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“He turneth from the bridal hall;
His bare breast scarcely heaves,
He paceth towards the gloomy woods,
Through which he breaks and cleaves.
His measured footfall dies away
Upon the withered leaves.”

Then follows six stanzas of sickly description of the moon and stars—we give one stanza to justify our remark:

“The weak stars swoon: the jagged moon
Is lost in the cloudy air;
No thought of light ! save where the wave
Sporteth a fitful glare.
The world in breathless impotence
Seems choking with nightmare.”

It is a perilous thing for a young poet to mimic Coleridge: let us show the reader the passage, which, from the force of contrast, seems to have suggested the “swooning stars,” &c.

“Amid the jagged shadows
Of many leafless boughs,
Kneeling in the moonlight,
To make her gentle vows.”
Christabel.

To return to Mr. Patmore. He says again, in the next stanza,
“The stars, through tracks in the absolute black
Roll like a drunken rout!”

“Some figure stands beside the bridge; you see

The pale cheeks in the dark.”
# * * #

“A plunge—a thin hand through the froth.”

“The turmoils o'er—the waves once more
Resume their silent swell.”

It is Witchaire and not the faithless lady who has tried the Water Cure” for sorrow.

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A year after the lady walks out in spring to enjoy her park; she is reconciled to her lot, and has forgotten her suicide lover. It does not appear, however, that she was ever aware of his rashness, for, alas ! there was no “ Humane Society” to drag for the body, and it doubtless was never found.

The poem concludes in the following singular manner, after describing the spring, &c.

“In this sweet time the lady walks,
Beside the gentle stream;
She marks the waters and along
Beneath the sunset gleam;
And a doubtful influence nevertheless,
Like memory of a dream"

The word “the,” would have amazingly strengthened this line, but young poets like ellipses.

“Her pulses throb more palpably,
Her spirits droop and fail,
As they did that wept when the bridegroom thought
He saw her dead and pale.
He knoweth not what moveth her,
The stream hath told no tale.

She passeth on, how still the earth,
And all the air above;

Here where of late the screechowl shrieked
Broodeth the quiet dove.

And the river, through the ivy’d bridge,
Flows calm as household love!”

The faults in the construction and execution of this poem are too apparent to need pointing out; still we hold there is a promise, and we hope Mr. Patmore will give us an opportunity of judging his performance in another and riper volume. The first book of a young poet is generally the trying of his pen—the mere tuning of his

instrument; and as he has given notes of beauty in this rehearsal, we trust, he will not lay his harp down after having strung it. The “Woodman's Daughter” is better in execution, but the subject is unpleasant: it turns upon the seduction of a poor girl by the squire's son, who had known her from a child. These themes are better left alone: poetry is meant to delight all; not to read in holes and corners. The old dramatists and poets have dealt in the disagreeable and revolting; let modern writers select those which elevate as well as stir; the painful matter is not redeemed by the manner in which it is treated; and at times there are asterisks placed which means either that the poet was not equal to the theme, and so broke down or skipped it, or else that the thing to be described being improper and indelicate, he left it to the reader's imagination.

“But Berton's thoughts were less confused;
‘What? I wrong ought so good?'
Beside, the danger that is seen
Is easily withstood;
Then loud—“The sun is very warm,”
And they walked into the wood'"

Then follow Mr. Patmore's mysterious but very significant “asterisks.”

Her shame is soon apparent. She drowns the evidence of her

guilt and goes mad! * From this let us turn to a very pretty little bit of musical affectation.

TO A FLIRT.

“”Tis fine, I vow, to see you now,
All men to your beauty bow ;
Fine to hear you, night and day,
Whispering happy hearts away,
Cheating age, and cheating youth,
With a well shammed show of truth.

To some, it will be finer still,
Seeing you descend the hill,
Careless lovers dropping off,
Scoffed at, where you used to scoff,
Cause to some for triumph yet,
If 'twere not so for regret !—

But finer much 'twill be to such,
Watching you in time's fell clutch:
Dead to losses: dead to gains:
Dead to pleasures: dead to pains:
Fearing still to part with breath,
Dead to every thing but death !”

The poem of “Lilian" is a female counterpart to “Lockesley Hall,” we shall pass it over with the quotation of a few stanzas—

“O Heaven, then can I no where
Plant my hope, but there advance
These literary panders
Of that mighty brothel, France "

The bad taste and coarseness of this are perfect!—To take the unpleasant flavor off the readers mind we shall give him one of the last verses in the poem.

“She loved: words, all things told it: eye to eye, and palm to palm:
As the pause upon the ceasing of a thousand voiced psalm,
Was the mighty satisfaction, and the full eternal calm.

# # # # # # * This still and saintlike beauty, and a difference between

Our years, she remembered twenty, mine were scarcely then eighteen, Made my love the blind idolatry which it could not else have been.”

The son of an old friend of her father's comes on a visit to Lilian, the “Saintlike beauty”—He comes: his name is Winton : when they met the lover felt a horror run through him, a psesentiment of evil. He is thus described by his rival:

“He had learnt in well taught boyhood, under quick and wary eyes,
Doctrines, a sharp mind led him first to doubt, and then despise,
Better to be greatly foolish, than to be so little wise?”

Without entering into the philosophy of this line, which is a kind of .

“A little learning is a dangerous thing,”

there is a boldness in Patmore's expression, which convinces us

there is material in him worthy of cultivation. His attractive manners attach the lover as well as Lilian. The

next stanza I quote for the critical investigation of the ladies.

“For when he uttered common things, and clear to sight,
He looked at you so intently, you hardly thought them trite,
A trick of serious manners, wherein women much delight.”

Being ten years older than the lover (and two years older than the lady) the youthful admirer was flattered by his friendship.

The “Saintlike Lilian’” begins to love the Infidel Winton, corrupted by that mighty brothel France.

“O friend, if you had seen her, heard her speaking, felt her grace,

When serious looks seemed filling with the smiles, which in a space
Broke sweet as Sabbath sunshine, and lit up her shady face.”

The next verse is funny:-it comes in the midst of a great thunderstorm of indignation against his “Saintlike Lilian.”

“Remember states of living ended ere we left the womb,
And see an awful something flashing to us from the tomb:—
The zodiac light of new states, dashed tremendously with gloom *

A tremendous dash truly.

Winton and his youthful lover are riding out—they meet an acquaintance of Winton's : they stop—

“So I've heard your suit's successful? truly stuff for a romance
After your favorite fashion: But, ah, ha! should Percy chance—
‘Nay—Percy's here,' said Winton, pointing towards me with a glance.”

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