Sweet is the exhalation of the rose, When May unfolds her variegated charms; When Sol around his warm effulgence throws, And Spring's remaining energy disarms.
Sweet are the kisses that I often steal, At ev'ning hour, from Catherina's mouth; And sweet the pangs affection made me feel, When Fate propell'd us to the genial south.
But these are nought to that sonorous strain, That bold, majestic, richly vary'd tone, Which Genius heard along the heav'ns complain, Amid the thunders of the torrid zone.
Immortal Campbell! thy Athenian shell Shall sound till Time's dominion be no more; And, when Hope bids the blazing world farewell, She'll bear its virtues to another shore. Grafton-street, Oct. 1810.
