The Sun.
London, England, 1835-06-09 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

POEMS BY ALBIUS.
Clairton, London : 1835.
This little volume contains many rare gems of poesy,
so rare indeed, that if Albius bad }possessed a a proper
sense of what was due to his own interest, lie would have
kept them to himself, instead of throwing them away
on an undiscerning pulk.c. We cannot approve of
that lavish generosio;• which induces a man to cast
pearls before swine. There are flights—freaks we
should rather call them—of fancy in this collection,
which are as much above the comprehension of the
community, as if they had been penned in the purest
Sanscrit. Why then has Albius published them ?
He is clearly an author superior to his times, and
cannot expect to be properly appreciated, till that glo-
rious era (foretold by Pope in the Dunciad) arrives,
when, to be unintelligible, shall be recognized as the
first great attribute of genius. Thanks to the March
of Mind, we are by no means in despair of the
speedy advent of this epoch ; and when it does come
—heavens, what a luminary will Albius be in the
literary horizon I We shall see him blazing, and
flashing, and whisking his vast tail about, like O'Con-
nell, or a Comet! In the interim, however, we would
advise him to discontinue poetizing, for the public is
is not yet sufficiently prepared for such a blessed con-
summation—not yet sufficiently rid of old impressions,
to sanction the claims of an author, whose first great
recommendation is, that he sets all intelligibility at de-
fiance. It would appear that Albius—anticipating
with the self-confidence of genius, the fulness of fame
that must ere long be his—is half inclined to take our
advice, and "bide his time ;" for in a poem entitled
" The Farewell and Departure of Albius," he ex-
pressessly, and in the most solemn terms, declares his
intention to renounce, for the time-being, all claims to
public admiration.
" No more will I inscribe to fruitless Fame,
Tho' ssience henceforth might record nsg name—.
No more will I in Albion's causes sing,
Nor in her praise will touch the tuneful string."
This is judicious, and the author may take our
word for it, that he will not suffer in public estimation
by such forbearance. But what does he mean by the
word " causes ? " Had he ever an idea of undertaking,
the " causes" of Albion in verse, as a lawyer under-
takes those of his clients in prose ? Of chaunting the
virtues of the Corporation Reform Bill, or the merits
of the Ballot and Triennial Parliaments ? We should.
like a little explanation on this point, but not hiving
time to wait for it, we proceed.—ln the subioned pas-
sage it will be seen that Albius, with a, minuteness, as
respects localities, highly natural to one in whose place
of abode the public cannot but feel the intensest in-
terest, acquaints us with the exact plan of his future
proceedings—where he intends to live, and how to
demean himself
" Friendship, adieu! Society I disclaim,
And no more know mankind than by the name ;
Some gloomy grotto, in a lonely wood,
Or cavern seated near a rising flood,
Henceforth shall be the residence I choose,
The future study of my mournful muse."
We hope Albius will think better of this scheme.
A gloomy grotto near a rising flood, is well enough in
summer (especially if it is within a walking distance of
a market-town), but in winter, when floods begin to
rise more than was bargained for, and grottos are apt
to be filled with icicles, such a residence is far from
captivating, even to the most imaginative natures, and
might well be exchanged for a box in some London
tavern, where the waiter's voice affords a pleasing sub-
stitute for the roar of the flood—no longer, alas,
" rising," but risen, so as to duck Albius in his
" grotto," peradventure, even to drown him ! But it
is of no use to argue with this young man, for he tells
us that he has received an imperative summons to quit
Albion :
" The Sacred Nine already chide my stay,
My Goddess Muse cries—' Albius, haste away ! ' "
The present is not the first instance on record of the
" Sacred Nine" giving a hint to a poet to " haste
away." If we remember rightly, they gave the same
friendly admonition to poor Goldsmith, when two bai-
liff's were close at his heels. The Muses were always
very considerate in this respect.—The close of " Al-
bius's Farewell" is most touching. Some may pos-
sibly peruse it without tears, but we confess we are not
of the number :
" I could have once sung out a summer's-day,
But now the inspiring charm is done away ;
My notes no longer will assist my rhyme,
And anguish quickens on the brink of time.
My numbers hero in painful accents glide,
Aly song is done—my harp 1 lay aside.
Through stormy seas to distant climes I'll rove,
And pace my journey to the etherial grove."
We have but two objections to make to this " inspir-
ing," but slightly perplexing passage. In the first place,
where—in what part of the world—lies the " ethe-
rial grove " to which our author intends to proceed ?
We have consulted Arrowsmith, and, he gives us no
explanation on this point. Secondly, what does he
mean by his "rules" no longer assisting his " rhyme ?"
Cannot he get cash enough for his ditties ? If so,
we hold he is perfectly justified in ceasing to sing, for
why should a poet rhyme, when a publisher will not
guarantee the bank notes ? No pay, no song, is
sound doctrine all the world over.
The imitations of Ovid are worthy the modest ge-
nius of Albius. The Roman poet, it may be
remembered, wrote divers love epistles, but our English
one, having no great opinionof them, has set up sen-
timental letter-writer, by way of rivalry. We will not
say that his " Epistle from Phaon to Sappho" is bet-
ter than that of his illustrious prototype " Irons Sap-
pho to Phaon," but this we will contend, that it
contains imagery that he would never have dreamed of
putting forth. Sure are we that he would never have
said—

