 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
xi
TO THOMAS CAMPBELL, Esq.
O thou! whose sweet, whose magic shell
In sleep the heart of grief can bind,
And lull wit its enchanting swell,
In airy dreams the ravished mind!
In sleep the heart of grief can bind,
And lull wit its enchanting swell,
In airy dreams the ravished mind!
Propitious, on thy natal hour,
The smiling Muse delighted hung,
And nursed thee in her sacred bower,
And taugh her sweetest, holiest song.
The smiling Muse delighted hung,
And nursed thee in her sacred bower,
And taugh her sweetest, holiest song.
xii
Taught thee to scorn the syren lay,
Whose treacherous and seductive breath
Lures us from Virtue's smile away
To pangs of woe,—to shades of death.
Whose treacherous and seductive breath
Lures us from Virtue's smile away
To pangs of woe,—to shades of death.
She bade thee with diviner aim,
Direct the impassioned spirit high,
To soar on seraph wing of flame,
An angel—in its native sky.
Direct the impassioned spirit high,
To soar on seraph wing of flame,
An angel—in its native sky.
And with those strains of sainted fire,
An earthlier melody to suit,
She gave with Hope's entrancing lyre,
The melting voice of Pity's lute.
An earthlier melody to suit,
She gave with Hope's entrancing lyre,
The melting voice of Pity's lute.
For oft has meek Compassion bled,
The mild, yet mournful tale to hear,
Of cherished joys for ever fled,
And thy poor Gertrude's hallowed bier.
The mild, yet mournful tale to hear,
Of cherished joys for ever fled,
And thy poor Gertrude's hallowed bier.
xiii
And when that wondrous lyre has peal'd
Its hymns of transport on the wind,
The enchantress Fancy has revealed
Her heavenly image from behind;
Its hymns of transport on the wind,
The enchantress Fancy has revealed
Her heavenly image from behind;
And told of Life's untroubled state,
With such a sweet, persuasive tone,
As won the bosom to create
A happy valley of its own;
With such a sweet, persuasive tone,
As won the bosom to create
A happy valley of its own;
Where the torn heart from sorrow free,
Each sullen cloud of woe may miss,
Or when by tempests threatened, flee
Within its hemisphere of bliss,
Each sullen cloud of woe may miss,
Or when by tempests threatened, flee
Within its hemisphere of bliss,
And lingering near the Muse's bower,
By hallowed mount, and haunted well,
We too have heard at twilight hour,
Prophetic murmurs in its swell.
By hallowed mount, and haunted well,
We too have heard at twilight hour,
Prophetic murmurs in its swell.
xiv
Somewhat it speaks of future joy,
The fluttering of our fears to soothe,
Of visions seen in Fancy's eye,
Bright as our yesterday of youth.
The fluttering of our fears to soothe,
Of visions seen in Fancy's eye,
Bright as our yesterday of youth.
What though those visions, bright and clear,
On swiftest wing may fleet away,
And leave no lingering light to cheer
The dark, the melancholy day.
On swiftest wing may fleet away,
And leave no lingering light to cheer
The dark, the melancholy day.
What though the learned critic-sage,
With cynic eye, and brow of gloom,
May frown upon our simple page,
Nor let the bud of Fancy bloom.—
With cynic eye, and brow of gloom,
May frown upon our simple page,
Nor let the bud of Fancy bloom.—
Enough! if Care it should beguile,
One little hour bid Grief rejoice,
From Beauty with the partial smile,
From Virtue, the applauding voice.
One little hour bid Grief rejoice,
From Beauty with the partial smile,
From Virtue, the applauding voice.
xv
And Thou, whose lettered morning calm,
Spent in Edina's classic shade,
Hath won the bright unfading palm,
To riper years reluctant paid!
Spent in Edina's classic shade,
Hath won the bright unfading palm,
To riper years reluctant paid!
O, should thy kind, indulgent eye,
Propitious on our tuneful task,
Beam in its mild benignity,
No fairer guerdon will we ask.—
Propitious on our tuneful task,
Beam in its mild benignity,
No fairer guerdon will we ask.—
Though wild the flowers our youth has twin'd
To blush upon thy laurelled brow,
Thy generous heart, thy liberal mind,
Will not forbid those flowers to blow.
To blush upon thy laurelled brow,
Thy generous heart, thy liberal mind,
Will not forbid those flowers to blow.
For not at Pride's unholy call,
The venal fume of praise we bring;
Truth! Fancy! Genius! Virtue!—all
Demand a nobler offering.
The venal fume of praise we bring;
Truth! Fancy! Genius! Virtue!—all
Demand a nobler offering.
xvi
They claim whate'er the Theban lyre
Has vaunted of the sons of earth;—
O, for a spark of Theban fire,
To give the imaged transport birth!
Has vaunted of the sons of earth;—
O, for a spark of Theban fire,
To give the imaged transport birth!
| Poems by Three Friends | |