1S21.] 



News from Parnussus. — Ac*. //. 



41 



setttiment, iu a certain happiness of 

 classical allusion, and in excitini^ the 

 pathetic emotions, Mr. 0. is general Ij' 

 successful: but it will perhaps be 

 thought that in all his writings there is 

 a want of sustained strength and dig- 

 nity, vA'hich are ever the distinguishing 

 characteristics of poetry of the highest 

 class, ilis is not the genuis formed to 

 attempt all things and fail in none. — 

 To the extent of its powers Ills mind is 

 polished, elegant and tender, but in tlie 

 terrible and the comic it is erjually de- 

 ficient. In some of his former poems 

 he attempted that lighter style of com- 

 position, in which the all-mastering 

 ?renius of Lord Byron had been success- 

 ul, but soon he seems to have considered 

 this effort to iiare been a failure. In 

 the tragedy before us, the first act 

 opens vvilh a scene which is intended to 

 approach towards the comic, but we 

 fear the wit and humour which it con- 

 tains have failed to excite a smile on 

 the countenances of the audience. In 

 the more tragic part of his drama, 

 where tenderness is interwoven with 

 passion, Mr. C. is more successful : but 

 even in liis burst of feeling there is 

 something of constraint and uneasiness 

 about him. We have, in former num- 

 bers of our miscellany, noticed this 

 young poet's productions with the 

 praise to which in our eyes they seemed 

 so well entitled. His dramatic scenes 

 were delicate repre^entations of single 

 emotions, iu which perhaps appears too 

 obvious and affi-cled an imitation of our 

 elder writers. His Italian Story is, in 

 ouropinion, tiie best of his compositions. 

 This sorrowful and tender tale isb-au- 

 tifully told — and the imagery and 

 scenery which adorn it are painted with 

 a masterly liand. Marcian Colon na was 

 a higiier attempt — the poet there relied 

 more on his own invention — but there 

 is something displeasing in the story, 

 and a good deal faulty iu taste. We 

 can have but little sympatliy in the 

 fortunes of the young Colon ua, whose 

 character we cannot understand, and 

 whose mind seems " a medley of dis- 

 jointed things ;" while the extraordi- 

 naiy love of Julia only awakens our 

 wonder. There are moreover two or 

 three attempts at tlie sublime in that 

 poem, wliich seemed to us the most la- 

 houred and affected portions of any of 

 this writer's compositions. The apos- 

 tropiie to the ocean, in which it is com- 

 pared to SDrne " huge animal"' which 

 has fallen from the skies, is an instance 

 of this. Still there is great tenderne«j 

 Monthly MaiT!. No. 350. 



in many parts of this tale; wlierevei-, 

 indeed, the poet describes the milder 

 and gentler atreclions of our nature. — 

 It is evident, hov.ever, that tragedy is 

 not the province of a confined genius, 

 however exquisite his powers may be 

 within their natural scope ; for tragedy, 

 which deals witli the elements of all 

 the passions, is only obedient to a mas- 

 ter's hand. 



In the fable of the jday now Ijefore 

 us, there is little novelty. — The inven- 

 tive i)owers of Mr. C. are not great. 

 The plots of his former tales and dra- 

 matic scenes were generally borrowed 

 from some of the Italian novelists or 

 poets ; and Mirandola can scarcely be 

 said to have a single new incident in 

 its composition. It is founded, as we 

 are told in the advertisement, on the 

 fact of a father having married the lady 

 betrothed to liis son, which occurred in 

 the case of Philip the Second of Spain, 

 and one of the Dukes of Ferrara. On 

 the fast of these instances, more than 

 one forcible tragedy has been construct- 

 ed: on the second. Lord Byron has 

 founded his striking story of Parasina. 

 Mr. Cornwall has entered into the lists 

 against a formidable competitor. His 

 arms are delicately adorned, and his 

 elegant steed prances and curvets 

 through all the steps of tlie manege; 

 but we tremble for hiin when we see 

 his noble antagonist, dark with tem- 

 pestuous passion, direct against him 

 his careless and unmeasured career. 

 The refined art of an inferior genius 

 must uuiintain an unequal contest witii 

 that '" plain, heroic magnitudeof mind," 

 which nature bestows upon her highest 

 favourites — and the cliaracteristics of 

 Mr. C.'s style, we conceive to be that it 

 is essentially and altogether artifii'iai. 

 It is always laboured — often broken 

 and inverted — and not seldom M'eak 

 and conceited. We find none of those 

 spontaneous and natural bursts of sen- 

 timent and expression, which prove that 

 it is from the fulness of his heart that 

 the poet is speaking ; that the tricks of 

 his trade are forgotten ; and that the 

 petty trammels of art have been broken 

 asunder by the swellingimpulses of na- 

 ture. We see nothing of this ; but on 

 the contrary every thing tends to con- 

 vince us that Mr. C. does not sit down 

 to write what he thinks, but thinks 

 wiiat he shall sit down to write. That 

 lift acquits himself of his task with con- 

 siderable taste and ability, is an eulo- 

 giuin we are liappy to concede to him. — 

 That he h»«, in the perforniance before 

 F "•, 



