Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems
A thousand wild waves on the shore!
Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of disdain,
May thy front be unalter'd, thy courage elate!
Yea! even the name I have worshipp'd in vain
Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again:
To bear is to conquer our fate.
Of a similar description are his "Lines on revisiting a Scottish River."[6]
Mr. Campbell contributes but little to the pages of the New Monthly Magazine: still, what he writes is excellent, and as we uniformly transfer his pieces to the Mirror, we need not recapitulate them. The fame of Campbell, however, rests on his early productions, which, though not numerous, are so correct, and have been so fastidiously revised, that while they remain as standards of purity in the English tongue, they sufficiently explain why their author's compositions are so limited in number, "since he who wrote so correctly could not be expected to write much." His Poetical pieces have lately been collected, and published in two elegant library volumes, with a portrait esteemed as an extremely good likeness.
A contemporary critic, speaking of the superiority of Campbell's minor effusions, when compared with his larger efforts, observes, "His genius, like the beautiful rays of light that illumine our atmosphere, genial and delightful as they are when expanded, are yet without power in producing any active or immediate effect. In their natural expansions they sparkle to be sure, and sweetly shine; but it is only when condensed, and brought to bear upon a limited space or solitary object, that they acquire the power to melt, to burn, or to communicate their fire to the object they are in contact with." Another writer says, "In common with every lover of poetry, we regret that his works are so few; though, when a man has written enough to achieve immortality, he cannot be said to have trifled away his life. Mr. Campbell's poetry will find its way wherever the English language shall be spoken, and will be admired wherever it is known."