs and shades, and mix and dispose them withgre.ingenuity and order; and so !IS to be significant am04theBlSelvel of almOst every thillg they pleas~; so that blthese their wordll' are kept, and their thoughts commUDl­cated to one another, as ours are by writing. The bells

NOTES.

<batpau from ODe nation to auother in all treaties, eleclao

ratisxIa, aDd important transactions, are very carefullypreaerv.ed in the cabins~f their chiefs, and aerve not onlyas a kiad of record or history, but III a public trealure.-Major Roger,', account of North America.

Stanz;a 17. 1. 5•.11, 'U'ben t/ie evil Manitou.

It ia cettain that the Indiana acknowledgeone .upremebeing, or giver of life, who pi"esides over all thin!S; thatis the Great Spirit: and they look up to him as the sourceof good from whence no evil can pl'Qeeed. They akabelieve ina bad Spirit, to whom they allCCibe great pow·er; and suppOl,e that through his power all the evilswhich befall mankind are inflicted. To bim thereforethey pray in their. distresses, begging that be wouldeither avert their troubles, or moderate them when theyare no longer avoidable.

They hold also that there are good spiritl of a lowerdegree, who have their particular depal1ments, in whicbthey are constantly contributing to the happiness of mor­tals. These they suppose to preside over all the extra~

ordinary productions'of Nature, such as those lakes, ri­vers and mountains that are ofan uncommon magnitude;and likewise the beasts, birds, fishes, and even vegeta.bleB or stones tha t exceed the rest of their lpecies in liJ:eor singularity.-Clarke's Travels among the Indians.

The supreme Spirit of good is called by the IndianaKitchi Manitou; and the Spirit of evil Maiehi Manitou.

Stanza 19. 1. 2.Fetlerbalm and lItlleet ,agamite.

The feverbalm is a medicine used by these tribes; itis a decoction ofa bush called the Fevertree. SagamiteiB a kind of soup administered to their sick.

Stanza,iO. l. 2•.I1nd I, the eagle of my 'tribe. haue rushedWith this lorn dotJe.-

The testimony of all travellers among the AmericanIndians, who mention their hieroglyphics, authorize'J mein putting this figurative language in the mouth of Outa­lini. The dove is among them, as elsewhere,.aD emblemof meekneJl; and the eagle. that of a bold, noble, and

\R

10 NOTES.

libenl mind. When the Indians speak of a warriorwho soara above the multitude • pe1'lOn and endow­ments, they say, "he i,like the eaglp. who destroys hiBenemiel, and gives protection and abundance to the weakof hi, own tribe.

Stanza 21. I. 2.Far differeNly ,he mute 0IIeid« look, &c.

They are extremely circumspect and deliberate inevery word and action; nothing burries them into anyintemperate wrath, but that inveteracy to their enemieswhich is rooted in every Indian's b~ast. In all other io­stances they are cool and deliberate, tanne; care to sup­press the emotions of the heart. If an Indian bas disco­vered that a friend of his is in dal)ger of being cut off bya lurking enemy, he does not tell bim of his danger indirect terms as though he were in fear, but he first coollyasks him which way he is going that day, and having histlnswer with the same indifference, tells him that he hasbeen informed that a noxious beast lies on tbe route he i,going. This hint proves sufficient, and his friend avoidsthe danger with liS much caution as though every designlind motion of his enemy had been pointed out to him.

If an Indian has been enga~ed for several days in thechase, and by accident contInued long without food,when he arrives at the hut of a friend, where he knowsthat his wants will be immediately supplied, he takesure not to show the lellSt symptoms of impa!ience, orbetrlly the extreme hunger that he is10rtured with; buton being invited in, sits contentedly down and smokeshis pipe with as much oomposure as if his appetite wascloyed and he was perfectly at ease. He does the S1lmeif among strangers. This custom is strictly adhered toby every tribe, as they esteem it a proof of fortitude,and think the reverse would entitle them to the appel-lation ef old women. _ :

If you tell an Indian that his children have greatlysignalized' themselves against an enemy, have takenmany scalps, and brought home many prisoners, he doeslIot appear to feel any strong emohons of pleasure onthe occasion; his answer generally is-" they have doneweU;" and makes but very little mquiry about the mat­ter; on the contrary, ifyou inform him that his children

e.

NOTES. 11

are slain or taken prisonerti, he makes no complaints :be only replies, " it 15 unfortunate ;"-and for some timeasks DO questions IShout how it happened.-Lewia andCkrke', Travels.

Stanza ". I. s.His calumet of peace, ~.

Nor is the calumet of less importance or less reveredthan the wampum in many transactions relative both topeace and war. The bowl of this pipe is made of akind of soft red stone, which is easily wrought and hol­lowed out; the stem is of cane, elder, or some kind oflight wood, painted with different colours, and decoratedwith the heads, tails and feathers of the most beautifulbirds. The use of the calumet is to smoke either to­bacco or some bark, lear, or herb, which they often useinstead of it, when they enter into an alliance or anyserious occasion or solemn engagements; this beingamon~ them the most sacred oath that can be taken, theviolation of which is esteemed most infamous, and de­serving ofsevere punishment from Heaven. \Vhen theytreat of war, the whole pipe and all its ornaments arered, sometimes it is red only on one side, and by the dis­position of the feathers, &c. one acquainted with theircustoms will know at first sight what the nation whopresents it intends or desires. Smoking the calumet isalso a religious ceremony on some occasions, and in alltreaties is considered as a witness between the parties,or rather as an instrument by which they invoke the sunand moon to witness their sincerity, and to be as it werea guarantee of the treaty between them. This customof the Indians, though to appearance somewhat ridicu­lous, is not without its reasons; for as they find thatsmoking tends to disperse the vapours of the brain, toraise the spirits, and to qualify them for thinking andjudging properly, they introduced it into their councils,where, after their resolves, Jhe pipe was considered asa seal of their decrees; and, as a pledge of their per­formance thereof, it was sent to those they were con­sulting, in alliance or treaty with ;-80 that smokingamong them at the lame pipe, is equivalent to our

J! NOTES.

cJrinlrin, ~etIIu and out or tbe SaDIe clIp.-MajorRDt{tn. AecOWlt of North America, 1766.

'I be lighted calumet is allO used among them for &

purpose still more interesting than the expression of _cial friendship. The austere manners of the Indians for­bid sny appearance of gallantry between the sexes indaytime; but at nir;ht the !oaog lover goes a calumet­tin«, as bia eo1U'tshlp is called. As these peopl~ live ina stue of eqllality, aad wilhout fear of internal violence01' theft ia their own tribes, they leave their doors openbl niJht lUI well as by day. The lover takes advantageo tbis liberty, lights his calumet, enters the cabin orhis mistress, and gentl,. preseJlbt it to her. If she ex­hJl31lillhes it, she admits his addresses; but if she suf­ten it to burn unnoticed, he retires with a disappointedIIIId throbbing beart.-~8he'. Travels.

Stanza !l!). 1. 6.Trainedfrom hill tree-rocked cradle 10 hU bier.

An Indian child, as soon as he is born, is swathedwith clothes, or skins, and being laid on its back, isbound down on a piece of thick board, sl!read over with10ft moss. The board is somewhat larger and broaderthan the child, and bent pieces of wood, like pieces of ­hoops, are placed over its face" to protect it; so that if .the machine were suffered to fait, the child probablywould not be injured. When the women have anybwiness to transact at home, they hang the board on atree, if there be one at hand, and set them a swingingftom s!de to side, like a rendulum, in order to exercisethe ehiidreD.-Weld, Va. II. p. 246.

Stanza 23. 1. 7-,The fierce ntreme. of good and ill to brookImpauille- "

Of the active as well Il8 the passive fortitude of theIndian cbaracter, the following is an instance relatedby Adftir in his travels.

A party of the Seneca Indians came to war againstthe Katahba, bitter enemies to each other.-In thewoods the former discovered a sprightly warrior be­lon~ng to the latter, bunting in their usual light dress ~on is perceiving them, he sprung ,off for a hollow rock

NOTES. 13

four or five miles distant, as they intercepted him fromrunning homeward. He was so extremely swift andskilful with the gun, as to kill seven of tbem in the mn­ning fight before tbey were able to surround and takehim. They carried him to their country in sad triumph;but though he had filled them with uncommon griefaud shame for tbe loss of 80 many of tbeir kindred, ,retthe love of martial virtue induced them to treat h101,during their long journey, with a great deal more civi­lity than if he had acted the part oC a coward. Thewomen and children when they met him at their seve­ral towns, beat and whipped him in as severe a manneras the occasion required, according to their law of jus­tice, and at last he was formally condemned to die bythe fiery torture. It might reasonably be imagined thatwhat he had foJ.: some time gone through, by being fedwith a scanty HInd, a tedious march, lying at night onthe bare ground, exposed to the changes of the weather,with bis arms and legs extended in a pair of roughstocks, and suffering such punishment on his enteringinto their hostile towns, as a prelude to those sharptorments for which he was destined, would have soimpaired bis health and affected his imagination as tohave sent him to his long sleep, out of the way of anymore sufferings.-Probably this would have been thecase with the major part of white people under similarcircumstances j but I never knew this with any of theIndians: and this cool-headed, brave warrior did notdeviate from their rough lessons of -martial virtue, butacted his part so well as to surprise and sorely vex hisnumerous enemies :-for when they were taking him,unpinioned, in their wild parade, to the place of torture,which lay near to a river, he suddenly dashed downthose who stood in his way, sprung off, and plungedinto the water, swimming underneath like an otter, onlyrising to take breath, till he reached the opposite shore.He now ll.Icended the steep bank, but tbough he hadgood reason to be in a hurry, as many of the enemywere in the water, and others mnning, very like bloodhounds, in pursuit of him. and the bullets /lying aroundhim from the time he took to the river, yet his heartdid not allow him to leave them abruptly, without

R2

·4 NOTES.

tllJdq lea" in a formal manner, ill retam for the n­tnorcliDary favours they had done, and intended to do!lim.-After 8lappin,; a part of hi8 body, in defiance tothem (coutinue8 the author,) he put up the shrill wal'­whoop, a8 bis last salule, tiU some more convenient op­portunity otrered, and darted oft· in the manner of a beastllreke lose from its torturing enemies.-He continuedbia 8peed, 80 ItS to run by about midnight of the aameday, III far as bis eager pursue1'8 were two days inJe*ehiD«.-There he rested, till he happily discoveredfive of tboee IndiaM who had pursued him :-he lay~d a little way otr their camp, till tbey were soundaJeep. Every circumstance of his situation occurredto him, and inspired him with heroism.-He was naked,tum and hungry, and his enraged enemies were comeup with him j-but there was now ever,l,thiDg to relieve1111 want8, and a fllir opportunity to s"ive his life, andget peat honour /tnd 8weet revenge by cutting them otr.Resolution, a convenient spot, and sudden 8UrpriSe,would etrect the mllin object of all his wishes and hopes.He accordingly creeped, took one of their tomahawks,and killed them all on the spot-clothed himself, toak• choice ~D, and as much ammunition lind provisionsIII h. could well carry in a rllnnin'g march. He set otrafre8h with n light heart, and did not sleep for 8everal8ucces8ive nigbts, only when he reclined, as usual, 8

little before day with his back to a tree. As it wereby instinct, when he found he was free from the pur­8uing enemy, he made directly to the very place wherehe had killed seven of his enemies, and was taken bytbem for the fiery torture.-He digged them up-burnttheir hodies to a8hes, and went home in safety withsingular triumph.-Odler pursuing enemies came, onthe enning of the second day, to the camp of their deadpeople, when tbe sight gave them a greater silOek thanthey bad ever known before. In their cbilled wnr coun­ei~ they: co,!cluded, that as he bad done such surprisingthings m hiS defence before be was captured, and sincethat in his naked condition, and now was well armed,if they ecmtinued the pU1'8uit be would spoil them all,for he surely was all enemy wizard,-lInd therefore

NOTER. IS

they returned borne.-Adair·' GenHal Obaervation. onthe American Indians, p. 394.

It is surprising, sllYs the same author, to see the longcontinued speed of the (ndians.-Though some of u'hnve onen ran the .wiftest of them out of sight forabout the diatance of twelve miles, yet afterwards,without any seeming toil, they would IItretch oo-leaveus out of sight, and outwind any borse.-Ibid. p. S18.

If an Indian were driven out into the extensive woods,with only a knife and a tomahawk, or a lInall hatchet,it is not to be doubted but he would fatten uen wherea wolf would starve.-He would soon collect fire byrubbing two pieces of wood together, make a bark hut,earthen vessels, and a bow and arrows; then kill wilclgame, fish, fresh water tortoises, gather a plentiful va­riety of vegetables, and live in afHuence.-lbid. p. 410.

Stanza 25. I. 1.Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming landShou.ldat thou the 'Pirit of thy mother greet.

There is nothing (says Charlevoix) in which thesebarbarians carry their superstitions farther, than inwhat regards dreams; but they vary greatly in theumanner of explaining themselves on this point. Some­times it is the reasonable soul which ranges abroad,while the sensitive continues to animate the body.Sometimes it is'the familiar genius who gives salutarycounsel with respect to what is going to bappen. Some­times it i8 a visit made by the soul of the object ofwhich he dreams. But in whatever manner the dreamis conceived, it is always looked upon as a thing sacred,and as the most ordinary way in which the gods makeknown their will to men.

