« PreviousContinue »
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer. “ O haste thee, haste !” the lady cries,
“ Though tempests round us gather; “ I'll meet the raging of the skies,
“ But not an angry father.”. The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.-
Of waters fast prevailing:
His wrath was chang’d to wailing.
His child he did discover :-
And one was round her lover.
" Come back! come back !” he cried in grief,
“ Across this stormy water: “ And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! oh my daughter."'Twas vain the loud waves lash'd the shore,
Return or aid preventing :
And he was left lamenting. 11.
THE TURKISH LADY, 'Twas the hour when rites unholy
Call'd each Paynim voice to prayer, And the star that faded slowly
Left to dews the freshen'd air. Day her sultry fires had wasted,
Calm and sweet the moonlight rose:
Half oblivion of his woes,
Came an Eastern lady bright:
Saw and lov'dan English knight. “Tell me, captive, why in anguish
“ Foes have dragg’d thee here to dwell, “ Where poor Christians as they languish
6 Hear no sound of Sabbath bell ?" “ 'Twas on Transylvania's Bannat
“ When the cresent shone afar, “ Like a pale disastrous planet
“ O'er the purple tide of war“ In that day of desolation,
“ Lady, I was captive made;
By the walls of high Belgrade."
“ From my turban set thee free?". “ Lady, no! the gift were cruel,
Ransom’d, yet if reft of thee. “ Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee
“ Christian climes should we behold?” “ Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee
“ Were thy ransom paid in gold.!”
Now in heaven's blue expansion
Rose the midnight star to view,
Thrice she wept, and bade adieu !
“ Tyrant barks in vain ye ride!"
Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride.
The two preceding Ballads are from the pen of the accomplished author of The Pleasures of Hope, Gertrude of Wyoming, &c. &c. and bear, the first especially, all the characteristics of his powerful genius. The single stanza,
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
Grew dark as they were speaking. is worth a volume of the singsong stuff that is frequently obtruded upon the world, and praised too, as exquisite Ballad poetry. Mr. Campbell and his works I consider to be indeed, far beyond any praise of mine; but I tannot suppress an expression of regret, in common with the rest of my countrymen, that, possessing, as he does, so completely the public atten tion, he so seldom makes use of his privilege. Why are his delightful effusions, so happily calculated to warm the heart,"refine the feelings, and sublime the understanding, “ Like angel visits few and far between ?" while the ravings of that world where truth, mercy, and hope are alike unknown, embodied in Giours, Manfreds, Beppos, and Don Juans; are day by day bubbling the multitude out of their principles and their understandings at the same time? Pope, with that laconic sarcasm that was peculiar to his character, described the people as a manyheaded beast, and abundance of facts might be adduced to prove that this venerable personage (it would be very rude, in these days of liberality, to say beast) is not very descerning in his taste; but were it not for the scantiness of such golden fruitage as Gertrude, O'Connor's Child, &c. it is altogether incredible that he would deign to feed upon such garbage, that can be compared to nothing superior to leeks, garlic, and “ shotten herring."
In Edinbrugh with all Mirryness,
O ze Hermits and Hankersaidlis,
Responsio, tu autem Domine.