POEMS CHIEFLY DRAMATIC.

Tats little volume is edited by the Dean of Exeter, or rather it is published under his superintendence, for he declined the task of revision it contains a lyrical drama on the fate of Procris—very like a masque, excepting its tragical termination ; a dramatic sketch on the imprisonment and death of Joan of Arc ; and a few miscel- laneous poems; the whole of which display much academic ability, but are deficient in original merit of a racy kind.

In one sense the volume may be called a cento ; for, without plagiariAss or direct imitation, it frequently reminds us of some other author—of GRAY, Of .11D.TON, of SHAKSPERE, of COLLINS, and occasionally of the turgid magnificence of BYRON'S school. Whe- ther this is a dethet in itself we will not stop to discuss ; but, originating in a want of entire possession of his subject, it causes this very important fault, that the style and tone of the writer are not adapted to the character of his themes. The open- ing chorus of Nymphs in " Cephahm and Proeris," is too masculine for the sex, and a shade too stiff' and stately for hunters of any kind : again, the Satyr in his mode of speech resembles the more homely creatures of the modern goblin system, rather than the goatish divinity of classical mythology : and the Wood Nymph and the Zephyr are deficient in the delicacy and spirit proper to their nature, though the topics of the Zephyr's lyric arc well chosen. There is sonic want of judgment in the structure of the dramas, and some speeches might be dispensed with ; but these are faults which the skill acquired by practice would easily remedy.

Considered in an academic light, the poems are of considerable merit,.—condensed, vigorous, and with versification carefully finished; they occasionally possess, too, a picture-like elliTt in description— as in this brief sketch of a boar's death, from the chorus to Diana.

" When held at bay the laist line hoar,

Ilia tusks bedropped with foam and gore, Ili,: red eye kindling sparks of lire— AL ! slit, might lace his dreadful ire ? Mambas the glancing, javelin flies, The brave bound torn and gasping lies— Ent see the monster reels—he dies ! The tut al stroke bath reached his heart ; Thy gift, that nevelathili lig dart, With triumph crow ns the chosen one, Newly to thy service won ;

The fair-tressed maiden. as ith her deep blue eye, Darkly bright as midnight's slimy sky." There is learning and there is labour, though somewhat of heaviness, in this sow: or Tot: nouns.

Ilour of Night departing.

Soft pacing down the western sky,

Sad-suited Night in silence goes; 11er dragons slow. with sleepless eye,

She guideth to repose. And following still the noiseless wain, I must not loiter from her train; Nor ever gaze on light's gay throng, Nor join my sisters' dance and sung, When glows the orient main. Her Cyprus veil, far-floating spread, In darkness shrouds my drouping head, And solemn is our gliding tread Towards Erebus' domain.

lienIr of Dawn.

With hovering skirts the horizon shading, How tardily grave Night retires ! Now from the empyrean failing, Winking stars withdraw their fires ; Yet doth the East look wan and chill-

Ah why, Aurora, slumber still?

Daughter of Hyperion, rise ! In saffron robes and bright array, Witls many-mingling roseate dyes; Not wrapt in sober amice gray. Thy belted knight, Orion strong, On his far journey lingereth long,

Nor yet thy, coining spies. Bight above old Ocean's stream

Phosphor flames with herald beans ; The mist-hung hills thine absence know; The vales and pleasant meals below, All bathed in cooling dews they lie Beneath the pale transparent sky. To meet thee o'er you Indian steeps

Parl-horns Bacchus vigils keeps:

All night be swept the des, rt plain, With revel rude, and reckless train Of' frantic Thyadas around, Startling with unwonted sound Sleep's leaden ear, in silence hound.

But see, advancing slow ard =ad, In mournful pall, funereal, clad. Alt! is it thus she comes at last ?

.Most like the farm of darkness last. Bleak torus whistles shall, and shrill,

Vapours and damp the cold air till. \Vied means, alas! this show of sairow

No joy for me until the marrow.

Hour if Sunrise.

Away, away ! the golden gates (vile fling; The flamy car, the pawing cane-ors hring !

He mounts—the radiant god of day appears ;

Bright Pheelms quickly dries A 01.0eit's tears. — - - •