The Press.
London, England, 1857-07-11 00:00:00

and is attired
With sudden brightness, like a man inspired.

The versification is most harmonious ; and the lines might
themselves be chanted to the harp. I'npe, when happy,
had a heroic genius ; and thouvh true it is that he too
too often miserably misrepresents Homer, it is, as we have
said, wilfully, and with malice aforethou!ht—seldom i n
ignorance, and never in stupidity ; but knowing that his
strength lay in a style essentially different from the old
bard's it was not to be expected, perhaps not to be desired,
that he should lay it aside, and endeavour to aiopt
Homer's, or imitate it, which, to a poet who had attained
consummate excellence of another kind, would have been
accompanied with the perpetual constraint of difficulty, nay,
impossible. We must take it, then, as it is, and be thank-
ful for another Iliad.

We trust wo have succeeded in giving our
readers a fair impression of tho Professor's
style. His volume is a most valuable contri-
bution to our stock of criticism. He has not
bent his mind to the formal enunciaton of
any new laws ; but he has poured forth a
flood of genial illustration, of sound sensible
distinctions, and of true and touching eulogy,
which whoso studies attentively cannot fail to
.have his sympathies extended, his taste puri-
fied, and his scholarship sharpened.
We may, perhaps, be able to give our
readers another short notice of this volume,
embracing the " Odyssey " and the " Aga-
memnon." But in default of doing so we may
state that they are treated on precisely the
same system, and that in them respectively
North's love of nature and exuberant energy
and passion find ample ground for running
riot.

Poems. By Edward Wilberforce and Edmund
Forster Blanchard. London: Longmans.
THESE poems possess just that degree of merit
which render the future reputation of the writers
uncertain. We could not say that two new poets had
suddenly burst upon the world, neither could we
deny that these verses contain germs of excellence
which may possibly bear fruit hereafter. Both—to
use the phraseology of a well-known London tavern
in regard to its wines—belong to the genus " light
and elegant;" and there is a tone of airiness
throughout them which prevents weariness, if it
does not cause delight. They ara clever and in-
teresting; indicate some thought upon human life,
and considerable observation of nature. We subjoin
an extract from each :
BOAT SERENADE. (By Mr. Wilberforce.)
Lazily dip our quiet oars
As we steal away from the silent shores
That erst have rung with the notes of glee,
And re-echoed our heart-felt revelry.
Slumbers the wave, but wherever the blade
Reluctant a lingering plunge has made,
Its path is with flashes of pearl-foam light,
And the sleeping billow springs into light.
E'en thus from the slumbering Past, of thee
Arises a gleam of memory;
And the meanest sights have power to bring
Thy form to my nightly imagining.

Sittest thou now—'cis the hour of love—
On the rock•worked couch in the orange grove,
Where from shrub to shrub, with their tiny light,
The fire-flies flit through the perfumed night ?
O then, when drifts the moon's pale beam
Through trellised boughs on yon babbling stream,
And calmly white the effulgence rests
On the black rough stones, midst the flashing crests,

Think but of me, as away we glide
And skim the green sea's quiet tide,
And swiftly dip our sparkling oars
As we dart from the shade of the silent shores.

AT FIRST SIGHT. (By Mr. Blanchard.)
" Bo old a story, and tell it no better V.
Pippa passes.
No shadow in the sunshine,
No ripple on the rill ;
No wind, to waft from Heaven
The lark's ecstatic trill;
No violet by the brook•side
Suggests a violet eye ;
No dappled foxglove pealeth
A. fairy lullaby.
The daisy bows in worship,
Its humble, trusting head
Beneath my feet ; then startles
From my retreating tread.
The crisp, impatient crocus,
With yellow, birdlike bill,
I crush till it resembles
The yellow daffodil.
Such. yesterday, my humour—
My unobservant mind ;
No unawakened heart hears
The music of the wind.
I saw not that these flowers
Were emblems of the fates—
Of yielding, striving lovers,
With striving, yielding mates.
Unconscious of the violet,
Thine eyes from me concealed,—
No sentiment in snowdrops,
Thy graces nnrevealed.
In ignorance most moonlike
Of all that passion tells,
I knew not that the foxglove
Could mu►mur marriage-bells.
But having gazed upon thee,
I see all kindred grace ;
In flowers' translucent beauties
Reflected is thy face ;
The lark's song falls upon me
In trembles from above,
A clear voice with which mingles
The deep tones of thy love.

THE New Monthly gives us a continuation of the
fortunes of Miss May (now Mrs. Frederick Lyvett)
under the title of " The Countrywoman and the
Child." All this series of tales are written with con-
siderable power. A review of Mrs. Gaskell's " Life
of Charlotte Bronte," and the " History of the
Newspaper Press," are two ether capital papers.
Tait has two very good reviews of two very good
books —the Life of Stephenson and of Handel ; a
sensible article on the Divorce Bill, strongly advo-
cates " the rights of women " in the matter of pro-
perty ; " Sketches of Jersey " is a pleasant little
paper ; and the remainder are about as usual.
The Train contains several good papers. " The
Old Eton Montem " is very nicely done, and the tale
entitled " The Dead Double " is told with some
ability. We are afraid we cannot se.y much for Mr.
Draper's rivalry of Mr. Leigh Hunt—impar con-
gressus—va his translation of Walter de Mapes'
drinking song.
The first number of Mr. Lever's new serial,
Davenport Dunn, is very promising. It is, of
course, too early as yet to express any opinion on
the merit of the characters, but all Mr. Lever's old
humour is perceptible in the following scene, where
two flue ladies—one of rather a speculative turn—
receive a sporting dependant, one-third gentleman,
one-third jockey, one-third upper servant :
" How d'ye do, Spicer ?" said Lady Lackington, arranging
the folds of her dress as he came forward, and intimating
by the action that he was 7:Cit to delude himself into any
expectation of touching her hand. "My Lord told me you
were here."
Spicer bowed, and muttered, and looked, as though he
were waiting to be formally presented to the other lady in
company ; but Lady Lackington had not the most remote
intention of bestowing on him such a mark of recognition,
and merely answered the mute appeal of his features by a
dry " W'on't you sit down ?"
And Mr. Spicer did sit down, and of a verity his position
denoted no excess of ease or enjoyment. It was not that
he did not attempt to appear perfectly at home, that he did
not assume an attitude of the very calmest sellpossession,
maybe he even passed somewhat the frontier of the lacka-
daisical territory he assumed, fur he slapped his bout with
his whip in a jaunty affectation of indifference:
"
" Pray, don't do that ! " said Lady Lackington, it
worries one ! "
He desisted, and a very awkward silence of some seconds
ensued i at length she said, " There was something or

I

other I wanted to ask you about ; you can't help me to it,
can you ? "
"I'm afraid not, my Lady. Was it anything about
sporting matters ? "
" No, no ; but now that you remind me, all that
information you gave me about Glaucus was wrong, he
came in ' a bad third.' My Lord laughed at me for
losing my money on him, and said he was the worst horse
of the lot."
" Very sorry to differ with his lordship," said Spicer,
deferentially, " but he was the favourite up to Tuesday
evening, when Scott declared that he'd win with Rig the
Illarket. I then tried to get four to one on Flycatcher, to
square your book, but the stable was nobbled."
" Did you ever hear such jargon, my dear ?" said Lady
Lackington. " Yon don't understand one syllable of it,
I'm certain."
Spicer smirked and made a slight approach to a bow, as
though even this reference to him would serve for an in-
troduction ; but Lady Grace met the advance with a
haughty stare and a look, that sail, as plainly as any words,
" At your peril, sir ! "
" Well, one thing is certain!" said Lady Lackington,
" nothing that you predicted turned out afterwards.
Glaucus was beaten, and I lost my three hundred pounds
—only fancy, dearest, three hundred pounds, with which
one could do so many things! I wanted it in fifty ways,
and 1 never contemplated leaving it. with the legs at New-
market."

