This is truly adjective poetry; what can be in worse taste than “dome of blue," and "vault of glory." "We know not why, we know not how, But to the Eternal law we bow, If such things are, they must be so. Yet let no cloudy dreams destroy One truth outshining bright and clear, And poverty BUT pain and fear." The only and the but are very significant. We give one more specimen of this languor of manner which we conceive is the great defect of his style; his languor of thought, of course is irremediable; but he certainly might, by a more forcible expression, assume the appearance of vigor. ON LADY C, IN DECLINING HEALTH. "Gently supported by the ready aid Of loving hands, whose little work of toil, Her grateful prodigality repaid With all the benediction of her smile, She turned her failing feet To the soft-pillowed seat Before the tranquil beauty of her face I bowed in spirit, thinking that she were That we might learn from her The art to minister To heavenly beings in seraphic air There seemed to lie a weight upon her brain, So young, to be allowed To follow Him who wore the thorny crown. Nor was she sad, but over every mood To which her lightly-pliant mind gave birth, Of quiet gayety and serenest mirth; So beautifully low, A stream whose music was no thing of earth. Woman divine! ideal best-beloved, Her look, her smile, was thine; And gazing on that form, I worshipped thee." We finish this short sketch by one of the most favorable of his attempts LABOR. "Heart of the people! Working men! Marrow and nerve of human powers; Who on your sturdy backs sustain Through streaming time this world of ours; Hold by that title, which proclaims That ye are undismayed and strong, Accomplishing whatever aims May to the sons of earth belong. Yet not on ye alone depend These offices or burdens fall; Is lord and master of us all. The high-born youth from downy bed Must meet the morn with horse and hound, While industry for daily bread Pursues afresh his wonted round. With all his pomp of pleasure, he Is but your working comrade now, And shouts and winds his horn, as ye Might whistle by the loom or plough; In vain for him has wealth the use Of warm repose and careless joy, When, as ye labor to produce, He strives, as active, to destroy. But who is this with wasted frame, Pleasure, for pleasure's sake besought. How men would mock her flaunting shows, Her golden promise, if they knew What weary work she is to those And he who still and silent sits In closed room or shady nook,. And seems to nurse his idle wits With folded arms or open book: To things now working in that mind Your children's children well may owe Blessings that hope has ne'er defined, Till from his busy thoughts they flow. Thus all must work; with head or hand, Where we deny the healthy seed, Then in content possess your hearts, For those which seem the easiest parts Who, from the task within his span, "The Lay of the Humble" is too long for quotation, but it is probably the best of his poems. In person Mr. Milnes is a little above the middle size; his hair dark, and his eyes gray and expressive; his features are regular and attractive; there is a peculiar lounging languor in his manners, which, however, are the reverse of repulsive; he is well informed, and lives an elegant bachelor life, is fond of giving breakfasts to literary friends and foreigners of intellect and attainments. He seems to emulate the career of Mr. Rogers as something between the man of fashion and the elegant poet; his politics are Tory Radical, clinging to all that is good in the aristocratical portion of the British institutions, while he is anxious at the same time to reform all abuses; his sympathies are strongly in favor of the Polish and Hungarian cause; his speech in favor of the present noble people, who are struggling for their freedom with the infamous tyrants of Austria and Russia, was worthy of the representative of an enlightened constituency, and ought to induce the British government to take steps, in conjunction with America, as the only two free countries in the world, to insist upon the recognition of the rights of humanity. JOHN FORSTER. It seldom occurs that the editor of an influential periodical produces, after his appointment, any work of eminence—it is a very common thing for a distinguished author to be placed at the head of a Review, but few men achieve any greatness afterwards. It seems as though the unceasing critical necessities of his position deprived him of that directness of purpose, and energy of will, requisite for the conception and execution of a great work. This remark has been suggested by the contrary effect produced upon the accomplished author of the "Life of Goldsmith," who was comparatively unknown to the world of letters till he became literary editor of the " Examiner." Since then he has published three valuable works which give him a claim to be admitted into the British Authors. Mr. Forster is descended from a respectable family of Berwick on Tweed, and after receiving a classical education, was entered of the Inner Temple. His predispositions were however to a more attractive profession, and he devoted more attention to the "dulce" than the "utile," possibly this might have been the effect of necessity, as we seldom find barristers neglect their briefs when they can get any it is a pleasant legal fiction to believe that some lawyers are so fond of poetry as to rise above the superior fascinations of a fee. When Mr. Forster emerged from the anomalous position of a |