THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS CAMPBELL. The Pleasures of hope. PART I. ANALYSIS. IN TWO PARTS. Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. THE Poem opens with a comparison between the Thus, with delight we linger to survey beauty of remote objects in a landscape, and those The promised joys of life's unmeasured way, ideal scenes of felicity which the imagination de- Thus, from afar, each dim-discover'd scene lights to contemplate-the influence of anticipation More pleasing seems than all the past hath been; upon the other passions is next delineated-an allu- And every form, that Fancy can repair sion is made to the well-known fiction in Pagan tra- From dark oblivion, glows divinely there. dition, that, when all the guardian deities of man kind abandoned the world, Hope alone was left be- What potent spirit guides the raptured eye hind-the consolations of this passion in situations To pierce the shades of dim futurity? of danger and distress-the seaman on his watch-Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly power, the soldier marching into battle-allusion to the The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? interesting adventures of Byron. Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man The inspiration of Hope, as it actuates the efforts of Her dim horizon bounded to a span; genius, whether in the department of science, or of Or, if she hold an image to the view, taste-domestic felicity, how intimately connected "T is Nature pictured too severely true. with views of future happiness-picture of a mother With thee, sweet HOPE! resides the heavenly light, watching her infant when asleep-pictures of the That pours remotest rapture on the sight: prisoner, the maniac, and the wanderer. Thine is the charm of Life's bewilder'd way, From the consolations of individual misery, a That calls each slumbering passion into play. transition is made to prospects of political improve-Waked by thy touch, I see the sister band, ment in the future state of society-the wide field On tiptoe watching, start at thy command, that is yet open for the progress of humanizing arts And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer, among uncivilized nations-from these views of To Pleasure's path, or Glory's bright career. amelioration of society, and the extension of liberty and truth over despotic and barbarous countries, by Primeval HOPE, the Aönian Muses say, a melancholy contrast of ideas, we are led to reflect When Man and Nature mourn'd their first decay; upon the hard fate of a brave people recently con- When every form of death, and every woe, spicuous in their struggles for independence-descrip- Shot from malignant stars to earth below; tion of the capture of Warsaw, of the last contest When Murder bared her arm, and rampant War of the oppressors and the oppressed, and the mas-Yoked the red dragons of her iron car; sacre of the Polish patriots at the bridge of Prague-When Peace and Mercy, banish'd from the plain, apostrophe to the self-interested enemies of human Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven again; improvement-the wrongs of Africa-the barbarous All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind, policy of Europeans in India-prophecy in the Hin-But HOPE, the charmer, linger'd still behind. doo mythology of the expected descent of the Deity to redress the miseries of their race, and to take vengeance on the violators of justice and mercy. AT summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky? Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels prepare Auspicious HOPE! in thy sweet garden grow Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe; Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour, Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore Earth's loneliest bounds, and Ocean's wildest shore. Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields His bark, careering o'er unfathom'd fields; Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar, Where Andes, giant of the western star, With meteor-standard to the winds unfurl'd, Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world! Now far he sweeps, where scarce a summer smiles On Behring's rocks, or Greenland's naked isles : Cold on his midnight watch the breezes blow, From wastes that slumber in eternal snow; And waft, across the wave's tumultuous roar, The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore. Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm, Sad are the woes that wreck thy manly form! Rocks, waves, and winds, the shatter'd bark delay; Thy heart is sad, thy home is far away. But HOPE can here her moonlight vigils keep, And sing to charm the spirit of the deep: Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole, Her visions warm the watchman's pensive soul; His native hills that rise in happier climes, The grot that heard his song of other times, His cottage home, his bark of slender sail, His glassy lake, and broomwood-blossom'd vale, Rush on his thought; he sweeps before the wind, Treads the loved shore he sigh'd to leave behind; Meets at each step a friend's familiar face, And flies at last to Helen's long embrace; Wipes from her cheek the rapture-speaking tear, And clasps, with many a sigh, his children dear! While, long neglected, but at length caress'd, His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest, Points to the master's eyes (where'er they roam) His wistful face, and whines a welcome home. Friend of the brave! in peril's darkest hour, Intrepid Virtue looks to thee for power; To thee the heart its trembling homage yields, On stormy floods, and carnage-cover'd fields, When front to front the banner'd hosts combine, Halt ere they close, and form the dreadful line. When all is still on Death's devoted soil, The march-worn soldier mingles for the toil; As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on high The dauntless brow, and spirit-speaking eye, Hails in his heart the triumph yet to come, And hears thy stormy music in the drum! And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore (1) In horrid climes, where Chiloe's tempests sweep Tumultuous murmurs o'er the troubled deep, "T was his to mourn Misfortune's rudest shock, Scourged by the winds, and cradled on the rock, To wake each joyless morn, and search again Congenial HOPE! thy passion-kindling power, "Go, child of