These giant mountains inwardly were moved, Like house-dogs howling at a dinner-bell. the enjoyment of a handsome pension, conferred for diplomatic services, of £1516 per annum, and at Malta he died on the 7th January 1846, aged seventy-seven. In the Life of Sir Walter Scott, there are some particulars respecting the meeting of the declining novelist with his friend, the author of Whistlecraft. We there learn from Scott, that the remarkable war-song upon the victory at This is evidently meant as a good-humoured satire Brunnenburg, which appears in Mr Ellis's Speciagainst violent personifications in poetry. Mean-mens of Ancient English Poetry, and might pass while a monk, Brother John by name, who had opposed the introduction of the bells, has gone, in a fit of disgust with his brethren, to amuse himself with the rod at a neighbouring stream. Here occurs another beautiful descriptive passage: A mighty current, unconfined and free, Ran wheeling round beneath the mountain's shade, Each flower and herb, and every cloud of heaven; The painted kingfisher, the branch above her, So rest and motion in a narrow range, Brother John, placed here by mere chance, is apprised of the approach of the giants in time to run home and give the alarm. Amidst the preparations for defence, to which he exhorts his brethren, the abbot dies, and John is elected to I succeed him. A stout resistance is made by the monks, whom their new superior takes care to feed well by way of keeping them in heart, and the giants at length withdraw from the scene of action. It finally appears that the pagans have retired in order to make the attack upon the ladies, which had formerly been described—no bad burlesque of the endless episodes of the Italian romantic poets. It was soon discovered that the author of this clever jeu d'esprit was the Right Honourable John Hookham Frere, a person of high political consequence, who had been employed a few years before by the British government to take charge of diplomatic transactions in Spain in connection with the army under General Sir John Moore. The Whistlecraft poetry was carried no further; but the peculiar stanza (the ottava rima of Italy), and the sarcastic pleasantry, formed the immediate exemplar which guided Byron when he wrote his Beppo and Don Juan; and one couplet— Adown thy slope, romantic Ashbourn, glides The Derby dilly, carrying six insidesbecame at a subsequent period the basis of an allusion almost historical in importance, with reference to a small party in the House of Commons. Thus the national poem attained a place of some consequence in our modern literature. It is only to be regretted that the poet, captivated by indolence or the elegances of a luxurious taste, gave no further specimen of his talents to the world. For many years Mr Frere resided in Malta, in in a court of critics as a genuine composition of the fourteenth century, was written by Mr Frere while an Eton school-boy, as an illustration on one side of the celebrated Rowley controversy. We are also informed by Mrs John Davy, in her diary, quoted by Mr Lockhart, that Sir Walter on this occasion' repeated a pretty long passage from his version of one of the romances of the Cidpublished in the appendix to Southey's quartoand seemed to enjoy a spirited charge of the knights therein described as much as he could have done in his best days, placing his walkingstick in rest like a lance, "to suit the action to the word." We may here redeem from comparative obscurity a piece of poetry so much admired by Scott: The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rushed, The outposts of the Moorish hosts back to the camp were pushed; The camp was all in tumult, and there was such a thunder Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder. There you might see the Moors arming themselves in haste, And the two main battles how they were forming fast; Horsemen and footmen mixt, a countless troop and vast. The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon must join, 'My men, stand here in order, ranged upon a line! Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign.' Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not refrain, He held the banner in his hand, he gave his horse the rein; 'You see yon foremost squadron there, the thickest of the foes, Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner goes! Earnestly the Cid called out, 'For Heaven's sake be still!' They strove to win the banner, and compassed him about. Had not his armour been so true, he had lost either life or limb; The Cid called out again, 'For Heaven's sake succour him!' Their shields before their breasts, forth at once they go, Their lances in the rest levelled fair and low; Their banners and their crests waving in a row, the champion of Bivar; Strike amongst them, gentlemen, for sweet mercies' sake!' There where Bermuez fought amidst the foe they brake; Three hundred bannered knights, it was a gallant show; Three hundred Moors they killed, a man at every blow: When they wheeled and turned, as many more lay slain, You might see them raise their lances, and level them again. There you might see the breast-plates, how they were cleft in twain, And many a Moorish shield lie scattered on the plain. The pennons that were white marked with a crimson stain, The horses running wild whose riders had been slain. In 1871, the Works of Frere, in Verse and Prose, and a Memoir by his nephews, were published in 2 vols. THOMAS CAMPBELL. THOMAS CAMPBELL was