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to that title and renown. Spring has been sung by many poets, but who can exhaust the wondrous variety of her charms and the emotions with which she charges the soul? N. C. has scarcely succeeded in connecting his “Lesson" directly with the several elements brought into the verses as premises. He seems to have forgotten that there is a logic of emotion as well as of thought, and that the sequences of poetry must be as carefully elaborated as those of severer exercises of reflection. There are good things in the lines, but the general feeling left on us when reading them was one of heaviness. The rhythm has not been always correctly kept up.

The sun's resistless smile, the vapours drear

Of night's dull mists have chased away :
The glory of the morn 'gins reappear,

And twittering birds salute the rise of day;
Unprisoned now their fan-like wings they spread ;

Their music fills the scented air;
They flutter in the glade, all tenanted

With nestling young, or eggs, mottled but fair.
The pale leaves of the willow-wand are dipt

In rain-swollen stream ; while little buds-
That long 'neath winter's icy sway bave slept-

Green all the branches of the wavy woods.
The tree-roots circle, 'mid long grass hide flowers ;
The meadow hedges seem astir

[mead's fresh With subtle life from sunshine and from showers;

The violet springs beside the slender fir ;
The gushing founts flow from the breezy hills, [down

And ramble slowly through the dells,
And by the junction of a thousand rills,

Their water to a might of river swells
Along the sunny pathway of that stream;

The wild flowers button into hope
Of beauty-like the glory of a dream,

And trees take on their green along its slope.
So comes our life's spring from the glow of heaven,

And gives rich thought to guide our way:
Our duty in God's word is clearly given,

To grow in joy and worth, to watch and pray. N. C. [grace The same objection as to confusedness of idea appears even more applicable to the lines of " Diamond,” a nom de plume which, before all things, suggestą clearness and brilliancy as well as purity. The sacredness of the theme, and the tone of fervent piety which characterizes the piece, disincline us to be severe in our strictures. We think the lines much less objectionable on the score of their aim than of their execution. The gravest error we have to condemn, in by far the larger proportion of verses sent to us, is the possession of the idea by the authors that a first draft will ever provide a faultless poem. This scarcely ever occurs. Constant, careful, laborious revision is requisite above all things in poetry. It is the perfection of the facets that gives its distinct value to the diamond. True poetry, like the diamond, takes on elaborate work, and is all the better for the pains taken in its setting. Let us counsel our young writers not to send us " the first attempts they have ever made in poetical expression,” with hopes that we may, on that account

excuse the errors they contain.” Let them give rather careful reconsideration to every word and phrase, and to the general outline of the topic. They may rest assured that though poetry is the product of genius, it is always of genius in partnership with industry. But here are “ Diamond's" verses :


"Enter into thy closet.”
I love to pray and weep beside my bed,
Ere I repose in sleep and seem as dead :
The work-worn spirits rest and live again,
As swiftly links my breast a golden chain
Of rich, full joy, and clean--a treasure new,
Secured by hands unseen, but good and true.
I love to pray and weep, the spirit bowed
Before the Unknown Deep; to see the shroud
Of happy visions tossed and rudely torn ;
And ambition false, lost as soon as born ;
And strife and envy, dead, in hearses pass
From me beside my bed, to join their class.
I love to pray and weep, silent, alone,
And holy vigils keep before God's throne :
Gladly I loose my hold of withering sin,
And realize, untoid, the love within-
The love without ;-thus all a blessing seems

and I recall my boyhood's dreams.
I love to pray and weep with none around,
Save those who never sleep, or dead are found ;
Then passions flee away or slowly die,
And pleasures come and stay from Him on high ;
Then anxious care decays, with quickening blight,
And blooms the flower of praise, bathed in His light.
How sweet to pray and weep! my thoughts above,
Thinking how true, how deep, is God-like love !
Thus, kneeling would I pray, with solemn awe,
Till scenes should greet the day like those John saw.
False world, away! begone! Jesus, come and stay
Till Thou and I are one, now and for aye! DIAMOND.

Of the two poems J. S. sends us, we give “ The Preference” to "The Prospect”-which is a fair one. J. S. has lyric talent, and gives music to thought. He possesses, apparently, a fluency of rhyme which injures the value of his verses by not enforcing compression. Poetry which allows of a larger pumber of words to be


as it is.


used in the expression of the ideas than would be required in prose -unless it be redeemed by some peculiar excellence in phraseology -is faulty. This, indeed, is a fact in criticism to which versemakers should give heed and credence ; for too many expand the expression so much that the idea is scarcely observable in the midst of the verbosity. J. S. has a facility which seems to be likely to lead to a mistake of that sort. We cannot say that any such fault is committed in these lines; but we think that some compression might have been employed advantageously in the former of those two pieces which we are about to quote. On the former we have endeavoured to suggest a few verbal alterations, but the latter we like “excellently well