Filled with this idea, they cannot conceive how weshould pay no regard to them. For the most part theylook UpOll them either as a desire of the 80ul, inspiredby some genius, or an order from him, and in conse­'juence of this principle they bold it a religious duty toobey tbem. An Indiall having dreamt of having afinger cut off, had it really cut off as loon as he awoke,having first prepared himself fot' this important actionby a feast.-Another having dreamt of being a prisoner,and in the hands of his enemies, was· much at a lOll..

16 ~OTES.

what to do. He consulted the jugglers, and by theiradvice caused himlelf to be tied to a post, and burntin leveral parts of the body.-CharlttX>i:c, Journal of avoyage to North Ameriea.

Stanza ~5. l. 5.TM crocodile, the condor of the rock-

The alligator, or American crocodile, when fullpWD (saya Bartram) is a very large and terrible crea­ture, and of prodigious strength, activity, and swiftnessin the water.-I have seen them twenty feet in length,and lOme are supposed to he twenty-two or twenty­three feet in length. Their body is as large as that oCa horlle, their shape usually resemhles that of a lizard,which is flat, or cuneiform, being compressed on eachside, and ~dually diminishing from the abdomen tothe extremity, which, with the whole body, is coveredwith horny plates, or squamre, impenetrable when 00

the body of the live animal, e,-en to a rifle ball, exceptabout their head, and just behind their fore-legs oranns, where, it is said, ther are only vulnerable. Thehelld of a full grown one IS about three feet, and themouth opens nearly the same length. Their eyes aresmall in proportion, and seem sunk in the head bymeanl of the prominency of the brows j the nostrils arelarge, inflated, and prominent on the top, so that thehead on the water resembles, at a distance, a greatchunk of wood floating about: only the upper jawmoves, which they raise almost perpendicular, so as toform a right angle with the lower one. In the rore partof the upper jaw, on each side, just under the nostrils,are two very large, thick, strong teeth, or tusks, not verysharp, but rather the shape of II cone: these are al

,vhite as the finest polished ivory, and are not coveredby any skin or lips. but always in sight, which gives thecreature a Ll-ightful appearance; in the lower jaw areholes opposite to these teeth to receive them; whentbey clap their jaws together, it causes a surprisingnoise, like that which is made by forcing a heavy plankwith violence upon the ground, and may be heard at agreat distance.-But what is yet mOre surprising to astranger is the incredibly loud and terrifying rOllr whichthey lire capable of making, especially in breeding time.

17

It most l"ellemblel very heavy dilltMlt thunder, not onJoymaking the ail' and waters, but eaasing the earth t&~emble j and when }lundreds lITe roaring Ilt the salIM:time, y08 can Kareely be persuaded but tbat the wboleglobe is violently and dangerollsly agitated.-An oldehampiorr, who is, perhaps, absolute sovereign of a littlelake or lagoon, <wben filly less than himself are~edto eontent themselves with sweJling and roaring i. littleeoves round about,) darts forth (rom the reedy coverts,all at onee, on the surface of the waters in a right line,at first seeming1r. as rnpid lIS lightning, but gradunymore slowly, unbl he arrives at the centre of the lake,where he stops. He now swells himself, by drawilll; inwind an" water through bis mouth, which CRUSe! a loadI!OOOlOUS rattling in the throat for near Bminute j but itis immediately foreed out again through his mouth andnostrils with a loud noise, brandishing his tail in th.air, and the vapour running from his nostri Is like smoke.At other times, when swoln to an extent ready to bum,his head and tail lifted up, he spins or twirls rotHId onthe surface of the water. He acts his part like an In­dian ehief, when rehearsing his feats of war.-Ra'l1rQ11t"Trnels in North America.

Stanza 28. 1. 4.Then forth uprose that lene wayfaring mnn.

They discover an Bo\azing sagacity, and acquire,with the greateflt readiness, any thing that depends uponthe attention of the mind. By experience, and an Bent.ubservation, they attain many perfections, to whichAmericans are litrangers.-For instance, they will crossa Corest, or a plain, which is two hundred miles inbreadth, so as to reach with great exactness, the pointat which they intend to arrive, keeping, during thewbole of that space, in a direct line, without any mate­rial deviations: and this they will do with the sameease, let the weather be fair or c1oudy.-With equalacuteness they will point to that part of the heavens theBun is in, though it be intercepted by clouds or fogs.Besides this, they are able to pursue, with incredible fa­cility, the traces of man or beast, either on leaveB orgrass j and on thiB aceount it is with great difficultythey escape diseovery.-They are indebted for these ta-

18 NOTES

lentl DOt oaly to nat1lJ'e, but to an extnordinary com­mud of the intellectual qualities, which can only beacq,uired by an unremitted attention, and by long ex­penence.-They are in general very happy in a reten­tive memory. They can recapitulate every particularthat has been treated of in council, and remember theexact time when they were held. Their belts of wam­pum preserve the substance of treaties they have con­cluded with the neighbouring tribes for ages back: towhich they will appeal and refer with 88 much perspi­cwty and readiness as Europeans can to their writtenrecords.

The Indians are totally unskilled in geography, liSwell as all the other sciences, and yet they draw on theirbirch bark very exact charts or maps of the eountrieathey are acquainted with.-The latitude and longitudeonly are wanting to make them tolerably complete.

Their &ole knowledge in astronomy consists in beingable to point out the polar star, by which they regulatetheir course when they travel in the night.

They reckon the distance of places not by miles orleagues, hut by a day'sjourney, which, according to thebest calculation I could make, appears to be abouttwenty English miles. These they also divide intohl\lves and quarters, and will demonstrate them in theirmapa with great exactness by the hierofilyphics justmentioned, when they regulate in council their war­parties, or their most distant hunting excursions.­Clarke', and LewiI', Travels.

Some of the French missionaries have supposed thatthe Indians are guided by instinct, and have pretendedthat the Indian children can find their way through aCorest as easily as a person of maturer years; but thisis a most absurd notion. It is unquestionably by aclose attention to the growth of the trees, and positionof the sun, that they find their way. On the northernside of a tree there IS generally the most moss; and thebark on that side, in general, differs from that on theopposite one. The branches towards the south are, forthe most part, more luxuriant than those on the othersides of trees, and several other distinctions also subsist

_between the northern and southern sides, conspicuous

NOTES.

to Indians, being taught from their infaney to attend tothem, wbieh a common observer, would, perhaps, nevernotice. Being accustomed from their infancy likewiseto pay great attention to the position of the sun, theylearn to make the most accurate allowanee for its ap­parent motion from one part of the heaveDi to another;and in every part of the day they will point to the partof the beavens where it is, although the sky be obscuredby -clouds or mists.

