The Sun.
London, England, 1867-01-14 00:00:00

Claudia.

By Mrs. Frederick Prideaux. Smith,
Elder, and Co.

This is a very charming little poem, written with
exquisite simplicity and tenderness. It relates to
the early history of Britain, and the scene is partly
in this island and partly in Rome. Claudia is the
granddaughter of Bran, " a British Prince, the son
of Llyr, the sire of Caradoc." In her infancy she
is taken prisoner by the Roman invaders, and is
adopted as her own daughter by Pomponia, the
wife of Anlus Plautius, the Roman General. Here
is a picture of the maiden, as the daughter of a
Roman patrician :
Ere Julius could reply,—a fair young girl,
Half child, half woman,—all her delicate face
Flushing with eagerness, all her features strung
To some set purpose,—sprang into the room.
Her bearing had a wild and sylvan grace
That seemed most strange in one whose raiment spoke
Of noble lineage. For her tunic, woven
Of finest Syrian wool, bleached by the dews
Of summer nights upon the emerald plains
That frame Damascus, was all bordered round
With Tyrian purple ; and was looped above
On each. shoulder with a gleaming pearl,
Large as a linnet's egg ; and over this
Hung loosely draped about her slender form
A robe of equal richness; and her hair,—
Crisp, golden hair that ran in rippled waves
Back from her rounded temples,—flowed behind
Into a silken network, strung as thick
With pearls as gossamers with dew.
Her very feet, that trod lho homely floor
With such a dainty firmness, were encased
In shoes of creamy kid skin, rough with pearls.
At the opening of the narrative Caradoc, the British
king, has at length been vanquished in battle.
And sent a trophy to imperial Rome.
A splendid gem set round with precious stones.
His queen, his brothers, and his only child.
Then all the pageant-loving city thronged
About his steps, eager to feast their eyes
Upon this marvellous barbarian,
Who for a half-score of astonished years
Defied the arms that had defied the world.
The little story is full of interest. Bran, the father
of Caradoc, on hearing of his son's misfortunes,
comes to offer himself as a hostage, and, vainly
seeking an interview with that potent official, sits
, " wrapped in sadness" at the gate of Narcissus, the
freedman and favourite of Caesar. The venerable
Julius, a Christian, passing by, thus accosts the
princely heathen :

All my heart is moved
To see thee watch thus patiently in vain
Day after day, year after year, to win
An audience of Narcissus. Verily
A tythe of all this thankless service paid

Unto the King of kings, would purchase thee
More fruitful hearing.
Bran, misunderstanding him, imagines he alludes to
Caesar. Later on he is himself converted. Claudia
also is a secret Christian. Here is a touching glimpse
of her at prayer :
So with the blessing of the poor and meek
Warm at her heart, she passed into the house ;
And sought her little chamber, where she fell
Upon her knees before the unseen Shrine
That faithful hearts find everywhere ; and strove
In wordless agonies of prayer; and poured
Her soul in praise for rescue, safe return,
And a new friend. At length, arising up
With looks of full contentment, like a babe
Slow-turning from his mother's liberal breast,—
Summoned the nurse and gladly laid aside
Her festal draperies and ornaments.
The scene is afterwards in Britain when Julius and
his companions assist in imparting the glad tidings
of salvation. One other extract we must give. It
records the meeting, after years of separation, of a
husband and father with his wife and children :
Meanwhile the Maccabee had hastened forth
To welcome his dear spouse and tender babes.
Deep in the wood he met with Miriam.
Then dumb at first even with excess of bliss.
They hung upon each other's quivering lips.
Next, held apart the length of loving arms,
Gazed each ou each, half doubtfully ; the while
Strange, painful laughter, mixed with painless tears,.
Shook all their unnerved features. Till the babes,
Half shy, half jealous, only half assured,
Thrust their small hands into their mother's hands.
Then the vague rapture inexpressible
Found voice and action; as the mother held
The doubtful boy in reassuring arms,
And made him know hie father ; who the while
Crushed all his dusky curls caressingly
With his large hand, and looked him in the face
With gentleness ineffable, and smoothed
And lessened the deep rolling of his voice
To suit his shaken spirits. While the
One hand still clinging to her mother's robe,
Ventured the other in the broad brown palm
That courted its caress ; then as if nerved
By its firm pressure, stood erect and raised
Her soft lips to the stranger's bearded mouth,
Sealing the triple bond that binds the world.
With this very charming picture we take leave of
" Claudia," congratulating the authoress upon a
work, which, brief although it is, bears untnistak-
able evidence of the tender sympathy of a woman's
heart, and the pious devotion of a Christian spirit.