They err who tell us love can die."-SOUTHEY.
I may not wear a star, or grace

A proud ancestral line,
Nor with the great ones of the race,

In robes of grandeur shine :
To me no cringiog abject slave
May bend the servile knee,

While o'er my head doth proudly wave (But ; shall

The flag of Liberty !
I may not sup on dainty fare,

At luxury's table fed,
While others, gnawed by want and care,

Can hardly gain their bread; [Sore-toiling, scant
Nor couch of down my lordly frame

In balmy slumbers press,
While thousands pipe in haunts of shame

And squalid wretchedness.
No raptured bard, in numbers free,

May celebrate my praise,
Or drop a fadeless leaf for me

From his immortal bays !
Nor wealth, nor rank, nor kingly state,

Their dazzling lustre shed
Along my path, or scintillate
In glory round my head.

[Their glories
For me no amaranth wreath may bloom,

Nor Fame her trumpet blow;
Nor sculptured marble grace the tomb
Of him who sleeps below.

[Which I repose The prize I fondly would secure,

In worth surpasses far
The gold which glitters but to lure,
Or sceptre, crown, or star :

'Tis that I may from grateful hearts,

For deeds of kindness done,
Receive the laurels love imparts,

In peaceful conquest won.

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“ There's a good time coming."- MACKAY.
Come, string your barps, ye tuneful Nine,
And sweep the sounding chords,

And let your choicest strains combine

With love's divinest words!
For lo ! the world's horizon gives

The promise of a day
When right shall reign o'er all that lives,

With undisputed sway.
When force, and fraud, and selfish aims,

And pride of power and place,
Shall cease to urge their vaunted claims,

And brutalize the race :
When man shall for his brother's weal

His friendly aid impart,
And for his woes and weakness feel

As feel's a brother's heart.
When Freedom shall o'er all the land

Her spotless banner wave ;
And not a man be found to brand,

Or buy, or sell a slave :
When Truth shall utter thoughts sublime,

And Calamny be dumb;
And men of every hue and clime

One brotherhood become.
When war's accursed trade shall cease,

The sword no longer slay,
And in the stately balls of Peace

Her banners hang for aye :
When mutual faith and noble deeds

Shall in sweet union bind
Tbe various tongues, and tribes, and creeds,

And nations ut' mankiud.
Then“ ONWARD!" let your motto be,

Ye dauntless patriot-band,
Who seek from error's grasp to free

Your favoured fatberland :
For truth and right o'er wrong and might

Shall yet victorious prove,
And earth be filled with peace and light,
And liberty and love.

J. S. With the foregoing quotations from our collection of MS. verse we must now pause for a time. We have other “

thoughts in rhyme " yet in our hands, to the consideration of which we hope shortly to direct the attention of those who feel interested in our Poetic Critique.


The Reviewer.

The Philosophy of Ethics : an Analytical Essay. By SIMON S.

LAURIE. Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas. SIMON S. LAURIE has for a long time held the honourable and responsible offices of secretary and treasurer to the Education Committee of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland; inspector of the General Assembly Schools in the Highlands and islands of Scotland ; and examining visitor of the schools in the counties of Aberdeen, Banff, and Moray, receiving benefit from the Dick bequest. He is a gentleman of great general intelligence and industrial gifts. With him “labour is pleasure.” He has distinguished himself as an authority on the science of education, and would probably have gained “the chair of Paideutics,” which it was understood that Professor Pillans had proffered funds to endow, if Government could have been prevailed upon to inaugurate a true training system for the teachers of Scotland, by making a session's attendance at the university, under a professor of the philosophy of teaching, imperative upon all public schoolmasters. By an ingenious "application of psychology to language" he contrived to construct a theory of * The Fundamental Doctrine of Latin Syntax;" and he is understood to have been the suggesting editor of that excellent series of school-books which was for some time known as “ Constable's Series,” but which have now been absorbed into several other series of educational works. In this work he appears in a more ambitious character-as the Paley of Scotland,

,-an expositor of morals consistent with the common and current notions of men, and yet based on a philosophy given in human nature and issuing from the personality of man. The author endeavours to collate into a philosophic synthesis the ideas regarding the immutability of morality entertained by Plato and Cudworth, the selfish system of Epicurus and Hobbes, the intui. tionalism of Butler, the sympathy of Smith, and the utilitarianism of J. S. Mill. He certainly does succeed in showing that there are forms of ethical thought which to some extent justify each of these views. His own system, howerer, affiliates itself more to the ethical schools of Aristotle and Kant than to either of the foregoing. His clear verbal distinctions, and his careful logical severance of cognate ideas into their several species, and his peculiarly lucid phraseology, prove him to be a logically acute thinker, as well as a deep-seeking student of human nature. If the

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