An instance of their dexterity in finding tbeir waythrough an unknown country, came under my observa­tion when I was at Staunton, situated behind tbe BlueMountains, Virginia. A number of tbe Crcek nationbad arrived at that town on their way to Philadelphia,wbitber they were going upon some affairs of impor­tance, and bad stopped there for the night. In themorning some eircumstance or another, which couldnot be learned, induced one half of tbe Indians to set

- off without their companions, who did not follow untilsome bours afterwards. When these last were readyto pursue their journey, several of the towns peoplemounted their horses to escort them part of the way.They proceeded along the high road for some miles,but, all at once, hastily turning asioe into the woods,though there was no path, the Indians advanced confi­dently forward. The peopl_e who accompanied them,lurprised at this movement, informed them that theywere quitting the road to Philadelphia, and expressedtheir fear lest they should miss their companions whohad gone on before. They answered that they knewbetter, thllt the way through the woods was the shortest·to Philadelphia, and that they knew very well that theircompanions had entered the wood at the very placewhere they did. Curiosity led some of the horsemento go on; and to their astonishment, for their was ap­parently no track, they overtook the other Indians inthe thickest part of the wood. But what appeared mostsingular was, that the route which they took was fouml,on examining a map, to be as direct for Philadelphia liS

if they had taken the bearings by a mariner's compass.From others oCtheir nation, who had been lit Philadel­phia at a former period, they had probably learned the

NOTES.

eud ctireetion of that cit, frolll their flI1Ilges, ud bIld.... IoIt sight of it, although the, bad ahead, travel­led three hundred milel throqls the woods, and hadlIpwarck of four hundred milea more to go be'Ore the1could reaeh the place of their deatinatioa. Of tile es­aem- with whidt they CaD find 0," a straDge place towhich they haYe been onee directed by their Owtl ,...Jtle. a Itriking ellample is fumMbed, I think, by Mr.:letferson, in his account of the Indin gravel ia ViIgi­Ilia. Tbue graves are D9th1n~ IQOre thatl large moudsof earth in the woods, which, oh being ClfIeoed, uelOund to cootain skeletons in III erect flOIlure: the III­dian mode of aepultare has been too o!\ea described toremain unknown to yOIL But to come to my .tory. Aparty of IndillJlll that were passing on to some ol theaesports on the Atlantic, just 811 the Creeks, above­mentioned, were goiog to Pbiladelpbia, were obaened,all on a lMIdden, to quit the straight road by which theywere proeeeding, and without 88ki~ any queatioas, tostrike through the woods, in a direct hoe, to one of thellegraves, wbicb lay at the distance of lIome miles fromtbe road. Now very Dear a century must baYe pallledover since the part of Virginia, in which this gt'l\ve'Ml8situated, had been inhabited by Indians, and tbese In­dian travellers, who were to visit it by themeelres, hadunquestionably never been in that part of .the eountrybefore! tbey must hne foWld their way to it, simplyCram the description of its situation, that had beenhaDded down to them by traditioD.-WeW', TraYels inNorth America, Vol. ll..

NOTES011

GERTRUDE OF WYOHING.

PART III.

Stanza 16. 1. 4.The Mammoth cornu.

That I am justified in making the 'Indian chief alludeto the mammot.b as an emblem of telT'Ol" and destruction,will be seen by the authority quoted below. Speakingof the mammoth, or big buffalo, Mr. Jefferson states,that a tradition is preserved among the Indians of thatanimal still existing in the northern parts of America.

" A delegation of warriors from the Delaware tribehaving visited the governor ofVirginia during the re­volution, on matters of business, the governor askedthem some questions relative to their country, and,among otbers, what they knew or had heard of the ani­mal whose bones were found at the Saltlicks on theOhio. Thjlir chief speaker immediately put himselfinto an attitude of oratory, and with a pomp suited towhlj.t he conceive.l1.the elevation of his subject, informed

'bim, that it was padition handed down from their fa­thers, that in anCIent times a herd of these tremendousanimals came to the Big-bone-licks, and began an uni­versal destruction of the bear, deer, elk, buffalo, andother animals which had been created for the use of theIndians. That the Great Man above, looking down andseeing this, was so enraged, that he seized his lightning,descended on earth, seated himself on a neighbouringmountain on a rock, of which his seat,'and the prints ofhis feet, are still to be seen, and hurled his bolts amongthem, till the whole were slaughtered except the bigbull, who presenting his forehead to the shafts, shookthem off as they fell, but, missing one at length, itwounded him on the side, whereon, springing round, hebounded over the Ohio, over the Wabash, the Illinois,

S

NOTES.

and finally over the ~t lakes, where be is liriDg atthiJ day."-Je,ffer«m' Notes on Virginia.

Stanza 17.1. 1.Scorning to wid the hatchedfor hil britk,'Gai7Ut Brtmdl Mmulf 1-'" 10 IHrttleforll.

This Brandt wu a warrior of the Mobawk nation,who wu engag:ed to allure by bribes, or to force bythreats, manylndian tribes to the expedition againstPennsylvania. His blood, I believe, wu not pnrelyIndian, but half German. He disgraced, bowever, bisEuropean descent by more than savage ferocity. Amongmany anecdotes which are ~Yen of him, the followingill extracted from a traveller 10 America, already quoted." With a considerable body of his troops he joined theforces under the command of Sir John JolmBon. Askirmish took place with a body of American troops;the action was warm, and Brandt was shot by a musketball in his heel, but the Americans, in the end were de­feated, and an officer, with sixty mlln, were tllken pri­soners.-The officer, after having delivered up hissworn, had entered into conversation with Sir JobnJohnson, who commanded the British troops; and theywere t:llking together in the most friendly manner, whenBrandt, having stolen slily behind them, laid the Ame­rican officer low with a blow of his tomahawk. Theindignation of Sir John Johnson, as 'W be readily sup­posed, was roused by such an act ont'eachery, and lieresented it in the warmest tenns. Brandt listened tohim unconcernedly, and when he had finished, told him,tbat be was sorry for his displeasure, but that, indeed,Ilis heel was extremely painful at tbe moment, and hecould not help revpnging himself on the only chief ofthe party that he saw taken. Since he had killed the

"office.r, he added, his heel was much less painful to himthan It had been before.-Weld',1'ravels,Vol. U. p. !l97.

Stanza 17. 1. 8 and 9.To whom, nor reTative nor blood remain"No, not a kindred drop that rIms in hUfMn "tim.

Everyone who recollects the specimen of Indian elo­quence given in the speech of Logan, a Mingo chief, tothe governor of VirglOia, will perceive that I have at­tempted to paraphrase its concluding and moat striking

NOTES.

expression-There runs not a drop of my blood in theveins of any living crt'ature. The similar salutationsof the fictitious personage in my story, and the real In­dian ol'lltor, make it surely allowable to borrow such anexpreuion; and if it appears, as it cannot but appear,to less advantage than m the original, I beg the readerto re1lect bow diffieult it is to transpose such exquisite­ly simple wordtl, without sacrificing a portion of theireffect.

