The Press.
London, England, 1857-08-22 00:00:00

Coleridge and other lofty intellects, we are
tempted to think that our immediate fore-
fathers must have been very gullible in matters
of literary criticism.
Mr. Bell is not a sectarian in his literary
creed. He does not belong to any particular
school in criticism. He is neither Latinised
like Parr, nor Germanised like several of
our Quarterly reviewers, nor Gallicised like
too many of our critics in the last century. In
his solid and relevant observations we meet
with one who can take a judicial tone and act
as moderator between controversial anno-
tators. His versatile intellect and supple
understanding are balanced by great know-
ledge and disciplined good taste. Ho has
strong natural feelings for what is true and
fine ; and experience has chastened his per-
ceptions without impairing his susceptibility.

The volume of the "annotated edition"
now before us is the most interesting that has
yet appeared. Much of its contents will be
quite novel to many of our readers, and there
are many poems in the volume which we
have seen for the first time. The titlepage
might, we think, be read disjunctively. The
"ancient poems" here presented could
scarcely ever have been familiar to the
" peasantry " of England ; and, in point of fact,
we think that the yeomanry of England rather
than the " peasantry " have been the pre-
servers of these poems. We do not concur
with the justice of calling these pieces, as Mr.
Bell does in his preface, " peasant minstrelsy."
He observes :

The value of this ♦olume consists in the genuineness of
its contents, and the healthiness of its tone. While
fashionable life was masquerading in imaginary Arcadias,
and deluging theatres and concert rooms with shams, the
English peasant remained true to the realities of his own
experience, and produced and sang songs which faithfully
reflected the actual life around him. Whatever these songs
describe is true to that life. There are no fictitious rap-
tures in them. Love here never dresses its emotions in
artificial images, nor disguises itself in the mask of a
Strephon or a Daphne. It is in this particular aspect
that the poetry of the country possesses a permanent and
moral interest.
We concur with Mr. Bell's opinion as to the
" genuineness " and " healthiness " of tone in
the contents of this volume, but ho overrates
the share which " the peasant " had in pre-
serving its poems. Here, for example, is a
piece which we confess has completely puzzled
us, and which " the peasant " surely could
have not had much ehare in preserving. It is
called " Lord Delaware." and is a traditional
ballad, first published by Mr. Thomas Lyle,
in his " Ancient Ballads and Songs, London,
1827 "

LORD DELAWARE.
In the Parliament House, a great rout has been there,
Betwixt our good King and the Lord Delaware:
Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon,
" Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon ?"

" What's your boon," says the King," now let me under-
stand ?"
" It's, give me all the poor men we've starving in this land ;
And without delay, hie me to Lincolnshire,
To sow hemp•seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there.
"For with hempen cord it's better to stop each poor man's
breath,
Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to
death."
Up starts a Dutch Lord, who to Delaware did say,
" Thou deserves to be stabbed !" tben he turned himself
away;

" Thou deserves to be stabbed, and the dogs have thine

For insulting our King in this Parliament of peers."
Up sprang a Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devonshire,
" In young Delaware's defence, I'll fight this Dutch Lord,
my sire ;
" For he is in the right, and I'll make it so appear :
Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware."
A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went,
For to kill, or to be killed, it was either's full intent.

But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command,
The sword of brave Devonshire bent backward on his hand :
in suspense he paused awhile, scanned his foe before he

Then against the King's armour, his bent sword he brake.
Then be sprang from the stage, to a soldier in the ring,
Saying, " Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy
we bring:
Though he's fighting me in armour, while I am fighting
bare,
Even more than this I'd venture for young Lord Dela.
ware."
Leaping back on the singe, sword to buckler now resounds,
Till he left the Dutch Lord a bleeding in his wounds •
This seeing, cries the King to 11;s guards without delay,
!! Call Devonshire down—take the dead man away !"