The Sun.
London, England, 1850-06-11 00:00:00

t 1 t'

1850.

Or, roui'd with mutt'ring anguish from thy caves,
Winnow, sad Afrieus, adown the waves.
The last line italicised in the above extract, by the
mere force of the be't chosen words, gives a shudder-
ing sense of cold, which must chill the sensitive
reader even by the blaze of a club-roam fire : how
aptly the melody changes, where the spirits are
summoned to
Come frtome
lntohee owletcoolrefltrietsatast
ve
of matted
grey;edpine,
Where
and invited to extend their influence
O'er fertile valleys, where the rivers bend
And drowse the meadows with their liquid voice,
a line, hat last, as deliciously dulcet as any in the range of our idyllic poetry.
The poem is so completely what we have described
it, a series of visions of ever-varying power and
beauty, that we shall do more justice, both to the
writer and to the reader, by taking at random from
this rich gallery some of the pictures which have most
attracted ourselves. Here is a glorious sunset pic-
ture :
When Phoebus, with supernal hues around
His regal forehead, drops adown the West,
When braying conch-shells of the Triton sound
O'er blood-red billows heaving into rest,
On dolphins fair Nereides, reclin'd,
Are trailing varied garlands to the wind.
And here, as a complete contrast, is the description
of the desert dawn upon the head of Memnon :
Grey breaks the morning, till with mellow'd light
The orange merges into crimson hues;
. The darkness o'er the distance wings its flight
Where'er the bean rays of dawn diffuse;
And, clanging gurgling, with metallic tone,
The choral daybearns touch the vital stoat.
The following is a grand delineation of
. THE SPHINX.
The Sphinx is 4here, the lone, eternal Sphinx,
That solemn image of a darksome reign!
Scanning in dreadful beauty, like the lynx,
With glaring eye-ball, all the level plain:
Ages and nations pass, yet calm distress
Glooms from her brow across the wilderness.
The description of the valley of Tempe is worthy of
the floral paradise ef Poet., and here, in an appro-
priate spot, we find this delicious stanza dedicated to

THE NIGHTINGALE.
There in the cedar warbles Philomel"
Her juggling cadence of ecstatic-grief;
There from her throat her bosom. throbs impel
The notes that come like gushes of relief;
Her soul dissolving in melodious moan,
She chaunts the dirge of love—unseen—alone.
Similarly felicitous is .
THE FALL OF AUTUMN LEAVES.
Less anguish, but more joy, have still snffus'd
Thy pleasant hills, Collins! where the plum;
Thro' breathleas silence drops, its ripeness bruis'd
By purple boughs that yield there yolk of gum,
Where :ridged leaves, yet crisp with Autumn-gold,
In showers are tinkling on the frozen mould.
The following, one of the most original passages in
the work, is a happy specimen of the writer's mar-
vellous command of language, and of his power of
painting with words—literally in colours in this in-
stance ; the ultimate grouping of the enumerated
colours into one picture is most artistically contrived,
but with the greatest apparent ease—the art most
visible being certainly the art celare artcm.

COLOITR-PAINTEKG.
White gleams the ring-dove on the cedar:bough,
White glides the cygnet on the rimpled lake,
White the faint clouds that fleck the sky like snow,
And white the doe that threads the dusky brake;
But whiter than them all, his tender breast
The youngling Orus screens with tinted vest.
Red glows the garnet on the ocean strand,
Red foams the wine in cups of carvi 1 jet,
Red runs the patriot blood on hero-land,
Red blooms the horizon when the sun is set;
But ruddier than the vine, the gem, the air,
The coral Doris twines among her hair.
Blue beams the vast, di►ine, ethereal vault,
Blue grow the bells that grace the meadow-green,
Blue flash the altar-flames with sacred salt,
Blue smile the sapphires on the Indian Queen,
Bat the blue that lives in Cupid's eyes I
Exceeds the beauty of all paler dyes.
Gold floods the sheen the brilliant topaz wears, _
Gold are the motes that fill the Day-God's ray,
Gold buds the blossom that the crowfoot bears,
Gold tips the tiny sceptre of the fay,
But far more golden in auriferous flow
The scales that clothe the frolic.Derceto.

