Life and Letters of Thomas Campbell, 1. köideWilliam Beattie Harper & brothers, 1850 |
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acquaintance admiration Alexander Campbell Alison Altona appear ARCHIBALD ALISON beautiful believe booksellers brother Buda Campbell's character cheerful circumstances College conversation correspondence Danube dear friend death delight Dugald Stewart Edinburgh edition eyes father favor favorite feel friendship genius give Glasgow Greek Hamburgh hand happy hear heart Highland honor interest Inverary JAMES THOMSON kind Kirnan lady letter literary live Lochiel London look Lord Minto Matilda Mayow mind morning Mull Muse nature never night palæstra Pleasures of Hope poem Poet Poet's poetical poetry Pons Asinorum pray present prospect Ratisbon residence respect Richardson scene Scotch Scotland Scott sincere Sir Walter Scott sister society song soon spirits Staffa sweet Sydenham talents taste tell THOMAS CAMPBELL Thomson thought tion took verses walk wish words worthy write youth
Popular passages
Page 220 - AT summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Page 221 - Departed spirits of the mighty dead! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! Friends of the world! restore your swords to man, Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, And make her arm puissant as your own! Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return The patriot TELL — the BRUCE OF BANNOCKBURN!
Page 321 - LOCHIEL, Lochiel ! beware of the day When the Lowlands 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 ; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Page 282 - Shall start from every wave — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ; While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow. Britannia needs no bulwarks No towers along the steep ; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.
Page 48 - Even now what affections the violet awakes; What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes, Can the wild water-lily restore ; What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks, And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks, In the vetches that tangled their shore. Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart ye were dear, Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear, Had scathed my existence's bloom ; Once I welcome you more, in life's passionless stage, With the visions of youth to revisit my age, And...
Page 322 - 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...
Page 288 - Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In 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.
Page 226 - Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illume The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb ; Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian 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 woes.
Page 322 - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor 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 heaven from the death-bed of fame.
Page 321 - Tis the fire-shower of ruin all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. 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 blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.