The Purgatory of Dante Alighieri. Edited, with Translation and Notes, by ARTHUR JOHN BUTLER, M.A. Macmillan and Co.

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It is a pity that such prominence has been given to the 'Inferno' by English translators. For one version of the Purgatorio' or 'Paradiso there are at least a dozen of the first part of the Divina Commedia.' Mr. Butler has done a great service in this work. He has followed the example of Ford and others in printing the Italian and the English side by side, though it should be well noted that Mr. Butler's version is not like that of Ford, a rhymed version, far less a version in terza rima. It is prose; and though it aims at being at once literal and free, it is sometimes too free and again too literal. Many instances of both faults could easily be given; but we cannot graciously or with any sense of propriety dwell on them, because Mr. Butler so far disarms this kind of criticism by the frank confession of his purpose in the forefront: When a question has arisen between a literal and an elegant reading, I have preferred the former, my object being not to attempt an addition to English literature, but to aid beginners in understanding that of Italy.' But the peculiarity of Dante's writing is that, with its intense imaginative realism, it cannot be reproduced unless that element is carried over, and this implies imagination of a high order. Literalism will not do; and where Mr. Butler is at fault here it is mostly in that direction. Sometimes his literalism is thus simply lax paraphrase. We could have wished to criticize this work more in detail: these general statements must suffice. Mr. Butler has done, on the whole, good work in a line in which he well deserves to be followed. Even Dante's Inferno 'cannot be apprehended rightly unless it is seen in direct relation with the two other parts. Mr. Butler's book, alike in his translation and the notes, will materially aid many to a fuller and clearer comprehension of Dante and his mind.

Songs of the Springtides. By ALGERNON C. SWINBURNE. Chatto and Windus.

Mr. Swinburne's title has little especial to do with the contents of the volume which he has last given to us. It consists of four leading poems, all of which, if we mistake not, had already seen the light in magazines. "Thalassius' is a study, in form so far original and well suited to its theme-the might of song in the poet's life to kindle into flame latent susceptibility, love, faith, hope and fear, and to set the crown on nature; all symbolled under the figure of Son of the Sea. It is subtle and insinuating in its flow, and is full of fine phrasing. Now and then affectations, such as rhyming' of' and 'love' and 'dove,' do a little distract us: but it is stately, simple, sensuous; there is great unity of impres-sion, and the effect of the last section after the repeated verse

'And so they went together one green way

Till April dying made free the world for May,'

which no doubt first suggested the title, is very fine, and the effect is maintained till we reach the final paragraph beginning

'Child of my sunlight and the sea, from birth

A fosterling and fugitive on earth:

Sleepless of soul as wind or wave or fire,

A man-child with an ungrown God's desire.'

'On the Cliffs' is, to our thinking, less sustained, but still it is fine in parts; and were it for nothing but the song beginning

Ah yet my youth was old,

In its first years and wear,'

The Garden of Cymadoce' would be worthy of the master. Much, however, in the strophe and antistrophe sound too like a conscious imitation of former measures. The following, in particular, is open to this criticism—

'Be it April or December

That plays his perfect part,

Burn June or blow December,
Thou canst not in thine heart

But rapturously remember,
All heaven-like as thou art,

"Whose footfall made thee fairer,
Whose passage more divine,
Whose hand, our thunder-bearer
Held fire that bade thee shine

With subtler glory and rarer

Than thrills the sun's own shrine.'

The following passage shows much of the simple nature-feeling which Mr. Swinburne has more recently been manifesting

'But higher the steep green sterile fields, thick-set
With flowerless hawthorn even to the upward verge,
Whence the woods gathering watch new cliffs emerge
Higher than their highest crowns that sea-winds fret,
Hold fast, for all that night or wind can say,

Some pale pure colour yet,

Too dim for green, and luminous for grey.'

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The third poem is a Birthday Ode to Victor Hugo,' inspired by imagination, and here and there noble and elevated in expression, but occasionally passing into the extravagant fervour for which Mr. Swinburne's earlier poems of this class were so distinguished. Perhaps the most effective of the poems is the last, apparently put in its place among the notes to the 'Birthday Ode' by an afterthought-a sonnet in which

Dean Stanley has his own reward assigned him for the part he has taken in introducing the monument to the poor ex-Prince Imperial in the Abbey. We shall quote it, and also the words introducing it—

In this place I must take occasion to relieve my conscience from a sense of duty unfulfilled, so long as I for one have not uttered my own poor private protest-worthless and weightless though it may seem, if cast into the scale of public opinion-against a projected insult at once to contemporary France and to the present only less than to the past generation of Englishmen.

'On the proposed desecration of Westminster Abbey by the erection of a monument to the son of Napoleon the Third.

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'Let us go hence." From the inmost shrine of grace,
Where England holds the elect of all her dead,
There comes a word like one of old time said,
By gods of old cast out. Here is no place
At once for these and one of poisonous race.
Let each rise up from his dishallowed bed
And pass forth silent. Each divine veiled head
Shall speak in silence with averted face.
"Scorn everlasting and eternal shame

Eat out the rotting record of his name

Who had the glory of all these graves in trust

And turned it to a hissing. His offence

Makes havoc of their desecrated dust

Whose place is here no more." "Let us go hence.""

Selections from the Poetical Works of Robert Browning. (Second Series.) Smith, Elder, and Co.

Selections from the Poetical Works of E. B. Browning. Smith, Elder, and Co.

