POETRY.

To perceive the elements of difference, would not appear to be a difficult thing: but the absurdities which people are constantly com- mitting show that it is. Not only readers, for instance, but writers professing to be critics, take up a minor poet Of the last or preceding century : in the imitators of' WALLER and DevneN they find uncouth verses, false rhymes, and a general prosaic character of expression: the truth and non-imitative air of the thoughts they cannot see, but they can see that they are 'mutely, and that the fashion of the whole work is a cry dithirent from what they consider fashion ought to be. They take up an imitator of SCOTT or Britosr, and discover the mechanics of versification as smooth and nice as the mechanics of a piece of printed cotton,— the versification of both writers, by the by, of SCOTT especially, being easily imitated, as they are both improved revivals of old styles, existent before the language was thoroughly tuned and polished. They also read a story, perhaps not devoid of interest : they find some rapidity of narrative, or some melodramatic strut ; but in essentials, quick jingle instead of melody, mock me- lancholy instead of real, or glumpy turgidness in place of gloom and grandeur—in short, the carcase of poetry, inflated by bor- rowed breath forcibly bellowsed into it. Still, to judges of this stamp, the body is there ; and it resembles bodies with which they are familiar, and which the world has admired. And then they say, with the solemn gravity of an owl—" The age is regard- less of poetry ; if these productions hued been produced in an earlier period of our literature, they would have received uni- versal attention and established a high reputation for their au- thors." When they might just as well say, if man hail been placed amongst the geological monsters of a primitive world, he would have found himself greatly distressed. Man could not have been placed there ; because the system of nature was not then adapted to his organization. The poems in question could not have been produced until their models had been written. Had their writers lived in another age, they would have done -then, what they do now, follow behind the fashion.

There are two reasons why there are more imitators now, and .closer imitations. An education tar more extensive than formerly has developed the imitative faculties of the millions. The imita- tion is easier. The weightier matter, juster thought, and close and measured style of the school of DRYDEN, rendered a mere copy more bare and lifeless than an iinitation of the dashing manner of Scorr or the exaggerated intensity of BYRON, just as it is more difficult for a minim to hit off a man of quiet manners than a character with marked peculiarities.

ITALY,

By MT. JOHN EDMUND READE, is jug the sort of poem to which these remarks apply. There is no want of fluency of language, of finish of versification, and occasionally of strength of expression : the author handles subjects interesting in them- selves or their associations; he has a cultivated taste, though not a very disciplined mind, or perhaps a very sensible nature; he has read the history of the country he writes about, and travelled through it; and he has bestowed considerable time and labour on his work. Had Italy appeared before Childe Harold, Mr Ream:, like BYRON, might have " awoke and found himself famous." As it is, it will only be placed amongst the iroita. firms of that poet ; and, from the earnestness, zeal, and °pleat. nities of the author, may be considered the most sustained and ambitious of them all.

For the plagiarism in tone of thought nod sentiment, as well as in the general character and impression, the reader must take our word, or peruse the book. More palpable matters can be proved ; and the evidence on a point or two will show the foolish little tricks to which imitators, conscientiously though self-de. ludingly, have recourse, to avoid the apppearance of copying, The Fourth Canto of Childe Harold opens at Venice, whence the pit. grim travels to Florence, and then to Rome. Mr. REAM evidently thinks he has done a clever thing by beginning at Florence, and journeying thence to Rome via Venice ; sometimes avoiding the intermediate spots or the same subjects which the Childe mused upon, but not always. Thus, he actually has the presumption to describe, with reflections, the Medicean Venus, and above all, the Dying Gladiator; to appeal to Cola Rienzi; and to dwell upoa the light of Thrasimene —passages which in the original linger upon every memory. Yositive quotations of word for word, aad almost line for line, may be pickedlr th,e s a t }rsy ithosegewnletoraldieraliigtahttioinn

such minute labour ; but besides this,

of manner. The introduction, almost the obtrusion, of the author to the reader's miud—the abrupt ehatiges, the startling appeals amounting to commands, in Harold—are reflected, but sometimes ludicrously distorted, in Italy. We will adduce an example. No reader of modern poetry can forget one of its most powerful pas. sages—the description of Waterloo in the Third Canto of Chuck Harold, beginning

" Stop—for thy tread is on an empire's (lust !"

Mr. RE ADE evidently noted this as too good a point to be lost; but he misappropriates his takings. He applies to a foggy land. scape view of the Appenines, what is said of a battle-field where the fate of Europe was decided ; and to evade plagiarism, he sub. stitutes for the hortative of Harold the command of a highway- man- 4, .s'rand—for unseen beneath, a world lies shrouded The Fifth and Sixth Cantos, embracing Naples, Pompeii, Capri, and Poastum, are so far better than the preceding ones, that the subjects do not continually suggest comparisons ; and, perhaps from the circumstance of Chihle Harold being absent from the writer's mind, many passages have more force and freedom. As refavourable specimen of Italy, we will quote part of the personifi- cation of Tiberius. The reader, however, must be warned, that the " remorse " is a conjecture of Mr. REAM'S. TACITUS tells us, that the dissimulation of the close and politic tyrant defied sickness and held out till life failed. But this is the fault of the intense school—they think their " striking effects" are better than truth.

TIBERIUS AT CAPRI.

There is no prying eye upon him now—

None pass that platform in the twilight hour. Lu! bent towards the ground is that dam k brow, O'er which profoundest sadness now sloth lower:

The III:111 before whose eye the bravest cower, Whose look was law, whose gesture life controlled:

He, the inscrutable, arrayed with power,

Whose slightest acts a mystery enfold,

Whose wrath, like lightning, struck ere yet the thunder told. Behold the ruin of the man! decay Huth fixed upon that tottering form; yet pride Erect is there: in his quick eye the sway

Of reinless, restless passion is descried,

Which gray dissimulation cannot hide. Yet on that high, imperious brow is shown The stamp of mind to nobler things allied ; Burn to command, which, in the et owd unknown, Had risen o'er all, and proved its heirship to a thione.

Ile stood and watched where, over Baire's shore, Like is material god the Sun enshrined, Called on the hearts who watched him to adore; Even as a monarch's glory left behind A visible blessing, felt among mankind,

And hallowed when tiepin ted : even thus

Should Ire have passed to deathless fame consigned.

What was he now ? a blight, a withering curse ;

None loved, nought clung to him, nought save his vain remorse.

The mind upon its rack of pain—the past, Its visions magnified in memory's elude : The hopeless future, life's hours ebbing fast,

Health, Strength, hope, passion, energy decayed ;

All then he felt till pride no longer swayed

His will inflexible ; forth flowed the tears,—

Not that refreshing dew to virtue paid, But such as, scalding, the lone bosom seals,

Shed o'er the arid waste of execrated years.