So, fixed in rapture and surprise, Methought, shall beauty, such as this, Meek, modest, and refined, On Thule's shore be doomed to bless From yon bleak mountain's barren side In studious fashion's proudest cost The pride of art could never boast Yet, simple beauty, never sigh To share a prouder lot! Nor, caught by grandeur, seek to fly The solitary cot!" * The concluding stanza is illegible in the manuscript. 147 CHAPTER VII. RETURN FROM MULL-FIFTH SESSION. AFTER an absence of five months from his native Clutha, Campbell took a final leave of those shores He returned home-" glad," as he says, " to behold the kirk steeples, and feel his feet, not on the bent' of Mull, but on the whinstone pavement of his native city." His feeling of partiality to Glasgow, naturally strong, had been increased by distance and absence, and was now more warmly cherished than ever. Here was the scene of his earliest trials and distinctions; here were many of his youthful comrades; and here was the mental palæstra, where he aspired to new honours. With his mind refreshed and filled with original ideas, drawn from a region little frequented, he longed to communicate its intellectual treasures to others; and with this feeling, returned to his friends and studies with increased alacrity. The sight of his Alma Mater, was like that of some fair and indulgent friend, of whom he had thought often and tenderly during his absence, and who was the first to bid him a cordial welcome. It appeared to him, that, until now, he had never felt in all their force and purity, the united ties of friends, kindred, and home. As the old-cherished landmarks one after another reappeared, we can easily believe how his feelings melted into poetry : "Then, then every rapture was young and sincere, His journey by land and water occupied four days, and was performed in a season when the mountains are frequently covered with snow. The fact which he relates, of his passing a long, cold night in this open waste, sufficiently proves what he had before stated, that in spirit and health, he was as "gay as a lark, and as hardy as the Highland heather." "I came back to Glasgow," he says, "in company with my friend Joseph Finlayson, who, like myself had been living on an adjoining Highland estate. On our way between Oban and Lochawe-side, we were benighted; and totally losing our way, were obliged to pass a cold night, in the end of October, on the lee-side of a bare whinstone wall. But wrapping ourselves in our Highland plaids, we lay quietly down on the ground, and next day found ourselves nothing worse for our exposure." Immediately after his return, Campbell resumed his duties as a College tutor, and appropriated what leisure he could spare to the prosecution of his former studies. He was again enrolled in the Greek-Law-Logic-Moral and Natural Philosophy Classes, and devoted a portion of every day to a critical revision of the translations made during the summer. In his correspondence of this session, the first letter on the list is the following, MY DEAR FRIEND, TO MR. THOMSON. GLASGOW COLLEGE, November 14th, 1795. Whether the hurry of business, or some accident has prevented the long-wished-for receipt of my friend's letter I know not; but, God knows, I have counted many a solitary moment since the time when I expected his answer to my last. Yet I look forward with pleasure to that happiness; and rely upon the constancy of his affection for a long and agreeable series of correspondence. Write me speedily, my friend; tell me if you form a distant idea of Staffa, and whether you could ever be persuaded to visit the scene of such a sublime curiosity. Methinks I see you shake your head as a sign of negation, contemplating at the same time in your imagination, the danger of being trusted to the mercy of wild Highlanders! Don't determine too speedily; you may perhaps find leisure for such a tour; and in that case, by meeting with you at Edinburgh or Glasgow, I should not only have the pleasure of shaking hands with my long-absent Thomson; but perhaps be of some service to you in finding quarters in those places, where society is not so far refined, as to give encouragement to innkeepers.-Nothing worthy of notice has occurred since I left Mull. You inquire very feelingly for poor W- and poor he is,—a living monument that genius and prudence do not always correspond. . . Yet I felt my heart warm to him when he mentioned your name with respect and affection. Poor man he has lost his character and prudence, but a good heart can compensate for many failings.* No doubt you will think me a queer being for delaying a scrap of poetry so long; the following short piece,+ I composed the day after my arrival in Mull, during bad weather and low spirits. The latter affliction soon vanished before the diversions of Mull. . . I this night give in Eschylus to , *This is one of several cases, to which Campbell has alluded, as lamentable instances of genius, degraded and lost by a too intimate acquaintance with the hard-living students of that day. Further reference to this subject will be found in a subsequent portion of the letters. + See Elegy, page 136. Professor Young. What its fate may be, I know notSpero timeoque vicissim-Adieu, my dear Thomson. MR. JAMES THOMSON. T. C. The cold bivouac at Oban, harmless as it appeared at the time, had produced effects on Campbell's health, which he found it difficult to shake off. These, however, were rendered more obstinate by great depression of spirits, the cause of which was uncertainty as to his prospects, and an attachment which he had formed during the summer. In this state of mind and health, he again writes to Mr. Thomson in December. GLASGOW, MY DEAR THOMSON, But I am ashamed to put a date to it. A severe cold caught in the country, and which I foolishly took no care to get rid of in proper time, continued my constant companion till within these three weeks-ever since the end of September. A month's confinement during the gloomiest season of the year was an unusual luxury to me, and, I assure you, I by no means relished it. I was excessively low-spirited. When the weather was wet I grew so dreary and sullen that I took pleasure in reading nothing. I believe, had I continued in this mood for a month longer, I should not only have been by this time a democrat, for I am so already, but a misanthrope. While under these cheerless thoughts, I then imagined-tho' I now blame myself for thinking so that anything from my pen would be very unentertaining to you. But you may be assured that I shall never fall into the same error again; for whether Democrat or Burkite-whether lively or cheerless-I |