1825.} 
‘There are also. passages of a higher kind 
which the translator has rendered with truth 
and spirit; such as the speech of Satan on 
beholding the sun :— 
«© O Tu, di gloria immensa inghirlandato, 
Che del dominio tuo solo rifulgi 
Qual altro Nume dell noyello mondo ; 
Alla cui vista celano la fronte 
Decresciuta la stelle tutte quante; 
Te chiamo, ma con voce non amica; 
E aggiungo il nome tuo, Sole! per dirti 
In quanto aborrimento homini i tuoi raggi 
Che rimembrar mi fanno da che stato 
We must, however, remark, that we see 
vio reason for the epithet “altro Nume,” 
in the passage above quoted. We think, 
also, that a stronger word than “ infelice”’ 
might have been found to express the agony 
of Satan when he says, 
** Me, miserable! which way shall I fly?” &c. 
And in this line, which follows shortly after, 
«© And in the lowest deep, a lower deep,’’ 
we think much of the force depends on the 
repetition of the word deep, which, in the 
transiation, is somewhat impaired by the 
translator’s using first the word “abisso,” 
and then “‘baratro.”” But, notwithstanding 
this, and although, in the sublime and ter- 
rific, from the characteristic advantages of 
the language, Milton still preserves his 
pre-eminence, the passage referred to, and 
others in which Satan breathes forth the 
envy and hatred excited by the sight of the 
happiness of our first parents, are given 
with considerable force, and reflect no little 
credit on the translator. 
Bacchus in Tuscany, a Dithyrambic Poem, 
Srom the Talian of Franchesco Redi; with 
Notes, original and select. By Lrich HuNT. 
We must announce this book—for it has 
come before us: but we will not pretend to 
review it—for in fact we have not read it, 
nor are likely. It is not to our taste. 
The subject, indeed, is wine ; but mere wine 
does not always inspire us. We drew a cork, 
but the flavour did not inyite us to finish the 
bottle. Of what we broached, however, 
the reader, if he pleases, shall have a taste 
too; and, if he like the quality, he can 
send to the merchant for more :—whole 
tuns, if he chooses. 
** Gods—my life! what glorious claret! 
Blessed be the ground that bare it! 
’Yis Avignon. Don’t say ‘‘a flask of it”— 
Into my soul I pour a cask of it! 
Artiminos, finer still, 
Under a tun there’s no having one’s fill: 
A tun! a tun! 
The deed is done.” 
Be it so: we have done also. A single 
glass is enough for us; and of such demi- 
verres as the following— 
** Accus’d, 
Abus’d, 
And all mercy refus’d.” 
** But lauded, 
Applauded, 
With laurels rewarded,” &c. 
Domestic and Foreign. 
453 
a mere sip will satisfy us. There are some, 
undoubtedly, who will relish these dithy- 
rambies right jollily ; but 
“< If the Mussulman in Asia 
Doats on a beverage so unseemly, 
We differ with him most extremely.” 
Songs of a Stranger. By Louisa STUART 
Coste 40, Large 8vo.—We bid the fair 
stranger welcome ; but could wish her 
always to visit us in her native garb. We 
do not think the garments she sometimes 
assumes sit easy upon her. ‘To speak 
without metaphor, all imitations and adop- 
tions of the style of other writers are bad. 
In poetry, especially, the modes of expres- 
sion, and run of the verse, should grow out 
of the subject, and emanate from the ‘sen- 
timent and the feeling. If this be attended 
to, every writer will have a style of his 
own; because every one has constitutionally 
his own peculiarities of perception and feel- 
ing; but imitation betrays into mere man- 
nerism—which is sure to be occasionally 
incongruous with the thought or the passion 
that should be expressed. Thus, Miss 
Costello’s “ Destroying Spirit,” p. 5, &e. 
very merrily, to our ear, dances a Scotch 
jig. 
«© The rushing tide is an ocean now, 
And islands of ruin darken its brow.” 
** Where, from scenes of bliss, shall I go? 
I, whose existence is terror and woe.” 
But what shall we make of the following, 
either in rhyme or rhythmus ? 
** Down to its deepest valley I dive. 
Which no mortal can ever see and /ive.” 
Miss Costello should remember, that poetry 
is written for the ear ; and that a rhyme 
merely to the eye, is efficiently no rhyme at 
all. Surely we need: not add, that every) 
succession of ten syllables will not make a 
verse. 
only such lines as these, we should not) 
have given ourselves the trouble tonotice it,: 
but, remembering that they were the effu- 
sions of a lady, should have passed, in civil 
silence, what we could not with sincerity 
commend. But when our fair stranger 
dismisses this affected lilting of an inap- 
propriate versification, and resigns herself 
to her own feelings, and the perceptions of 
her own,ear, there is a vein of taste and 
tenderness in her effusions that.entitle her 
to attention, and should, inspire her with 
confidence to seek no other guide. We pre- 
sent a single example. If we quoted all 
that is of at least equal merit, we-should 
copy almost half the volume. 
«Tf those dark eyes have gazed on me, 
Unconscious of their power— 
The glance in secret ecstasy 
I’ve treasur’d many an hour. 
If that soft voice a single word 
Has breathed for me to hear, 
Like heaven's entrancing airs, the chord P 
Resounded on my ear. 
And 
Ifthe volume before us contained, 
\ 
