accurate-but that seems to be its recomendation. The notes are valuable, displaying much research; and an intimate acquaintance with ancient literature not easily maintained by a person pursuing the wandering life, which physical weakness compels Mr. Hughes to follow. following extract is but a fair specimen of many pages : could pierce not alone the night of his dark cell, but even "But Tempest was desperate, if not utterly fearless. He could but perish: starvation and oblivion were within, the world and its renown beyond, those walls. "The Greeks called Italy 'Hesperia,' because it was situated to the west of them, and the Romans called Spain Hesperia' equally, because it was to the west of Italy, but the Latin poets, imitating the Greeks, very frequently called Italy Hesperia' also. Thus Virgil— 'Est locus, Hesperiam Graii cognomine dicunt.' En. i. 534. "With the convulsive energy which his overwrought nerves permitted, he once more gathered the subtle fluids round him. Like a child disporting with the lightenings of the thundering Jupiter. he made them flash and play Macrobius prefers deriving the origin of the name, as aparound his frail frame, which one error in their manage-plied to Italy, from its western situation, to the fact of its being chosen by Hesperus for his residence, when he was expelled by his brother Atlas: Italy is called Hesperia, because it lies to the west.' (Macrob. Saturn. lib. 1., cap. 3,) Horace, when he applies the name to Spain, distinguishes the latter country by the addition of the word ultima,' thus: ment would have reduced to ashes; until, at lengthtaking leave of life like one who attempts a desperate hazard, and recommending his soul to God-he concentrated all his power, and made a final effort. "A shock was felt-an explosion heard-the walls were shaken-the building rocked-the lead poured in a cascade from the roof-the molten iron of bolts and gates and bars ran in a glowing stream-but Tempest was unharmed. His prison doors were no longer. He walked out. the difference for him between annihilation and freedom!" The millionth part of a hair's breadth had made It was at this juncture that his coadjutor rose ultimately against John Cash, who was murdered by his son. That son seeks to reign. The insect-killer opposes him. There is a battle-defeats to the monopolists-freedom to the people-the utter destruction of all galvanistic corn insects-the composition made useless-the Avis Vastator being a past curse-and finished like wolves in Yorkshire-while the insect-killer; the tyrant's foe marries as he deserves-very much to his advantage; and the world, as we understand the story, begins to rise out of its ruins again in the year one thousand nine hundred and eight. Such is "Sixty Years Hence;" indescribably the most horrible and mysterious work of 1847, as yet published; and if any custodier of a circulating library wants excitement for his customers, in summer or autumn quarters, this is his book; and he is safe to order twelve copies, it is so crammed with mystery, money, insects, potato-disease, famine, pestilence, crime, lunacy, murder, madness, love, and eccentricity. For its moral tendencies we give no warranty. IBERIA WON. A Poem. By THOMAS HUGHES. The recent experience of the Athenæum warns critics from taking liberties with Mr. Hughes, unless from a desire to be rendered famous in bitter verses, with very black and most fantastic engravings. Upon the whole, however, it is a good plan for authors to defend themselves from the attacks of the press. It conduces to caution, because there are few living men who wish to be tomahawked and tatooed in the manner adopted by this poet and satirist. Qui nunc Hesperiâ sospes ab ultimâ Carm. 1. 36. Strabo, lib. 1, seems to derive the name from situation, 'Herbasque quas Iolcos atque Iberia Horat. Epod. 5. The names Hesperia' and 'Iberia' are found together in the same stanza of Camóens, as applied to the Peninsula, yet with some vague attempt to confine the latter name to the Spanish portion exclusively : Quamque suis opibus cumulavit Iberia dives,' &c. Ausonius (also P. C. 380) makes use of both the names 'His Hispanus ager tellus ubi dives Iberum.' Juvenal (P. C. 120) uses the name Hispania' as the better and more perilously known in his time than in the distinctive appellation of the country, which became days of Horace and Virgil: ⚫ Horrida vitanda est Hispania.' Sat. 8. 116. "Iberia Won," is an account, in verse, of some leading incidents in the Peninsular War-an Anglo-Spanish Iliad in Spenserian stanza. It does not seem to us that the poetry is more than respectable. It is faultless-the composition, and all the artistical departments, are quite | Horat. Carm. 3. 