READE'S MAN IN PARADISE, AND LYRICAL POEMS. * IN the mechanical
and many of the intellectual qualities of the poet Mr. Reade is eminent. He is not only copious but rich in diction ; his verse is harmonious and full resounding, for although halting lines may be found, they seem to result from some metrical notion rather than any deficiency of ear. He has a lover-like appreciation of natural beauty; imagery is warm and glowing ; passages and indeed small poems may be found where little is wanting to complete poetical excellence, though his forte, we think, lies in the description of nature or the utterance of feeling, more than the expression of deep thought. Like most modern poets, perhaps like all modern poets except Campbell, he is too diffuse, not only in diction but in ideas ; a thought which would be powerful if condensed is flattened by ex- pansion. His greatest fault is want of fusing power or unity. He too often works in mosaic as it were, both in conception and treatment ; conveying an idea of imitation in subject or echo in point of execution, which does not essentially exist. Man in Paradise is an example of this unlucky peculiarity. It will inevitably recall Paradise Lost and Byron's Cain ; al- though there is no actual resemblance to either work. In fact, man in Paradise is not so much the subject as man going out of Para- dise, since the reader is not introduced to Eden till after the Fall. The object of the writer seems to be to ascribe trusting faith to woman and restless doubt to man. Action, in the proper sense of the word, there is none—it is all dialogue and description ; which is a defect in so long a poem. The interlocutors are Adam, Eve, a shadowy spirit representing Doubt, and an Angel. The " su- periority of Adam," which Milton, according to Johnson, so " dili- ntly" sustained, will not be found in Man in Paradise. Mr. i
Reade is more gallant. Eve chases away the spontaneous doubts of Adam, and confutes the suggested scepticism of the apparition by her simple faith ; the Angel at last appears to point out the true limitations of speculation and the real duties of man,—a worthy theme, which the author overlays by a vague luxuriance of words.
. Paradise, however, is only a part of the poem. The two first books involve a description of creation, from the " nebulous " state of the globe, through the leading " developments " which geological science has established and conjectural hypotheses have advanced touching the progress of the world. It is too much overlaid by words, but there are passages of great cleverness, not to say felicity. It is a striking example of the difference between knowledge and " invention." When the poet is describing what is known—as the earlier condition of the earth, in part demon- strated from vegetable and animal fossil remains—he is clear. When he attempts what is only conjecture—as the condensation 'of the nebulous matter, the formation of air and water, the suc- cessive steps of creation—he is vague and misty, at least not satis- fying. In all this the reader will readily see the want of unity ready spoken of. As treated, there is no natural connexion between the first and the last part of the poem, from the tempt- ation and fall being omitted. Neither is sthe poem Biblical or philosophical, but a mixture of each, though the philosophy predominates. "Our Youth, and How it Passed," which follows the principal poem and nearly equals it in length, is a species of autobiography, where the author describes his character and feelings in the prin- cipal seasons of life, as well as some remarkable incidents ; a visit to Peestum, and a tour in Switzerland, for instance. There are many passages of interest, but the whole has more of inward feel- ing and a tendency to reverie than of living ideas or actual doing. There is one remarkable passage from the section called " Mid- day" ; perhaps one of the most singular ever written by an au- thor on his own productions. The expression of this self-criticism is also terse and forcible, with a trick of Dryden in the verse.
" Scrolls laid before him, rent and scattered leaves As from wild Autumn's hair the whirlwind weaves : Thereon as with a feverish hand were traced Thoughts disunited, feelings with quick haste Thrown into verse unfinished or defaced : Didactic moral lifelessly rehearsed :
Dry, worn-out saws, by cold reflection nursed, Confused and broken as by winds dispersed : Fantastic images, grotesque and rude, Bent forth unripened from that solitude : Disjointed phantoms, but in visions seen, Tricked in device of language that had been : Ideas wherein was traced connexion none; Abortive genesis of things begun,
Forsook, ere shape or form distinct was won ; He had essayed the mail he had not proved ; Embodied phantasies he had not loved ; Themes where the eye and heart reposed unmoved ; Cold allegories decked, or quaintly dwelt On fiery passion which he had not felt : Gorgeous word-tissues woven, motley dress Cast mantling over air-blown nothingness ; On a lay-figure heaped in idle strife To quicken the inanimate with life."
Strange, that a writer who perceives all this does not labour after a remedy. Miscellaneous poems of varying merit occupy the remainder of the volume, and occasionally exhibit a sportiveness which is not found in the larger pieces. " The Warnings" pleasantly describes the advance of age and its consequences. But probably the best of these poems is the "Death of the Old Year " : it has invention
• Man in Paradise : a Poem iu Sir Books. With Lyrical Poems. By John Rdmund Read,'. Published by Longman.
in the plan and novelty in the treatment. The Year is personi- fied as a lover of the first three seasons, each of which leaves him in turn, till Winter seizes him and confines him to his couch, where every one save the poet forsakes him, hastening with that " ancient reveller" Christmas to welcome the New Year. We take Summer after Spring has left him ; but the whole is genial and joyous.
" On she came, that joyous creature, Sunlight laughing from each feature ! Glorious Summer ! her bright eyes Lustreing forth from galaxies Of flowers her crowned head enwreathing ; And the life of roses breathing "From her lips entranced the heart ; Till the King forgot coy Spring With her pale wreaths blossoming : For the enchantress held a wand That made time and life forgot ; Till he asked no heaven beyond Being with her own inwrought, Of her own ripe life a part : Taintless of earth's base alloy, While intoxicate with joy.
But, alas ! the cup, while blending Earth with heaven, its lees imparts : And the longest day hath ending, And joy, shadow-like, departs : And she knew the hour was nearing She her sister must pursue, To guard chill or blight from searing Flowers that from her breath renew : But on him a look she stole Of a long and last regret ; For she knew herself the soul Of his spirit since they met ; And on him her full eyes shed
Their latest lustre while she fled."
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