VOL. I.

A mingled scene of aggravated woes,
Where Pride and Passion every curse disclose!
Cease, erring man; nor arrogant presume
To blame thy lot or Heaven's unerring doom.
HE who thy being gave, in skill divine,
Saw what was best, and bade that best be thine.
But, count thy wants and all thine evils name,
Still, HE that bade them be, is free from blame;
Tell all the imperfections of thy state,
The wrongs of man to man-the wrongs of Fate;
Still Reason's voice shall justify them all,

And bid complaint to resignation fall.

If HEAV'N be blamed, that imperfection's thine,
As just to blame that man is not divine.
Of all the tribes that fill this earthly scheme,
Thy sphere is highest, and thy gifts supreme;
Of mental gifts, Intelligence is given,
Conscience is thine, to point the will of Heaven;
The spur of Action, Passions are assign'd,
And Fancy, parent of the soul refined.

'Tis true, thy Reason's progress is but slow,
And Passion, if misguided, tends to woe;

'Tis true, thy gifts are finite in extent,

What then? can nought that's finite give content ?
Leave, then, proud Man! this scene of earthly chance;
Aspire to spheres supreme, and be a god at once!
"No," you reply; "superior pow'rs I claim,
Though not perfection, or a sphere supreme;
In Reason more exalted, let me shine;
The lion's strength, the fox's art be mine;
The bull's firm chest, the steed's superior grace,
The stag's transcendant swiftness in the chase.
Say, why were these denied, if Heav'n be kind
And full content to human lot assign'd?”—

The reason's simple; in the breast of man
To soar still upward, dwells th' eternal plan;
A wish innate, and kindly placed by Heaven,
That man may rise, through means already given.
Aspiring thus, to mend the ills of fate,

To find new bliss and cure the human state,
In varied souls its varied shapes appear-
Here, fans desire of wealth-of honour, there;

H

Here, urges Newton Nature to explore,
And promises delight by knowing more :
And there, in Cæsar, lightens up the flame
To mount the pinnacle of human fame.

In spite of Fate, it fires the active mind,
Keeps man alive, and serves the use assign'd;
Without it, none would urge a favourite bent,
And man were useless but for Discontent.

Seek not perfection, then, of higher kind,
Since man is perfect in the state assign'd;
Nor perfect, as probation can allow,
Accuse thy lot, although imperfect now.—

PART II-MORAL EVILS.

BUT, grant that Man is justly frail below,
Still Imperfection is not all our woe:
If final good be God's eternal plan,
Why is the power of ill bestow'd on man ?—
Why is Revenge an inborn passion found?

And why the means to spread that passion round?
Whence, in Man's breast, the constant wish we find,

That tends to work the ruin of his kind?
Whence flows th' ambition of a Cæsar's soul,
Or Sylla's wish to ravage and controul?
Whence, monster Vice! originates thy course?
Art thou from God?-is purity thy source?
No; let not blasphemy that cause pursue!
A simpler source in Man himself we view :
If Man, endow'd with freedom, basely act,
Can such from blameless purity detract?

An ample liberty of choice is given,

Man chooses ill,--and where the fault of Heaven?
Say not the human heart is prone to sin,
Virtue, by Nature, reigns as strong within:
The passions, if perverted, tend to woe.-
"What then? did God perversion, too, bestow ? "
No; blame thyself if Guilt distract thy lot;
Man may be virtuous-Heav'n forbids it not.
Blind as thou art, in this imperfect state,
Still conscious Virtue might support thy fate;
Give Reason strength, thy passions to controul-
Vice is not inborn; drive it from thy soul!

Yet

you reply," Though ample freedom's mine, The fault of Evil still is half divine;

If Heaven foresaw that, from the scope of choice,
Perversion, vice, and misery should rise;
Why then on Man, if prone to good, bestow
The possibility of working woe?"

