rrect" by the side of Keats. In
literature he has very little interest; in literary history he has some.

_Felix opportunitate_ in the same way, but a far greater poet, was
Thomas Campbell, who, like Rogers, was a Whig, like him belonged rather
to the classical than to the romantic school in style if not in choice
of subject, and like him had the good luck to obtain, by a poem with a
title very similar to that of Rogers' masterpiece, a high reputation at
a time when there was very little poetry put before the public. Campbell
was not nearly so old a man as Rogers, and was even the junior of the
Lake poets and Scott, having been born at Glasgow on the 27th July 1777.
His father was a real Campbell, and as a merchant had at one time been
of some fortune; but the American War had impoverished him, and the poet
was born to comparative indigence. He did, however, well at the college
of his native city, and on leaving it took a tutorship in Mull. His
_Pleasures of Hope_ was published in 1799 and was extremely popular, nor
after it had its author much difficulty in following literature. He was
never exactly rich, but pensions, legacies, editorships, high prices for
his not extensive poetical work, and higher for certain exercises in
prose book-making which are now almost forgotten, maintained him very
comfortably. Indeed, of the many recorded ingratitudes of authors to
publishers, Campbell's celebrated health to Napoleon because "he shot a
bookseller" is one of the most ungrateful. In the last year of the
eighteenth century he went to Germany, and was present at (or in the
close neighbourhood of) the battle of Hohenlinden. This he afterwards
celebrated in really immortal verse, which, with "Ye Mariners of
England" and the "Battle of the Baltic," represents his greatest
achievement. In 1809 he published _Gertrude of Wyoming_, a short-long
poem of respectable _technique_ and graceful sentiment. In 1824 appeared
a volume of poems, of which the chief, _Theodric_ (not as it is
constantly misspelled _Theodoric_), is bad; and in 1842 another, of
which the chief, _The Pilgrim of Glencoe_, is worse. He died in 1844 at
Boulogne, after a life which, if not entirely happy (for he had
ill-health, not improved by incautious habits, some domestic
misfortunes, and a rather sour disposition), had been full of honours of
all kinds, both in his own country, of where he was Lord Rector of
Glasgow University, and out of it.

If Campbell had writt