The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell Oxford edition: Edited, with notes by J. Logie Robertson |
 |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell |  |
323
Fair salutary spot! where health inhales
Her freshest fountains and her purest gales,
I love thy homely name's familiar sound,
Thou green Parnassus of my native ground!
Haunt of my youth! while yet the poet's head
Peeped from yon high and heaven-aspiring shed,
O'erlooking far Edina's gilded vanes
And all her dusky wilderness of lanes,
What time, sublimely lodged, he mounted higher
Than Attic station with his Scotian lyre,
And, warm in Fancy's castle-building hour
Sung to the shelter of his skylight bower.
'Twas then, sweet hill! imagination drew
Thy winding walk some paradise in view;
Each white-robed nymph that sailed thy terrace round
Seemed like a goddess on Elysian ground.
Then spread Illusion, with her pencil warm,
Unearthly hues on every meaner form;
Wings on the grazing horse appeared to grow,
And Delphian woods to wave, and Helicon to flow!
Her freshest fountains and her purest gales,
I love thy homely name's familiar sound,
Thou green Parnassus of my native ground!
Haunt of my youth! while yet the poet's head
Peeped from yon high and heaven-aspiring shed,
O'erlooking far Edina's gilded vanes
And all her dusky wilderness of lanes,
What time, sublimely lodged, he mounted higher
Than Attic station with his Scotian lyre,
And, warm in Fancy's castle-building hour
Sung to the shelter of his skylight bower.
'Twas then, sweet hill! imagination drew
Thy winding walk some paradise in view;
Each white-robed nymph that sailed thy terrace round
Seemed like a goddess on Elysian ground.
Then spread Illusion, with her pencil warm,
Unearthly hues on every meaner form;
Wings on the grazing horse appeared to grow,
And Delphian woods to wave, and Helicon to flow!
Nor ceased my day-dream till the waning hours
Had shook fair fancy from her throne of flowers,
And o'er my heart emotions less divine
Imperious warned the esurient bard to dine.
Yet, when my bell its awful summons rung,
And menial Mary heard its iron tongue,
Not in plebeian prose I spoke aloud
When mortal wants the immortal spirit bowed.
Had shook fair fancy from her throne of flowers,
And o'er my heart emotions less divine
Imperious warned the esurient bard to dine.
Yet, when my bell its awful summons rung,
And menial Mary heard its iron tongue,
Not in plebeian prose I spoke aloud
When mortal wants the immortal spirit bowed.
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell | |