The Press.
London, England, 1857-10-03 00:00:00

some intellect who should follow his brighter spirit, silently
playing on the surface ?

This is a sample of the author's portraiture of
the men of that time, which, though writto
in a spirit of some affectation, is not without
its merits. There is more genuineness in this
sketch of old London-bridge

Blackfriars! Whitefriars passed. And now the rowers
steady their oars ; and the steersman, with keen and prac-
tised eye, measures the current and prepares to " shout "
old London•bridge. 'Tis a feat that craves his care.
Narrow and highpointed are they, these nineteen time-
worn arches! Cumbrous and ruined ate the buttresses
thereof, and they have been repaired and rebuilt over and
over again, where bricks and stones, mortar and rubbish
of every sort, had congregated ; and there is little space
left when the tide is low even for the smaller craft to
struggle through. And the broad barges can only nags
when the waters are at the height. Quint old houses
piled no un these buttresses! They are the safe haunts
of sinners—refuge of all villanies ! You see that fellow
there, rope in hand, letting down from his red-latticed
window baskets and bags to some sneaking smuggler
moored underneath ? There, sliding over some dange-
rous pile, escapes one on whose wretched head perhaps a
price is set, bigger than his dirty hand has ever clutched.

The author certainly possesses talent. We
should like to see him enter a field of fiction.
more congenial to the public taste of the nine•
teenth century.

POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS.

1. A Legend of Glencoe, and other Poems. By

the Rev. J. Anderson.

Author of " The

Pleasures of Home." London : Longmans.
2. Michiny ...I.lallecho. By Paul Richardson.
London : Mozley.
3. The Eclogues of Virgil. Translated into
English Verse, line for line, by the Rev.
George Mackie, D.D. Dublin : Milliken.
4. The ales of Horace. Translated into Eng-
lish Verse, with the original measures
preserved throughout, by Richard W.
O'Brien, M.A., of Trinity College, Dublin.
Dublin : Hodges and Smith.
5. Epitapris from the Greek Anthology. Trans-
lated by Major Robert Guthrie Mac-
gregor, of the Bengal Retired List. Lon-
don: Nissen and Parker.
1 THIS volume of poems is one of the best
that we have recently had occasion to notice
among our briefer criticisms. It is the work
of one who, if not meriting the name of an
original poet, is nevertheless a man of
powerful faculties, which display themselves
in the vigour of his style, and not less perhaps
by the absence of all puerilities and affecta-
tions. The " Legend of Glencoe" is the con-
fession of one of the actors in that massacre,
who believed that e. curse clung to him, and
who had retired from the world to feed his
remorse in solitude among the Pyrenees. The
spirit of the poem, and not unfrequently the
language, remind us of Mr. Aytou's k" Both-
well;" as for instance the following passage :
When sense resumed her shaken throne
I breathed—l stood—but riot alone,—
The dead were at my feet!
Oh how I longed for their deep peace,
Where earthly care and trouble cease,
Their rest appeared so sweet !
What runneth warm upon my hand?
What crimsons this my naked brand?
011 God where slept thine ire?
Why did not I that moment die,
Blasted by heaven's own fire?
But oh, ye ghastly, gory dead,
Deeply avenged are ye.
The poorest wretch, who begs his broad,
Would ill exchange with me !
What though his bed may be the sod,
His roof the icy sky?
He bath not made a foe of God,
He need not fear to die!
One of the best of Mr. Anderson's minor
poems is on Pizarro. But here we have to
notice as remarkable a resemblance to Long-
fellow as in the " Legend of Glencoe " to
Ayton. We do not mean to accuse Mr.
Anderson of plagiarism ; but the melody of a
favourite poet remains impressed upon the
mind long after the words are forgotten, and
we imitate unconsciously, while seeming to
produce our own. This process, though not
plagiarism, is still sufficient to exclude a writer
front any claim to originality, and in that
limitation we fear Mr. Anderson must ac•
quiesce.