Love, a poem, by the author of the very clever
Rhymes on the Corn-Laws, is a sounding composition. It reads as if the author thumped the table at the end of every energetic verse. But it is far too vague and grand for our tastes ; we see nothing in it to persuade us into quotation. The poem, however, has appa- rently reached a third edition ; which is a pretty plain proof, that though we may care little about the author's Love, there are others of a different way of thinking.