14. The poet is an Irisman, and the amor patriæ seems so strongly developed as to lead him to appropriate honours for Ireland in which she has no part. "The concluding incident is from the combat of Maya, which took place in the same neighbourhood a few days previously, and is thus described by Captain Norton, of the 34th regiment:- The ninety-second met the advancing French column first with its right wing drawn up in line; and after a most destructive fire and heavy loss on both sides, the remnant of the right wing retired, leaving a line of killed and wounded that appeared to have no interval. The French column advanced up to this line and then halted, the killed and wounded of the ninetysecond forming a sort of rampart; the left wing then opened its fire on the column, and, as I was but a little to the right of the ninety-second, I could not help reflecting painfully how many of the wounded of the right wing must have unavoidably suffered from the fire of their comrades.' This frightful butchery appears to excite the enthusiasm of some of its military lii-torians. So dreadful was the slaughter,' says Napier, that it is said the advancing enemy was actually stopped by the heaped mass of dead and dying; and then the left wing of that noble regiment coming down from the higher ground, smote wounded friends and exulting foes alike, as mingled together they stood or crawled before its fire. 專 The stern valour of the ninety-second, principally composed of Irishmen, would have graced Thermopyla.'-Hist. War Penins., book xxi., chap. 5." ་ The Ninety-second regiment has always been eminently and exclusively a Scottish regiment, with, perhaps, scarcely a dozen Irishmen in the corps. The Ninety-second is the Gordon Highlanders, formed and recruited from Aberdeen and Banffshires principally, but always from Scotland. Mr. Hughes' feelings, however, are more accurately exercised in the next paragraph. "This epithet was well deserved by General Ross, and is assigned to him by Napier, That gallant officer.' Book XXI., c. 5. I am proud to record the exploits of my countryman, whose name and achievements are endeared to me by early recollections. A lofty column is erected in his honour at the beautiful village of Rosstrevor, within seven miles of which, at Newry, my early years from infancy, to the period of my going to college, were passed. All my summers were spent in and near Rosstrevor, one of the most charming sea-bathing spots in the British dominions. The noble Bay of Carlingford stretches before it, girt by an amphitheatre of lofty hills, and Killowen Point, the Woodhouse, Greencastle, the light-house, and Grenore, with the ancient and picturesque town of Carlingford, the stupendous mountain overhanging it, and the bleak tract extending along to Omeath, contrasted with the sunny and wooded slopes beyond, have left impressions indelible even during much travel in foreign lands. I rejoice to perceive that a railway is about to open up this magnificent region, and trust that this new means of intercourse will be eminently beneficial to the warm hearted inhabitants of all the surrounding district." There was not a more gallant soldier than General Ross in the British service: there is not a more lovely spot than Rosetrevor-not, we believe, Rosstrevor-in the British dominions; and we rejoice to think that the splendour of its scenery, and of many more Irish scenes, will be soon better known in England and Scotland than has been hitherto the case. Mr Hughes hates Napoleon like a patriot, and-just as we do hates his memory cordially, as may be gathered from our next extract : "Of the love which the French people bore to Napoleon, let his march to Cannes be a witness; where the inhabitants, as he passed, surrounded him in hundreds of thousands, with unmistakeable demonstrations of blind enthusiasm and delight. Not even the terrible conscription could raze his impression from their hearts. The general equity of his internal administration, the exact system of his public accounts, the effectual discharge of duty which he required of the state servants, the abolition of idle privileged classes, and the cessation of fraud in the management of the revenue, or its punishment when detected, caused the people to love him, as they everywhere love justice. Napoleon, with all his other splendid faculties, was a skilful financier. He was opposed to public loans, and left no debt. He had no private views, and his active energies were unimpaired in Lis vassals' service. The utility of his public works was commensurate with their grandeur; providing at once employment for the poor and embellishment for the country. His code was a monument of legislative wisdom, and his cadastre an invaluable equalizer and register of taxation and the liability of property. But, withal, he was a detestable tyrant." "He was opposed to public loans and left no debt. But withal he was a detestable tyrant!" The French people would gladly have such another tyrant. The Napoleon of peace seems to be less chary of public loans, and will assuredly leave debt. We must quote a specimen, be it ever so short, of the poetry, which is the staple of the book. Ths following stanzas relate a singular anecdote in military history, and they are only falr specimens of the work : A "Upon the chofre stood the dauntless Graham, And marked the slaughter with determined eye, Unmoved they stand-no flag of fear unfurledscene unmatched before since dawning of the world. "Even as at Niagara's thundering fall, Where leaps the torrent with gigantic stride: Of rocks huge piled, spans the river