The Sun.
London, England, 1864-12-14 00:00:00

BOROUGH HOP.

The supply of hops on sale is very moderate, but tho
trade is by no means active, Prices, however. rule very
firm.

WIIITECHAPEL.

Moderate supplies oiraeatareon sale, and the trade rules
firm, et the aunexe.l prices :
Beef, from 36 to 4s 8d ; mutton, 3s 8d to 5s Od ; veal,
3s 10d to 4e 10d ; and pork, 3s 8d to 514 Od per 81be by the
CUM°,

LITERATURE,

Eliza Cook's New Poems.

New Echoes, and other Poems. By Eiizi Cook.
One vol. pp. 254. Routledge, Warne, and Rout.
ledge.

It is in obedience to a delightful custom among
our Royal Academicians—a custom (even within
the view of the general public) most " honoured in
the observance''—that immediately upon the elec-
tion of each Associate to that " blue ribbon" of
Art, the dignity of RA., he is expected, forthwith,
to give some very signal and especial taste of his
quality in the form of what is called his Diploma
Picture. Having said which—we would here add,
at once, that, precisely as we are accustomed to
turn to the Diploma Picture of a Royal Academician
Elect, we have just now turned to the examination
of this new volume of Poems by Eliza Cook—a
volume coming to us as refreshingly as might a
bunch of violets on the eve of Christmas. It is only
yesterday, as one may say, that our authoress
received, from, the nation, the most practical, if not
the highest evidence of her popularity as a Na"
tional Song-veriter, During many years past—
although. her own life is still but in its prime—her
simple, and heart-born, and many of them emi-
nently beautiful effusions have been " beloved as
fable and believed as truth" far and wide among
our 'English homesteads. But, while her repute-
ticra has thus undoubtedly become extended by
thee force of its own spontaneous expansion or de•
velopment, its ultimate recognition by the " powers
that be" has only been signalised, it will be remem.
bored, but very recently. Here in England, as
the world knows, it is not our habit to crown a
sonneteer in the Capitol. With us the sterling
quality of a precious metal is attested by the
hall mark. It is as if we weighed genius by
avoirdupois. However the fact thus specified may
chance to be regarded—such at any rate, in these
matters, has long come to be our national habitude.
According to which same custom of oars, it has now
duly come to pass during this present year that the
sterling gold of Eliza Cook's poetry has at length
received, as we have already expressed it, the na-
tional hall mark. Proffered to her in her high
capacity as one of the People's Songwriters, she is
henceforth authorised to receive annually from the
coffers of the nation, through the hand of the P,:ime
Minister, one of those honourable pension
'",a from the
Crown and Country, which (thes,;, pensions, we
mean), when rightly regarderl, ought to be looked
upon far more in the laght of a tribute than in
the light of a I,Argesse. And now, before the
twelvemonth rioses, as if in return for this thrice-
welcome 'evidence towards her of national
aPPrecia;:ton, our authoress, precisely as the R. A.
Elect. might submit to coueideration his Diploma
Picture, places before us another and, in truth, a
very signal taste of her quality as a Poet of the
People, as a National Song-writer, in these "New
Echoes' of hers—Echoes followed by upwards of
Seventy "Other Poem' of a singularly miscel-
laneous character. So that, really and truly, it
might be said in regard to this particular one
amongst the last batch of Pensions, that—even test-
ing its value by its consequences—it has already
turned out for the nation a very excellent invest.
meat I Through it, we have even, it might be said,
got(by wonderfully quick returns)our money's worth.
Scanning the volume, howbeit, purely as a work of
art—the intrinsic value of which (that is, of a verit-
able work of art) it must at all times be almost
impossible, if, indeed, it be not absolutely impos.
sible, accurately to appraise—we are fain to drop,
at once and for ever, these, for the moment, our
wisiesasically chosen money-market metaphors—
examining the book and its contents for such pre-
cisely as they are—as New Echoes from the lyre of
Eliza Cook : a lyre strung as it were by her very
heartstrings. The opening poem among all these
five-and-seventy—the poem which gives its distinc-
tive title to the volume—" New Echoes" to wit—a
poem extending over some thirtyefour pages, may
be described as an amplification of what we are
disposed to regard as the most famous first line of
a first poem that ever was written I Meaning,
thereby, the initial line of John Keats's maiden
work " Endymion." A line enunciating a truth,
of the veracity of which that line itself is its own
most striking attestation! Sang young Keats, in
that, the first and most world-famous among all
his lovely versa—