So white the cheek lorn Hero gave to view,
When near Abydos drown'd Leander lay;
So red the gore that gush'd his wan lips thro'
To mingle with the froth of silver spray;
So blue the anguish of her weeping eyne,
So gold his locks all draggled by the brine.
Many of the similes employed in this poem are sin-
gularly forcible and felicitous ; one of the boldest
and most striking is contained in the following mag-
nificent passage :
Like batter'd hulls upon a boundless deep,
That, age on age, for ever onwards drift,
Those false religions in disorder sweep
The main of mystery and currents swift:
While waves of Time their spars aroun.d me cast
Methinks 1 stand, THE WRECKER 05 THE PAST.
The Wrecker of the Past, that on the strand
01 bygone centuries awaits the tide,
Fraught with the spoil whose fragments still are grand
As when first floating in primeval pride;
Once the stern arbiters of weal or woe,
Now sport of Fortune's fitful ebb and flow.
The remainder of this picture is in keeping with the
commencement ; as we read on we see before us the
heaving ocean with its costly burden :
And farnish'd vestments of antique device
In gorgeous tissues powder'd o'er with pearl,
Above the surge in crumpling folds arise,
And all their blurr'd embroideries unfurl.
Goodly indeed are the spoils which the Poet-wrecker
has gleaned from the ruins of the Past. Here is
another equally happy and even more beautiful meta-
phor :
Mythology then perished as a creed
With all its beatific beauty mared,
Its magic sceptre dwindled to GI reed,
Yielding soft music to the breath of bard.
And rarely, if ever, has that reed discoursed a sweeter
music than in the poem in which this felicitous compa-
rison occurs. We must not allow the luxury of quotation
to carry us too far, and yet cannot forbear giving
some stanzas embodying the forms of the greater
deities of the classical Pantheon, in the delineation of
which Mr. Kent has to contend, and contends not un-
successfully with the' poets, sculptors, and painters of
all times. Here is a grand sketch of

IMPITER.
His brows o'ershadowed with their load of thought,
Like storm surcharged with cataract and flame;
• His dusky locks in aspen tangles wrought;
His beard dishevelled o'er his massive frame;
Power in the tension of his nervy hand,
Pride in his eyee, and on his mouth command.
Thron'd on a throne of ivory seamed with gold
And purpled o'er with rubies, reigns supreme
The Sovereign Lord, in whom mankind behold
Th' embodied semblance of earth's holiest dream.
By struggling bait of lightning torn asunder
Between his clerich'd fingers sprouts the thunder.
The whole delineation of the King of Olympus
is characterized by its powerful ease, while the
glimpse of Minerva, by which it is immediately fol-
lowed, is remarkable for its serene beauty. The
Goddess of Wisdom, whose visage,
Solemn, yet composed, reveals
' The passive grandeur knowledge lends to might,
is apostrophised as the noblest benefactress of MID,
and some of her gifts are thus beautifully enume-
rated :

Thy fancy fashioned fromx the pith-lorn recd
The dulcet hollows of the doling flute,
By thee from solitude of forests freed,
Borne from the branch and riven from the root;
The green-wood banished from its old abode
O'er ocean's tide with swelling canvas glode.
Protective shade of merchandise end art
The loom, the chisel, and the brush thy care;
Tby symbols still are worshipped in the mart,
Thine impulse prompts where genius fails to dare;
In gems of thought thy subtle influence wells
Lae green sap boiling into gaudy bolls.
It blushes in the picture's motley hue,
It threads the broidery'a labyrinthine woof,
FrAIC
ht:nrTToobi
dpmui
uhhdahrf,esoreoeAusowit
ogatmhrorsiebtna
ethhiii
cyst:
elscreevulebhar
virgin
ouuripsgfarst
sottiokpneafrodrt'oflßise
precepts
imehntesmaaaspastsratfl
uoem
oslrrerneol teimnfontcrt
oyrehlotieyeao:
nhah:hvoseti
rhci tedet anewbhnloCentaur'schaste,o uc.
rock
hoof;
in w
taste—
That oral code of truthful beauty whence
Come all the raptures of intelligence. •
The pure and tasteful beauty of this melodious pas-
sage is too obvious to require commendation. The
d ibtiuguishing characteristics of the various divinities,
the majesty of Juno, the grace of Venus, the vigour
of Diana, are so forcefully and delicately discrimi-
nated, that Mr. Kent seems to have unconsciously
illustrated some remarks in the current number of
the Edinburgh Review. In an , admirable criti-
cism on Landor's Poetry in that periodical
it is lamented that ancient mythology has
not fared well in the hands of most of our recent
poets. " Their love," says the reviewer, " has been
undiscriminating. They have not always appreciated
the character of the divinities, even when exhibited in
sculpture before their eyes." The "elaborate
blunders" of some of these poetical mythologists are
contrasted with the forceful interpretations of the
Greek artist whose work needed "no allusive attri-
bute" in order to render its meaning intelligible.-
"We require' neither Quivered ehoulder 31or Ares.'
berited—biak td-fecogni;fl Ma iii ihos6 feettim
and alert, in that slender but sinewy form," &o. In
turning from this criticism to the following sketch of