ERNEST JONES'S POEMS ON THE WAR. * IN his preface Mr.

Jones lays it down as a maxim that "no one should lightly encourage war. * * * Therefore even verses tend- ing (however feebly) to stimulate the war spirit of the time should not be written, unless the writer conscientiously feels that the war is just andnecessary, and its prosecution consistent with the interests of morality and right, as much as such a calamity can be." Mr. Jones, believing the present war to be a just one, has brought his poetical powers to bear upon the theme. He has, however, taken the Baltic for his subject, instead of the Danube and the Black Sea, and he consequently misses the advantage which action furnishes to the poet. From the military critic the proceedings in neither ocean may probably be safe ; but the un- exampled fleet and the not less unexampled transport of the ar- mies—the battle of the Alma—the death-ride of Balaklava—the fight of Inkerman—the repulse of the Russians by the Turks at Eupatoria—some of the more striking incidents of the siege, the falcon-like sweep of the Sea of Azoff by the navy, and the dogged determination of the assailants of Sebastopol—are themes that admit of more stirring appeals to the mind than the quieter doings in the Baltic. Still, the poet " faithfully attends " us. The great fleet is first painted in its repose, where

" He would not let them rest Those war-ships of the West, The Czar of sullen Muscovy in drunkenness of pride " ; and then in its departure. The bard describes its arrival in the Baltic, and touches the characteristics of that sea, especially in winter, with a delicacy akin to the lightness of the snow-flakes.

"At Cronstadt in his granite palace

Walked the despot to and fro ; Gazing through the seaward windows, Asking tidings of the foe."

Nothing is the reply, bill just at nightfall clouds " no bigger than the hand" appear upon the Western horizon, and the Emperor, after gazing on the night-signals, mounts the loftiest tower to keep his vigil, and turns from the threatening West to gaze Eastward ; but the midnight look, even over his own dominions, is not reassuring. Terrible visions rise before him.

"Ha! they mount from mine and dungeon ! Ha! they break from shroud and chain All the heroes he has murdeed, All the martyrs he has slain. * Hush ! he hears their thrilling whispers !

See ! he knows their icy breath ! Impalpable as air they gather, But immense and real as death."

With a justifiable licence, the poet feigns that on that nightly vigil NiCholas received his death-stroke from the Spirit of the North, to whom he appeals : but he still maintained his stern re- solve and imperial dignity, even when he sees prophetically the cowardice and treachery of the German Powers, especially of Prussia.

"Then the Monarch's brow grew lofty With a brave imperial pride : Even Tyranny looks noble, Seen by such poor Treason's side.

• The Emperor's Vigil, and the Waves and the War. By Ernest Jones, Barth- ter-at-law, Author of " The Battle Day," 4.c. Published by Routledge.

Passed the vigil of the midnight, Rose the broad sun's busy hour ; Courtiers still cry= Live for ever ! Earth-God ! who shall stay thy power ? '

Some few days he walked among them, Hushed beneath unwonted awe : Those around him wildering wondered At the solemn change they saw.

Then the Czar went forth at morning, Mustered calm his legioned pride

Heard Death whisper through his clarions,

Bowed his lofty head and died."

There is no lack in this, or in most of the other poems, of the conception of structure and imagery which is called invention, and that power in the execution which denotes poetical genius. The inevitably narrow nature of the particular topics, except per- haps " The Emperor's Vigil," compared with the general magni- tude of the war, compel the poet to rely too much on the exercise of his art. Probably, too, the poems would have been improved by greater condensation. There is not anything like verbiage to be found; but sometimes an idea is dwelt upon too long. The most remarkable piece is entitled " The Return " ; and it is certainly the best defence of the Baltic doings or no-doings that we have seen. The poet, after all, is the truest reasoner.

" We return—but not downhearted ; Not a warrior veils his brow : Proud and joyous we departed, And as proud return we now.

Do you ask for our achievements—

What the cities we laid low ?

Greater 'tis to save a kinsman, Greater than to smite a foe.

And your eyes, to mete our service, Need not wander o'er the flood :

See in England—not in Russia—

What we did for England's good.

England's shores were in our keeping, England's commerce in our trust : Are your widowed mothers weeping ? Are your stately mansions dust ?

Have your coasts, from Wight to Orkney,

Seen a single foeman's sail—

Save the captives that we sent ye To adorn your triumph's tale ?

On your seaboard commerce tarries, And along its virgin coast Still your great unrivalled cities Their unchallenged grandeur boast.

Not for useless cruel slaughter England sent her warriors forth ; But to keep the world's peace-breaker Captive in his sullen North.

Captive in his own dominion Did we hold him at our will At his prison-bars he struggled, But he lies there captive still.

Safe with us was England's honour—

Safe we bring it back again : Never once the focman's navy Faced the mistress of the main.

Though to woo him to the battle, Half our ships we sent away

And before him twice our number

Two long weeks our challenge lay.

On his ramparts fell our thunder, And their voice grew still and tame ; Bomarsund we rent asunder, Sveaborg expired in flame.

But we spared the trader's palace, And we spared the fisher's cot,

As we struck for England's honour—

But for blood and vengeance not.

We return, but not downhearted; Not a comrade veils his brow : Proud and joyous we departed, And as proud return we now."