ummore, the great head of clan Campbell, and consequent
propinquity to the noble House of Argyle. Alexander Campbell, the poet's
father, had carried on a prosperous trade as a Virginian merchant, but
had suffered unhappy embarrassments, at the outbreak of the American
war. Of his eleven children, Thomas was the youngest. He was born on the
27th July 1777, in his father's house, High Street, Glasgow, and was
baptised by the celebrated Dr Thomas Reid, after whom he received his
Christian name. The favourite child of his parents, peculiar care was
bestowed upon his upbringing; he was taught to read by his eldest
sister, who was nineteen years his senior, and had an example of energy
set before him by his mother, a woman of remarkable decision. He
afforded early indication of genius; as a child, he was fond of ballad
poetry, and in his tenth year he wrote verses. At the age of eight he
became a pupil in the grammar school, having already made some
proficiency in classical learning. During the first session of
attendance at the University, he gained two prizes and a bursary on
Archbishop Leighton's foundation. As a classical scholar, he acquired
rapid distinction; he took especial delight in the dramatic literature
of Greece, and his metrical translations from the Greek plays were
pronounced excellent specimens of poetical composition. He invoked the
muse on many themes, and occasionally printed verses, which were
purchased by his comrades. From the commencement of his curriculum he
chiefly supported himself by teaching; at the close of his fourth
session, he accepted a tutorship in the island of Mull. There he
prosecuted verse-making, and continued his translations from the Greek
dramatists. He conducted a poetical correspondence with Hamilton Paul;
and the following lines addressed to this early friend, and entitled "An
Elegy written in Mull," may be quoted in evidence of his poetical talent
in his seventeenth year. These lines do not occur in any edition of his
works:

"The tempest blackens on the dusky moor,
And billows lash the long-resounding shore;
In pensive mood I roam the desert ground,
And vainly sigh for scenes no longer found.
Oh, whither fled the pleasurable hours
That chased each care, and fired the muse's powers;
The classic haunts of youth, for ever gay
Where mirth and friendship cheer'd the close of day,
The well-known valleys where I wont to roam,
The native sport