" Not the legs, I assure you, my Lady—not the legs. I
made your book with Colonel Stamford and Gore Middle-
ton-..

" As if I cared who won it ! " said she, haughtily.
" I never knew that you tempted fortune in this
fashion ! " said Lady Grace, languidly.
"Ido so very rarely, my dear. I think Mining Shares
are better, or Guatemala State Bonds. I realised very
handsomely indeed upon them two years ago. To be sure
it was Dunn that gave me the hint: he dined with us at
the Hotel de Windsor, and I asked him to pay a small
sum for me to Hore's people, and when I counted the
money out to him, he said,' Why not buy in some of those
Guanatualo shares; they'll be up to —,'—l forget what
he said—' be a month. Let Storr wait, and you'll pay
him in full.' And he was quite right, as I told you. I
realistd about eight hundred pounds on my venture."
" If Glaucus had won, my Lady—"
" Don't tell me what I should have gained," broke she
in. "It only provokes one the more, arid above all,
Spicer, no more information. I detest ' information.'
And now, what was it I had to say to you ; really your
memory would seem to be failing you completely. What
could it be ?"

" It couldn't be that roan filly—"
"Of course it couldn't. I really must endeavour to
persuade you that my thoughts occasionally stray beyond
the stable. By the way, you sold those grey carriage-
horses for nothing. You always told me they were
the handsomest pair in London, and yet you say I'm ex-
ceeding lucky to get one hundred and eighty pounds for
them."

"You forget, my Lady, that Ploomfield was a roarer—"
"Nell, you really are in a tormenting mood this morn-
ing, Spicer. Just bethink you, now, if there's anything
more you have to say, disagreeable and unpleasant, and
say it at once; you have made Lady Grace quite ill—"
" No, only tired!" sighed her friend, with a melancholy
smile.

"Now I remember," cried Lady Lackington, "it was
about that house at Florence. I don't think we shall pass
any time there, but in case we should, I should like that
7.apponi palace, with the large terrace on the Arno, and
there must be no one on the ground floor, mind that ; and
I'll not give more than I gave formerly—perhaps not so
much. But, above all, remember, that if we decide to go
on to Rome, that I'm not bound to it in the least, and be
must new-carpet that large drawing-room, and I must
have the little boudoir hung in blue, with muslin over it,
not pink. Pink is odious, except in a dressing.room. You
will yourself look to the stables; they require considerable
alteration, and there's something about the dining room—
what was it?—Lord Lackington will remember it. But
perhaps I have given you as many directions as your head
will bear."

" I almost think so too, my Lady," muttered he with a
halt dogged look.
"And be sure, Spicer, that w. have that cook—Antoine
—if we should want him. Don't let him take a place till
we decide where we shall stop."
" You are aware that he insists on a hundred and fifty
francs a month, and his wine."

" I should like to know what good you are, if T am to
negotiate with these creatures myself !" said she haughtily.
" I must say, Lady Grace will suspect that I have rather
overrated your little talents, Spicer." And LAdy Grace
gave a smile that might mean any amount of approval or
depreciation required. " I shall not want that saddle now,
and you must make that man take it back again."
" hut I fear, my Lady—"
" There, don't be tiresome ! What is that odious bell ?
Oh, it's the dinner of these creatures. You dine at the
table d'hote, I think, so pray don't let us keep yon. You
can drop in to-morrow. Let me see, about two, or half-
past. Good by—good by."

PUBLICATIONS RECEIVED—JULY 9.
BOOKS.
Webster's Universal Pronouncing and Defining Dictionary ()!
the English Language. Warde and Locke
The Letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford. Edited by
Peter Cunningham Vol. 111. Bentley
The Autobiography of Elizabeth Davis, a Balaklava Nurse.
Two Vols. Hurst and Blackett
A July Holiday in Saxony, Bohemia, and Silesia. Walter
White. Chapman and Hall
Durrack's. Latin Lesson•book. Houlaton
Lectures on the British Poets. Henry Reed. J. F. Shaw