Thomas Campbell

Excerpt from "Gertrude Of Wyoming" Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies, The happy shepherd swains had nought to do

'Tis not the loss of love's assurance, It is not doubting what thou art, But 'tis the too, too long endurance

The ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded, And sad pale Adelgitha came, When forth a valiant champion bounded,

Of Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth

Hadst thou a genius on thy peak, What tales, white-headed Ben, Could'st thou of ancient ages speak,

There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sign'd, when at twilight repairing

How delicious is the winning Of a kiss at love's beginning, When two mutual hearts are sighing

PART I On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming! Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,

O, heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale, Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail? 'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;

On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow

At summer eve, when heaven's aerial bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,

Unfading Hope! when life's last embers burn When soul to soul, and dust to dust return, Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour!

In the deep blue of eve, Ere the twinkling of stars had begun, Or the lark took his leave

At the silence of twilight's contemplative hour, I have mused in a sorrowful mood, On the wind-shaken weeds that embosom the bower,

Wizard. - Lochiel. Wizard. - Lochiel! Lochiel, beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array!

A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound,

Hark! from the battlements of yonder tower The solemn bell has tolled the midnight hour! Roused from drear visions of distempered sleep,

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps, Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps: She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,

Soul of the Poet! wheresoe'er, Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume Her wings of immortality;

When first the fiery-mantled sun His heavenly race begun to run; Round the earth and ocean blue,

Men of England! who inherit Rights that cost your sires their blood! Men whose undegenerate spirit

Star that bringest home the bee, And sett'st the weary labourer free! If any star shed peace, 'tis thou,

O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree! Though bush or floweret never grow

The brave Roland! the brave Roland! False tidings reached the Rhenish strand That he had fallen in fight;

Come, maids and matrons, to caress Wiesbaden's gentle hind; And, smiling, deck its glossy neck

When Scotland's great Regent, our warrior most dear, The debt of his nature did pay, T' was Edward, the cruel, had reason to fear,

All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die, Before this mortal shall assume

Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a love-lorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you 're doing

At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering bills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,

The more we live, more brief appear Our life's succeeding stages; A day to childhood seems a year,

Our bugles sang truce; for the night-cloud had lowered, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,

Excerpt from "Gertrude Of Wyoming" Apart there was a deep untrodden grot, Where oft the reading hours sweet Gertrude wore;

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy

Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,