The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell Oxford edition: Edited, with notes by J. Logie Robertson |
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 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell |  |
ELEGY
[The tempest blackens on the dusky moor]
The tempest blackens on the dusky moor,
And billows lash the long-resounding shore;
In pensive mood I roam the desert ground
And vainly sigh for scenes no longer found.
Oh, whither fled the pleasurable hours
That chased each care and fired the muse's powers;
The classic haunts of youth for ever gay,
Where mirth and friendship cheered the close of day;
The well-known valleys where I wont to roam,
The native sports, the nameless joys of home?
And billows lash the long-resounding shore;
In pensive mood I roam the desert ground
And vainly sigh for scenes no longer found.
Oh, whither fled the pleasurable hours
That chased each care and fired the muse's powers;
The classic haunts of youth for ever gay,
Where mirth and friendship cheered the close of day;
The well-known valleys where I wont to roam,
The native sports, the nameless joys of home?
Far different scenes allure my wondering eye—
The white wave foaming to the distant sky,
The cloudy heavens unblest by summer's smile,
The sounding storm that sweeps the rugged isle,
The chill bleak summit of eternal snow,
The wide wild glen, the pathless plains below,
The dark blue rocks in barren grandeur piled,
The cuckoo sighing to the pensive wild!
The white wave foaming to the distant sky,
The cloudy heavens unblest by summer's smile,
The sounding storm that sweeps the rugged isle,
370
The wide wild glen, the pathless plains below,
The dark blue rocks in barren grandeur piled,
The cuckoo sighing to the pensive wild!
‘Far different these from all that charmed before’—
The grassy banks of Clutha's winding shore,
Her sloping vales with waving forests lined,
Her smooth blue lakes unruffled by the wind.
The grassy banks of Clutha's winding shore,
Her sloping vales with waving forests lined,
Her smooth blue lakes unruffled by the wind.
Hail, happy Clutha! glad shall I survey
Thy gilded turrets from the distant way;
Thy sight shall cheer the weary traveller's toil,
And joy shall hail me to my native soil.
Thy gilded turrets from the distant way;
Thy sight shall cheer the weary traveller's toil,
And joy shall hail me to my native soil.
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell | |