The Sun.
London, England, 1851-10-14 00:00:00

14, 1851.

! These verses being, strangely enough, marred by
such an opening phrase as this—
I" Weep awa3 ! heart, weep away !"
a mode of expression decidedly anything but pathetic.
As our final quotation from the volume, we give one
which appears to us to b 3 in some measure charac-
terised by a tone of sublimity : .
" The Organ Mountains !—As the days decline,By frozen cataract and cleft ravine
The rapid thunder sweeps;
And the chords answer to the mighty hand
That stirreth them, in diapason grand—
The music of the steeps!—
Reverberating like the roar of war
O'er continent and sea,
Until the weary mariner afar
With hope and helm a-lee,
Death in his path, his cup of faith outpoured,
Remembers Him who still can help afford,
And kneels to hear the anthem of the Lord."
With this noble passage we close our notice of " Ala•
ratan," satisfied that more than any words of a
reviewer, an extract of equal excellence is a book's
worthiest commendation.

NEW MUSIC.
TflE t
tut,
mobßy WORLD
zalSCoAoli. FCAlnißpoYsedßilyA.lG..l3.Bllad.
IV7
na
' Z. T. Purday.
We are always grateful for a good ballad—and
here is one of incontestable,excellence. To the cone •
poser we have often been under obligations in this
way, obligations we cannot very speedily fcrget with
the melodies of his beautiful songs so often haunting
our recollections. Whoever has watched the progress
of our popular literature during the last fifteen years
needs no reminder whatever of the merit of these
lyrical treasures which have been squandered forth by
Eliza Cook in such exhaustless protusion. Remem-
bering what has already been accomplished by the
poetess and the musician, we welcome the ballad be-
fore us with all eagerness. It is unworthy of neither.
On the contrary, we find in it charms that evidence
anything but decadence in those who have respec-
tively given us already the words of "Old King Time"
and the music of the "Grecian Daughter." The melody
of his present effusion, 'while altogether different from
those melodies which have long since rendered Mr.
Knight so very general a favourite, has the same
haunting sweetness for which most of his previous
compositions are remarkable. It will cling to the re-
membrance, and in so doing will testify to the love-
liness of the inspiration. Doubtless with the majority
the verses are already " household worlds," like so
many others from the hand of our popular authoress.
By reason of this simplicity and elegance, we think
Mr. Knight evinced taste in this selection. Better is
it, surely infinitely better, than listening to the
maudlin songs recently in vogue, songs distinguished
only by their exaggerated affectation of sentiment, to
hear maiden voices of England breathing thoughts
like those contained in the present ballad—thoughts
inculcative of a gentle and consolatory philosophy.

THE REGRET. Song. UV riticn by Eliza Cook, Z.
T. Purday.
Without the name of any composer on the title-
page, the song here issued from the establishment of
Mr. Purday bears upon it the name of Eliza Cook as
a talisman of attraction. It will prove on examina-
tion worthy in every way of the popularity of the
authoress. The air is plaintive and flowing, and
from its simplicity will be found generally most ac-
ceptable.