CRITICAL NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS. 209 



legend on which to found his poem, is fortunate enough to obtain ono 

 for his purpose, though almost as old as the creation. 



The legend chosen for the occasion is, that the Wye, the Rhyddol, the 

 Severn, and two minor rivers, all rising from the " Springs of Plyn- 

 limmon," 



" A frolic-journey, wild and free, 

 Would take to their great Sire, the Sea." 



As the rivers in question actually do flow to the sea, "the legend" 

 does not draw very largely upon our credulity. We must decline 

 following the sportive gambols of Mesdames Vaga, Rhyddol, and Co., 

 and take our course by the Severn, which promises in due time to carry 

 us safe to the head quarters of *' The Analyst " with our critique. Simple 

 as the legend appears, however, it soon involves the Doctor in difficulties, 

 because he of course journies with the stream, describing things as they 

 then appeared, or ought to have appeared ; but he seems completely 

 puzzled at what point of time to date his journey, and thereby throws a 

 cloud of confusion over the scene. Thus when the Severn and the 

 Doctor come together in view of the Brythen hills, he exclaims — 



" On -whose high peak, a column grand 

 She knew, in future time, would stand, 

 Where England's naval heroes bold 

 And Rodney chief, would be enroll'd." 



How she (the Severn) obtained this information the Doctor does not 

 reveal; but Sabrina appears ignorant of subjects well known at the 

 present day, and is entirely silent on the secrets of geology as to the rise 

 of mountains, the first flow of rivers, depositions of the older strata, &c. 

 The result, therefore, of this mighty legend amounts to nothing more 

 than a jaunt down the stream in the present day. 



The banks of the Severn undoubtedly present some fine materials for 

 a genuine poet, and the scenery it presents — the wild chilling moors of 

 Plynlimmon — the romantic glen near Llanidloes — the beauties of the 

 plain of Salop backed by the lone pharos of the Wrekin — Coalbrook- 

 dale, where the Severn is engulfed almost and lost among the limestone 

 rocks — the sweet scenery of Apley — the rugged sandstone rocks of 

 Bridgnorth, and Blackstone below Bewdley— and the river gliding through 

 the richest flowery meadows till she comes in sight of Worcester, might, 

 surely, awaken some enthusiasm. Thus had Dr. Booker, in his own 

 capacity as a bard, taken a rapid though poetic glance at the scenery of 

 the Severn, and the associations arising from it, he might have, perhaps, 

 produced a poem not unequal in pathos and descriptive powers to the 

 best parts of his " Malvern ;" but chained to the " legend," all is 

 involved in obscurity, and we can neither tell where we are or what we are 

 about. Fancy the Severn taking its legendary journey some 4000 years 

 ago, when all was silence and solitary desolation on its banks (if it then 

 had any), and making the following observation on the individual who 

 was to reside at Areley Hall in A. D. 1833. 



" Then Areley's lawns Sabrina pass'd — 

 But not till upward gaze she cast, 

 To note the seat whose charms refin'd 

 Would a Valentia's gifted mind 

 Induce to bring a treasur'd store' 

 Of nature's gems — of Persia's lore, 

 To gratify the curious sight, 

 And give to science new delight." (P. 31.) 



