PATRICK SCOTT'S POEMS. * "LEmo," the principal poem of this volume,

exhibits considerable poetical spirit, and great though untamed power. This irregularity is not shown in crudity, for every single part is distinctly pre- sented ; nor is the piece deficient in unity of a mechanical kind, for the plan is consistent throughout. The defect lies in the incon- gruity of the subjects with each other, and their presentation. The reader is carried per saltum from the actual presence of the Deity, to a village festival and the attempted seduction of a rural maiden by a milk-and-water kind of Don Juan. After a rapid sur- vey of human history., especially in connexion with revelation, the action jumps to an advanced stage of the same intrigue, where the

• Lclio, a Vision of Reality; Hervor ; and other Poems. By Patrick Scott. Puts hated by Chapman and Hall.

girt is saved by an accidental word, rather than by her own re- solve, or the angelic machinery which is freely used throughout the noem.

e peculiarity spoken of may partly arise from Mr. Scott's having written with a preconceived theory.

"Some years since, I amused myself with contemplating the probable re- sult in the case of a man about to commit what he felt to be a crime, were he suddenly to behold the animated eye-ball, as it were, of the Phidian Ju- piter, fixed on him and flashing with divine indignation. He could scarcely move, I thought, toward the commission of the meditated act, under the in- fluence of that forbidding gaze.

"The question then naturally arose, whether there may not already exist something analogous to that fabled glance, for all who would not willingly exclude it from their vision—something which, unlike the beaming of a material eye, would not, as long as it was duly regarded, grow familiar from sameness, or weak by repetition.

" Conscience may be made to perform this office."

Conscience, however, to be worth much as a principle of action, should be a habit of mind, "armed at all points," and detecting evil in its first approach, not dallying with, nay yielding to it, as the Ilya of the poem does, and only saved by Leone's mention of her "mother's cottage," which serves the purpose of the Phidian Jupiter's glance. The moral couched under the old stories of en- ehantment was of a safer and sounder kind. The aspirant moved en amid earthly and unearthly threatenings, safe as long as there was no hesitation; but to hesitate was to be lost—at once to become obnoxious to the power of the Evil One. The poem of Lehi) seems designed to impress several conclusions critical as well as ethical ; what it does most effectively, is to 1 1t the mural of licentious pleasure. The form of the piece is 1 41 atie. The principal human actors are Leone, a libertine ; his friend Lelio, a philosophic searcher after pleasure conjoined with truth and virtue ; Ilya, the maiden already mentioned; and Nina, a former victim of Leone. The leading earthly scenes are a dis- course at a banquet in Leone's mansion, his attempts upon Ilya, and his interview with Nina when she has fallen to the lowest de- gradation. But a great portion of the action is superlunar. Lelio, in vision or the flesh, encounters an angel, who exhibits men to him with their real feelings, in opposition to those which they wish the world to believe they entertain. The angel also carries Lelio, at his own wish, into the presence of the Deity ; spirits in song call up the leading outlines of history ; the pair are present as spec- tators if not as actors at some of the human incidents, comment- ing upon them after the fashion of the ancient chorus. As far as mere execution is concerned, the supernatural is sufficiently sustained. If Mr. Scott does not always rise to the height of his great argument, he does not disappoint the reader; if the senti- ments are sometimes puzzling, they are poetical : but the true interest lies in the human parts. They have a closeness, a pith, and a lifelike character about them, that promise more even than is performed, if Mr. Scott will look on Nature and imitate her without respect to theories. The interview between Nina and Leone, after Ilya has finally left him, will convey a better idea of the poet's style and power than mere description.

NINA.

Money, for pity's sake!

LEONE.

Not now, I cannot ;

NINA.

Busy! then, if not for pity, Money for old acquaintance !

LEONE.

rm busy.

Woman! I know thee not.

NLKA..

May be, Leone.

But thou didst know me once—too well—too well ! These limbs were not thus wrench'd by long disease, Nor tatter-vestured then ; these eyes could boast Of other radiance than the-reeling light

Of drink-begotten love ! thy Nina was not A thing to be avoided !

