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the child's face. 'and save thee from ever coming to this
wretched fate that thy father bath'.'
" Mr. Hylton was excessively alarmed, but concealed
his feelings, preparing, however, for some perilous and in-
sane action endangering the safety of the child ; but the
gathering cloud passed over, and the manacled father
kissed it with all his former tenderness.

" They'll tell thee, poor lad, that I was a murderer !
though it be false as hell !—they'll shout after thee, there
goes the murderer's son ! There will be no grave for thee
or thy mother to come and cry over !'
" He passed abruptly, and looked aghast, as if struck
by a thought that had never so clearly occurred to him
before.

" ` Adam,' said Mr. Hylton, • weary not yourself thus
—alarm not this poor child by thus yielding to fear and
despair. If it be the will of God you must die, and that
unjustly, as far as men are concern( d, He will watch over
and provide for this little soul, whom he, foreseeing its
fate, sent into the world.' . .

"YAyliffe lifted the child with trembling arms, and
pressed its cheeks to his lips. The little creature did not
cry, nor appear likely to do so, but seemed the image of
mute apprehension. The whole scene was so painful,
that Mr. Hylton was not sorry when the governor of the
gaol approached to intimate that the interview must cease.
The prisoner, exhausted with violent excitement, quietly
surrendered his child to his attendant, then silently grasped
the hand of Mr. Hylton, who thereupon quitted the cell,
the door of which was immediately locked upon its mise-
rable occupant, who was again alone I"

LAYS OF ISRAEL ;
OR, TALES OF THE TEMPLE AND THE CROSS

By Amelia Mary Loraine

London : Mast,er.

Apart from its spirituality, Christianity has been, and
will continue to be, the highest point in social and moral
excellence. Before the dawn of Christianity, the past
links itself to our existence by some heroic deeds, or ge-
nerous darings, and both the Temple and the Cross are
full of material for the poet's use, and with which he can
make beauty the handmaid of usefulness. Whatever may
be thought of the abstract qualities of poetry, it must be
sufficiently utilitarian to apply itself to the education of
man by exhibiting the wants and the passions of man.
It is not sufficient that poetry should be merely the
dreaminess of the dreamer. Shelley's dreams of univer-
sality are the least excellence in his poems. To the in-
tensity and strength of his own heart they were the chief
excellence ; but to the erring and suffering world they
want distinctness and individuality. Shelley's poetry can
never fully instruct mankind until the hope of mankind is
strong enough to reach its practical application.

We
We admire the little book before Us, because it is the
reverse of this—because it awakens our sympathies for
the past, by teaching us the duties and religion of the
present. If all poets aimed at so much, all poetry
would be universally more, because its spirit would be the
primary to its forms—its inward meaning the conductor
to its outward grace. Scripture history, which is often
chosen for the exercise of the poet's skill, offers an expan-
sive opportunity for the poet's reflection. The heroes
and the teachers of the past, differing from us by circum-
stance, localization, and habits, but similar in passions
and feelings, have an interest for us, inasmuch as they
are the types of ourselves. It is the preservation of these
types by Mrs. Loraine which gives her poetry its chief
value. Mrs. Loraine preserves the identity of past things.
The sweet story of Ruth, or the stirring incidents of the
Champion of Israel, have each a truthfulness of colouring.
It is nicety of contrast which distinguishes the poet from
the poetaster. The broad distinctiveness between virtue
and vice, error and truth, can be easily seized by him
who is least of all qualified to analyse the subtlest pas-
sions of men. Distinction in detail can only be exem-
plified by the true poet. This latter distinction, we
believe, Mrs. Loraine exhibits in her Lays of Israel, and
we shall endeavour to illustrate it by quotation. Here
is a passage from " The First Murder"—

"There was nor shade, nor cloud—not one lone tree
Flung down its shelter on the dreadful form
Of the first murderer 1 but the midday sun
Shone on him awfully, as on the plain,
He stood alone with God, and with the dead !
He would have fled, but could not ; round his feet
The red drops ran, and sealed them to the ground;
And on his hand they were, and on the earth,
Which, till that hour, had never known the stain,
And from that hour has never known it not l
There vris unutterable silence! then
Cain heard the voice of God, and heard it curse him,
And felt his forehead branded; and the strings
Which held his feet were loosened, and he fled—
But not because it was his will to fly."
And here a passage from " The Champion of Israel"—
" Mother from thy watch-tower high
Gazing with an anxious eye!
Listening with such anxious ear,
For the sounds of hope and fear,
That the rustling of the reed
Seems the war-hoof of a steed,
And the shadows on the grass
Like a host from battle pass !
Why dost thou wildly start, and now
From thy lattice lean so low
That thy veil's low dra eries fall
Midway down the old grey wall ?
There are shouts upon the breeze,
There are horsemen on the hill ;
No lone watcher's dreams are these—
'Tis the host of Israel !
And thy dark eyes kindle bright
With a deep and burning light,
That doth lend a surer ray
Than the dim and closing day.
Other eyes might not have found him
'Mid the crowds of forms around him—
To the mother's first glance shown,
When shall she mistake her own ?