" Too late reflection stings my tortured rest,
And drowns for ever my once peaceful breast,"
for soda-water was unknown in his days, and this is
the only fluid we ever heard of, that possessed the
power of stinging, even while it was drowning one's
internals. We hare hinted that Albius is modest.
He does indeed possess a bashfulness, unknown,
save on the banks of the Shannon. In his " Elegy
to Sappho," for instance, he assures us that
" Leucadian rocks shall mourn her hapless fate,
And my inscription shall record the date,"
a circumstance by no means unlikely, for such an in-
scription, we will venture to say, was never yet
penned by mortal hand. It is worthy of Sir Roger
Greisley in his most " inspired" mood, and will be
sure to survive, if only as a phwnomenon. So deter-
mined indeed is Albius to preserve the memory of
Sappho, that he says in the very next passage—

" Since then no bard could this small tribute pay,
Or the last dictates of the Muse obey,
For her, the first of the poetic fair,
The task shall hence be toy peculiar care.
This little merit Albius now will claim
And raise a tablet to her honour'd fame."

It would seem by this that Albius is going to erect
a monument to Sappho. We hope, if he does, he
will give us something handsomer than Waithman's
monument in Fleet-street ; and, while he is about it,
erect one for himself also—which, we fear, he has not
yet done in his poems—for those who might care
nothing about the Lesbian poetess, would flock in
crowds to see the statue of her English admirer.
Albius is no every-day poet. He does not indeed
possess the sprightly fancy of Moore, or the deep
passion of Byron ; still less can he be compared to
Scott in variety, or Wordsworth in philosophic power ;
but he has peculiarities to which none of these
can lay the most distant pretensions. His pathos is
almost as serious as his humour ; his imagery is such
as to set all comprehension at defiance ; and as for his

rhythm, it possesses all that rich, full volume of me'
lody which is only to be rivalled by the brisk passing
of a saw across the edge of a blunt carving-knife. bi
a word, he is the best poet we know of, of the excru-
ciating school, as none will deny who read this frai-
went of an ode to the Hyde-park Achilles:—

" The indelicate posture of whose effigy,
And immodest state of shameless nudity,
Bespeak a want of common decency."
We regret to state that Albius has but an ind►fl'e-
rent opinion of Achilles, and much worse of his statue
in Hyde Park. He says of this last that it is,

" Devoid of meaning, still more void of sense,"
a nice and subtle distinction, which Aristotle Won
have been proud to acknowledge. So completely, ill'
deed, is our author's sense of morality outraged by
this atrocious statue, that he cannot even allude to
without falling into such convulsions as it is painful to
think of. He tells us—in a passage which we at first
mistook for one of his poems, but on a closer inspee
tion found to be one of his prose annotations—that
" it is not more stupidly ridiculous than indecorous,
and is rendered still more disgusting by its being
erected at the request of females, who seem to have
studied obscenity as the leading feature of this pie:
ponderous statue. It is a complete outrage of public
decency, by the pretended guardians of public morals,
and but for which, it is probable that this poem wcld
:
never have appeared." The " guardians of Pubbe
morals" have certainly much to answer for in having
thus been the means of originating such a poem as
Albius's " Ode to Achilles," which, like the rest M
the collection, is—.

" Devoid bf meaning, still more void of sense."
However, as they sinned unconsciously—for who
could have anticipated the publication of such an
ode?—it is not fit that we visit them too rag"
with our reprehension.

