principles have not been long since unequivocally promulgated, his family connections should be enquired into, before his professions of faith, however liberal, are admitted as trustworthy. 6. That in the present times it is not only necessary that the principles and opinions of the Candidate should be unquestionable, but that his age, capacity, knowledge of business, stock of imformation, and habits of punctuality, should be sufficient for the task imposed upon him. 7. And lastly, That where the Candidate is not a tried man, he should undergo a rigid examination, and give pledges as to his future conduct upon as many points as possible; and that it is better to get a known Reformer, from whatever part of the country he may come, than an untried man, be his promises what they may; and when you have got a fit man, keep him so, by returning him free of expense, instead of sending him crippled in his fortunes, and broken in spirit, and liable to be tempted to repair his loss at your's and his country's cost. Art. IX. Enthusiasm, and other Poems. By Susanna Strickland (now Mrs Moodie). 12mo. pp. 214. Price 5s. London. 1831. THIS HIS pleasing little volume claimed at our hands an earlier notice. Its Author's maiden name has often graced the pages of the Annuals; and to a numerous circle of friends, this publication will be an interesting memorial. Of the poetical feeling and genuine talent displayed in Mrs. Moody's productions, the following spirited lyric will give ample evidence. THE SPIRIT OF MOTION. < Spirit of eternal motion! They who strive thy laws to find Measure out the drops of rain, Count the sands which bound the main, Quell the earthquake's. sullen shock, Bid the sun his heat assuage, Life and all its powers are thine! Thee sovereignty o'er wind and wave pp. 126-128. On the very next page we meet with these beautiful stanzas, which will be transcribed. LINES WRITTEN DURING A GALE OF WIND. Oh nature! though the blast is yelling, I gaze upon the clouds wind-driven, "Tis not the rush of wave or wind 'I feel the icy breath of sorrow of the morrow, The dark-dark presage "I hear the mighty billows rave; There's music in their roar, When strong in wrath the wind-lashed wave A solemn pleasure in the tone That shakes the lonely woods, The elemental strife is past, The heavens are bright again. ' And shall I doubt the healing power Almighty Ruler of the storm! And the fierce tempests that deform pp. 129-131. If all the poems were equal to these specimens, the volume might defy criticism. The inequality is greater than might have been expected; especially in the versification, which, in some of the poems, is harsh and untunable, while the blank verse is singularly monotonous and heavy. Enthusiasm, we must confess, does not answer to its title; and Fame will never reach its direction. But The Deluge,' which follows these two poems, bursts upon us with unexpected power. We must make room for this spirited poem. THE DELUge. VISIONS of the years gone by Forms that share oblivion's slumbers, Creatures of that elder world Now in dust and darkness hurled, Crushed beneath the heavy rod Of a long forsaken God! Hark! what spirit moves the crowd? Blooming bride and blushing maid,— Manhood with his fiery glance, War-chief with his lifted lance,— Beauty with her jewelled brow, Hoary age with locks of snow: Prince, and peer, and statesman grave, Plumed helm, and crowned head, By one mighty impulse led Mingle in the living mass, That onward to the desert pass! 6 With song and shout and impious glee, What rush earth's myriads forth to see? Hark! the sultry air is rent With their boisterous merriment ! Of warrior brave and beauty bright? Favour found and saving grace; To rapine, lust, and murder given, The heart of erring man is closed Tremble Earth! the awful doom 'What arrests their frantic course? Back recoils the startled horse, And the stifling sob of fear Lips are quivering-cheeks are pale- Eyes with bursting terror gaze Nature's pulse has ceased to play,- The rocks are rent, the mountains reel, The forests groan,—the heavy gale Hark! that loud tremendous roar ! Ocean overleaps the shore, Pouring all his giant waves 'Hollow murmurs fill the air, Like a tempest heaves the crowd, While in accents fierce and loud, With pallid lips and curdled blood, Each trembling cries, "The flood! the flood!"' pp. 37-43. |