The Sun.
London, England, 1846-09-17 00:00:00

LITERATURE.
THE SYBIL'S SPELL. A Fairie Tale.
This little metrical story 15 a performance almost
too delicate and gossamer-flhe for the rude and cum-
brous hands of criticism. If it be dissected, or
tumbled about much in the crucible of that same un-
compromising criticism, we- shall find the bloom come
off it like the powder from the pinions of a butterfly.
The story itself is a trite old story enough ; never-
theless it is handled with a grace that imparts to it
almost an air of newness. A baron roving on a
hunting expedition in the woods surrounding his
castle, comes upon a "simple forest maiden," loves
her and is beloved—goes to the wars—is all but
betrothed to a haughty lady during his
absence returns homewards in a torment of
doubt—his heart luring him towards his former
ladye love—his pride and his honour towards his
latter ladye-love. Here it is that the writer of this
little poem has clothed the old legend with a novel
and not inelegant appendage. The Baron's hesita-
tions are dissipated by a sybil's spell—the said sybil
having, with fairie agency, disclosed to him, in a
kind of visionary panorama, the terrible consequences
which would result from any rash step in the way of
(as poor George Farquhar hath it) " committing
matrimony." Need we explicitly state the winding
up of the fragile line spun by the romancer ? The
Baron leads the simple damsel, in her russet dress,
from cottage to castle, his bride. Alfred Tennyson has
given a most delicious version of this story, founded
upon a real, but romantic incident in the life of one
of the ancestors to the noble house of Burleigh. Sir
Bulwer Lytton has given the antithesis of the story—
and beautifully has he given it—in his " Lady of
Lyons." Associated with such predecessors, "The
Sybil's Spell" could scarcely fail from dwindling
into insignificance, especially when certain literal
absurdities insinuated themselves into the text. Such
for example as the lines—
" Young Baron, host thou yet atoned
To one thy words have shatter'd ?"
That unfortunate expression necessitates the ridicul-
ous consideration, that the words must have been
" devilish hard words," and the individual shattered
by them, frightfully brittle ! Then, again, we have a
specimen, so true, of bathos, or the art of sinking in
poetry, as would have warmed the heart of Martinus
Scriblerus—where the Sybil ends her solemn warning
with the exclamation—

" Go—young man, beware!"
In another part we have the couplet—
" Then came a wakefull thrill across him,
Then did a shadowy munner toss him."
The rhyme, too, occasionally smacks of the veritable
cockaizne ; ex. gr.
" At morning's dawn,
She heard the horn."

And at other moments the verse is encumbered with
the most awkward redundancy of language; as in
the following : _ . .... .

—"hidden by their bubbling showers,
And swelling foam, that roaring mocks
The bending of the fragile flowers,
That stoop beneath the glowing stream"—
et cetera, et cetera. Has not the bloom-dust come off
our literary butterfly ?

ECHOES FROM THE BACKWOODS. 2 Vols.
By Captain R. G. Leringe.
We have so repeatedly had occasion to notice these
" Sketches of Transatlantic Life" during their piece-
meal publication in Colburn's New Monthly Magazine
that it is unnecessary to enter into any minute exa-
mination of their merits. As the author very judici-
ously observes in his preface, it is matter of astonish-
ment, and should be matter of regret that so little is
known and apparently so little cared for our posses-
sions in New Brunswick. Everybody knows some-
thing, more or less, respecting the internal condition
and external relations of almost every other portion of
the American continent ; but of the provinces of New
Brunswick—provinces " containing many millions of
excellent land, magnificent rivers, inexhaustible mine-
ral wealth, and most extensive coalfields "—scarcely
one individual in a hundred knows anything
whatever. These two sensible, picturesque,
laughter-moving, sprightly volumes, are descriptive
of the scenery, illustrative of the society, and indica-
tive of the affluence of this same unnoticed, but most
noticeable territory. One literary advantage, there-
fore, is assured to the reader—the book possesses sin-
gular novelty. Of the existence in its pages of many
other literary advantages we can give our most de-
cided, and, we trust, somewhat decisive voucher. The
writer has penned his chapters quite con amore—he
evidently relishes his own narrative—he engages in
all sorts of surprising and healthful adventures—he
lets the reader into a thousand geographical and colo-
nial secrets ; and so pleasant withal and off-hand are
the descriptions, that it is scarcely so much reading
so many sheets of letterpress as hearing Captain
Livinge himself tell all about (what Harry Lorrequer
would call) his " wanderings and ponderings."
Nor is our author merely an agreeable scribe—
he is an excellent draughtsman as well. His sketch-
book is alternately embellished by the pen and
by the pencil. " The air hole,"—namely, a fracture
in the ice when sledging over it, and the consequent
engulphing of a horse is gloriously delineated.
IVhoever can thoroughly enjoy the tales of an ob-
servant traveller will be loth to abandon the perusal of
,here delightful volumes.