Thomas Campbell (poet)

"There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath, For a time."

"Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is oer the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep."

"What potent spirit guides the rapturd eye To pierce the shades of dim futurity? Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavnly powr, The pledge of Joys anticipated hour? Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man— Her dim horizon bounded to a span; Or, if she hold an image to the view, Tis nature picturd too severely true."

"But your wights that take no pride to wield A massy spear and well-made shield, Nor joy to draw the sword: Oh, I bring those heartless, hapless drones, Down in a trice on their marrow-bones, To call me King and Lord."

"Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave, oh! leave the light of Hope behind!"

"Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore!"