The Sun.
London, England, 1831-08-01 00:00:00

MAGAZINE DAY.

BLACKIV 0 OD' S MAGAZINE.—PART I.
There is no mistaking the author of the poem
" Unimore, a tale of the Highlands," which
very properly occupies the most prominent place
in this number. It is professor Wilson's all
over. Eyes—mouth—brow—figure—expression
—all unequivocally declare its parentage. Never
did poetic banding so closely resemble its father.
In melody of verse, Unimore is far superior to
the City of the Plague, or the Isle of Palms
this delicious snatches of music may be found in
both these striking poems—nor is it inferior in
imagination. Its chief defect—and of what
other poet just now before the public can this
be said ?—is that it is overlaid with wealth. The
imagination of its author seems literally inex.
haustible. He is a perfect CI cesus in this respect.
The following is one only of a series of descrip-
tions which in its own peculiar style, are equal,
if not superior, to any thing with which we are
acquainted in modern days. The words marked
in Italics strike us as eminently picturesque, and
bearing out what we asserted respecting the
imaginative faculty of Wilson
Morven and Morn and Spring and Solitude!
In front is not the Scene magnificent ?
Through the mist partly broken into fragments
Fleecelike, and partly roll'd voluminous
Higher and higher up what now is seen
To be a range of mountains, blind-faced cliffs
And hoary crags and blasted stumps look out
Strangely, and all as if they were alive,
From midst of that disporting glamoury ;
While from yon indistinct and dubious gloom,
Even.now as sable as a mass of night,
Softening and brightening into woodiness
A shadowy slope with loveliest lights bestrewn,
(For see! the Sun is in ascension,)
Emerges an old Forest. Haunt, no doubt,
Of mans, a silvan shy, thick-spotted Roe,
And RCd.(eer vagrant from the stony heights
Below the eagle's eyry ; single trees,
Each in itself a grove, at intervals
Gigantic towering o'er a race of giants,
Illustrious in the yellow glow of Morn.
And now the mists from earth are clouds in heaven;
Clouds slowly castellating in a calm
Sublimer than a storm; while brighter breathes
O'er the whole firmament the breadth of blue,
Because of that excessive purity
Of all those hanging snow-white palaces,
A gentle contrast, but with power divine."
The word " castellated" is a perfect picture
in itself ; it brings the idea intended to be con-
veyed by the poet at once before the mind. The
passage therefore should have ended with the
line—

" On the whole firmament the breadth of blue,"
for " castellated" implies the—
,. Hanging snow-white palaces," &c.
The picture is over done. But how vivid
are the lines--

.. Blind-faced cliffs

And hoary crags, and blasted stumps look out
Strangely, and all as if they were alive,
From midst of that disparting glamoury."

With the exception of Wordsworth, there is
no living poet who can equal this in force and
beauty and that creative faculty which is the
first and truest test of genius. To us it has all
the freshness of originality. But Unimore
abounds in these fortunate touches. We will
instance a few :
" Sunshiny rivers set the straths on fire."
" Just then a league-long line of moonshine streaming
All o'er some palmy isle."
" When bends the windward-beating bowsprit."
The spirit of the region fills with pride
'lhe Chieftain's heart ; for are they not his own,
Those dim blue glens, those shadowy mountains, all
Those radiant ranges of sun-smitten cliffs;
That meadow'd plain as green as emerald.
With its wide river, of the cataracts
Forgetful now, calm flowing to the loch."

This is rich colouring, but indeed in every
page Unimore proves that Professor Wilson
blends a painter's eye with a poet's fancy. Claude
might have drawn more than a hint from this
description ; and Turner, among modern artists
take it as a subject for the next exhibition.
,‘ Some passages in the Life of Sir Frizzle
Pumpkin" are entertaining but extravagant. It
is impossible to conceive them drawn from life.
,‘ La petite Madelaine" is an agreeable tale of the
sentimental school, and the Essay on the

" Modern French Historians". discusses a novel
subject in a worthy spirit.
PA it r
Consists of eight articles, six of which are full
of rampant, political invective. Really Christopher
i 8 overdoing the stale, trite, old subject of the first
French revolution, As a bug-bear it is no longer
of use, and as a theme for discussion is about as
fresh and entertaining, and original as the ques-
tion of Mary Queen of Scot's guilt or innocence.
Besides, Blackwood's politics are altogether of
so extravagant a character, that if one can con-
trive to understand, it is impossible to sympa-

thine with them. The only really valuable article
in the present number is the criticism on the
Agamemnon of ./Echylus, which is masterly and
generous in its spirit, and evidences a quick ap-
prehension of the more recondite beauties of the
Greek dramatists. The " Noctes" are neither
better nor worse than usual.