wide, And scarce crystalline globule o'er him runs: Thus stand 'neath Death o'erarched, Britannia's dauntless sons! "Retire!" was first the cry. "A traitorous foe! Our batteries' fire is 'gainst the stormers turned;" Within the rampart solid ground they made- I. "Forbid the linnet from its nest, And crush its homeward aspirationsAs vain to chide the heaving breast, And woo repose in foreign nations! No, England, no! beyond the foam Around thy beauteous shore that circles, I would not fix my lasting home For every gem that brightest sparkles! II. "More cloudless bend Italian skies; Burgundian fruit more richly cluster; Iberia's slopes more gently rise, And shine her stars with purer lustre. O'er Adria's coast, o'er fair Stamboul, O'er soft Maeonia show'rs more splendour, Out sunk 'neath Slavery's abject rule! 'Tis thou art Freedom's grand defender! III. "Far sunnier isles the south make glad, From Palma's gulf to the Aegean, Idalia rose and myrtle clad, Sicilian shores and bowers Dictaean; The Cyclades that shine to snare, From Lemnos old to Rhodes romantic; And far Funchal, whose balmy air Swells earth's best vine 'mid the Atlantic. IV. "But, oh loved land! what magic lifts And makes thy deeds the pride of story? What charm endures thy talisman Thou chrysolite amid the waters, And deifies the power of man? The genius of thy sons and daughters! V. "The vigorous thought, the spirit firm, The pride of truth, the deep devotion, The labouring head, and stalwart arm, That crown thee Queen of Earth and Ocean! That clothe with grain thy rugged steeps, Thy factory piles make teem prolific, And man the fleet each sea that sweeps, To make its trembling shores pacific VI. "Illustrious land! Yet more than this, Thou harbourest all life's solid gracesNo friends that murder with a kiss No treacherous breasts 'neath smiling faces! In mind, in heart, and sinew, too, THE CHILD OF POVERTY. BY JAMES CREASE. 1 Vol. Edinburgh: Blackwood and Sons. WE are to allow this poet to introduce himself in that capacity, with no other preface than this short statement of his life. It has been passed mainly in making entries in day-books, and out of day-books into ledgers from noon to even for many years. The dull monotony of the desk fortunately does not obliterate genius, or we should not have experienced the pleasure that we have derived from many pages in this volume. We are to make two or three extracts from the principal poem. The first is patriotic : "O Scotland! though across thy heathery moors Thy mountains, where throughout the changeful year And boldly lifting up the arm against That heavenward leads; the poor unletter'd hind Oh, with what happiness his bosom glows, When first the sun's rays through his window gleam And worldly thoughts, the morning of that day Event foretold by holy seers, and sung To David's harp in ancient time, what now "Yes, to the Child of Poverty the dawn Of Sabbath yields a soothing sweet delight, Of living water in the sandy desert, A foretaste of the joys of heaven, the pledge "Thus, I, the meanest of the muse's train A ray of consolation to his spirit As he is journeying heaven-ward, I shall crave I do not merit, and shall never court.' The second is sabbatical: "But not to him alone who, on the bed Of sickness tossed, sees death prepared to lift O'er the deep bowl, where foul intemperance lurks, The varied passions which destroy the peace With long applause, and loud the board resounds "The road that leads to misery is smooth And sloping; and the hapless wretch, when first In utter misery, beyond the reach Of human aid; and, from the hopes that cheer The weary wanderer going home to Heaven, The third is moral : "Upon thy sloping banks, and lonely glens, I love to mark; nor less the heather flower, Of seent delicious, and inviting still The eye to rest upon its beauty, spread For miles athwart the moor, where wild fowl haunt, To luxury's claims, and to the comforts which The fourth is of the faith that sweet flowers, and all fading lovely things help to teach : "But gentle flowers! ye soon must pass away On which the eye might dwell with pleasure, and The wild flowers waving in the breeze of morn; The extracts we have given convince us that Mr. Crease has powers of composition, that, under such influences as helped our greater poets, might have place him high upon their roll, and which will never allow him to sink to mediocrity, or any point approaching that tepid state. There is a vein of dry sarcastic wit in his mind, that has not been much wrought, though by the following lines, the last we are to quote from his volume, it appears to be deep and rich : "Go fetch my staff, for I, per force, must take Changed to a very shrew. Oh, the sad stir Why cannot washing and dressing, like shoemaking and tailoring, succeed as a distinct branch of business, to the relief of all quiet home-loving domesticated men. It is, we believe, a fact that it never succeeds, and makes no way in the world. GLEAMS OF THOUGHT. By LORD ROBERTSON, 1 vol. Edinburgh: Fraser & Co. LORD ROBERTSON'S "Gleams of Thought" are wonderfully unlike his gleams of eloquence. The last were full of flash and