LOVE AND MADNESS; AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN 1795. Thomas Campbell Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. W27677 N27834 Campbell, Thomas, 1777-1844. Anderson, Robert, 1750-1830, dedicatee. The pleasures of hope, with other poems. By Thomas Campbell. [New York] Edinburgh, printed: New-York, re-printed by John Furman, opposite the City-Hall, for Jones Bull 1800 pp. []-109. 120p.; 17cm. (12mo)

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LOVE AND MADNESS ; AN ELEGY .

LOVE AND MADNESS ; AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN 1795. HARK ! from the battlements of yonder tower Warwick Castle . The solemn bell has toll'd the midnight hour ! Rous'd from drear visions of distemper'd sleep , Poor B—k wakes — in solitude to weep ! " Cease , Mem'ry , cease ( the friendless mourner cried ) , To probe the bosom top severely tried ! Oh ! ever cease , my pensive thoughts , to stray Through the bright fields of Fortune's better day ; When youthful Hope , the music of the mind , Tun'd all its charms , and E—n was kind ! " Yet , can I cease , while glows this trembling frame , In sighs to speak thy melancholy name ! I hear thy spirit wail in every storm ! In midnight shades I view thy passing form ! Pale as in that sad hour , when doom'd to feel , Deep in thy perjur'd heart , the bloody steel ! " Demons of Vengeance ! ye at whose command I grasp'd the sword with more than woman's hand , Say ye , did Pity's trembling voice controul , Or horror damp the purpose of my soul ? No ! my wild heart sat smiling o'er the plan , Till Hate fulfill'd what baffled Love began ! " Yes ; let the clay-cold breast , that never knew One tender pang , to generous Nature true , Half mingling pity with the gall of scorn , Condemn this heart , that bled in love forlorn ! " And ye , proud fair , whose souls no gladness warms , Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms ! Delighted idols of a gaudy train ! Ill can your blunter feelings guess the pain , When the fond faithful heart , inspir'd to prove Friendship refin'd , the calm delight of love , Feels all its tender strings with anguish torn , And bleeds at perjur'd Pride's inhuman scorn ! " Say , then , did pitying Heav'n condemn the deed , When vengeance bade thee , faithless lover ! bleed ? Long had I watch'd thy dark foreboding brow , What time thy bosom scorn'd its dearest vow ! Sad , though I wept the friend , the lover chang'd , Still thy cold look was scornful , and estranged , Till from thy pity , love , and shelter thrown , I wander'd , hopeless , friendless , and alone ! " Oh ! righteous Heav'n ! 'twas then my tortur'd soul First gave to wrath unlimited controul ! Adieu the silent look ! the streaming eye ! The murmur'd plaint ! the deep heart-heaving sigh ! Long slumbering Vengeance wakes to better deeds ; He shrieks , he falls , the perjur'd Lover bleeds ! Now the last laugh of agony is o'er , And pale in blood he sleeps , to wake no more ! " 'Tis done ! the flame of hate no longer burns ; Nature relents ; but , ah ! too late returns ! Why does my soul this gush of anguish feel ? Trembling and faint , I drop the guilty steel ! Cold on my heart the hand of terror lies ; And shades of horror close my languid eyes ! — " Oh ! 'twas a deed of Murder's deepest grain ! Could B—k's soul so true to wrath remain ? A friend long true , a once fond lover fell ! — Where Love was foster'd , could not Pity dwell ? " Unhappy youth ! while yon pale crescent lows To watch on silent Nature's deep repose , Thy sleepless spirit , breathing from the tomb , Foretells my fate , and summons me to come ! Once more I see thy sheeted spectre stand , Roll the dim eye , and wave the paly hand ! " Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame Forsake its languid melancholy frame ! Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close , Welcome the dreamless night of long repose ! Soon may this woe-worn spirit seek the bourne Where , lull'd to slumber , Grief forgets to mourn ! "