Heav'n! (thy winged words proclaim "T is thine to search the boundless fields of fame! Lo! Newton, priest of nature, shines afar, Scans the wide world, and numbers every star! Wilt thou, with him, mysterious rites apply, And watch the shrine with wonder-beaming eye! Yes, thou shalt mark, with magic art profound, The speed of light, the circling march of sound; With Franklin grasp the lightning's fiery wing, Or yield the lyre of Heav'n another string. (3) "The Swedish sage (4) admires in yonder bowers, His winged insects, and his rosy flowers; Calls from their woodland haunts the savage trainWith sounding horn, and counts them on the plain— So once, at Heaven's command, the wand'rers came To Eden's shade, and heard their various name. "Far from the world, in yon sequester'd clime, Slow pass the sons of Wisdom, more sublime; Calm as the fields of Heav'n his sapient eye The loved Athenian lifts to realms on high, Admiring Plato, on his spotless page, Stamps the bright dictates of the Father sage: Shall Nature bound to Earth's diurnal span The fire of God, th' immortal soul of man?' "Turn. child of Heav'n, thy rapture-lighten'd eye To Wisdom's walks,-the sacred Nine are nigh: Hark! from bright spires that gild the Delphian height, From streams that wander in eternal light, "Beloved of Heav'n! the smiling Muse shall shed Her moonlight halo on thy beauteous head; Shall swell thy heart to rapture unconfined, And breathe a holy madness o'er thy mind. I see thee roam her guardian pow'r beneath, And talk with spirits on the midnight heath; Inquire of guilty wand'rers whence they came, And ask each blood-stain'd form his earthly name; Then weave in rapid verse the deeds they tell, And read the trembling world the tales of hell. "When Venus, throned in clouds of rosy hue, Flings from her golden urn the vesper dew, And bids fond man her glimmering noon employ, Sacred to love, and walks of tender joy; A miider mood the goddess shall recall, And soft as dew thy tones of music fall; While Beauty's deeply-pictured smiles impart A pang more dear than pleasure to the heartWarm as thy sighs shall flow the Lesbian strain, And plead in Beauty's ear, nor plead in vain. "Or wilt thou Orphean hymns more sacred deem, And steep thy song in Mercy's mellow stream? To pensive drops the radiant eye beguileFor Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile;On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief? And teach impassion'd souls the joy of grief? "Yes; to thy tongue shall seraph words be given, And power on earth to plead the cause of Heaven; The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, That never mused on sorrow but its own, Unlocks a generous store at thy command, Like Horeb's rocks beneath the prophet's hand. (6) The living lumber of his kindred earth, Charm'd into soul, receives a second birth, Feels thy dread power another heart afford, Whose passion-touch'd harmonious strings accord True as the circling spheres to Nature's plan; And man, the brother, lives the friend of man. "Bright as the pillar rose at Heaven's command, When Israel march'd along the desert land, Blazed through the night on lonely wilds afar, And told the path,-a never-setting star: So, heavenly Genius, in thy course divine, HOPE is thy star, her light is ever thine." Propitious Power! when rankling cares annoy The sacred home of Hymenean joy; When doom'd to Poverty's sequester'd dell, The wedded pair of love and virtue dwell, Unpitied by the world, unknown to fame, Their woes, their wishes, and their hearts the same Oh, there, prophetic HOPE! thy smile bestow, And chase the pangs that worth should never knowThere, as the parent deals his scanty store To friendless babes, and weeps to give no more, Tell, that his manly race shall yet assuage Their father's wrongs, and shield his latter age. What though for him no Hybla sweets distil, Nor bloomy vines wave purple on the hill; Tell, that when silent years have pass'd away, That when his eye grows dim, his tresses grey, These busy hands a lovelier cot shall build, And deck with fairer flowers his little field, And call from Heaven propitious dews to breathe Arcadian beauty on the barren heath; Tell, that while Love's spontaneous smile endears The days of peace, the sabbath of his years, Health shall prolong to many a festive hour The social pleasures of his humble bower. Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps, Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps; She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies, Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes, I lay my head beneath the willow-tree, So speaks Affection, ere the infant eye Where is the troubled heart, consign'd to share A long-lost friend, or hapless child restored, Chide not his peace, proud Reason! nor destroy Oft when yon moon has climb'd the midnight sky, And the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry, Piled on the steep, her blazing fagots burn And, mark the wretch, whose wanderings never The world's regard, that soothes, though half untrue, HOPE! when I mourn, with sympathizing mind, When leagued Oppression pour'd to Northern wars Warsaw's last champion from her height survey'd, He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :-- Come, bright Improvement! on the car of In Lybian groves, where damned rites are done, roam, Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a home; Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile, The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there Oh! righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave, Departed spirits of the mighty dead! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see Or, warm with Fancy's energy, to glow, And say, supernal Powers! who deeply scan Ye that the rising morn invidious mark, Ye that expanding truth invidious view, Tyrants! in vain ye trace the wizard ring; Man! can thy doom no brighter soul allow? Ye fond adorers of departed fame, Yes! in that generous cause, for ever strong, Shall bid each righteous heart exult, to see Yet, yet, degraded men! th' expected day Eternal Nature! when thy giant hand Lo! once in triumph, on his boundless plain, The plunderer came!-alas! no glory smiles The shrill horn blew; (10) at that alarum knell Yes! there are hearts, prophetic HOPE may trust, A wish but death-a passion but despair? The widow'd Indian, when her lord expires, |