Some loved dream, in his heart cherished fondly and long, Which he wanted the science to weave into song. Thence the pilgrim of nature in fancy may stray Where the silver-bright Duddon winds calmly away; By its flower-fringed margin to muse and to dream, Till his thoughts are as gentle and pure as its stream! Or, if 't is his pastime to linger among Such wild scenes as Salvator has painted and sung, He may climb green Helvellyn's proud summit of snow, And look down on the blue gleaming waters below, Like a babe at the feet of some Titan reposing! There the dreamer, who tracks the dark footsteps of Time, And for ever would muse 'mid its ruins sublime; 11. CAMPBELL. GRACEFUL Poet of Hope, who hast charmed us so long, With a stream of home-music, sweet, solemn, and strong; Now smooth as the wave when 't is chained and at rest, truth That is shrined in the soul when life's race is begun, May be something impaired ere the haven be won;Though the visions be fled that gave light to thy spring, And thy heart and thy harp both have broken a string;Like the leaves on the tree that no tempest may kill, There are feelings unwithered that cling to thee still! Alas! that a poet, so gifted, should leave Life's calm vale of repose, 'mid the many to weave Lays, that whisper too oft of the crowd whence they spring ; How unlike the wild wood-notes he once used to sing! What marvel his Muse's bright pinion should sink, When so turbid the waters her spirit must drink? Can we wonder her plumage should lose its proud dyes, When she trails on the earth, what was formed for the skies! No! the Poet's a planet that's brightest apart— Let him revel at will in the world of the heart; But the moment he strives 'mid the crush of the throng, Like a bird too much handled, he loses his song; Have a care-though at present 't is incense they fling, He who fawns like a slave, like a serpent will sting! [It may be proper to mention that the above lines were written previously to Mr. Campbell's connexion with the Metropolitan."] 66 III. COLERIDGE. WILD mystic! whose life lapses on like a dream, Now reflecting the gleam of some sunshiny face, So the strain bring us tidings of fair Genevieve; Still silent!-Thy counsel, at least, let us share, And gain wisdom and strength life's vexations to bear; For, none ever bent to thy converse or lay, But came mended in knowledge and spirit away. IV. CHARLES LAMB. QUAINT masker! why hide, 'neath a garb so uncouth, So sparkling with dew from the fountain sublime, A. A. W. [The preceding fragments were written in the fly-leaves of the works of the Poets to whom they refer.] |