In the spring of 1774, a robbery and murder werecommitted on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia,oy two Indians of the Shawanee tribe. The neighbour­ing whites, according to their custom, undertook to pu­nish this outrage in a summary manner. Colonel Cre­sap, a man infamous for the many murders he had com­mitted on those much injured people, collected a partyand proceeded down the Kanaway in quest of ven-geance. Unfortunateb'. a CRIlouritluYomen andl'~ _

dren, with one man only, was seen coming from the op­posite shore unarmed, and unsuspecting an attack fromthe whites. Cresap and his party concealed themselveson the bank of the rivet', and the moment the canoereached the shore, singled out their objects, and at onefire killed every person in it. This happened to be the·family of Logan, wh~ong been distinguished as afril!bd of the whites. Wls unworthy return provokedbis vengeance; he accordingly signalized himselfin thewar which ensued. In the autumn of the same year adecisive battle was fought at the mouth of the greatKanaway, in which the collected force of the Shawa­Bees, Mingoes, and Delawares, were defeated by a de­tachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians suedfor peace.-Logan,however, disdained to he seen amongthe supplicants; but lest the sincerity of the treatyshould be distrusted from which so distinguished a chiefabstracted himself, he lSent, by a messenger, the follow-ing speech to be delivered to Lord Dunmore. "I ap-peal to any white man if ever he entered Loganls cabinhungry, and he gave him not to eat; if ever he camecold and naked and he clothed him not. During thecourse of the la&t long and bloody war Logan remainedidle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my

t4 NOTES.

Ion for the whites, that my countrymen pointed u theypaged, and said, Loglln il. the Cr!end oC ,!hite men. ILad even thought to hllve lived WIth you but Cor the in­juries oC one man. Colonel Crelllp, the last spring, incold blood, murdered all the relations of Logan, evenmy women and children.

" There runl not a drop oC my blood in the veins of&nyliving creature.-This called 011 me for revenge.­I have Cought Cor it-I have killed many.-I have fullyglutted my vengellnce.-I"or my country I rejoice at thebeama oC peace-but do not harbour a tbolllht thatmine i. the joy oC Cear.-Logan never felt Cear.-Hewill not tum 08 hil beeI to save his life.-Wbo is thereto moum Cor Logan? not one !"-JejJer.on'. Notes OIl

Vir&inia. .

----NOTES

Olf

O'CONNOR"ILD.

Verse 2. l. 9.

Kerne, the plural oC Kern, an Irish foot soldier. IIIthis sense the word is used by Shak~peare. GainsCordin his Glorts oC England says, " They (the Irish) aredesperllte m revenKe, and their keroe think no mandead until hia head be off."

Verse 4. 1. 2.In Erin', yellow ve,ture clad.

Yellow dyed Crom saffron, was the fa vOllrite colour oCthe ancient Irish, as it was among the Belgic Gauls; acircumstance which Cavonrs the supposition oC thosewho deduce the origin oC the fOTmer from the latter peo­ple. The Irish chieftains who came to treat with queenElizabeth's lord lieutenant, appeared as we are told bySir John Davies,;'n saffron coloured uniform

!5NOTES.

. Verse 6. I. IS and 14.Their tribe, they said, their high degree,Was ,ung in Tara', p3altery.

The pride of the Irish in ancestry was so great, thatone of the O'Neals being told that Barrett of Castle­mone had been there only 400 years, he replied,-thathe hated the clown as if he had come there but yester­day.

Tara was the place of assemblage and feasting ofthepetty princes of Ireland. Very splendid and fabulouldescriptions are given by the Irish historians of the pompand luxury of those meetings. The psaltery of Tara

- was the grand national register of Ireland.. The grandepoch of political eminence. in the early history of theIrish is the reign of their great and favourite monarchOllan Fodillh, who reignerl, according to Keating, about950 years before the Christian era. Under him was in­stituted the great Fes at Tara, which it is pretendedwas a triennial convention of the states, or a parliament;the members of which were the Druids, and other learn- .ed men, who representerl the people in that assembly.Very minute accounts are given by Iriijh annalists of themagnificence and order of these entertainments; fromwhich, if credible, we might collect the earliest tracesof heraldry that occur in history. To pre!'erve orderand regularity in the great number and variety of themembers who met on such occasions, the Irish histo­rians inform us that when the banquet was ready to beserved up, the shield-bearers of the princes, and othermembers of the convention, rleli\·ered in their shieldsand targets, which were readily distinguished by thecoats of /ll"ms emblazoned IIpon them. These were ar­ranged by the granrl marshal and principal herald, andhung upon the walls on the right side of the table; andupon enterin~ the apartments, each member took hisseat under hiS respective shield or target, without theslightest disturbance. The concluding days of themeeting, it is allowed by the Irish antiquarians, werespent in very free excess of conviviality; but the firstsix, they say, were devoted to the exammation and set­tlement of the annals of the kingdom. These werepublicly rehearsed. When they had passed the appro- .

S !1

NOTES.

balion of the assembly they were trarflleribed into thelIutbentie ebronieles of the nation, whieb was ealled theRegister, or PlIIlter, of Tara.

Col. Valeney gives a translation of an old Irish frag­ment, found in Trinity College, Dublin, in which thepalaee of the above asselllbly is thus described, R8 ituisted in the reign of Cormac.

" In the reign of Cormae, the Palace of Tara wunine hundred feet .sguare; the diameter of the sur­rounding rath seven dice or casts of a dart; it containedone hundred and fifty apartments; one hundred and fiftydormitories, or sleeping rooms for guards, and sixty menin each: the height was twenty-seven cubits; therewere ODe hundred lUld fifty cOUlmon drinking horns,twelve doors, aDd one thousand guests daily, besidesprinces, orators, and men of science, engravers of goldand silver, carvers, modellers, and nobles.· The Irishdescription of the bllnqueting-hall is thus translated:twelve stalls or divisions in each wing; sixteen at­tendant. on each side, and two to each ljible; one hun­dred guests in all."

Verse 7. 1. 3.Yeftught the EnglUho! the pale.

The English pale generally meant Louth in Ulsler,lind Meath, Dublin, and Kildare in Leinster.-Molt­rte/JllZ" Hiltory of Ireland.

Vene 7.1. 4..I1nd deml1k'd De Botlrgo's chi",al:ry.

The house of O'Connor had a right to boast of their,-ietories over the English. It was a chief of the O'Con­nor race who gave a check to the English Champion,De Courcey, so famous for his personal strength; andfor cleaving a h~met at one blow of his sword, in thepresence of thekingaof France and En~land, when theFrench champion declined the combat with him.Though ultimately conqu~red by the English under DeBourgo, the O'Connors had also humbled the pride ofthat name on a memorable occasion: viz. when WalterDe Bourgo, an aneestor of that De Bourgo who wonthe battle of Athunree, had become 80 insolent as tomake excessive demands upon the territories of Con­Ru&ht, and to bid defiance to all the rights and proper-

NOTES. t1

ties reserved by the Irish chiefs. Eatb O'Connor, anear descendant of tbe famous Cathal, surnamed of theBloody Hand, rose lIgllinst the usurper, and defeatedthe English so severely, that their general died of cha­Irrin after the battle.

