and his Round Table. The world was surprised to find, under this odd disguise, a happy imitation of the Pulci and Casti school of the Italian poets. The brothers Whistlecraft formed, it was quickly seen, but the mask of some elegant and scholarly wit belonging to the higher circles of society, who had chosen to amuse himself in comic verse, without incurring the responsibilities of declared authorship. To two cantos published in the above year, a third and fourth were soon after added. The poem opens with a feast held by King Arthur at Carlisle amidst his knights, who are thus introduced: They looked a manly generous generation; Beards, shoulders, eyebrows, broad, and square, and thick, Their accents firm and loud in conversation, They were so very courteous and well-bred. Near the valley of the giants was an abbey, containing fifty friars, fat and good,' who keep for a long time on good terms with their neighbours. Being fond of music, the giants would sometimes approach the sacred pile, attracted by the sweet In a valley near Carlisle lived a race of giants; sounds that issued from it; and here occurs a and this place is finely described: Huge mountains of immeasurable height A rock was in the centre, like a cone, A wild tumultuous torrent raged around, The giants having attacked and carried off some ladies on their journey to court, the knights deem it their duty to set out in pursuit; and in due time they overcome these grim personages, and relieve the captives from the castle in which they had been immured: The ladies? They were tolerably well, That when the castle's capture was effected, This closes the second canto. The third opens in the following playful strain: I've a proposal here from Mr Murray. In a nice airy lodging out of town, At Croydon, Epsom, anywhere in Surrey; If every stanza brings us in a crown, I think that I might venture to bespeak A bedroom and front-parlour for next week. beautiful piece of description: Oft that wild untutored race would draw, Hearing a clatter which they disapproved, Like house-dogs howling at a dinner-bell. This is evidently meant as a good-humoured satire against violent personifications in poetry. Meanwhile a monk, Brother John by name, who had opposed the introduction of the bells, has gone in a fit of disgust with his brethren to amuse himself with the rod at a neighbouring stream. Here occurs another beautiful descriptive passage: A mighty current, unconfined and free, Ran wheeling round beneath the mountain's shade, Battering its wave-worn base; but you might see On the near margin many a watery glade, Becalmed beneath some little island's lee, All tranquil and transparent, close embayed; Reflecting in the deep serene and even Each flower and herb, and every cloud of heaven; The painted kingfisher, the branch above her, So rest and motion in a narrow range, Feasted the sight with joyous interchange. Brother John, placed here by mere chance, is apprised of the approach of the giants in time to run home and give the alarm. Amidst the preparations for defence, to which he exhorts his brethren, the abbot dies, and John is elected to succeed him. A stout resistance is made by the monks, whom their new superior takes care to feed well by way of keeping them in heart, and the giants at length withdraw from the scene of action: And now the gates are opened, and the throng Here Bundleback, and here Phigander lay.' Then to the traces of gigantic feet, They track them on, till they converge and meet- To their own pious founder's intercession, To their own prudence, valour, and discretion; To relics, rosaries, and holy-water; To beads and psalms, and feats of arms-in short, It finally appears that the pagans have retired in order to make the attack upon the ladies, which had formerly been described-no bad burlesque of the endless episodes of the Italian romantic poets. It was soon discovered that the author of this clever jeu d'esprit was the Right Honourable John Hookham Frere, a person of high political consequence, who had been employed a few years before by the British government to take charge of diplomatic transactions in Spain in connection with the army under General Sir John Moore. The Whistlecraft poetry was carried no further; but the peculiar stanza (the ottava rima of Italy), and the sarcastic pleasantry, formed the immediate exemplar which guided Byron when he wrote his Beppo and Don Juan; and one couplet Adown thy slope, romantic Ashbourn, glides became at a subsequent period the basis of an allusion almost historical in importance, with reference to a small party in the House of Commons. Thus the national poem attained a place of some consequence in our modern literature. It is only to be regretted that the poet, captivated by indolence or the elegances of a luxurious taste, gave no further specimen of his talents to the world. For many years Mr Frere resided in Malta, in the enjoyment of a handsome pension, conferred for diplomatic services, of £1516 per annum, and at Malta he died on the 7th January 1846, aged seventy-seven. In the Life of Sir Walter Scott, there are some particulars respecting the meeting of the declining novelist with his friend, the author of Whistlecraft. We there learn from Scott, that the remarkable