" A thing of beauty is a joy for ever"—

the stripling author of " Eadymion," adding by way
of enforcement to the exquisite thought therein

er.pressed—

"Its loveliness increases—it will never

Pass into nothingness."
Echoing this thought of John Keats, Eliza Cook
herein expatiates upon it with delightful gusto—first
of all oddly, whimsically, vivaciously—afterwards
with a most tender and pensive appreciation of it in
all its subtler aspects. Playing with it, as one may say,
as a fountain might play with a roseate fruit or a
blooming flower—the radiant thought of Keats being
here kept dancing upon the " jet" of her capricious
verse, as a rose or an orange might above the spray
of a fountain, there and then " shaking its loosened
silver in the sun 1" Of her own peculiar quail-
fiCations as a poetess, it may be observed, that
Eliza Cook has a sense as accurate as ever Horace
had of his. " Have I not struggled," she asks,

- to be humbly just,
And, like the glowworm gild my path of dust ?
Have I not sought, with strong impassioned zeal,
To 'nava a few enduring thoughts behind,
That unborn ones may read; and, reading, feel
To be the lifc-sparks of an earnest mind ?"

Throughout the book, moreover, there are evidences
that —true to her kind—if our authoress has intensely
sung, she hos also intensely suffered. Shelley's phrase
—we all remember those pathetic words of his, in
reference to the whole race of poets, from the epic-
writer to the sonnetteer—Shelley's phrase runs
thus affectingly—
" They learn in suffering what they teach in song I"
And, certainly—if we are to judge from her
own casually indicated, from her own purely
incidental references to her individual expe-
riences—our authoress may be said, in bitterest
truth, to have graduated with high honours while
passing through the Academy of Tribulation. One
while she blurts out to us the confession—
ic I have encountered pain and trial,

Griefs, disappointments, anguish, doubts and fears ;
Fate Las poured out on me her chastening vial,
Melting my choicest pearls in acrid tears."

At another her pathetic self-revelations come to us
yet more tearfully where she laments—
" No mot a can my footsteps wander
Through woodlands loved and dear ; •
I gaze on the hill-tops yonder
Through the mist of a hopeless tear.
My spirit is worn and weary
With waitit:g for health and rest;
My long, long night is dreary,
And my summer day unblest :
My suffering darkens the moonlight,
My anguish embitters the balm,
My loneliness weeps in the moonlight,
And sighs in the evening calm.
Oh, Suffering's mournful story
Must be wofully long and true,
When it finds me noting God's glory,

But not as I used to do."
Even, where she is speaking apparently of another,
it is herself, only too manifestly, that she has
within her ken ; as, for example, where she writes
in her " Sorrowful Summer Stanzas"—
" I know a Soul whose golden bowl
Is filled, like the Year, with Life's rich dower,
But Suffering weaves her shadowing leaves,
And blights the prime of its fruit and flower."
Among all these mournful introspective meditations
the most plaintive, beyond all manner of question,
Lowev;:r; is the one entitled, suggestively, " Lines:in
the Twilight.'' 100 long to admit of its being trans.
ferred here in its entirety to oar columns, it would
be an injustice to mar the beauty of it as a whole by
any mere fragmentary quotation. Commending it to
the readers perusal, th,:refore, we would at once
add that our authoress has at least her consolations.
Ras she not ? Let her own exquisite celebration
of " Castle Lea"—to our mind one of the most
charming pieces in:the whole collection—answer :
and answer (so far as the sympathy of Friendship
can enable it to do so) quite conclusively. Spoil..
taneously, almost, one might say, carelessly, to
a certain extent unpremeditatedly, though she
(sings—for those who have long learned to love
her singing—these " woodnoies wild" hardly ever
even by a misplaced epithet) do we find her accent

faltering into momentary error or dissonance. Once
in a way, she may talk about (p. 153) dissecting the
thunder, or at another instant, in the midst of a
battle song (p. 158), bid a ball show its teethe—but
—What heart-stirring War Songs can she not sing
whensoever she lists! Ex. gr., one single stanz.►
from her Tyr!ce in, " Stand to your Guns!"
Though we launch no defiance, and offer no wrong;
Red coats and blue jackets shall be at their posts;
And the light of bold hearts—steady, vivid, and strong,
Shall keep Liberty's Watchfire alive on our coasts.
Let the Rulers that dwell in the East or the South
Come with friendly saluting, and kindly we'll meet;
But we'll ()hew that Britannia has truth in her mouth;
In our death-scorning " Guards" and our staunch " Chan-
nel Fleet,"

Lot us cherish our bulldog while petting our dove ;
And be ready for storms 'neath the brightest of suns :
With a cheer for our white cliffs, our homes, and our love;
And a spirit determines to " Stand to our Guns I"
Here, however, is a Wassong and a Peace-song
all iu one—a Ndtional song worthy of having
inscribed above it, as its motto, either Si vis pacem
para bellum, or Senzper paratecs
.patriotic
effusion, not unworthy of the Poetess who has
already given to her native land the noble song
of " The Englishman" :

HURRAH I FOR OUR RIFLEMEN I

Hurrah for our Riflemen I —Men of the Land I

Who have sprung with a brave-hearted yearning;
Not willing nor eager to kindle War's brand,
But to guard what that brand might set burning.
They have limbs for a march ; they have fronts for a blow,
Show them laurels and see bow they'll win them;
They have hands for a trigger and eyes for a toe--
That will prove the true Briton is in them.