Verse 7. I. 7.Or Beal-firesfar your jubilee.

The month of May is to this day called Mi Bellltiennie, i. e. the month of BeaI's fire, in the original lan­guage of Ireland. These fires were lighted on the sum­mits of mountains (the Irish antiquaries say) in honourof the sun: and are supposed, by those conjecturing ,gentlemen, to prove the origin of the Irish from someDation who worshipped Baal or Belus. Many hills inIreland still retain the name of ClIOC Greine, i. e. thebill of the sun; 'and on all are to be seen the ruins ordruidical altars. >

Verse 8.1. 11.Jlnd play my clarshech by thy side.

The clarshech, or harp, the principal musical instru­ment of the Hibernian bards, does not appear to be orIrish" origin, 1)01' indigenous to any of the British Is­lands.-The Britons undoubtedly were not acquaintedwith it during the residence of the Romans in theircountry, as in all their coins, on which musical instru­ments are represented, we see onlf the Roman lyre, andDot the British teylin ,or harp.

Verse 9. I. S.Jlud Ifaw at daw7l the lofty baton.

Daingelln is a Celtic word expressing a close fastplace /lnd afterwards a for1.-This the English called aBawu, from the Teutonic bmclm, to construct and securewith branches of trees. The Daingean was the primi­tin Celtic fortification; which was made by digging aditch, throwing up a rampart, and on the latter fixingstakes, which were interlaced with boughs of trees.­An extempore defence used by all natioos, and particu­larly by the Romans.

Non te fossa patensObjectu sudium coronat agger.

In thia manner the first English adventurers lecured

H NOTES.

their JIOItI at Feml and Idrone. When king Dennodentered Ouory, be found that Donald ita t088arch had

Ef1.pGU, i. e. made large and deep trenehea withupon them. Four hundred yean ~erwards,

the riah had the lame mode of defence. Within halfa mile of the entrance of the Moiry, the English foundthat pace by which they were to pass, being nalul1lllyone of the most difficult passages in Ireland, fortifiedwitb good art and admirable industry. The enemybaving raised from mountain to mountain, from woodto wood, and (rom bog to bog, traverses with hur;e andhigh flankers of great stones, mingled witb turf andItaked down on both sides, with pallisadps wattled.Plaahing from the Franco-gallic Pitner, ill to entwine,and is equh'alent to tbe Teutonic bllwen.-Ledtcick',Antiquities of Ireland.

Verse 1S. I. 16.

To 'Peak Ihe mali&0fI of HetJfJen.

If the wrath which I have ascrihed to the heroine ofthis little piece should seem to exhibit her character astoo unnaturally stript of patriotic and domestic affec~

tions, I must beg leave to plead the authorit, of Cor­.eille in the representa~ion of a similar passion: I al­lude to the denunciation of Camille in the tragedy ofHorace. 'Vhen Horace, accompanied by a soldierbearing the three swords of the Curiatii, meets his sis­ter, lind invites her to congratulate him on his victory,she expresses only her grief, which he attributes at firstonly to her feelings for the loss of her two brothers; butwhen she bursts forth into reproaches against him a..the murderer of her lover, the last of the Curiatii, heexclaims -

.. 0 Ciel, qui vit jam.is une pareille rage,Crais tu donc que je suis ins-ensible a l'outrageQue je souffre en mon sang t'e martel deshonneur :Aime, Aime cette mort qui rait notre bonheuf,Et prcfere du mains au souvenir d'un hommeCe que doit la.naissance aux lnter~ts de Rome."

At the mention of Rome, Camille breaks out into thisapostrophe: .

NOTES.

" Rome, l'unique objet de man renentiment IRome, a qui V1en't ton bras d'immoler mon amaAt IR.ome, qUI t'a vu naitre et que ton c~ur adore !Rome enfin que je bais, pareequ'elle t'honore IPuisent tous ses voisins, ensemble conjures,Sapper sel fondemens encore mal assures ;Et, si ce n'est assez de toute l'Italie,Que rOrient, contre elle, a I'Occident s'allie ;Que cent peuples unis, des bouts de l'UniversPassent, pour la detruire, et les monts et les men:Qu'elle-meme sur soi renverse ses murnilles,Et de ses propres mains dechire ses entrailles;Que Ie courrOllX du Ciel, IIHume par mes V~Ull:,

Fasse' pleuvoir sur elle un deluge de feulI:!Puissal-je de mes yeux y voir tomber ce foudre,Voir S68 maisons en cendre, et tes lauriers en poudre,Voir Ie dernier Romain a l!on dernier soupir,Moi seule eo etre cause, et mourir de plaisir!"

\Terse 14. I. 5.Jlnd go to Jltltunree, I cried-

In the reign of Edward the second, the Irish present­ed to Pope John the Twenty-second, Amemorial of theirsufferings under the English, of which the language ex­hibits all the strength of despair.-" Ever since theEnglish (say they) first appeared upon our coasts, theyentered our territories under a certAin specious pretenceof charity, and external hypocritical show of religion,endeavouring at the same time, by every artifice mlllicecould suggest, to extirpate us root and branch, and with­out any other right than that of the strongest, they have80 far succeeded by base fraudulence and cunning, thatthey have forced us to quit our fair and ample habita­tiODs and inheritances, and to take refuge like wildbeasts in the mountains, the woods, and the morasses orthe country i-nor even can the caverns and. dens pro­tect us a~ainst their insatiable avarice. They pursueus even IOto these frightful abodes; endeavouring todispossess us of the wild uncultivated rocks, and arro­gate to themselv~s the property f?f every place on whichwe can stamp the figure of our feet."

The greatest effort ever made by the ancient Irish toregain their native independence was made at the time

NOTES.

when they called Mer the brother of Robert Bnlce fromScodlltld.-William d~ Bou~, brother to the EarloCGllter, and Richard de Bimnngham, were sent~the main body of the native insurgents, who werehead­ed rather than commanded by Felim O'Connor.-Theimportant battle, which decided the subjeetion of lre­land, took place on the 10th of August, 1815. It wasthe bloodiest that ever was fougbt between the two na­tions, and Continued throughout the whole day, fromthe risin« to the setting sun. The lrisb fought with in­ferior dilcipline, but with great enthusiasm. Theylostten thousand men, Ilmong wbom weJ;e twenty-niDe cbiefsof Conn~ht.-·I'raditionstates that after this terribleday, the O'Connor family, like the Fabilln, were sonearly eldermi.nated, that throughout all Connaugbt notone of the name remained, except Felim's brother, whoWII capable oC bearing arms.

NOTESTO

LOCHlEL'S WARNING.

Lochiel, the cbiefof the wanike elan of ibe Cameronl,and descended from ancestors distinguished in theirDarrow sphere for great personal proWellll, was a manworthy of" a better caURe and fate than that in which heembarked, the en.prise of tbe Stuarts in 1745. Hismemory is .till fondly cherished among tbe Highlan­ders, by the appellation of tbe gentle Loebiel, Cor bewas famed for bis social virtues a8 mucb al his martialand magnanimous (though mistaken) loyalty. Hil in­fluence was so important among the Highland chiefs,that it depended on his joining with his clan whether thestandard of Charles should be raised or not in 1745.Loehiel was himself too wise a man to be blind to thecOllllequences of so hopeless an enterprise, but his sen-

NOTES. 51

sibility to the point of honour overruled hia wildom.Charles appealed to his loyalty, and he could not brookthe reproaches of his prince. When Charles landed itBorrodale, Lochiel went to meet him, but, on his way,called at his brother's house (Cameron of Fassafem,)and told him on what errand he was going; addin¥,however, that he meant to dissuade the prince from hillenterprise. Fassafem advised him in that case to com­municate his mind by letter to Charles. "No," saidLochiel, "I think it due to my prince to give him m¥,reasons in person Cor refusing to join his standard.'"Brother," replied Fa,ssaCem, '!.I know you better thanyou know yourself; if the prince once sets his eyes onyou, he will make you do what he pleases." The m..terview accordingly took place, and Lochiel, with manyarguments, but in vain, pressed the Pretender to returnto France, and reserve himself and his friends for a morefavourable occasion, as he had come, by his own ac­knowledgment, without arms, ol:,.money, or adherents;or, at !Ill events, to remain concealed till his friendashould meet and deliberate what was best to be done.Charles, whose mind was wound up to the utmost im­patience, paid no regard to this proposal, but answered," that he was determined to put all to the hazard. In II

few da,s," said he, ., I will erect the royal standard, andproclaIm to the people of Great Britain, that CharlesStuart is come over to claim the crown of his ancestors,and to win it or perish in the attempt. Lochiel. whoby my father has often told me he was pur firmestfriend, may stay 'at home, and learn from the newspa­pers the fate of his prince." "No," said Lochiel, " Iwill share the fate of my'prince, and so shall every manover whom nature or fortune hath given me any power."

The other chieftains who fonowed Charles embracedhis cause with no better hopes. It engages our sympa­thy most strongly in their behalf, that no motive, buttheir fear to be reproached with cowardice or disloyal­ty, impelled them to the hopeless adventure, Of thiswe have an example in the interview of prince ChaJ'leswith Clanronald, another leading chieftain in the rebelarmy.

" Charles," says Home, "almost reduced to despair,in his dillCoursewith Doisdale, addressed the two High-

It NOTES.

lande... with great emotion, and, mmming ap his~mentl Cor taking anns, conjured them to a8list theirprioee, their, countryman, in his utmost need. Clan­ronald and his friend, though well inclined to the cause,poIiti~el1 refused, and told him that to take up armswithout concert or support W81 to pull down certainruin on their own head~. Chllrles persisted, argued,and implored. During this conversation (they were onshipboard) the parties walked backwards and forwardson the deck; a Highlander stood near them, armed atall pointl, 81 was then the fashion of his country. Hewu a younger brother of Kinloch Moidart, and hadcome oft" to the ship to inquire for news, not knowingwho wu aboard. When he gathered from their dis­course that the stranger was the prince of \Vales; whenhe beard his chief and his brother refuse to take armswith their prince, his colour went and came, bis eyessparkled, he shifted his place, and grasped his sword.Charles observed hY! demeanour, and turning brisklyto him, called out, " W ill you assist IDe?" "I will, Iwill," laid Ronald, " tbough no other man in the High­lands should draw a sword, I am ready to die for you !"Charles, with a profusion of thanks to his champion,laid, he wished all the Highlanders were like him.Without farther deliberlltion the two Macdonalds de­cl....d that they would also join, and use their utmostendeavours to engage their countrymen to take arms."­Home', Hiat. Rebellion, p. 40.

Page 115, I. 11 and 12.

Lo! anointed by htlfll'n tIlith the tIial6 of U!f'IJth,Behold, where he jlie, on Ilia delOlau path! ,

The lines allude to the many hardships of the royalsuft"erer.

An account oC the second sight, in Irish called Taish,is thut given in Martin's description of the WesternIslea of Scotland. "The Ilecond sight is a singular fa­eulty oC seeing an otherwiee invisible object, withoutany previous means used by the person who sees it, for.tb.t end. The vision makes sueh a li~ely impressionlIpon tbe seers, that the,Y neither see nor think of anythiuK ehe except the vision u long u it continues; and

NOTES. IS

dlen they appear pensive or jovial according to the ob­ject which was represented to them.

" At the sigllt of the vision the eyelids of the person_are erected, aDd the eyes continue staring until the ob­ject vanish. This is obvious to others who are stand- ­ing by when the persons happen to see a vision; and,occurred more tban once to my own observation, and toothers that were with me.

"There is one in Skie, of whom his acquaintanceobserved, that when he sees a vision the inner parts oChis eyelids turn so far upwards, that after the objectdisappears, be must draw them down with his fingers,and sometimes employs others to draw them down,which he finds to be the easier way.

" This faculty of the second sight does not line31ly de­llcend in a family, as some have ima;:;ined j for I knowseveral parents who are endowed with it, and their chil­dren are not: and vice versa, Neither is it acquiredby any previous compact. An, after strict inquiry, I

.could never learn fl'om any among them, that this facul­ty was communicable to any whatsoever, The seerknows neither the object, time, nor place of a vision be­Core it appears; and the same object is often seen bydifferent persons living at a considerable distance fromone another. The true way of judging as to the timeand circumstances is by observation; for several per­llons of judgment who are without this faculty are morecapable to judge of the design of a vision than a ndvicethat is a seer. If an object appear in the day or night,it will come to pass sooner or later accordingly.

" If an object is seen early in the morning, which isnot frequent, it will be accomplished in a few hoursafterwards; if at noon, it will probably be accomplish­ed that very day; if in the evenin~, perhaps that night;if after candles be lighted, it will be accomplished thatnight: the laller always an accomplishment by weeks,months, and sometimes years, according to the time ofthe night tbe vision is seen.

" When a shroud is seen about one, it is a sure prog- •nostic of death. The time is judJ!;ed according to theheight of it about the p~rson; for if it is not seen abovethe middle, death is not to be expected for the space ofa year, and perhaps some months longer: and as it. is. T

• 4 NOTES•

frequently~ to uceod higher towanIt the head, deatlais cooc1uded to be at hand within a few days, if nothoun, as daily experience confirms. Examplea of thiskind were lhowu me, when the penon of whom the ob­.ervatiolll were then made was m perfect health.

" It is ordinary with them to see hOUBeI, prdell8, Qdtrees, in places roid of all these, and this m process oCtime is wont to be accomplished; as at Mogslot, in theisle oC SlUe, where there were but a Cew lorry lowhouBel thlltched with straw; yet in a Cew years the n­.ion, which appeared often, was accomplished by thebuilding of several good houses in the very spot repre­lented to the teen, and by the planting oC orchardathere.

