66 THE TREE WILL WITHER LONG BEFORE IT FALL!"-BYRON. THE HOMEWARD-BOUND SHIP. Blow fair, thou breeze!-she anchors ere the dark. [From "The Corsair," canto i., 3.] “'tis strange, but true; for truth is ALWAYS Strange, Stranger Than Fiction.”—George GordoN, LORD BYRON. "WERE THINGS BUT ONLY CALLED BY THEIR RIGHT NAME, CAESAR HIMSELF WOULD BE ASHAMED OF FAME."-BYRON. Thomas Campbell. ["WHAT," remarks Professor Wilson-" what shall we say of the 'Pleasures of Hope'? That the harp from which that music breathed was an Eolian harp, placed in the window of a high hall, to catch airs from heaven when heaven was glad, as well she might be with such moon and such stars, and streaming half the region with a magnificent aurora borealis. Now the music deepens into a majestic march-now it swells into a holy hymn-and now it dies away, elegiac-like, as if mourning over a tomb. Vague, indefinite, uncertain, dream-like, and visionary all; but never else than beautiful; and ever and anon, we know not why, sublime. It ceases in the hush of night-and we awaken as if from a dream. Is it not even so? In his youth, Campbell lived where 'distant isles could hear the loud Corbrechtan and sometimes his poetry is like that whirlpool-the sound as of the wheels of many chariots. Yes, happy was it for him that he had liberty to roam along the many-based, hollow-rumbling western coast of that unacCountable county, Argyllshire. The sea-roar cultivated his naturally fine musical ear, and it sank too into his heart. Hence is his prime poem bright with hope, as is the sunny sea, when sailors' sweethearts on the shore are before the wind, and the very shells beneath their footsteps seem to sing own only daughter-filling our life with bliss, and then leaving it desolate. roar; looking for joy. Out for ships; and from a foreign station down comes the fleet As for 'Gertrude of Wyoming,' we love her as if she were our "THE BARS SURVIVE THE CAPTIVE THEY ENTHRALL."-BYRON. "CAN WISDOM LEND, WITH ALL HER HEAVENLY POWER, THE PLEDGE OF JOY'S ANTICIPATED POWER?"-CAMPBELL. SONG IS BUT THE ELOQUENCE OF TRUTH."-THOMAS CAMPBELL. THOMAS CAMPBELL. Even now we see her ghost gliding through those giant woods! As for 'That man may not hide what God would reveal!' The Navy owes much to 'Ye Mariners of England!' Sheer hulks often Thomas Campbell, the author of these admirable poems, was born in Glas- Thomas Campbell died at Boulogne, on the 15th of June 1844. His remains were carried to England, and interred in Westminster Abbey. In our English poetry he may be considered the lineal successor of Gray, whom, however, he surpassed in depth of pathos, in earnestness of feeling, and vividness of description.] "AH, NO! SHE DARKLY SEES THE FATE OF MAN; HER DIM HORIZON BOUNDED TO A SPAN."-THOMAS CAMPBELL. THE ATHEIST'S CREED. H! lives there, Heaven, beneath thy dread expanse, One hopeless, dark idolater of chance, The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind; "WATCH THE BRIGHTENING ROSES OF THE SKY."-T. CAMPBELL. "CONGENIAL HOPE! THY PASSION-KINDLING POWER, HOW STRONG IN YOUTH'S UNTROUBLED HOUR!"-T. CAMPBELL. "AUSPICIOUS HOPE! IN THY SWEET GARDEen grow-(t. CAMPBELL) Could all his parting energy dismiss, And call this barren world sufficient bliss? Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower! Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, * "Iberia's pilot: "-Christopher Columbus. Iberia was the Roman name for the country now called Spain. " WREATHS FOR EACH TOIL, A CHARM FOR EVERY WOE." -CAMPBELL. "LO, NEWTON, PRIEST OF NATURE, SHINES AFAR, SCANS THE WIDE WORLD, AND NUMBERS EVERY STAR!"-CAMPBELL. "WHERE IS THE TROUBLED HEART, CONSIGNED TO SHARE TUMULTUOUS TOIL OR SOLITARY CARE,CAMPBELL) 66 COME, BRIGHT IMPROVEMENT, IN THE CAR OF TIME,-(T. CAMPBELL) Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread As waves the night-shed round the sceptic head. [From the "Pleasures of Hope," Part ii.] AND RULE THE SPACIOUS WORLD FROM CLIME TO CLIME!"-CAMPBELL. UNBLEST BY VISIONARY THOUGHTS THAT STRAY TO COUNT THE JOYS OF FORTUNE'S BETTER DAY?"-CAMPBELL. "MAN, CAN THY DOOM NO BRIGHTER SOUL ALLOW? STILL MUST WE LIVE A BLOT ON NATURE'S BROW?"-THOMAS CAMPBELL. "TIS DISTANCE LENDS ENCHANTMENT TO THE VIEW."-CAMPBELL. THE INDIAN'S DEATH-SONG. 103 * "But thee, my flower! whose breath was given By milder genii o'er the deep, The spirits of the white man's heaven Nor will the Christian host, But when the bolt of death is hurled, Outalissi, chief of the Oneyda Indians, a North American tribe, one of † Areouski, the Indian god of war. "HOPE, THE CHARMER, LINGERED STILL BEHIND."-T. CAMPBELL. "SHALL WAR'S POLLUTED BANNER NE'ER BE FURLED? SHALL CRIMES AND TYRANTS CEASE BUT WITH THE WORLD?"-IBID. |