ooks_.

Books which are no books.

* * * * *

THOMAS CAMPBELL.
1777-1844.

_Pleasures of Hope_.

Part i. Line 7.

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Line 359.

O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save.

Line 381.

Hope for a season bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell!

* * * * *

O'er Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.

Part ii. Line 5.

Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name?

Line 23.

Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Of what were man?--a world without a sun.

Line 37.

The world was sad!--the garden was a wild!
And man, the hermit, sighed--till woman smiled.

Line 45.

While Memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Line 95.

There shall he love, when genial mom appears,
Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Line 194.

That gems the starry girdle of the year.

Line 263.

Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll
Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Line 325.

O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there,
To waft us home the message of despair?

Line 377.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.

_O'Connor's Child_.

Another's sword has laid him low,
Another's and another's;
And every hand that dealt the blow,
Ah me! it was a brother's!

_Lochiel's Warning_.

'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.

_Ye Mariners of England_.

Ye mariners of England!
That guard our native seas,
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze.

* * * * *

Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.

* * * * *

_The Soldier's Dream_.

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.
But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.

* * * * *

_Hohenlinden_.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave!

_Gertrude of Wyoming_.

Part iii. St. 1.

O love! in such a w