The Sun.
London, England, 1846-10-26 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

THE POETICAL WORKS OF HORACE
SMITH. 2 Vols.

Lying before us are the miscellaneous poems writ-
ten
,by Horace Smith, collected together in two
delightful volumes, and embellished with a character-
istic portrait of the author. "What more is necessary
after saying thus much ? All the drollery, all the
sentiment, all the elevated thoughts, and sparkling
conceits contained' in these writings are already
familiar to a large majority of the reading public. It
is advisable, however, to remind those who are
acquainted with the compositions of this clever writer
that these miscellaneous pieces can only be enjoyed
by hunting after them in a variety of different publi-
cations and scarce periodicals, unless advantage be
taken of the present edition, where they are, for the
first time since their production, accumulated to-
gether. One of the authors of the ever-memorable--
and, as he himself might have said in one of his hap-
piest imitations, the never-sufficiently-by-any-means-
to-be-admired " Rejected Addresses," Horace
Smith, entered upon the literary world while yet in
the bloom of his intellect, and in subsequent
periods of his career produced these fugitive composi-
tions. Horace Smith is another brilliant reason why a
name, whieh is usually treated with so much ridicule,
should be, on the contrary, in the very highest estima-
tion. Adam Smith, as the arch-authority in the philo-
sophy of political economy; Sydney Smith, as the most
ourepigrammatict of
ngmu
sdheerdn wits;
naval Sid
commanders ne S y m i Smith, aso , ; ne of
Horace
Smith, himself, his brother James, cum ceteris paribus,
would be enough even to redeem from obloquy any
name that might happen to be originally execrable.
In his different writings, whether prose or metrical,
our author has striven incessantly to inculcate benevo-
lent and elevating prin.ciples. For this anxiety to
benefit his fellow-men we should have honoured him,
even if his works had been devoid of all other excel-
lence. Sometimes, indeed, he allows himself to be
carried away by a succession of extravagant conceits,
as in his " Hymn to the Flowers," where he apostro-
phizes them alternately, as " day-stars," " matin-wor-
shippers," " bright mosaics," " floral apostles," " ephe-
meral sages rand " posthumous glories !" In this, how-
ever, he has only sinned as grievously as the great
master of poesy, Shakspere, in punning. It is in
this identical " hymn" that first appeared, if our
recollection serves us faithfully, a very exquisite
metaphor that has since been copied from repeatedly,
or suggested similar imageries, as in the :" New
Timon," and elsewhere. This is the verse—
" 'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth
And tolls its perfume on the passing air,
Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth
A call to prayer."

In " The Shriek of Prometheus," though a mere
fragment, Horace Smith adventured upon a loftier
style, and not altogether unsuccessfully. The phantom
eagle of Jove rising from the ravine where Prome-
theus is chained in the Caucasus, its breast " gorged
with the gore" of that great victim, the description
of the drop of the heart's blood of Prometheus fall-
ing from the eagle's talons " warm on the pilot's
hand," and the closing lines
" Through the whole night the Argo bore
Those throbbing hearts along the Pontic shore,"
form a picture which long haunts the imagination.
As a specimen of the curiosities of fancy that may be
discovered in these volumes, we transcribe this strange
sonnet " On an Ancient Lance, hanging in an Ar-
moury :
" Once in the breezy coppice didit thou dance,
And nightingales amid thy foliage sang;
Form'd by man's cruel art into a lance,
Oft has thou pierced (the while the welkin rang
With trump and drum, shoutings and battle clang)
Some foeman s heart. Pride, pomp, and circumstance,
Have left thee now, and thou dost silent hang,
From age to age, in deep and dusty trance.
What is thy change to ours ? These gazing eyes,
To earth reverting, may again arise
In dust, to settle on the self-same space;
Dust, which some offspring, yet unborn, Who tries
To poise thy weight, may with his hand efface,
And with his moulder'd eyes again replace."
Of the spirit by which Horace Smith is animated in
regarding the phases of human life, a whole folio
volume could not afford a more thorough and truthful
indication than those six lines in " The Old Man's
Paean," where he says—

"To dark oblivion I bequeath
The ruddy cheek, brown hair, white teeth,
And eyes that brightly twinkle ;
Crows' feet may plough with furrow's deep
My features, if I can but beep
My mind without a wrinkle." .
Of his "comic poems" what need possibly be said ?
His Sonn2t to his Nose! Rabelais and the Lampreys!
York Kidney Potatoes ! Patent Brown Stout! Pitt's
Bon-mot! or that outrageous bit of facetiousness the
Address to the Mummy, beginning
" And hast thou walked about (how strange a story !)
In Thebes's-street three thousand years ago ?"
We shall not, however, pillage further from these
laughter-moving volumes; they require no recom-
mendation, not even the recommendation of an ex-
tract.