war-song upon the victory at Brunnenburg, which appears in Mr Ellis's Specimens of Ancient English Poetry, and might pass in a court of critics as a genuine composition of the fourteenth century, was written by Mr Frere while an Eton school-boy, as an illustration on one side of the celebrated Rowley controversy. We are also informed by Mrs John Davy, in her diary, quoted by Mr Lockhart, that Sir Walter on this occasion 'repeated a pretty long passage from his version of one of the Southey's quarto-and seemed to enjoy a spirited romances of the Cid-published in the appendix to charge of the knights therein described as much as he could have done in his best days, placing his walking-stick in rest like a lance, "to suit the action to the word." It will not, we hope, be deemed improper that we redeem from comparative obscurity a piece of poetry so much admired by Scott: The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rushed, The outposts of the Moorish hosts back to the camp were pushed; The camp was all in tumult, and there was such a thunder Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder. There you might see the Moors arming themselves in haste, And the two main battles how they were forming fast; a countless troop and vast. but he could not refrain, for there your banner goes! Earnestly the Cid called out, 'For heaven's sake be still!' so eager was his will. They strove to win the banner, and compassed him about. Had not his armour been so true, he had lost either life or limb; The Cid called out again, 'For heaven's sake succour him! Their shields before their breasts, Their lances in the rest levelled fair and low; Their banners and their crests Their heads all stooping down towards the saddle bow. The Cid was in the midst, his shout was heard afar: 'I am Rui Diaz, the champion of Bivar; There where Bermuez fought amidst the foe they brake; Three hundred bannered knights, Three hundred Moors they killed, When they wheeled and turned, as many more lay slain, You might see them raise their lances, There you might see the breastplates, And many a Moorish shield lie scattered on the plain. The pennons that were white marked with a crimson stain, The horses running wild whose riders had been slain. THOMAS CAMPBELL. THOMAS CAMPBELL was born in the city of Glasgow, July 27, 1777. He was of a good Highland family, the Campbells of Kirnan, in Argyleshire, who traced their origin from the first Norman lord of Lochawe. The property, however, had passed from the ancient race, and the poet's father carried on business in Glasgow as a merchant or trader with Virginia. He was unsuccessful, and in his latter days subsisted on some small income derived from a merchants' society and provident institution, aided by his industrious wife, who received into their house as boarders young men attending college. Thomas received a good education, and was distinguished at the university, particularly for his translations from the Greek. The Greek professor, John Young, pronounced his translation of part of the Clouds of Aristophanes the best version that had ever been given in by any student. He had previously received a prize for an English poem, an Essay on the Origin of Evil, modelled on the style of Pope. Other poetical pieces, written between his fourteenth and sixteenth year, evince Campbell's peculiar delicacy of taste and select poetical diction. He became tutor in a family resident in the island of Mull, and about this time met with his 'Caroline of the West,' the daughter of a minister of Inverary. The winter of 1795 saw him again in Glasgow, attending college, and supporting himself by private tuition. Next year he was some time tutor in the family of Mr Downie of Appin, also in the Highlands; and this engagement completed, he repaired to Edinburgh, hesitated between the church and the law as a profession, but soon abandoning all hopes of either, he employed himself in private teaching and in literary work for the booksellers. Poetry was J. Campbell not neglected, and in April 1799 appeared his Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of time! The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there; On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, Traces of juvenility may be found in the Pleasures of Hope-a want of connection between the different parts of the poem, some florid lines and imperfect metaphors; but such a series of beautiful and dazzling pictures, so pure and elevated a tone of moral feeling, and such terse, vigorous, and polished versification, were never perhaps before found united in a poem written at the age of twentyone. Shortly after its publication, Mr Campbell visited the continent. He sailed from Leith for Hamburg on the 1st of June 1800; and proceeding from thence to Ratisbon, witnessed the decisive action which gave Ratisbon to the French. The poet stood with the monks of the Scottish college of St James, on the ramparts near the monastery, while a charge of Klenau's cavalry was made upon the French. He saw no other scenes of actual warfare, but made various excursions into the interior, and was well received by General Moreau and the other French officers. It has been generally supposed that Campbell was present at the battle of