The Express.
London, England, 1857-03-21 00:00:00

THE EXPRESS, - SATURDAY

Carpenters the eat% leave,
Half made do for traitors,
If a erophead dam to Kowa,
Hang his in hoe gaiters.

It will not be denied that these verses are of the
genuine stamp. They run easily, the spirit
of the dissipated Cavaliers is wonderfully
well caught, the incidents are well chosen, and the
rhymes clam harmoniously and boldly. We should
like, however, to have seen the monotony of the col-
lection of songs varied by something of the Round-
head element. Mr. Macaulay in a grand ballad
tuts shown that the Puritan gloomy fanaticism was
as capable of poetical expression as the Cavalier's
reckless loyalty. However, we have no right to be
choosers, and must be thankful for what we have
got. In the " Jacobite Songs," in the same manner
the asserters of right divine have the best of it. Mr.
Thornbury is as fond of investing the graces of the
Jacobites with grandeur as Lord John Manners,
himself. One portion of the volume is taken up
with "Dramatic Monologue," a species of poem
not exactly introduced but brought to perfection
by Browning. The best of these are "The Con-
vent Drudge" and " Saved." The most successful
of all the poems are those classed under the
head " Miscellaneous." They show great power,
considerable command of language, and occasionally
profound thought and feeling. But, morn than all,
they display imagination; the power of reproducing
in all their vividness images of the past. Mr. Thorn-
bury's pictures have all the accuracy of the archteo-
logist, but they glow with all the tire of poetry. The
following is not the best of these poems, but it is a
good exemplification of the author's manner :

TEM CID'S eTIMIUP CUP.
" Bekaa me the greatgold flagon,"
Cded the lessen from his horse,
" And Lee, my page, on my roan of roans,
For the Saracen's oat in force,
FM up the epteed old Cyprus wine,
With the scot that would novae a COMM
" Here's a cup to the good Saints John and Jude,
And one to my father dead;
Hail brave Saint James, whose steed of white
Hath wings all crimson red,
With the blood that spun faun a sultan's wound
The day that Ali bled.'
Then he drained the Sagan huge and long,
And Wu& it with his fist ;
For they cried that they saw the crescents shine,
Oold epote against the mist
Then be threw in the air his laughing child,
And its eyes and forehead kissed.
How grim he shook the moths and dust
From the great flog of Castile;
He laughed at the red vote on the folds,
Then looked at the spurs on his heel ;
Load through the window ho cursed the knights,
Lagging at their last meal.
He flung his knee as high as the gate,
It made his roan curvet,
And strike on drifts of the ire-bright sparks.
In his elate war-saddle eat,
He dished his breast doghis rough mailed hand,
In his elude and bu fret.
At last, down the flinty mountain path,
He dashed with • Wormy curse ;
Singing the song of Charles the Oreat,
And a hymn mixed mem for verse ;
Feather and banner, and bouidng and robe,
Mark as the plumes of • hearse.
We do not like Mr. Thorubury worse for letting
U. see through the brilliancy of some of his poems
the source from which they have sprung. We have
said that the perfect form of the " dramatic mono-
logue " is due to Browning ; we may add that in
Mr. Thoenbury's productions of thus class, " How
the Pasty was Poisoned" seems like a reflection of
Browning himself, who has written a poem on a
similar subject. "The Masked Ball," "The- Cathe-
dral Builder," " Hogarth's Notes on his Thumb-nail,"
"The Lecture Room at Padua," betray a similar
source of inspiration; while "The Two Musicians
of the Opera" seems like,,Browning's "Toccata of
Galuppe's " translated into another key. Mr.
Thornbury has done his work too well not to be
able to allow us to indicate some of the in-
fluences which have operated upon him, in
determining the direction in which his genius
should develop itself. He has given us a set
of ballads far superior to the great majority of
those which have appeared for many years. He has
imagination, thought and feeling, and he knows how
to use them. We must make room for one more
extract, it is from " Culloden : "
As the wind reap the pines,
Flo through the Saxon lines,
When the bright bayonet shines,
Burst we in sneer,
Spite of the fiery hail,
All our grim faces pale,
With • loud pibroch wail,
Drove our mad clangour.
Loud rang the war pipes then,
Cheering the Cm or men
Thinking of lake end glen
'Mid the are fountains
Waved the white ribbon; all
Round the king's colours tall,
Anawcroil the bugles all,
Horns of the mountain.
• • • •
As when the flooded cilia
Pour down between the hills,
And the lone valley tills
With awe and wonder.
When on before them fast
Fliee the red lightning blast,
Through the lit pines aghast
Howls the deep thunder.
Stormy the pipers blew,
Snow white the ribbons Sew,
Deeper the fury grew
Madder than Flolden,
Piercing through heart and basin.
Beating like templet min,
Drove the red hurricane
O'er dark Culloden.

A Long Vacation Rantlde in Norway and Sweden.
By X. and Y. (Two Unknown Quantities).
Macmillan.
This is a pleasing record of a journey undertaken
to explore a route little known to travellers, and
to employ a holiday healthfully and rationally.
Cambridge of late years has nurtured a number of
young men who, with all reverence for intellect,
and care for the soul, hold the body in great
esteem. Erudition is something in their eyes, but
"condition" is scarcely less valuable. They hold hard
reading in high estimation,but they venerate "pluck."
So they start off in long vacations in any direction
where they may meet with difficulties sufficient to
give opportunities to call forth their energies and
develop muscle. The two writers of this "ramble"
arc of this class. They are enamoured with the
north on account of the perils and difficulties to be
met with in travelling there. They have eyes for
picturesque beauty, and lay claim to archeological
and historical tastes. A record of a journey
in the north by two such travellers full
of intelligence, good humour, and energy,
could not fail to be amusing. It is full of life, and
gives some interesting information on tubjitis
which little is known.

How to make Horne Happy. By WILLIAM 'was,
F.S.A. Bogue.
This is a laborious and useful compilation. It
consists of an immense number of quotations from
various authors and remarks thereon, relating to
those trifles, as they are sometimes called, which
" make the sum of human things." There are few
subjects, whether moral or economical, relating to
home which Mr. Jones has not touched upon. His
book is a volume which it is impossible to open with-
out finding something of interest.

Natural Religion. By M. JULES SIMON, trans-
lated by J. W. Cote. Bentley.
The title of this work explains its object. It
is a defence of religion against unbelieving op-
ponent... It has been remarkably successful in
France, having run through several editions in a
very short time. It is far more eloquent and philo-
sophical than Paley's work on a cognate subject, but
wants the ease, the clear definite style, the admirable
compression of the English author. It is, however,
a valuable addition to the apologetic class of
treatises on religion.

The Year-Book of Farts, 1857. By ions TUIBS,
F.S.A. Bogue.
Mr. Timbsk volume is valuable to the scientific
man or the artist, as an index to the scientific and
artistic novelties of the year, while to those who are
content with such knowledge of new discoveries as
given in the first popular accounts of them, the book
presents all that they want. It is a good register of
artistic progress, and its appearance from year to
year enables us to judge pretty accurately the mag-
nitude of the inroads we hate made into the realms
of 1611110.

EVENING,