born in the city of Glasgow, July 27, 1777. He was of a good Highland family, the Campbells of Kirnan, in Argyllshire, who traced their origin from the first Norman lord of Lochawe. The property, however, had passed from the ancient race, and the poet's father carried on business in Glasgow as a merchant or trader with Virginia. He was unsuccessful, and in his latter days subsisted on some small income derived from a merchants' society and provident institution, aided by his industrious wife, who received into their house as boarders young men attending college. Thomas received a good education, and was distinguished at the university, particularly for his translations from the Greek. The Greek professor, John Young, pronounced his translation of part of the Clouds of Aristophanes the best version that had ever been given in by any student. He had previously received a prize for an English poem, an Essay on the Origin of Evil, modelled on the style of Pope. Other poetical pieces, written between his fourteenth and sixteenth year, evince Campbell's peculiar delicacy of taste and select poetical diction. He became tutor in a family resident in the island of Mull, and about this time met with his 'Caroline of the West,' the daughter of a minister of Inveraray. The winter of 1795 saw him again in Glasgow, attending college, and supporting himself by private tuition. Next year he was some time tutor in the family of Mr Downie of Appin, also in the Highlands; and this engagement completed, he repaired to Edinburgh, hesitated between the church and the law as a profession, but soon abandoning all hopes of either, he employed himself in private teaching and in literary work for the booksellers. Poetry was not neglected, and in April 1799 appeared his Pleasures of Hope. The copyright was sold for £60; but for some years the publishers gave the poet £50 on every new edition of two thousand copies, and allowed him, in 1803, to publish a quarto subscription-copy, by which he realised about £1000. It was in a 'dusky lodging' in Alison Square, Edinburgh, that the Pleasures of Hope was composed; and the fine opening simile was suggested by the scenery of the Firth of Forth as seen from the Calton Hill. The poem was instantly successful. The volume went through four editions in a twelvemonth. After the publication of the first edition, 154 lines were added to the poem. It captivated all readers by its varying and exquisite melody, its polished diction, and the vein of generous and lofty sentiment which seemed to embalm and sanctify the entire poem. The touching and beautiful episodes with which it abounds constituted also a source of deep interest; and in picturing the horrors of war, and the infamous partition of Poland, the poet kindled up into a strain of noble indignant zeal and prophet-like inspiration. Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time! Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career : Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked-as Kosciusko fell! The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there; Tumultuous Murder shook the midnight airOn Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below; The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way, Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay ! Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! Earth shook, red meteors flashed along the sky, And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry! Traces of juvenility may be found in the Pleasures of Hope-a want of connection between the different parts of the poem, some florid lines and imperfect metaphors; but such a series of beautiful and dazzling pictures, so pure and elevated a tone of moral feeling, and such terse, vigorous, and polished versification, were never perhaps before found united in a poem written at the age of twenty-one. Shortly after its publication, Campbell visited the continent. He sailed from Leith for Hamburg on the 1st of June 1800; and proceeding from thence to Ratisbon, witnessed the decisive action which gave Ratisbon to the French. The poet stood with the monks of the Scottish college of St James, on the ramparts near the monastery, while a charge of Klenau's cavalry was made upon the French. He saw no other scenes of actual warfare, but made various excursions into the interior, and was well received by General Moreau and the other French officers. It has been generally supposed that Campbell was present at the battle of Hohenlinden, but it was not fought until some weeks after he had left Bavaria. During his residence on the Danube and the Elbe, the poet wrote some of his exquisite minor poems, which were published in the Morning Chronicle newspaper. The first of these was the Exile of Erin, which was suggested by an incident like that which befell Smollett at Boulogne namely, meeting with a party of political exiles who retained a strong love of their native country. Campbell's' Exile' was a person named Anthony the New Monthly Magazine, which he edited for M'Cann, who, with Hamilton Rowan and others, ten years (from 1820 to 1830); and one of these had been concerned in the Irish rebellion. So minor poems, the Last Man, may be ranked jealous was the British government of that day, among his greatest conceptions: it is like a sketch that the poet was suspected of being a spy, and by Michael Angelo or Rembrandt. Previous to on his arrival in Edinburgh, was subjected to an this time the poet had visited Paris in company examination by the sheriff, but which ended in with Mrs Siddons and John Kemble, and enjoyed a scene of mirth and conviviality. Shortly after- the sculpture and other works of art in the Louvre wards, Campbell was received by Lord Minto as with such intensity, that they seemed to give his a sort of secretary and literary companion-a mind a new sense of the harmony of art-a new situation which his temper and somewhat demo-visual power of enjoying beauty. 'Every step of cratic independence of spirit rendered uncongenial, approach,' he says, 'to the presence of the Apollo and which did not last long. In this year (1802) Belvidere, added to my sensations, and all recolhe composed Lochiel's Warning and Hohenlinden lections of his name in classic poetry swarmed on -the latter one of the grandest battle-pieces in my mind as spontaneously as the associations that miniature that ever was drawn. In a few verses, are conjured up by the sweetest music.' In 1818 flowing like a choral melody, the poet brings he again visited Germany, and on his return the before us the silent midnight scene of engage- following year, he published his Specimens of the ment wrapt in the snows of winter, the sudden British Poets, with biographical and critical arming for the battle, the press and shout of notices, in seven volumes. The justness and charging squadrons, the flashing of artillery, and beauty of his critical dissertations have been unithe final scene of death. Lochiel's Warning being versally admitted; some of them are perfect models read in manuscript to Sir Walter (then Mr) Scott, of chaste yet animated criticism. In 1820 Mr he requested a perusal of it himself, and then Campbell delivered a course of lectures on poetry repeated the whole from memory-a striking at the Surrey Institution; in 1824 he published instance of the great minstrel's powers of recollec- Theodric and other Poems; and, though busy in tion, which was related to us by Mr Campbell establishing the London University, he was, in 1827, himself. In 1803 the poet repaired to London, honoured with the graceful compliment of being and devoted himself to literature as a profession. elected lord rector of the university of his native He resided for some time with his friend, Mr city. This distinction was continued and heightened Telford, the celebrated engineer. Telford con- by his re-election the following two years. He tinued his regard for the poet throughout a long afterwards made a voyage to Algiers, of which he life, and remembered him in his will by a legacy published an account; and in 1842 he appeared of £500.* Mr Campbell wrote several papers for again as a poet. This work was a slight narrative the Edinburgh Encyclopædia-of which Telford poem, unworthy of his fame, entitled The Pilgrim had some share-including poetical biographies, of Glencoe. Among the literary engagements of an account of the drama, &c. He also compiled his latter years, was a Life of Mrs Siddons, and a Annals of Great Britain from the Accession of Life of Petrarch. In the summer of 1843, he George III. to the Peace of Amiens, in three fixed his residence at Boulogne, but his health volumes. Such compilations can only be con- was by this time much impaired, and he died the sidered in the light of mental drudgery; but following summer, June 15, 1844. He was interred Campbell, like Goldsmith, could sometimes impart in Westminster Abbey, his funeral being attended grace and interest to task-work. In 1806, through by some of the most eminent noblemen and the influence of Mr Fox, the government granted statesmen of the day, with a numerous body of a pension to the poet-a well-merited tribute to private friends. In 1849 a selection from his the author of those national strains, Ye Mariners correspondence, with a life of the poet, was pubof England, and the Battle of the Baltic. In lished by his affectionate friend and literary 1809 was published his second great poem, executor, Dr Beattie, himself the author of variGertrude of Wyoming, a Pennsylvanian Tale. ous works, and of some pleasing and picturesque The subsequent literary labours of Mr Campbell poetry. were only, as regards his poetical fame, subordinate efforts. The best of them were contributed to * A similar amount was bequeathed to Mr Southey, and, with a good-luck which one would wish to see always attend poets' legacies, the sums were more than doubled in consequence of the testator's estate far exceeding what he believed to be its value. Thomas Telford (1757-1834) was himself a rhymester in his youth. He was born on poetic ground, amidst the scenes of old Scottish song, green hills, and the other adjuncts of a landscape of great sylvan and pastoral beauty. Eskdale, his native district-where he lived till nearly twenty, first as a shepherd, and afterwards as a stone-mason--was also the birthplace of Armstrong and Mickle. Telford wrote a poem descriptive of this classic dale, but it is only a feeble paraphrase of Goldsmith. He addressed an epistle to Burns, part of which is published by Curric. These boyish studies and predilections contrast strangely with the severer pursuits of his after-years as a mathematician and engineer. In his original occupation of a stone-mason, cutting names on tombstones (in which he excelled, as did also Hugh Miller), we can fancy him cheering his solitary labours with visions of literary eminence; but it is difficult to conceive him at the same time dreaming of works like the Menai Bridge or the Pont-cy-sylte aqueduct in Wales. He had, however, received an early architectural or engineering bias by poring over the plates and descriptions in Rollin's history, which he read by his mother's fireside, or in the open air while herding sheep. Telford was a liberal minded and benevolent man. In genius and taste Campbell resembles Gray. He displays the same delicacy and purity of sentiment, the same vivid perception of beauty and ideal loveliness, equal picturesqueness and elevation of imagery, and the same lyrical and concentrated power of expression. The diction of both is elaborately choice and select. Campbell has greater sweetness and gentleness of pathos, springing from deep moral feeling, and a refined sensitiveness of nature. Neither can be termed boldly original or inventive, but they both possess sublimity-Gray in his two magnificent odes, and Campbell in his war-songs or lyrics, which form the richest offering ever made by poetry at the shrine of patriotism. The general tone of his verse is calm, uniform, and mellifluous-a stream of mild harmony and delicious fancy flowing through the bosom-scenes of life, with images scattered separately, like flowers, on its surface, and beauties of expression interwoven with it-certain words and phrases of magical power which never quit the memory. Campbell is secure, as one of his critics has said, in an 'immortality of quotation.' Some of his lines have become household words-e. g.: 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. And many other short passages might be cited. With all his classic predilections, Campbell was not as he has himself remarked of Crabbe-a laudator temporis acti, but a decided lover of later times. Age never quenched his zeal for public freedom or for the unchained exercise of the human intellect; and, with equal consistency in tastes as in opinions, he was to the last meditating a work on Greek literature, by which, fifty years before, as a scholar, he first achieved distinction. Many can date their first love of poetry from their perusal of Campbell. In youth, the Pleasures of Hope is generally preferred. In riper years, when the taste becomes matured, Gertrude of Wyoming rises in estimation. Its beautiful home-scenes go more closely to the heart, and its delineation of character and passion evinces a more luxuriant and perfect genius. The portrait of the savage chief Outalissi is finished with inimitable skill and effect : Far differently the mute Oneyda took The loves of Gertrude and Waldegrave, the patriarchal Albert, and the sketches of rich sequestered Pennsylvanian scenery, also shew the finished art of the poet. The poem of O'Connor's Child is another exquisitely finished and pathetic tale. The rugged and ferocious features of ancient feudal manners and family pride are there displayed in connection with female suffering, love, and beauty, and with the romantic and warlike colouring suited to the country and the times. It is full of antique grace and passionate energy— the mingled light and gloom of the wild Celtic character. Elegy Written in Mull (June 1795). Far different scenes allure my wondering eye- The dark-blue rocks in barren grandeur piled ; Far different these from all that charmed before, Picture of Domestic Love. From the Pleasures of Hope. Thy pencil traces on the lover's thought Death of Gertrude. Past was the flight, and welcome seemed the tower, With embrasure embossed and armour crowned, Wove like a diadem its tracery round The lofty summit of that mountain green; Here stood secure the group, and eyed a distant scene, A scene of death! where fires beneath the sun, But short that contemplation-sad and short Where friendly swords were drawn, and banners flew; And tranced in giddy horror, Gertrude swooned; 'Clasp me a little longer on the brink Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress; And when this heart hath ceased to beat-oh! think, And let it mitigate thy woe's excess, That thou hast been to me all tenderness, And friend to more than human friendship just. And by the hopes of an immortal trust, God shall assuage thy pangs-when I am laid in dust!' Hushed were his Gertrude's lips! but still their bland Ah, heart! where once each fond affection dwelt, Of them that stood encircling his despair He heard some friendly words; but knew not what they were. For now, to mourn their judge and child, arrives Then mournfully the parting bugle bid He watched, beneath its folds, each burst that came 'And I could weep,' the Oneyda chief His descant wildly thus begun ; 'But that I may not stain with grief The death-song of my father's son, Or bow this head in woe! For, by my wrongs, and by my wrath, To-morrow Areouski's breath, That fires yon heaven with storms of death, Shall light us to the foe: And we shall share, my Christian boy, '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, Its echoes and its empty tread 'Or shall we cross yon mountains blue, A thousand warriors drew the shaft? The desert serpent dwells alone, Where grass o'ergrows each mouldering bone, And stones themselves to ruin grown, Like me, are death-like old. Then seek we not their camp; for there 'But hark, the trump! to-morrow thou In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears: Even from the land of shadows now My father's awful ghost appears, Ye Mariners of England. Ye mariners of England! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; The spirits of your fathers For the deck it was their field of fame, |