My anxiety to wake in the morning, in order to be at my literary labors, kept me awake all night; and, from less to more, I became a regular victim to the disease called the Coma-vigil. Any attempt at original composition on my part was at this time out of the question. But the wolf was at the door; and, besides the current expenses of our common maintenance, I had to meet the quarterly payment of usurious interest, on a debt which I had been obliged to contract for our new furniture, and for the very cradle that rocked our first-born child. The usurious interest to which I allude was forty pounds a year upon a loan of two hundred pounds — a Judaic loan. "Throbbing as my temples were, after sleepless and anxious nights, I was obliged next day to work at such literary labor as I could undertake—that is, at prosaic tasks of compilation, abridgment, or commonplace thought, which required little more than the labor of penmanship. 66 I accepted an engagement to write for the Star newspaper, and the Philosophical Magazine, conducted by Mr. Tulloch, the editor of the Star, for which I received at the rate of two hundred pounds a year. But that sum -out of which I had to pay for a horse on which I rode to town every day-was quite inadequate to my wants; so I betook myself to literary engagements that would allow me to labor all day in the country. Dispirited beneath all hope of raising my reputation by what I could write, I contracted for only anonymous labor—and, of course, at an humble price." It was during his early residence at Sydenham that Campbell completed Lord Ullin's Daughter, which had been first planned in the Island of Mull. Two of his poems written in Bavaria were now also revised for publication-The Turkish Lady and The Soldier's Dream. Then, too, the famous Battle of the Baltic was finished. "I am stagnated by the cares of the world," he wrote to Walter Scott, on the 27th March, 1805; “I have only fought one other battle-it is Copenhagen. I wonder how you will like it in its incorrect state." Dr. Beattie affords us the opportunity of comparing it in this state with the finished poem : THE BATTLE OF COPENHAGEN. Of Nelson and the North When, their haughty powers to vex, All bright, in April's sun, Shone the day! When a British fleet came down, Through the islands of the crown, Took their stay. In arms the Danish shore By each gun the lighted brand, In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on! For Denmark here had drawn From her battle-ships so vast Bade them fight! Another noble fleet Of their line Rode out, but these were naught In the brine. It was ten of Thursday morn, By the chime, As they drifted on their path For a time Ere a first and fatal round Every Dane looked out that day, Not such a mind possessed 'Twas the love of noble game All hands and eyes on watch, By their motion light as wings, By each step that haughty springs, 'Twas the Edgar first that smote As her flag the foremost soared, At the sign! Three cheers of all the fleet Sung huzza! Then, from centre, rear and van, Every captain, every man, With a lion's heart began To the fray. O, dark grew soon the heavens For each gun, From its adamantine lips, Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like a hurricane eclipse Of the sun. Three hours the raging fire Did not slack; But the fourth, their signals drear And the Dane a feeble cheer The voice decayed, their shots They ceased-and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail, Light the gloom. O! death-it was a sight But we rescued many a crew Why ceased not here the strife, Why bleeds old England's band, By the fire of Danish land, But the Britons sent to warn Proud foes, let vengeance sleep Then, peace instead of death Let us bring! If you'll yield your conquered fleet, With the crews, at England's feet, And make submission meet To our king! Then death withdrew ais pall From the day; |