It stopp'd it stood-it chill'd my blood, The hair upon my flesh uprose With freezing dread! Deep silence reign'd, and, at its close, I heard a voice that said 'Shall mortal man be more pure and just How soon the wreath of joy grows wan By the fire of his conscience he perisheth In an unblown flame: The Earth demands his death, And the Heavens reveal his shame."" With the depth of my desolation, And the anguish of my soul? He fadeth like a flower. My days are pass'd-my hope and trust Is but to moulder in the dust. CHORUS. Bow, mortal, bow, before thy God, Hark! from the whirlwind forth Thy Maker speaks-"Thou child of earth, Creation's corner-stone? When the sons of God rejoicing made, And the morning stars together sang and shone? Hadst thou power to bid above Heaven's constellations glow; Or shape the forms that live and move On Nature's face below? Hast thou given the horse his strength and pride? He paws the valley, with nostril wide, He smells far off the battle; He neighs at the trumpet's sound— As he sweeps to where the quivers rattle, And the thunder of the fight. TO MY NIECE, MARY CAMPBELL. [THE following lines were written in Mrs. Alfred Hill's album, in the early part of 1842, about twelve months after her arrival in London from Scotland, and they exhibit the gentle and affectionate feelings which ever marked Campbell's intercourse with those he loved.] OUR friendship's not a stream to dry, A life-long planet in our sky- Thy playfulness and pleasant ways Proud honesty protects our lot, To think, too, thy remembrance fond My lease of living breath. 386 TO MY NIECE, MARY CAMPBELL. Meanwhile thine intellects presage A life-time rich in truth, And make me feel th' advance of age Good night! propitious dreams betide Thy sleep-awaken gay, And we will make to-morrow glide APPENDIX. THE DIRGE OF WALLACE. WHEN Scotland's great Regent, our warrior most dear, The debt of his nature did pay, 'Twas Edward, the cruel, had reason to fear, And cause to be struck with dismay. At the window of Edward the raven did croak, Each tie of true honor to Wallace he broke- At Elderslie Castle no raven was heard, They lighted the tapers at dead of night, But her brow and her bosom were damp with affright, And the lady of Elderslie wept for her lord, Now sing ye the death-song, and loudly pray |