Hohenlinden, but it was not fought until some weeks after he had left Bavaria. During his residence on the Danube and the Elbe, the poet wrote some of his exquisite minor poems, which were published in the Morning Chronicle newspaper. The first of these was the Exile of Erin, which was suggested by an incident like that which befell Smollett at Boulogne-namely, meeting with a party of political exiles who retained a strong love of their native country. Campbell's 'Exile' was a person named Anthony M'Cann, who, with Hamilton Rowan and others, had been concerned in the Irish rebellion. So jealous was the British government of that day, that the poet was suspected of being a spy, and on his arrival in Edinburgh, was subjected to an examination by the sheriff, but which ended in a scene of mirth and good-humour. Shortly afterwards, Campbell was received by Lord Minto as a sort of secretary and literary companion-a situation which his temper and somewhat democratic independence of spirit rendered uncongenial, and which did not last long. In this year (1802) he composed Lochiel's Warning and Hohenlindenthe latter one of the grandest battle-pieces in miniature that ever was drawn. In a few verses, flowing like a choral melody, the poet brings before us the silent midnight scene of engagement wrapt in the snows of winter, the sudden arming for the battle, the press and shout of charging squadrons, the flashing of artillery, and the final scene of death: Few, few shall part where many meet! Shall be a soldier's sepulchre ! Lochiel's Warning being read in manuscript to Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, he requested a perusal of it himself, and then repeated the whole from memory -a striking instance of the great minstrel's powers of recollection, which was related to us by Mr Campbell himself. In 1803 the poet repaired to London, and devoted himself to literature as a profession. He resided for some time with his friend, drama, &c. He also compiled Annals of Great Britain from the Accession of George III. to the Peace of Amiens, in three volumes. Such compilations can only be considered in the light of mental drudgery; but Campbell, like Goldsmith, could sometimes impart grace and interest to task-work. In 1806, through the influence of Mr Fox, the government granted a pension to the poet-a well-merited tribute to the author of those national strains, Ye Mariners of England, and the Battle of the Baltic. In 1809 was published his second great poem, Gertrude of Wyoming, a Pennsylvanian Tale. The with a good-luck which one would wish to see always attend poets' legacies, the sums were more than doubled in consequence of the testator's effects far exceeding what he believed to be their value. Thomas Telford (1755-1834) was himself a rhymster in his youth. He was born on poetic ground, amidst the scenes of old Scottish song, green hills, and the other adjuncts of a landscape of great sylvan and pastoral beauty. Eskdale, his native district-where he lived till nearly twenty, first as a shepherd, and afterwards as a stone-masonwas also the birthplace of Armstrong and Mickle. Telford wrote a poem descriptive of this classic dale, but it is only a feeble paraphrase of Goldsmith. He addressed an epistle to Burns, part of which is published by Currie. These boyish studies and predilections contrast strangely with the severer pursuits of his after-years as a mathematician and engineer, In his original occupation of a stone-mason, cutting names on tombstones (in which he excelled, as did also Hugh Miller), we can fancy him cheering his solitary labours with visions the same time dreaming of works like the Menai Bridge or of literary eminence; but it is difficult to conceive him at the Pont-cy-sylte aqueduct in Wales. He had, however, received an early architectural or engineering bias by poring over the plates and descriptions in Rollin's history, which he read by his mother's fireside, or in the open air while herding sheep. Telford was a liberal-minded and benevolent man. A similar amount was bequeathed to Mr Southey, and, without any appearance of imitative harmony or direct resemblance. In his highest pulse of excitement, the cadence of his verse becomes deep and strong, without losing its liquid smoothness; the stream expands to a flood, but never overflows the limits prescribed by a correct taste and regulated magnificence. The Pindaric flights of Gray justified bolder and more rapid transitions. Description is not predominant in either poet, but is adopted as an auxiliary to some deeper emotion or sentiment. Campbell seems, however, to have sympathised more extensively with nature, and to have studied her phenomena more attentively than Gray. His residence in the Highlands, in view of the sea and wild Hebrides, had given expansiveness as well as pathies are also more widely diversified with respect to the condition of humanity, and the hopes and prospects of society. With all his classic predilections, he was not-as he has himself remarked of Crabbe-a laudator temporis acti, but a decided lover of later times. Age never quenched his zeal for public freedom or for the unchained exercise of the human intellect; and, with equal consistency in tastes as in opinions, he was to the last