MONTHLY liEVIEW OF LITERATUilE AND ART. 225 



poems. Poetry, we think, is shewn more to advantage in calm than 

 in tempest ; its very constituents, when dealing with love, should be 

 peace. We are, nevertheless, ready to confess the weight of the 

 thunder-storm. There is much power displayed in this poem, and 

 the wild workings of an excited passion are well delineated. We 

 augur great things from some of these passages, and trust that the 

 author will ere long shew his talent in the still scenes of domestic 

 happiness. Whoever takes up this book to read, will not be long in 

 discovering that it has emanated from a mind richly stored with the 

 visions of poetic beauty. There are a great many passages which we 

 could justly censure, but we are happy to say there are more well 

 deserving of the highest praise. We will forget the small spots that 

 here and there disfigure the bud, since they are no where visible in 

 the full-blown flower. 



Millhouse* has plodded through the rugged narrow path of want 

 and difficulty, and put the finishing hand to his greatest work. He 

 has long been known to the readers of poetry, and many times has 

 that praise been awarded to him, which indeed is but too often the 

 only reward of persevering genius. 



Millhouse is an uneducated poet, who has towered high above 

 his contemporaries. Even the daring design of his last work can- 

 not fail to point out the lofty tone of his thoughts. But it is poor 

 consolation to think that when he has passed through the ordeal of 

 criticism, suffered poverty and privation, been deprived of every 

 thing calculated to smooth the pilgrimage of human life, that a 

 limited fame will be his sole reward. We have not space to enter 

 fully upon his merits as a poet ; they have, however, been often 

 acknowledged. Every time he takes up his pen shews still clearer 

 to what perfection he has nurtured his mind. We present our rea- 

 dears with this short extract : 



" England ! for thee I ask a boon of heaven ; 



Oh ! may I not the blessing crave in vain ! 



To gild our freedom, be contentment given, 



And manly hearts to vindicate thy reign : 



Let justice guard each tract of thy domain; 



And may thy sons their patriot ardour keep ; 



May golden harvest recompense the swain ; 



And ever may thy dauntless navies sweep 

 With unobstructed sway, their empire of the deep. 



<f Land of philosophy and deathless song ! 



Abode of beauty in her peerless grace ! 



Still to thy blooming daughters, may belong 



Simplicity, as lovely as their face : 



Land ! whose renown no ages can erase ! 



Thy blood streamed up to Washington, who gave, 



Where woods and wilds the western world embrace, 



That just, and equal freedom to the brave, 

 Which spreads new hopes for man, far o'er the Atlantic wave." 

 No one can peruse these stanzas without being conscious of the 

 author's power as a poet far beyond the common order. 



* " Second Part of the Destinies of Man." By Robert Millhouse. Simpkin 

 and Marshall. 

 M. M. No. 104. 2 G 



