Monthly Review of Literature. 109 



London Bridge? It would be much move advantageous and interesting to his 

 readers, to supply the place of such information by biographical notices of eminent 

 men, in which the present volume is culpably deficient. Why tell his readers that 

 Robert Hall and William Roscoe died at such an age ? Such men surely demand 

 a more ample and satisfactory notice. 



ROMAN HISTORY FOR YOUTH. BY THOMAS ROSE. LONDON : FISHER, SON, AND 



JACKSON. 1832. 



WE cannot, in spite of silk binding, gilt-edged leaves, and seventy-six engravings, 

 recommend this little work to our young readers. Why is not a popular abridgement 

 made of that profoundest of all works on this subject, Niebuhr's History ? or at 

 least a Roman History for Youth, compiled from materials therein prepared. 

 What father now reads any other History of Rome, than Niebuhr's why then debar 

 our youth from applying and referring to the same spring ? 



HISTORICAL AND TOPOGRAPHICAL GUIDE TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT. BY W. C. F. 



G. SHERIDAN. MITCHELL, OLD BOND STREET. 



THIS is a very well arranged and an interesting little work, which fully attains 

 the object in view, of supplying an accurate and complete Guide to one of the most 

 fascinating and picturesque spots on the whole surface of England's dominions. 



It is a work, that while serving the best purposes of a Guide, includes also objects 

 of a higher and more valuable nature, connected with the interests of the Island, 

 its products, and commodities, with lists, and accurate statistical tables, " not stipu- 

 lated for " in the author's bond. 



ENGLISH SONGS, AND OTHER SMALL POEMS. BY BARRY CORNWALL. MOXON. 



THIS little volume comes recommended to us by peculiar attractions. In the first 

 place, it bears a name which is associated with some of our sweetest recollections 

 of modern poetry; and in the next, it professes to be a collection of English songs 

 things that are scarcer in our literature than epic poems. " England," says our 

 author, " is singularly barren of song writers. There is no English writer of any 

 rank, in my recollection, whose songs form the distinguishing feature of his poetry." 

 This was true enough when it was written ; but is true no longer. The discoverer 

 of the fact has falsified it by his own production. His songs may claim to be 

 regarded as the distinguishing feature of his poetry ; and as for the barrenness of 

 our ballad-literature, his example will, we think, tend to wipe off' that reproach, 

 and to sow the seeds of many pleasant and beautiful volumes of verse, that shall 

 emulate this, both in its moral and its music. 



At present, however, this little book stands alone in the language. There is not 

 only nothing to equal it, but there is nothing, as far as we are aware, of the same 

 class. We have no such English songs as this volume brings home to our hearts. 

 In some pleasant remarks upon song-writing, Barry Cornwall observes : 



" It may be said that a song is necessarily a trifling matter ; but, if good, it is a trifle, 

 of at least a different sort. And to make even a trifle perfect or agreeable, should satisfy 

 a moderate ambition. It demands some talent. Where poetry is concerned, it requires 

 even more : for it requires that this talent should be of a peculiar order, and should be 

 exerted at a happy time. I am by no means forward to imagine that these two requisites 

 have at any time concurred in my case. But I hope that I have, in a few instances, so far 

 succeeded, as to allure other writers (having more leisure than I possess) to direct their 

 powers to this species of verse. It has been too much disdained. Poets have in general 

 preferred exhibiting their tediousness in long compositions, and have neglected the song. 

 But the brevity, which is the ' soul ' of song, as well as of wit, is not necessarily allied to 

 insignificance. The battle-songs of Mr. Campbell are a triumphant proof of the contrary. 

 So also are many of the songs and ballads of Sir Walter Scott, Mr. Moore. Mr. Lockhart. 

 Mr. Hogg, my friend Allan Cunningham, and, finally, the charming songs of Burns." 



To this list may now be added the name of Barry Cornwall. 



This exquisite volume is a little rainbow of verse. There are songs for all senti- 

 ments for morning and for evening service for sunny noons and winter nights 

 for joy and sorrow for solitude and social revelry. We have seen it asserted some- 

 where that there is no real gaiety in the volume : such a critic has either limited his 