PENSEES ET PAYSAGES PENDANT rifi
VOYAGE EN ORIENT,
PAR M. ALPHONSE DX LAMARTINE.
Vol. L Churton, .Holles-street, London, 1635. , h
This is the original work, the translation from vible
we reviewed a few days past. We have now the sa,:
tisfaction of welcoming M. de Lamartine in his °ll%f
native costume, speaking the expressive language et
his own country. We are glad he has come aniongsh
us, and felicitate ourselves on the good fortune, /title
ena.loles us to introduce him to our republic of letters.
As all men are born brothers, the literary Me
of all countries are therefore eminently and evidently
brothers, all being members of the same intellect° e
commonwealth—all included in and living under °Il
Republic of Letters. Whatever clime may chance
r
to be the sphere of the Litterateur' s labors—whatelte
part of the world the members of the body aggrega
may, in their respective positions, enlighten--theY4e e
all one body, one family, one united Republic.
sons of Genius are all Heaven-born—they boast
ee°is
common origin—a community of objects, of infhlen din'
of interests, of aims and ends : and though some are
carter
taut as the poles asunder, these enlightening one g•in..
of the globe, whilst others elsewhere are giving an
pulse to a neighbouring nation ; still they are all' 1
- •„, in
common, unitedly creating a fund for the social I--;
provement of the whole wide world. We know that at
this day, it were superfluous to insist on the great re
cognised advantages derivable from a continuous inter,
change of sentiments and knowledge between all as.
tions. It is evident that the more closely the syraci.
pathies of all nations are drawn together, the wider an.
broader the bond the better—the better for every indlit:
dual member of all the communities on the surface °`
God's great globe. In this universal world, which the
great Superintendent made, and filled with the subtile
affinities of love, there is, perhaps, nothing that unites 80
lastingly as literary associations. The culture of the
mind brings forth amaranthine flowers, whose fragrance
ever gives a charmed existence to our whole lives.
It is for this reason chiefly that we hail the ar
pearance of a French work published in England'
And as the youth of all countries make, perhaps, the
majority of readers, we never see a good wholesome
foreign work brought out here at an accessible price'
without pleasurably estimating the result which its
perusal is calculated to produce on the national minu_
•
We see in the interchange of literary wealth amongst
the various nations, a progress towards a general'
boundless diffusion of knowledge—and in that
the
i d
fusion, we discern an immense extension of
utilities, as well as of the felicities of mankind; which
at
(so we sometimes think, or dream perhaps) mar,„„,
natio
no distant day, operate to the extinction of all
strife and jealousy, of all national prejudices and • n,
pular error—silence, for ever, the din of oc nten A
anti
purify the hot breath of Slaughter, and stay the bi'-
book'
stained arm of devastating War. But to our too
1
We gave it, in its translated form, perhaps a ),
sparing share of eulogy ; and now, perhaps, °5;
from its perusal in the original, and fascinated
,cy
much by those felicities of diction, Cat: refined refined dc''c'es,
of which rejects translation, as arrested by the cc,„.
sional profoundness of M. de Lamartine's "Pewees the
delighted by his " Pay sages”—impressed With ht,
beauty of his imagery, and the power of his thel!go,
we should now, perhaps, if our limits would pergitt
present and praise some hundreds of the pages' mer
cumscribed as we are, we must, referring to our f°/..,,,
Review, hastily conclude our present notice by P.rig
nouncing the volume a valuable present for the read
British public. As often as Mr. Churton, the Puf s
Usher of this delightful volume--which is the first C....,
series of Standard French Works intended to appear
brings out so good a book, so often shall we feel it
pleasing public duty to promote its perusal.
oe
When we know what opinions an author 11°'(
.01,
religion, on philosophy, and on politics, we have I'o
left to learn concerning him. For a concise exPsll eta
of his principles, then, we offer the following otrafe,
of a conversation with Lady E. Stanhope. In to
rence to Religion, lie says— faire
" I 1 y a deux lumieres pour Phomme • I'une qui
l'esprit, qui est sujette a la discussion, au doute,' et qui en-i-aire
ne conduit qu'a l'erreur et a Pegarement • I'autre, qui fte foie
le cceur et qui ne trompe jamais ? car elle est a ' rabies
evidence et conviction, et pour nous autres, IThsei os'
mortels, la verite n'est qu'une conviction. Dieu so,' Poo-
sede la verite autrement et comme verite; nous ne a'll I
sedons que commo foil Je crois au Christ, patecre'cuond°
apporte a la terre la doctrine la plus sainte' la plug 11,geuee
et la plus divine qui alt jamais rayonne sur l'inte':-`de
humaine. Une doctrine si celeste ne peut etre le fruit le dit
deception et du mensonge. Le Christ l'a dit coral°
la raison." 'est
His Philosophy is "Le fond des chosen cor
Dieu et la Vertu." The Political Principles of °n
author are thus declared :
au
v e ell
"Je ne suis ni aristocrate, ni democrato ; j'ai all'-s•te et
pour voir les deux revers de la medaille de l'hunlaulluis
pour les trouver aussi creux l'un que l'autre ; ie n iisn
ni aristocrate, ni democrate ; je suis homme et P.7„„oer
exclusif de ce qui peut ameliorer et Perfec`l"„-- au
I'homme tout entier, qu'il soit ne au sommet
pied de Pechelle sociale I je ne suis ni pour le Pe-: es
ni pour les grands, main pour I'humanite tout
je ne crois ni aux institutions aristocratiques, ni "11%er
tutions democratiques la vertu exclusive de perfect diviner
l'humanite ; cette vertu n'est que dans une morale alvi,est
fruit dune religion perfaite 1 la civilisation des peuplee, c
leer foi !" entiere. ,sti_

TAILORS.--At the end of one of the chapters
an elaborate treatise on the tailoring art, written by M. Bane'
of Paris, are the following aphorisms :—A common Pas--
dresses himself—a man of fashion knows how to dress Oil"
self—the fop is the slave of fashion—the wise man allows bit
self to be dressed by his tailor.
Mr. Strange, the attorney, against whom two rules
absolute were obtained in the Wilts County Court last week '
gives a curious illustration of the boasted cheapness of law, 1
this Court. He states, that the costs of these rules absoiuto,
have been taxed and allowed at about the sum of 24/, 201. ot
which, at least, may be said to be clear profit.— Wilts Herald