Then here's to the Grey, and the Green and the Blue,
Never heed in what colour you find them,
But be sure they'll be dyed a blood-red through and
through,
Ere the chain of a Despot shall bind them,
Let them come from the plough. from the loow, and the

forge,
Let their bugles ring louder and louder,
Let the dark city street, and the deep forest gorge,
Prove that Labour makes Valour the prouder.
Let them dwell in sweet Peace, till a moment may come
When the shot of an enemy rattle,
And the spirits that clung the most fondly to home
Will be first to rush forth in the battle.

Then here's to the Grey, and the Green, and the Blue,
Never heed in what colour you find them,
But. be sure they'll be dyed a blood-red through and
through,
Ere the chain of a Despot shall bind them.
Intensely patriotic though she is, however, by
nature, she has especial reason for asserting as she
does here, at page 105—
" And my patriot-love and my patriot-song
To the children of Labour will ever belong.',
With them it is, among ell her countrymen, that
her large heart goes to the full. To them it is
that her poetic sympathy id accorded unstintingly.
She lingers with delight, it
_is true, among the
beauties of nature. She can sing of flowers.—
" Oh I Sewers, come always round us in your bloom,
apostrophising them, exquisitely, ia the same breath
as—
" The daintiest weaving in God's marvellous loom I"
She can exclaim with an exultation of delight when
she sees—
" . . . The lime tree flinging
Its delicate green arms out,
The fragrant jasmine clinging,
And the woodbine running about."
But,while her heart stirs within her at the infinitely
beautiful sights and sounds, the lavishly abounding
graces and charms of Nature—it seems to go cut
from her into her verse, when it is Human Nature
that appeals to her poetic sympathies, in the
guise of the lowly and the toil-worn.
Humanity in any shape appeals potentially to
her comprehensive susceptibilities, but most po-
tentially of all, in that —in the form, that is, of the
very lowly and the very toil-worn. In behalf of
the fallen and the griefastricken her tender voice is
ever raised upon occasion with an earnest solicitude.
She say° herseif—and, judging from her past and
present poetry she says it with full reason—
" I have not looked upon my erring brothers
As though I were of better stuff than they.
I have not learned to note foul spots in others,
Deeming my heart all crystal—theirs all clay."
And it may be said, too, that any fellow-creature,
however lowly, becomes, in manner, sublimated by
her sympathies—embalmed in her verse (to borrow,
here, by way of illustration, one of her own
loveliest couplets)—
" Like the poor insect—worthless, dead and dull,
Till Memory's amber makes it beautiful."
Still as of old, intermingled with all the pathetic
beauties of her muse, Rizl Cook's verse abounds at
intervals with touches of the subtlest humour, of the
most innocent and exhilarating vivacity. Note in
evidence of this—hardly so much a quaint quatrain
like that in which she pencils old Gaffer Gray,
pencils him in his complete individuality—with the
whole idioeyncraoy as it were, of that senile villager
brought before us at a breath—instantaneously—
" With a forehead made of wrinkles,
Carved in crosses, cranks and crinkles,
And a voice so thin and mumbling
That his glee might pass for grumbling."
Hardly so much, we would say is her sense of
humour evidenced even bysuch a comical silhouette
as that—as, let us say, by her yet additional triumphs
of art, here, as a dog-painter (in words) quite as inimi-
table as are (in pigments) either Mademoiselle Rosa
Bon hear or Sir Edwin Landseer, Allusion being
thus made not so much to her Lines addressed " To
Brun"—though those are admirable—particularly
in the serio-comic " refrain"—
" 'Tis pleasant to h:ar the wise ones utter
The worth of your power and pace ;
But why did you swallow that pound of butter,
800 OF AN ANCIENT RACE I "
—as to the drollest effusion in the whole book,
the one having a sort of ae odd kind of a half-pun
in its very title, to wit, the " aiggrel Dill)" about
—whom does the reader think ?