LEONE.

Nina! Nina!

It must be so : and yet—yes ! Merciful Heaven! Such Ilya might have been !

NINA.

Who's Ilya ? la she like me—no—no' like what I was ? Look at me—dost thoufear me ? Look, I say ! May be she's young, has caught thy seeking eye, Has a fair face and a clean heart—and thou Wouldst make a Nina of her !

LEONE.

God! oh God!

NINA.

God! ha, ha !—God ? When didst thou learn to talk Of God, Leone ? Once so pure, so happy, Some God or other made me what I was : Was it thy God that made me what I sin? Was it thy God that told thee those hot words Thou didst pour out into my maiden ear ? Did he instruct thee when my blushing cheek

Suffer'd strange kisses ? When the trembling eyes

Whose lashes hid them from each passing look First fed thy passion with responding fire, Didst thou then see the gaze of any God Fix'd on thee in disturbing majesty ?

Was this the noble ardoter thou did,st speak of—

The love that spurted a ceremonial flame? Was it no blot on thy nobility

To make the girl who spent her heart upon thee

The thing now standing here ?

LEONE.

Thou yet art young,

Old acquaintance!

Still in thy soul—

NINA.

Young in what? Hell bath henp'd The weight of ages on me !—Soul, indeed !

With the free sharers of my social hours

The o'er-fed palate craves a deeper drink Than that thin stream of virtue ; eyes and words Are task'd in pricking the slow appetite To clasp the excited pleasure ere it dies. What time have we to talk of souls, Leone ?

What wish have we to think of souls, Leone ?

LEONE.

In mercy say one word—that thou wouldst change

This fearful being, and— NINA.

I cannot change!

Ask of the tree whose shatter'd limbs have felt The lightning's onset, to rejoin again Its delicate vessels, warm with eirclin„s. life! It is to late. Man makes his outward life, If so he will, all night, but scarcely more Than one half-day. I did not fall at once, But slowly, slowly shut the admonishing light That would have shone upon me, from my heart. On—on ! 'twos easy down that path ; but now, When all, when e'en the strength of passion's wasted, What power have I for climbing up ? No, no, It is too late—too late for aught but death !

My all of worth bath died already ; then

-ris time that lie should wipe the filthy remnant

From the clean earth ! Lend thou a helping hand : Come, give me drink—hot, hot, destroying drink ! Ha! but thou laok'st most wretched—why, Leone !— I'm very pure, thou seest,—and—very happy !

LEONE.

On, on, say on ! Curse me, oh curse me, Nina! Heap fire upon me, till my very heart And brain are ashes!

NINA.

No, Leone, no—

Though these foul lips and worn heart may not use

A language that they know not, what has she Who cannot pray to do with curses ? No—

I curse thee not ! I do rejoice that life Is left for thee, to rise upon the fall Of her whom thou—it matters not—for yet Thou'rt strong, thy mind is firmly knit, and Heaven May yet on thee have mercy ! Then, oh then, When conscience backs the smile that the world gives thee, Think, in some idle hour of happiness, On her—it may be kindly—her who now Feels her last joy in—blessing thee, Leone !

The poem of Herror is founded upon the Scandinavian myth or legend of Angantyr, whose sword, buried with him, was necessary to restore his country to freedom : his daughter Hervor under- takes to recover it from the tomb, and accomplishes the task, in spite of the uncouth shapes and unearthly terrors that beset her The style of the poem is that of grave parody, similar to Thomas Hood's; the execution is smart and spirited ; but the poem has the principal fault of Lelio, though in a different way : the jokes, and banter, and hits at passing events, disturb the lofty character of the subject. Of the miscellaneous pieces a few have been published before. They all exhibit the same good qualities as the larger poems—vigour, spirit, strength, and humour if not wit; with oc- casionally some of the incongruity in the subject arising as ElEa. from its choice as its treatment.