Keble and the Christian Year. By J. C. Sharp,
Professor of Humanity, St. Andrews. Edmon-
ston and Douglas.
This little essay on the author of the " Christian
Year" is full of interest, especially as being written
as its writer telLs us, not by one surrounded with
the same associations as was John Keble, but by one
reared amid quite other traditions. "It was 3
strange experience," says the author, " for a young
man trained anywhere, much more for one born ani
bred in and trained within The Kirk to
enter Oxford when the religious (Tractarian) more-
meiat was at its height." Here is the result of his
experience :
This movement, moreover, when at its height, ex-
tended its influence far beyond the circle of those who
directly adopted its views. There was not a reading man/
at least in Oxford, who was not more or less indirectly
influenced by it. Only the very idle or the very frivolous
were wholly proof against it. On all others it impressed
a sobriety of conduct and a seriousness not usually
found among large bodies of young men. It raised the
tone of average morality in Oxford to a level which per-
haps it bad never before reached. You may call it over-
wrought and too highly strong. Perhaps it was. It, was
better, however, for young men to be so than to be
doubters or cynics.
If such was the general aspect of Oxford society at that
time, where was the centre and soul from which so mighty
a power emanated? At that time it lay, and had for some
years lain, mainly in ono man—a man in many ways the
most remarkable that England has seen during this COO'
tury, perhaps the most remarkable whom the English
Church has produced in any century—John Henry New"
man.
The influence he had gained, apparently without set"
ting himself to seek it, was something altogether unlace
anything else in our time. A mysterious veneration
had by degrees gathered round him, till now it was
almost as though some Ambrose or Augustine of elder
ages had reappeared. He himself tells how ono day'
when he was an undergraduate, a friend with whom he
was walking in the Oxford-street cried out eagerly,
l
" There's Keble !" and with what awe he looked at him
A few years, and the same took place with regard to him"
self. In Oriel-lane light-hearted undergraduates would
drop their voices and whisper, "There's Newman!" wheri2
head thrust forward, and gaze fixed as though on sollw
vision seen only by himself, with swift, noiseless step be
wont by. Awe fell on them for a moment, almost as if jt
had been some apparition that had passed. For his inner
circle circle of friends, many of them younger men, he was sal,/
to have a quite romantic affection, which they roturue
with the most ardent devotion and the intensest faith
him. But to the outer world ho was a mystery. Wt o
were the qualities that inspired these feelings ? Ther
was of course learning and refinement, there was geniul
not indeed of a philosopher, but of a subtle and origiei'i-
thinker, an unequalled edge of dialectic, and these
glorified by the imagination of a poet. Then there 0;
the utter unworldliness, the setting at naught of all thilo
which men most prize, the tamelessness of soul, which's'
ready to essay the impossible. Men felt that here W
" One of that small transfigured band
Whom the world cannot tame."
dif4
It was this mysteriousness which, beyond all his
of head and heart, so strangely fascinated and over3W°to
—that something about him which made it impossible
or
reckon his course and take his bearings, that soul-bider"
and quenchless yearning which nothing short of the e'sro
nal could satisfy. This deep, resolute ardour of soul s
no doubt an offence not to be forgiven by older men, esi)ri
cially by the wary and worldly-wise ; but it was the ire:a
spell which drew to him the hearts of all the younger
the more enthusiastic. Such was the impression he it.
ut ado in' Oxford just before he relinquished his bold
And if at that time it seemed to persons at a distaneevo
tray egant and absurd, they may have since learnedeneilio
to mble it plain to them that there was enough in
who was the object of it to justify the impression.
Do,
From tilie criticism on the Christian Year, ort
is full of truth and judgment, we quote one B vib
pa&age
High ovittotion and railed thought in Lira had 11
%.1