All lovers of poetry will be greatly pleased to receive these Selections. It is not to be inferred that a full or complete revelation can thus be given of either author; for both are voluminous, and have written much which is not susceptible of presentation by extracts. Mr. Browning, as every one knows, is not seldom abstruse; more concerned to make manifest the hidden and recondite and unexpected relations of his subject than to deal with the more general and apparent aspects of it. It may be that he has thus sacrificed popularity; but he has maintained individuality, and made it necessary that every student of literature should study him. This volume will have the good effect of showing that he can deal effectively with common things; and that his peculiar style is due as much to choice as to necessity. The very first poem, The Flower's Name,' may stand as a companion to Evelyn Hope,' included in the first series; and 'The Garden Fancies' are full of character. St. Martin's Sermons' and

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'James Lee's Wife' are, in their different ways, exquisite. We are not quite sure if Numphaleptos,'' Sludge the Medium,' and 'Bishop Blougram's Apology,' are quite so suitable for such a collection; but here they are. We vastly prefer May and Death' and some of the simpler lyrics. The Selection from Mrs. Browning's Poems' would be worth the money were it only for the sonnets (so full of thought and, what is more, of practical suggestion and aid), 'The Poet's Vow,' The House of Clouds,' and 'The Vision of Poets,' not to speak of the exquisite 'Poet and the Bird' with which the volume opens. We are doubtful of the translations, and also of such poems as Bettine (should it not be 'Bettina,' as Goethe himself always called her ?); but Mrs. Browning's name justifies anything, we had almost said. The volumes are beautifully printed and bound, and must find wide acceptance.

The Ode of Life. By the Author of 'The Epic of Hades.' C. Kegan Paul and Co.

Mr. L. Morris (for there is now no secret about the name of the author) has chosen a most ambitious theme in his new poem. The fact that within a short time of its publication it reached a second edition, indicates that it has received a warm welcome in certain circles. And this is not much to be wondered at. In all that respects technical points—the choice of metres, and the manipulation of individual parts-it is certainly the most finished work we have yet had from the author's hand; and here and there the phrasing is exquisite, notwithstanding the difficulties inherent in these metres. The 'ode' is really a series of odes, all demanding to rest on a grand centre of interest, in which they find their unity. Infancy, childhood, youth or love, perfect years, good and evil, motherhood, old age, death, &c., are the trite subjects, and their perfect treatment in relation to each other would justify the main title. As it is, however, the unity is here and there, to our mind, weakened by touches which betray too great a leaning to artificial and conventional modes of conception, and especially is this seen in the sections which would naturally suggest the most transcendental treatment-Love, for example. Of course in such a poem a generalized and abstract idea must prevail, but here there are phrases and lines which conflict with this, suggesting too readily a realistic or prose treatment. It is evident that the poet has felt the limitations of interest due to any merely generalized treatment and has endeavoured to evade this wherever possible by touches of a really different quality, and not always with complete success. By far the best odes, to our thinking, are those on Infancy, Old Age, and Death-the very topics which of themselves permit less of the alien element of which we have spoken. The merely rhythmic command perhaps rises highest in the Ode on Love,' though, as we have said, it satisfies us less as a whole. The passage in 'Motherhood,' beginning,

'Fair motherhood, by every childish tongue
Thy eulogy is sung.'

For ambitious aims, and for art which in so far has justified these aims, for elevation and refinement these poems are in advance of any of the author's former works; but for spontaneity, for impulse, for individual interest and tender depth of human feeling delicately embodied—which, as we hold, still stand for something in poetry-we must turn back to a few of his earlier shorter poems; and thus, and thus only, shall we be able to do him justice.

The English Poets from Chaucer to Dryden.

Edited by T. H. WARD, M.A.; and with a General Introduction by MATTHEW ARNOLD. Macmillan and Co.

This is a book the scheme of which promises an admirable example of thorough workmanship. A competent general editor with knowledge, taste, and aptitude, subordinate departments committed to men who are experts in their own special field, and who write in a few short pages, by way of introduction, the result of years of study-these are the merits labelled on the forefront of this volume. There is only one drawbackthat the writers are too much, perhaps, of one school. That, however, may have been an accident. Mr. Gosse, and Mr. Henley, and Mr. Saintsbury, and Mr. Minto, and Mr. Lang, and Professor Nichol of Glasgow may be presumed to represent well the Swinburnian side of criticism-so much in favour at the present moment; but we might have had also, say, Mr. Furnivall, to exhibit a little eclecticism, and Mr. Stopford A. Brooke, to represent Church of England culture and grace, and Professor Jack, of Glasgow, on Butler and Hudibras, or on Dryden and his circle, to represent the Scottish Presbyterians, or Professor Masson on Andrew Marvel, to represent Scottish culture. We should be very thankful also to have Mr. Mark Pattison on Milton, and the editor on Dryden (who, in opposition to the Encyclopædia Britannica' article on Dryden, remembers that Dryden was a prose writer as well as a poet, and admits that he has been mercilessly hansardised'). One slight element of disproportion we may note-that, while some forty pieces are given from Herrick, and some of his followers have a fair representation, George Herbert has only eight and Henry Vaughan only four; while no notice whatever is taken of such religious poets as Robert Wylde and the group that might have been made to circle round him-on whom three pages would surely not have been wasted. The editor says in his general preface that the aim of this book is to supply an admitted want-that of an anthology which may adequately represent the vast and varied field of English poetry. Nothing of the kind at present exists. . . . It is, indeed, impossible that a selection of the kind should be really well done, should be done with any approach to finality, if it is the work of one writer alone. The history of English poetry is so wide, its various sections and stages have become the objects of so special a study, that a book which aims at selecting the best from the whole field and pronouncing its judgments with authority must not be the work of one writer, but of many.' But