The Sun.
London, England, 1846-04-06 00:00:00

MAGAZINES-(CONTINUED.)
NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

Strong in his own powers as a poetical translator, John.
Oxenford dares a comparison with John Gibson Lock-
hart, by a new version of the renowned " Spanish Bal-
lads relating to the Infants of Lara." And although it
is deficient in that barbaresque beauty and lambent en-
thusiasm which gained Mr. Lockhart's book of Spanish
ballads such a deserved popularity, the present transla-
tion is eminently good, because it is so eminently cha-
racteristic. It is no paraphrase, but, on the contrary,
adheres as closely to the original as symmetry of metre
would permit. The more we dip into ancient ballad
literature the more are we impressed with the sagacity
of the philosopher in selecting it in preference to all
other means of governing the populace. How the" Ranz
des Vaches " fires the patriotism of the Switzer ; haw
the " Marselloise" kindled the democracy of Frenchmen;
and how that superb outburst of our brave Robin's love
for fatherland, and reverence for the heroes of Scotland,
" Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled," thrills to the bosom's
core of every Caledonian ; are only individual instances
of a principle which pervades all nations and animates all
generations. Ballad literature is thus potent in its influ-
ence, because it circulates through the whole mind of the
people, and appeals to the tenderest and noblest feelings
of the million. Precisely what the ditties relative to
Robin Hood and his merry men in Lincoln green where,
in relation to our English forefathers, responding to their
affection for freedom, and their partiality for valour, are
these olden songs of Spain in reference to the inhabitants
of the Peninsula. Their every sentiment breathes of
that sunny clime—they are most apposite as addressed to
the land of the Cid—they are tinctured with that exalted
spirit of chivalry, the annihilation of which Cervantes
seemed to regard as his peculiar mission. And excel-
lently well does this version of Mr. Oxenford typify
these emotions in English verse. The five ballads
are suffused with a delicious combination of intrepidity
and pathos ; and, if we might permit ourselves to select
one among them as the more preferable, we should
almost be tempted to choose the most melancholy-toned
of the collection—that descriptive of the destruction of
the infants " Salienda de Canicosa." It is exquisitely
conceived and charmingly transcribed. A better paper
could hardly have commenced this number of the New
Monthly. Those readers who have literary appetites,
somewhat in accordance with the taste of many would-be
connoiseurs in painting, who will not eulogise a landscape
until they have traced it to a Cuyp or Claude, nor a
pitta until it is proved to be a Caracci, nor abattle-
piece until it is shown to have proceeded from the easelof
Wouvermans, will find a rich banquet of additional chapters
in this magazine, graced with the names of G. P. R.
James, Captain Marryat, and W. H. Maxwell. "Echoes
from the Backwoods" are repeated by Captain Levinge
as pleasantly as the hill sides do those on the margin of
Killarney. A. nameless old man (we do not allude,
mind, to the venerable gentleman in black !) becomes
very garrulous in his " arraignment and defence of
Time." It is a quaint conceit, however, and not un-
worthy of perusal. We pray Mr. Jolly Green to desist
from boreing the public any further, either with his tra
vels or his opinions. He is rather a superficial pilgrim
with a very enticing pseudonym. " The last Ball at the
Tuileries" is smart and agreeable enough ; the tracing of
the temperaments and futurity of the Dec de Nemours,
the Due d'Aumale, the Duo de Montpensier, the Prin-
cease Clementine, and the Princesse de Joinville, from
their stile of dancing! is a very happy eccentricity.
There is much wisdom, we conjecture, in its very flip-
pancy. In the tale, however, which the authoress has em-
bodied in this article, she has forgotten to express her
obligations to that right-clever novel " Cyril Thornton."
The story is absolutely identical—it is a most egregious
and intolerable specimen of plagiarism. " A sketch of
the Lives of Lords Stowell and Eldon" introduces us to
the latter venerable personage in a more pleasant cha-
racter than usual, namely, as the partaker of the frolics
of children. It reminds us of a picture ever dear to us
—Charles James Fox lying upon the carpet among a
pile of toys. Charles Hooton gives us a very common-
place narrative in ryhme about a Captain Blackstone ;
there is only one redeeming point in the contribution—
the suicide of Melicate. The April number is con-
cluded with not the least interesting paper, " The Loss
of the Great Liverpool," described by one of the passen-
gers in that luckless vessel, over whose destruction such
a mournful interest has been cast by the recent felo de-
ce of her unfortunate Captain. The New Monthly for
this month is altogether an improvement upon many of
its predecessors.