Mrs. Loraine's power lies principally in quiet and
finished description. Our extract., we think, have proved
it. She presents us with much to admire, but with
nothing to startle, because the imagination has been mo-
dified, as it should be, by the fidelity of the scene which
it conjures from the impalpable past. It may be urged
that it could not be otherwise in paraphrasing the Scrip-
tures, that the imagination must of necessity be subjected
to the truthfulness of the text. This is correct in the
main, but false in detail. Fancy may be modified by the
principal incidents of a story, but be unchecked by the
inferior incidents. The result of this would be a want of
agreement between the parts, and, therefore, a want of
completeness in the whole. The Lays of Israel preserve
this completeness. One excellence in Mrs. Loraine's
book is that it can be read familiarly. A familiarity be-
tween an author's best thoughts and a reader's best feel-
ings has a twofold signification ; it intimates the success
of the author, and the practical force of his compositions.
We welcome the book before us for its intrinsic beauty,
and because we think it may lead to the study of that
more extended beauty and that simplicity which the
Scriptures contain.

SKETCHES OF A TRIP TO THE CONTINENT,

ITALY, AND EGYPT,

BY EDWIN KEET, ESQ.
No. XIX.
(Written for the Liverpool Standard.)

What delightful associations float around my remem-
brance of the city of Florence ! Here dwelt Galileo : his
house, upon one of the many delightful eminences that
surround the city, is still shewn to strangers. Here
Milton, our immortal bard, visited him in his prison.
Here, near to and gazing at the Duomo, sat Dante. A
marble slab inscribes his usage, and the spot. He was
the precursor and exemplar of Milton, for there is no
doubt but the Paradise Lost is a beautiful and diversified
copy of the Divina Comedia of the stern, unfortunate,
and banished Dante. This remarkable man, the master
of Boccacio as well as of Milton, was borne at Florence in
1265. His Platonic love for Beatrice, like that of Pe-
trarch for Laura, was imaginative and unconsummated.
Laura married Hugh de Sade ; Beatrice . died at 24.
Dante married to alleviate his profound melancholy, at
the solicitations of his friends; his wife proved a second
Zantippe, and he separated from her, not with the patience
of Socrates, but the most profound disgust. Dante was a
brave soldier, a good citizen, and an upright magistrate ;
so eloquent was he that he was sent on fourteen various
embassies; and, although his house was plundered and
his effects confiscated, yet his poem the Inferno, partly
written, was restored to him for completion, which was
done under all the harassing circumstances of his event-
ful, changeful life. He died at 56 years of age, at Ra-
venna. His affectionate patron Guido decorated his body
with poetical ornaments; it was carried in grand proces-
sion through the streets; he pronounced an elegant eulo-
gium and oration at his funeral; and the grand monu-
ment Guido was unable to erect, yet Guido's intention
was carried out nobly by Bernard Bembo, the father of
the cardinal, in 1483. While I was at Florence, a fine
and characteristic portrait of Dante was discovered,
painted in fresco ; one also is shewn of him in the Cathe-
dral, a mural painting. In the Church of Santa Croce,
or the Holy Cross, there is a fine monument to Dante
with this inscription :

ONORATE ALTISSIMA POETA DANTI ALGHIERI 0 TUSCI
HONORARIUM TUMULUM A MAJORIBUS TER FRUSTRA

DECRETVM

&NNo 1829

Michael Angelo, Machiavelli, Alfieri, and other literary
men, have lofty and worthy monuments to their memory
iu this beautiful church. Although differences of opinion
may exist, they do not send honourable monuments to
men of genius into obscure provincial towns, as the
statue of Byron, by Thorwalsden, is banished from Lon-
don and the Abbey.

The Baptistery it Florence, built after the model of the
Pagan temple, the Pantheon, at Rome, is a superb, ele-
gont, and unrivalled gem. The magnificent bronze gates,
by Giotto, are well known ; they have a plaster-of-paris
cast copy in France—why have not we one also, for our
artists to admire and study, in England ? At the festival
of St. John, this Baptistery and the Cathedral were illu-
minated ; grand processions—the ducal family in carriages
with six horses to each, richly caparisoned ; the " noble
guard," a fine body of men, superior in appearance to the
noble guard of Rome ; the military band played the im-
posing cavalcade as it proceeded from the Baptistery into
the Duomo ; candles 8 feet high ; all the dignitaries of
the church and state walking, the silver shrine of St.
John in the centre ; this massive silver altar was guarded
by three soldiers. After these grand religious ceremonials

during the day, in the evening the bridges, the Duomo,
Campanile tower, Baptistery, and all the street oratories,
brilliantly illuminated ; processions of Capuchin
oti