brightness. They were dazzling. The wit of his Lordship ere ever he was a lord, was proverbial. Occasionally it was coarse, but it had reality, and was good sterling wit. We venture to think that the ermine and the wig have driven it all away. The "Gleams of Thought" are done in stiff, and stately, and solemn verses. The subjects are generally of a serious character, and for that reason they take his Lordship considerably out of his old element; and we scarcely think that he has yet found firm footing as a worthy follower of Pollock, Cowper, Crabbe, and Henry Kirk White-but he is a dangerous rival of Montgomery-the reader will please to remember of Robert, not of James-of the pulpit, not of the press. There is no fear, in this case, of the bench treading on the skirts of the press. Lord Robertson has assumed a great veneration for Milton, and these "Gleams of Thought" are illustrative of Milton's writings. There is no reason for that wild look of surprise at this statement. It is not the "Paradise Lost," or even the "Paradise Regained," but the prose writings of John Milton that Lord Robertson illustrates. Anybody, even our friend Mr. De Quincey, will admit that it may be tolerated in Lord Robertson to approach the prose writings of John Milton for the purpose of illustration. In loving Milton, however, Lord Robertson compensates fully to the Church-we mean the Church of Charles I.— by hting Cromwell, whose memory good and great men are et deavouring to extricate and cleanse from the mire of bad historians. The sonnets are the best writing in the volume; and thus the learned Lord meditates on the Protector who, we believe, was a great law reformer : "Light of the past, oft o'er thy fleeting conrse With rainbow's changeful hue, vet more intense, Fame-hov'ring nigh-ber trump doth loudly sound, It is useless to quarrel with men's tastes, and worse to quarrel with their poetry; but our creed on this subject of Cromwell is, that the man who has read his history and esteems not his memory very highly has no love for liberty dwelling in his mind. The following is a favourable specimen of the book:"A famous man,' 'tis sung, was Robin Hood,' As through the Forest rang his echoing horn O'er reckless rover of the wood and wildOutlaw! in semblance of fond Nature's child." The musings that follow on a more artificial state of society than aught that Robin Hood or Rob Roy ever dreamed of are pleasing and true; but they would be more poetical if his Lordship's style were a little more rounded, and not so sharp cornered. The words sound as if the ends were bitten off. The learned judge commits petty larceny on her Majesty's English. "From western swamp, or from the torrid east, In fibre fine as lightsome gossamer. Around the rapid spindle deft y whirls Moved by yon massive pow'r, whose ceaseless rule, A second nature science conjures forth, As if the elements she held in thrall. Nor from such measured motion grace apart, Or form of beauty in each varying stage, Thro' which the stern creative journey leads, 'Mid earnest industry, whose changeless hum Sounds day and night within the cheerless hive. "Nor do its toil worn tenants dread the chill, Or ceaseless rains, or howling winds, or hail, Yon rustic labourer's lot, or stern bivouac, The soldier's slumber ere the battle morn; Or, as the sailor, "fight with roaring seas," Tended their wants with kind appliance sure; And yet, methinks, from dull mechanic cham, Yon pensive stripling-in the mountain breeze, Beside some wand'ring flock-sigheth to roam. Ah! might he thus his listless labour change, Or hear the music of the ancient trees, Amid yon forest hoar, or in some bark Catch wilder echoes 'mong the whisp'ring shrouds; Or wand'ring lonely on far eastern shore, List, amid spicy bow'rs of fancied bliss, To softest cadence of returning wave. And that calm sire whose furrow'd brow betrays Still of the meadow dream where first he breathed "Tho' born to toil, man loveth liberty- Tho' no relief their labour to assuage Be here denied, tho' owned their moral claims, And fair religion tending carefully What tho' by healing skill in sickness, nursed, Still the fond heart doth unto nature cling, We quote another poem, the "Bright Cavalier," which has not the quality of style-as we think a bad quality— that characterises the factory workers. "Who cometh on steed of Empyrean birth Yet pawing the ground as a creature of earth? "My helmet emboss'd in rich pearls of the morn Uplift my right arm, lo! the Summer hath shone! Awaiteth mine advent the blossoming Spring At my feet, all her stores rich Autumn doth fling. "Soft lutes and recorders, that pipe 'mong the trees Wild note of the monody sung by the breeze, Loved chaunt of the songsters-sweet breath of the free Oh! this is the music that marcheth with me. "I bow to the brave as I bound on my way, 'Joy unto the Just, is the blessing I pray; Then list to my word, and away with thy fear Advance! the war-ery is The Bright Cavalier.' "See what troops in my train ride gallant and gay The laurel unfading-flowers fresher than May; Amid the ripe vintage leaves thicker than June Autumn, Summer and seed-time, hymning one tune. |