"To tee Il .park oC fire is a Corerunner oC a deadchild, to 1M: leen in the arms or thote persons; oC whichthere are several instances. To lee a seat empty at thetime oC sittin~ in it, is a presage oC that person's deathquickly after It. ' .

" When a novice, or one that has lately obtained thelecond sight, sees a v~ion in the night time withoutdoors, and comes near a fire, he presently Calls into aIwoon.

" Some find themselves as it were in a crowd oC peo­ple, having a corpse, whicb they carry along with them;and aller such visions the seers come in Iweating, anddeseribe the vision that appeared. If there be any ortheir acquaintance among them, they give an account oCtheir namer, as also of the bearers; but they know n0­thing concerning the corpse."

Horses and coyvs (according to the same creduloUlauthor) have certainly sometiml's tbe lame faculty:,md be endeavours t\prove it by the signs oC Cear whichthe animals exbibit, when lecond-sighted persons seevisions in tbe same place.

"The seers (be continues) are generally illiterateand well meaning people, and altogether void oC design:nor could I ever learn that Mly oC them ever made theleast gain by it; neither is it reputable among them tohave that faculty. Besides, the people of the isles arenot so credulous as to believe implicitly before the thingpredicted is accomplished; but when it is actually ac­complished anerwarda, it is not in their power to deny

NOTES. 55

it, without offering violence to their own lenle lind rea­IOn. Besides, if the seen were deceivers, can it be rea­lonable to imagine that all the islanden who have notthe second sight should combine together, and offer vio­lence to their understandings and senSei, to enforcethemselves to believe a lie from age to age. There areseveral persons among them wbose title and educationraise them above the suspicion of concurring witb animpostor, merely to gratify an illiterate, contemptibleaet of persons; nor can reasonable persons believe thatchildren, horses, and cows, should be pre-engaged in II

combination in favour of the second slgbt."-Martin',Description of the Western Islands of Scotland, p. 8, 11.

Page 115, I. 20.

Like a limb from his count'1/. cast bleeding and torn ?An English historian, after enumerating the se"ere

execution of the Highland rebels at Culloden, Carlisle,and other places, concludes by informing us that manythousands experienced bis majesty's mercy, in being~nsported for life to the plantations.

Page 115, I. 21..9.1& 110 ! for a darker departure is near.

The brother ofLocbiel returning to England ten yeal'Saner the rebellion, though be acted only as a surgeon inthe rebel army, suffered the dreadful fate bere predict- .ed, by a sentencewbich bappily has no parallel forneedless severity in the modern history of state trials illthis humane age and country. '

NOTES

THEO DRIC.

Line 9.II T1uJl gme the glacier top. their richest glo1ll."

The sight of the glliciers of Switzerland, I am told,h1\1\ otten disappointed travellers who had perused theaecounts of tlreir splendour and sublimity given byllollrl'it and other describers of Swiss scenery. Possi­bly Bourrit, who l,as spent his life in an enamoured fa­miliarity with tht> beauties of Nature in Switzerland,may have leaned to the romantic side of description.One can partlon a man lor a sort of idolatry of those im­posing objects of Nature which hcighten our ideas ofthe bounty of Nature or Providence, when we reflectthat the glaciel'll-those seas of ice-lire not only sub­lime hut useful: they are the inexhaustible reservoirswhich supply tbe principal rivers of Europe; and theirannual melting is in proportion to the summer heatwhich dries up those rivers and makes them need that,ul'ply.

That the picturesque grandeur of the glaciers shouldsometimes disappoint the traveller, will not seem sur­prising to anyone who has been much in a mountainouscountry, and recollects that the beauty of Nature inluch countries is not only variable, but capriciouslydependent on the weatber and sunshine. There areabout four hundred dift'crent glaciers," according to thecltmputation of M. Bourrit, between Mont Blane andthe frontiers of the Tyrol. The full effect of tbe mostlofty llnd picturesque of them can, of course, only beproduced by the richest and warmest light of the lltmos­pbere; and the very heat which illuminates them mus,

• Occupying, it taken together, a surface of 130 aqllU'O"""ea.

NOTES. 37

"

hll....e a cbanging influence on many of their appearances.I imagine it is owing to this 'circumstance, namely, theeasualty and changeableness of the appearance of someof the glaciers, tbat the impressions made by them onthe minds of other and more transient traveJlers bavebeen less enchanting than those described by M. Bour­rit. On one occasion M. Bourrit seems even to speakof a past pbenomenon, and certainly one wbicb no otherspectator attests in the same terms, when he says, thatthere once existed between tbe Kandel Steig and Lau­terbrun, " a passage amidst singular gladers, sometimearesembling magical towns of ice, with pilasters, pyra­mids, columns, and obelisks, reflectin~ to the sun themost brilliant hues of tbe finest gems.' -M. Bourrit'.description of the Glacier of the Rhone is quite en­chanting.-" To form an idea," he says, "of this su­perb spectacle, figure in your mind a scaffolding oftransparent ice, filling a space of two miles, rising tothe clouds, and darling flashes of light like the sun.Nor were the several parts less magnificent and sur­prising. Ohe might see, as it were, the streets andbuildings of a city, erected in the form of an amphi­theatre, and em beJlished with pieces of water, cascades,and torrents. The etrects were as prodigious as theimmensity and the height ;-the most beautiful azure­the most splendid white-the regular appearance of athousand pyramids of ice, are more eaBJ' to be imagin­ed than described."-Bourrit, iii. 163.

Line 9." ~om heights brouzed by the bormding bouquetin."Laborde, in his" Tableau de la Suisse," gives a CD­

rious account of this animal, the wild sharp cry andelastic movements of which must heighten the pie­turesque appearance of its haunts.-" Nature," saysLaborde, " has destined it to mountains covered withsnow: if it is not exposed to keen cold it becomes bli\1d.Its agility in leaping much surpasses that of the cha­mois, and would appear incredible to those who havenot seen it. There is not a mountain so high or steepto which it will not trust itself, provided it has room toplace its feet; it can scramble along the highest wall, itJtI lIurface be ruggell/'

.. ~OTES •

Line 15."E~moM."

The mOIl of .switzerland. as wen u tbat of the Ty­rol, is remarkab'e for a bright BJDoothnesa approacb.irtito the appearlDCle~ enamel.

Line J!6~

" HtNJ dtar ,UfIIttl n'. e1&e tclllU tmdtDiltl SlarukAom."The Sbreckbom mean. in German, the Peak or

Terror.Line 141.

II Blin4fold m. name hillI he could haDe lmoum."I have here availed myselfoC a striking expression of

the Emperor Napoleon respecting his recollections orCorsica, which i. recorded in Las Cases'. History oC theEmperor'. abode at S1. Helena.

..