the subject, but never did Indian orator utter a more eloquent or irresistible appeal: :

"I saw a stain on the last year's snow,

Brothers! a stain of blood!

But the cold hath pass'd, and the warm winds blow,

And the trees are in the bud.

The snow hath melted from dale and hill

But the blood!-the blood remaineth still!

How is it requited

Say, have they forgotten that green bay tree?'
The lover was fickle, and would not remember;
He met with another more fair than she;
For her-broken-hearted,

Her peace hath departed,

The maiden doth fade like the green bay tree!"

Among the more humorous pieces our readers may be amused by the fidelity of the author's description of

A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN ABROAD.

"I care not for the lovely scenes upon the banks of Rhine,

I care not for its castled steeps, and slopes where grows the vine;

No pleasure upon Switzer lakes or Alpine hills I see,
For my thoughts are far away, in my own countrie.

"I long to see the villages, each with its little spire,
And the hospitable farm-steads of York's beloved shire;

To see the corn-fields waving, and the cattle feeding free,
In the pleasant pasture lands of my own countrie.

VOL. XXXV. No. Į,

S

"I long to hear on Sunday morn the merry village bell,
Calling the pious folk to church from every hill and dell ;
I long to ask the curate home to dinner and to tea,
And chat on politics and crops in my own countrie.

"I hate their cookery here in France, their fricassées and stews,
Their bouillon and their cotelettes, their rôtis and ragouts;
I loathe their harsh outlandish names, and pine again to see
The fine fat beef and pudding of my own countrie.

"The wine they boast of charms me not; I strive, but all in vain,
To relish their choice Burgundy, their claret and champagne;
I'd barter, and right willingly, a dozen of all three
For a pot of foaming ale in my own countrie!

"And yet these lands are good enough, the people kind and true;
Their vineyards pleasant, and their skies bright, vapourless and blue ;
But I'm strange in them, and sick of them, and pine to cross the sea,
To breathe the welcome fogs of my own countrie.

"O England! I've abused thy clime, and oft, without a cause,
Cried out against my countrymen, their manners and their laws;
Forgetting, thankless that I was, that first amongst the free,
Stands, and shall stand for evermore, mine own countrie.

"And once more treading its green sod, and breathing its dear air,
I'll never stir from it again in search of realms more fair;
I'll never vaunt of pleasant France or sunny Italy,

But live in peace, and die in my own countrie."

PERCY'S RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY: consisting of Old, Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our earlier Poets, together with some few of later date, and a copious Glossary. Templeman. 1840.-Percy's Reliques is one of the most valuable and interesting works in the language, and, independent of the mirror of English life and customs therein reflected, it has an extrinsic interest attached to it from having been the book which produced, or rather gave the first impulsion to the revolution in English poetry, which shook the French tyrants from their classic throne-nay, unceremoniously beheading the majority, quite crushing their dynasty in English hearts, teaching poets to go back to nature, simplicity, and passion, and worship at their shrines, rather than at those of convention, elegance, and rhetoric.

Odd strains are these of the old "ballad-mongers," who, in truth, were "no kittens who cried mew," but stalwart, rude, hearty men, often of poetic significance, of humour, and pathos; often of, to us, mere dullness and singsong; nevertheless, having a result of worth and amusement such as few collections of the kind can share. The variety is immense-ballads-Robin Hoods-wandering Jews-religious satires and controversies-glimpses of Spanish ballads-translations of merit-Lillibuleros-Scotch ballads-and voices of all tones, from the melodious one of poetry to the mere screech of energy. But great as is this diversity of subject, one spirit, in greater or less degree, whispers throughout-an honest, free, fanciful trustingness in nature and themselves. They are sometimes garrulous, but their audience thought not so, and our business is to pitch ourselves, if possible, into the frame of mind of one of their audience.

