"And more,

though, free from secming harm, You rest from toil of mind or arm,

Or slow retire from Pleasure's charm,—

"If then a painful sense comes on
Of something wholly lost and gone,
Vainly enjoy'd, or vainly done,-

"Of something from your being's chain
Broke off, nor to be linkt again

By all mere Memory can retain,—

"Upon your heart this truth may rise,-
Nothing that altogether dies

Suffices Man's just destinies :

"So should we live, that every Hour
May die as dies the natural flower,-
A self-reviving thing of power;

"That every Thought and every Deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed;

"Esteeming Sorrow, whose employ
Is to develope, not destroy,

Far better than a barren Joy."

p. 101-102.

"The Curse of Life" is a poem of much power, but, as its name indicates, of a tone considerably at variance with most of those which we have hitherto noticed. Against such delineations of the dark side of things many homilies of wellintentioned objections have been advanced; and it may be allowed that the predominance of such a tone in any literature is not a favourable indication of the prevalent state of mind; regarded, however, in a literary point of view, its worst fault is the affectation in which it partly originates, but which it is absolutely certain to generate. We speak of its predominance-in every individual instance the question for the critic is, whether the feelings described are unforced and natural, whether the artist have produced a true representation of a real state of mind, and that state one which admits of sympathy. Let this question be answered in the affirmative, and the poet needs no defence for having given utterance to a feeling which hardly any sensitive nature can have failed to experience, though none but a weak one will permit it to be

come habitual. For the poem, which will bear out what we have said in its praise, we refer our readers to the volume.

Many poems, from which we could with pleasure quote largely, we must necessarily pass without mention; we cannot, however, refrain from directing attention to the lines "On a Brother and a Sister," a pleasing tribute to one upon whose name, if genius inspired by affection can avail, the voices of his surviving friends will confer that lasting remembrance which time was denied him to achieve.

Our notice of the second volume must, we fear, be comparatively short; its title, "Memorials of a Residence on the Continent," expresses the general nature of its contents. Many of them are records of thoughts and feelings inspired by that land, whose recollections of a two-fold dominion would not be sufficient to console its visitant for the melancholy present around him, but from the aid which they receive from the creations of unequalled art, and the unaltering beauty of nature. All these influences Mr. Milnes has deeply and truly felt. Poetry is, after all, the best form for conveying an adequate conception of scenery; Wordsworth's poems have been recommended as the best guide to the Lakes; and it would take many a page of "letter-press"-most expressive name— and many a steel engraving besides, to convey an impression of the slumbrous tranquillity of Venice equal to that produced by the latter part of this stanza, from the " Ode written at Venice."

The poems on Venice generally are, like the one from which we have quoted, " a labour of love." Of the ancient glories of that extraordinary state Mr. Milnes has, we fear, taken a view too favourable to be historically true, when he addresses

it as

"Prime model of a Christian commonwealth!

Thou wise simplicity, which present men
Calumniate, not conceiving-"

but we are warned, by the prospective censure in the last half line, to say no more. We doubt, however, whether the author of " a Dream in a Gondola," a beautiful poem of wandering fancies, and homeward-turning affection, can be considered an impartial witness respecting Venice.

There is a certain number of poems in this volume entitled "Pictures in Verse," of which the conception is happy and original, and the execution in general worthy of the conception. They are a species of dramatizing some of the most celebrated productions of the Italian masters-a translation into words, uttered by the characters represented, of the feelings which the painter has conveyed in colours. Perhaps the " Martyrdom of St. Catherine" is the most faultless of these pictures: but we think there is more originality in "Jesus and John contending for the Cross," though its style is rather peculiar. We prefer, however, one of the historical poems, entitled "Decius Brutus," which appears to us of a high order of beauty, equal to any in the volume, and illustrative of Mr. Milnes's power of combining harmoniously reflection with spirited poetic narrative. The hint of the story is from Florus, and the whole is in accordance with the widely received tradition of antiquity. Having traversed the whole country as a devastating conqueror, Decius Brutus reaches the coast of Portugal, the western limit of the European world. Beholding the sun descending towards the great western ocean, the chieftain is struck with a sense of intrusive and sacrilegious over-daring, and exhorts his followers to substitute a religious fear for proud and savage exultation.

We have ended our quotations, and have one remark to add. There are in these volumes a few passages in which a thought, clear enough in itself, is made difficult by some obscurity or carelessness of expression. If Mr. Milnes sets upon his poems the value which he ought, he will not grudge the trouble requisite for the removal of these defects. An obscure stanza may mar the effect of a whole poem.

END OF NUMBER XIV.

PRINTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAYLOR,
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.

H

INDEX

TO THE

SEVENTH VOLUME OF THE BRITISH AND FOREIGN REVIEW;

EUROPEAN QUARTERLY JOURNAL.