Ask not; 'tis answer'd: arrogantly blind
To scan the secrets of the eternal Mind!
If Heav'n be just, then Reason tells us this-
That Man, by merit, must secure his bliss.
Cease, then, with Evil to upbraid the skies;
That, to the vice of mortals, owes its rise:
Is God to blame, if Man's inhuman heart
Deny the boon that Pity should impart?
If patriots to brutality should change,
And grasp the lawless dagger of Revenge-
If frantic murd'rers mingle from afar,
To palliate carnage by the name of war-
If pamper'd Pride disdain a sufferer's fate,
And spurn imploring mis'ry from her gate?
No! Heav'n hath placed Compassion in the breast;
The means are given-and ours is all the rest.
But what, to ease thy sorrow, shall avail
For human lot the misanthropic wail?
Since all complain, and all are vicious, too,
Each hates the vile pursuit, but all pursue,
Let actions, then, and not complaints prevail ;-
Let each his part withdraw, the whole shall fail.

And certain woes with every blessing blend!

Lo! where the stream in quiv'ring silver plays,

There, slipp'ry Fate upon its verge betrays;
Yon sun, that feebly gilds the western sky,
In warmer climes bids arid nature die.

Disgusted Virtue quits her injured reign,
Vice comes apace, and Folly leads her train!
But not alone, if blissful all thy lot,
Were Vice pursued, and Gratitude forgot.
Defects still further in the scheme we view,
Since Virtue, willing, scarce could man pursue.
Say, if each mortal were completely blest,
Where could the pow'r of aiding woe exist?
If, at the gate, no suppliant suff'rer stand,
Could e'er Compassion stretch her lib'ral hand?
Did never winter chill the freezing waste,
Could kindness e'er invite the shudd'ring guest?
What boots-if good the changeless lot of man-
The philanthropic wish, the patriot's plan?

Or what could goodness do? Nought else, tis plain,
But rage to bridle, passion to restrain;

---

A virtue negative, scarce worth the name,-
Far from the due reward that gen'rous actions claim.
Still less the scope of Fortitude we find,
Were pain dismiss'd, and Fortune ever kind.
The path of merit, then, let ills be view'd,
And own their pow'r, if virtue be thy good.
Nor on that scheme let lawless wishes run,
Where vice had all her scope, and virtue none;
But rest contented with thy Maker's plan,
Who ills ordain'd, the means of good to man.
Nor, midst complaint of hardships, be forgot

The mingled pleasures of thy varied lot!

What, though the transient gusts of sorrow come

Though passion vex, or penury benumb;

Still bliss, sufficient to thy hope, is giv'n

To warm thy heart with gratitude to Heav'n!
Still mortal Reason darts sufficient day

To guide thy steps, through life's perplexing way;
Still Conscience tells 'tis all we need to know-
"Virtue to seek, and vice to shun below."
Hear, then, the warnings of her solemn voice,
And seek the plaudit of a virtuous choice!

THOMAS CAMPBELL, æt. 16.

A lady, who well remembers the Poet's triumph, this session, mentions, in a letter to me, his warmth and tenderness of heart, his mature judgment, enlivened by sallies of wit and humour, which shone forth in numerous anecdotes. In personal appearance, he was not less remarkable for elegance, than for those high mental endowments which were every year acquiring greater force and finer polish. His specimens from Medea,' which hardly lost anything of their original beauty by his translation, gained for him the friendship and patronage of the professors. Among the students, at the same time, he was regarded as a prodigy, and often copied as a standard authority in the various branches of study and composition.

This superiority, however, which in other cases would have excited jealousy, and alienated less gifted minds, had no such effect on that of young Campbell. His character, at once open-hearted, and open-handed, was destitute of anything like selfishness, and drew the circle of his friends more and more closely around him. Always disposed to help those who sought his assistance, he awakened in their minds a feeling of gratitude as well as of admiration. He was looked upon, not with envy but affection-not as one who monopolized the prizes in every class, but as one whose talents reflected lustre upon the whole body of the Students. He spoke their sentiments, shared their sympathies, advocated their rights, and was regarded as their friend and representative-one to whom they could point with just pride and confidence, whenever the discipline of the University might be called in question, and say," This is a youth after our own hearts-this is one of ourselves!"

Down to this period of his academical career, Campbell appears to have studied with a view to the church. Among the most intimate of his associates was Hamilton Paul, whose talents were of a high order a grave philosopher,