meditating a work on Greek literature, by which, fifty years before, he first achieved distinction. subsequent literary labours of Mr Campbell were only, as regards his poetical fame, subordinate efforts. The best of them were contributed to the New Monthly Magazine, which he edited for ten years (from 1820 to 1830); and one of these minor poems, the Last Man, may be ranked among his greatest conceptions: it is like a sketch by Michael Angelo or Rembrandt. Previous to this time the poet had visited Paris in company with Mrs Siddons and John Kemble, and enjoyed the sculptured forms and other works of art in the Louvre with such intensity, that they seemed to give his mind a new sense of the harmony of art-a new visual power of enjoying beauty. Every step of approach,' he says, 'to the presence of the Apollo Belvidere, added to my sensations, and all recollec-intensity to his solitary contemplations. His symtions of his name in classic poetry swarmed on my mind as spontaneously as the associations that are conjured up by the sweetest music.' In 1818 he again visited Germany, and on his return the following year, he published his Specimens of the British Poets, with biographical and critical notices, in seven volumes. The justness and beauty of his critical dissertations have been universally admitted; some of them are perfect models of chaste yet animated criticism. În 1820 Mr Campbell delivered a course of lectures on poetry at the Surrey Institution; in 1824 he published Theodric, and other Poems; and, though busy in establishing the London University, he was, in 1827, honoured with the graceful compliment of being elected lord rector of the university of his native city. This distinction was continued and heightened by his re-election the two following years. He afterwards made a voyage to Algiers, of which he published an account; and in 1842 he appeared again as a poet. This work a slight narrative poem, unworthy of his fame, entitled The Pilgrim of Glencoe. Among the literary engagements of his latter years, was a Life of Mrs Siddons, and a Life of Petrarch. In the summer of 1843, he fixed his residence at Boulogne, but his health was by this time much impaired, and he died the following summer, June 15, 1844. He was interred in Westminster Abbey, his funeral being attended by some of the most eminent noblemen and statesmen of the day, with a numerous body of private friends. In 1849 a selection from his correspondence, with a candid and an able life of the poet, was published by his affectionate friend and literary executor, Dr Beattie, himself the author of various works, and of some pleasing and picturesque poetry. was The genius and taste of Campbell resemble those of Gray. He displays the same delicacy and purity of sentiment, the same vivid perception of beauty and ideal loveliness, equal picturesqueness and elevation of imagery, and the same lyrical and concentrated power of expression. The diction of both is elaborately choice and select. Campbell has greater sweetness and gentleness of pathos, springing from deep moral feeling, and a refined sensitiveness of nature. Neither can be termed boldly original or inventive, but they both possess sublimity-Gray in his two magnificent odes, and Campbell in his war-songs or lyrics, which form the richest offering ever made by poetry at the shrine of patriotism. The general tone of his verse is calm, uniform, and mellifluous-a stream of mild harmony and delicious fancy flowing through the bosomscenes of life, with images scattered separately, like flowers, on its surface, and beauties of expression interwoven with it-certain words and phrases of magical power-which never quit the memory. His style rises and falls gracefully with his subject, but Many can date their first love of poetry from their perusal of Campbell. In youth, the Pleasures of Hope is generally preferred. Like its elder brother, the Pleasures of Imagination, the poem is full of visions of romantic beauty and unchecked enthusiasm The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. Its In riper years, when the taste becomes matured, Far differently the mute Oneyda took The loves of Gertrude and Waldegrave, the patriarchal Albert, and the sketches of rich sequestered Pennsylvanian scenery, also shew the finished art of the poet. The concluding description of the battle, and the death of the heroine, are superior to anything in the Pleasures of Hope; and though the plot is simple, and occasionally obscure-as if the fastidiousness of the poet had made him reject the ordinary materials of a story-the poem has altogether so much of the dramatic spirit, that its characters are distinctly and vividly impressed on the mind of the reader, and the valley of Wyoming, with its green declivities, lake, and forest, instantly takes its place among the imperishable treasures of the memory. The poem of O'Connor's Child is another exquisitely finished and pathetic tale. The rugged and ferocious features of ancient feudal manners and family pride are there displayed in connection with female suffering, love, and beauty, and with the romantic and warlike colouring suited to the country and the times. It is full of antique grace and passionate energy-the mingled light and gloom of |