Well, this book is put forth in one volume, and for a trifle, that all people poetically, critically, or historically inclined may possess it; and indeed, to

use the beautiful formula of criticism, "no gentleman's library should be without it." This edition, moreover, (which is the third of Mr Templeman's re-issue!) contains the ballad of the Hermit of Warkworth,' which heretofore was always printed in a separate quarto, and contains the learned 'Essay on Ancient Minstrels' and copious notes.

66

G. H. L.

THE DREAM AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. Mrs Norton. Colburn. 1840.-Mrs Norton is so celebrated a person-for her exquisite beauty, her accomplishments, and her unfortunate history-that this, her last, work has no doubt, been devoured with the ravenous impatience of a fashionable appetite; nevertheless critics have crotchets, and none more deeply rooted than the value and interest of their own opinions; we must, therefore, 'say our say" out upon this work, even though the reader should have anticipated us, and presumptuously suppose that we have nothing to tell him. This last production of Mrs Norton's pen, the Dream and other Poems,' is graced by a portrait of her own lovely self, by Landseer, which has only too much of the pensive woman, and not enough of the queenly beauty which distinguishes her. The Dream' has no story to tell-no philosophy to shadow forth, it is simply a string of reflections with a very faint connecting link. Such a poem we conceive to be the least fitted for a woman's genius-as it is precisely in reflection, in deep comprehensive views, in unravelling the complex innermost folds of the human heart, that women are deficient; now although poetry is not philosophy, but a beauteous flower growing out of it, "filling the silent air with grace," yet out of a philosophy it must grow, if it would be other than an exotic. Dream' accordingly, though mostly graceful and elegant, and evidently the production of a sensitive, graceful mind, is not for a second readingit contains no new reflection, nor is there any old truth newly put and illustrated. The following is a pleasing sample

"And have thou faith in human nature still!
Though evil acts abound and thoughts of ill;
Though innocence in sorrow shrouded be,
And tyranny's strong step walk bold and free!
For many a kindly, generous deed is done
Which leaves no record underneath the Sun-
Self-abnegating love and humble worth,
Which yet shall consecrate our sinful earth,
He that deals blame, and yet forgets to praise,
Who sets brief storms against long summer-days,
Hath a sick judgment. Shall the usual joy
Be all forgot and nought our minds employ,
Through the long course of ever-varying years,
But temporary pain and casual tears?
And shall we all condemn and all distrust
Because some men are false and some unjust.
Forbid it heaven! far better 'twere to be
Dupe of the fond impossibility

Of light and radiance which the vision gave,
Than thus to live suspicion's bitter slave.
Give credit to thy mortal brother's heart

For all the good that in thine own hath part.

• The

The Creole Girl' is a subject Mrs Norton has told with a true poetical grace, saving and except the conclusion, which should (in poetry) have been otherwise the lover should have trampled down the absurd hurdles (we cannot call them barriers) of custom, and married her,

So

"Custom doth reason often over-rule,

But only serves as reason to the fool."

sang Rochester. The story is of a lovely young Creole, brought to England by her father, and subject to all the "with'ring glance of ill-concealed contempt"-all the heart-burns which innocence, robed in the dark garment of a mother's or father's shame, must ever suffer in.

"Better kept the vow

Of faithful love than some who keep their fame,"

She loved, and, alas! died broken-hearted!

This Mrs Norton tells in her own charming way; we should extract the whole could we afford the space; but one extract we must make—there is something so purely romantic and poetical in the incident. The physician who tells the story comes upon her when she is reading "under the shade of melancholy boughs:

"And droopingly and sad she hung above

The open page, whereon her eyes were bent,
With looks of fond regret and pining love;
Nor heard my steps, so deep was she intent.

"And when she me perceived she did not start,

But lifted up those soft, dark eyes to mine,

And smiled (that mournful smile which breaks the heart),
Then glanced again upon the printed line.

"What readest thou?' I asked, with fervent gaze:

As though she would have scanned my inmost soul
She turned to me, and as a child obeys

The accustomed question of revered control,

"She pointed to the title of that book,

Coralie,'

Which, bending down, I saw was
Then gave me one imploring, piteous look,
And tears, too long restrain'd, gush'd fast and free.