DEARDLEUM KEDLUM I
" My one grain of sense was oft deemed to be lost
In a bushel of chaff from Bedlam,
When the creature came nigh that I used to accost
With the greeting of `Deardleum Kedlum
" But somehow it never came into my head
To say Kenneth'—the name he was christened—
He was always styled Kenny,► or Keddle,' or Ked,'
And he seemed to love each while he listened.
" One called him 'Kentucky,' another I Kenmuir,'
So others had some touch of Bedlam,
But the fondest of all that kind voices let fall
Was liquid and musical Kedlum.'"
And so on, throughout the whole of this delightful
piece of gentle-hearted comicality—one that, relat-
ing as it does "only to a dog," yet lends an illus-
tration in its w.iy to one of Eliza Cook's stanzas,
occurring yet later on in the volume now under
notice, in her poem on the " Germs of Greatness,''
where she says, and who is there who will not add,
How truthfully I—
" The Poet-chant may be a thing
Of lightsome tone and word,
But a living soma' may dwell in the string
That shall waken and warn as its echoes fling,
Till untold hearts are stirred.''
As its echoes fling—Yes, lot us say it, in brief, as
these same " NEW ECHOES" of her own. Echoes
that will long reverberate through many a scattered
croft and homestead of old England, Echoes that
will often vibrate in the hearts of those who in the
intervals of labour, may come to nestle there under
the thatch!

SHIPPING INTELLIGENCE—This day.

.

LONDON, Dec. 111.—Wind this day at noon—South-
Easterly; moderato brecz9, aied cloudy weather, with a
slight fog.
QUEENSTOWN, Dec. 12.—Wind S.W.—Arrived—Ne-
vada, from Callao—Balclutha, hum Cuba—Kent, from
Richibucto.

NEWPORT, Dec. 13.--Wind S.W.—Arrived—Pearl,
from Amsterdam for Jamaica. ti ailed---'sparkling Dew,
for Peruatoluca.

(BY MAGNETIC TELEGRAPH ) -
GRAVESEND, Wednesday Morning,
Arrived, Dee. 13—Anna G.sino, • from Stockholm—
Elizabeth Ann, from Dort—Volunteer, from Hamburg—
Celeste, from Kranville—Martha, from Cronstadt—Loutaa,
from Bilboa.

DEAL, Wednesday Morning.
Passed, Dec. la—Skimmer of the Seas, for Batavia—
Atlas, for Malta—Verc. fur Jamaioa—Ziba, for Moreton
Bay—all from London.

Sailed—The outward bound to the west, and the Ber-
mondsey for London, to stop a leak.

Liverpool Cotton Market—This Day.

T
Market quiet, but steady. S,-.lcs, about 7,000

XII
Oln rt
:,....\-- ,OUIEn
_

HER MAJESTY.

WINDSOR CASTLE, Dec. 13.
The Queen, accompanied by her Royal Highness
Princess Louise, and attended by the Hon. Emily
Cathcart, walked and drove in the grounds this
morning.
Her Royal Highness Princess Helena rode in the
Home Park, and Princess Beatrice went out
walking.
Her Royal Highness Princess Louise, atterdid
by the Hon. Florence 6.symour, drove out in the
afternoon.

The Crown Prince and Crown Princess °
Prussia.
Their Royal Highnesses the Crown Prince avdd
Crown Princess of Prussia, who have been real.r:
in g in Switzerland for some time, arrived I
Berne on Thursday last on their return to Ger.
many, Their royal highnesses stayed one night at
g
the Bernerhof, and then proceeded to Carlsrl.lh'...
on a visit to the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess
of Baden. They arrived at Carlsruhe on Saturdal
afternoon.

The Duke and Duchess of Manchester ha
arrived in Paris from England, on their way to Ni'3e'
The Earl and Countess of Leicester will esl'-:
tain a succesbion of guests at Holkham Hall, Nclfa.!3
early in the ensuing month. Their Royal Highnesses "It
Prince and Princess of Wales propose to stay two
and during their visit there will be a grand ball. ant
'llia Earl and Uouutess de Grey will remahl "
Studley Royal, Yorkshire, until about the 20th WA, ail
then go to Nocton Hall, Lincolnshire, for Christmas' d
The Countess Dowager of Tankerville is exPecled
to leave town to-day for Broadlands, on a visit to Lord sr,
Lady Palmerston.
Lord and Lady Robert Cecil have left town on a
visit to the Marquis and Marchioness of Salisbury'

Hatfield House.
Lord and Lady Walter Scott have left Paris I‘)r
Rome.
The Right Hon. Sir Francis and Lady Aug us!:
Baring are entertaining a succession of visitors at Stsat`°,
Park, Hants. The Right Hon. Sir George and LadY Grey
will join the party.
The Right Hon. H. A. Herbert, M.P., iS
bns
rn
slightly improved in health, though the recent sYvaptO
are favourable. He is still at the seat of Lord and Ls
Crtmorne, in Ireland.