20 REVIEWS — CANADIAN POETRY. 



him of Ms paint and feattiers, and it is our old-world familiar acquaint- 

 ance. The lay of the Whip-poor-will, instead of some romantic Indian 

 legend, is hut a commonplace " Willie and Jeannie" love song, though 

 thus heralded hy one of the best stanzas in the poem : 



The Whip-poor-will, among the slumberous trees, 



Fliugeth her solitary triple cry 



Upon the busy lips of eyery breeze, 



That wafts it in wild echoes up the sky, 



And through the answering woods, incessantly, 



Surely some pale Ophelia's spirit wails 



In this remorseless bird's impassioned sigh, 



That like a lost soul haunts the lonely dale ! 



Maiden sing me one of thy pleasing madrigals. 



However much taste and refinement may he displayed in such echoef 

 of the old thought and fancy of Europe, the path to success lies not 

 in this direction for the poet of the new world. To Tennyson this 

 nineteenth century is as fresh an el dorado as America was to Cortes 

 or Pizaro. To him it is a thing such as Spenser, or Dry den, or Pope, 

 or Campbell, or Byron, had no knowledge of. Its politics, its geology, 

 its philosophy, its Utopian aspirations, its homely fashions and fancies, 

 all yield to his poetic eye suggestive imagery rich with pregnant thought. 

 And surely our new world is not less suggestive. It is not a " Hiawa- 

 tha" song we demand. The Indian Savage is not the sole native pro- 

 duct of the wilds, nor the only poetical thing that meets the eye in 

 the clearings. Here is the Saxon doing once again, what JElla and 

 Cerdic did in old centuries in that historic isle of the Britons. Science 

 and politics, and many a picturesque phaze of colonial life, all teem 

 with inspiration such as might awake for a Canadian Tennyson another 

 " Sleeping palace" like that from whence he led his happy princess : 



" When far across the hills they went ; 

 In that new world which is the old." 



Poetry, however, is not the crop which it can at all be expected, or 

 indeed desired, that Canadian farmers will cultivate at present. And 

 if we Can only reproduce exotic thoughts in verse, it is better on the 

 whole that we shovild take the foreign origii^ls at first hand. Having, 

 however, stated our feeling in regard to the absence of that originality 

 and individuality of character in " The St. Lawrence," which might 

 have made of such a virgin theme a poetic gem of rarest beauty ; we 

 may nevertheless, refer with pleasure to some of its stanzas as grace- 