"It was a tale of one whose fate had been

Too like her own to make that weeping strange ;
Like her, transplanted from a sunnier scene;
Like her, all dull'd and blighted by the change.

"No further word was breathed between us two--
No confidence was made to keep or break ;-
But since that day, which pierced my soul quite thro',
My hand the dying girl would faintly take,

“And murmur, as its grasp (ah! piteous end!)
Return'd the feeble pressure of it now-
'Be with me to the last-for thou, dear friend,

Dost all my struggles, all my sorrow know.'"

Is not this confidence beautiful? She dared not breathe all the wild thoughts and sorrows which continually crossed her brain; but the book -that revealed distinctly all "which words could never tell," as the book revealed to Paolo and Francesca what they each sufficiently knew, but dared not utter except in the true love utterance

"La becca mi bacio tutto tremante!"

G. H. L.

MEDICINE AND SURGERY.

ACUTE HYDROCEPHALUS; OR, WATER IN THE HEAD: an inflammatory Disease, and curable equally and by the same Means with other Diseases of Inflammation. By David D. Davis, M.D., M.R., S.L., Professor of Obstetric Medicine in University College, and one of the Physicians to University College Hospital. London: printed for Taylor & Walton, 28 Upper Gower street. 1840. This is an extraordinary book, in which the author has taken an advance-step in the treatment of hydrocephalus acutus, which will place his name among the greatest benefactors of the profession. As the work is of deep popular as well as of medical interest, we deviate from our usual course of subjects, in order to call public attention to its valuable contents. It demonstrates, we think, with great clearness-I. That hydrocephalus is a disease of inflammation; and, II. That it is equally curable with other diseases of inflammation, and by the same means. If, in the account he has given of the pathology and pathognomy of the disease, Dr Davis has not added, strictly speaking, to the previous stock of professional information, he has the great and original merit of having advanced the curative treatment to that precise point at which success is exchanged, in an overwhelming majority of cases, for previous frequent and alarming fluctuations of success and failure. We consider this the crowning merit of the work. To appreciate it in its full extent, it is only necessary to recollect that the approximation to this point has been, during a century and more, slow and uncertain; that during one period of this interval, almost every patient attacked by the disease became its victim; and that Dr Davis has shown, that, even under the present admitted improved modes of practice, the disease is yet too frequently (though not of necessity) fatal. We are mistaken if he has not at length suggested a method of treatment which, though it may respect degree rather than kind, is, in fact, curative, and which thus robs the grave of its prey. We venture especially to recommend attention to his views as to the time, quantity, and means of blood-letting. The merit of the work, both as to this portion of it and as a whole, is greatly enhanced by the consideration, that during the interval, formerly adverted to, some writers mistook the nature of the disease; others, though right as to that point, failed to carry out the views deducible from it into practice; and that, while others, again, entertained correct general notions both of the theory and practice, yet none, perhaps, before the appearance of Dr Davis's work, had estimated precisely the degree to which remedies must be pushed to insure general success. We think that he makes it apparent that on the application or rejection of these remedies, as to degree, depends the life or death of children, sometimes of great promise, and the consequent happiness, or unspeakable misery, of their fond parents and friends. All this will be duly weighed by an enlightened and benevolent profession. But as the work in question contains a lucid account of the premonitory and actual symptoms of the disease, it is deeply interesting to the parent, as well as to the medical practitioner. We know of none, that has recently appeared, which lays both under deeper obligation, and we heartily recommend it to general perusal. B.

RELIGION.

THE NEW TESTAMENT, TRANSLATED FROM THE TEXT OF J. J. GRIESBACH. By Samuel Sharpe. London: John Green. 1840.-The author of this translation scarcely does himself justice when he says, in his preface, that he “lays no claim to anything new or peculiar." There may be novelty and peculiarity without pretension; and we find enough that is new in the volume before us to entitle it to a respectful attention from the scholar, and a cordial welcome