BOOKS.

A HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY.* To produce a fine selection of English poetry is perhaps one of the most difficult of editorial labours. The mine from whence this

wealth must be extracted is so vast, and contains so much of what seems like gold but is in reality mere pinchbeck, that not only critical insight, but downright bard work is requisite, before it is even possible to separate the counterfeit from the pure metal. And this sifting process, infinitely wearisome though it be, is but one step in the investigation. When the dross has been cast aside, the gold itself requires to be weighed with the most careful and deli- cate precision. So much wealth has to be compressed within a narrow compass, that the labourer is forced to reject much of sterling worth for the sake of what he deems worthier. His aim should be to bring together not what is intrinsically good, but what is unquestionably best ; to meet the reasonable demands of readers capable of estimating his work, as well as of the general public to whom he looks for its pecuniary success. And this is not all. The compiler of such an anthology is forced, since the range is so extensive, to restrict himself within clearly defined limits. If he wander too widely, he may fail from an excess of freedom, and he will best accomplish his end by a resolute restraint.

If proof be needed of the truth of these remarks, it will be found in the fact that of the scores of poetical selections extant there are few that from a literary point of view can be deemed of value, and of these the scheme of the collector has in every instance been carefully restricted. Charles Lamb's Specimens of English Dramatic Poets and Leigh Hunt's Selections from Beaumont and Fletcher have taken an independent and, we believe, a permanent place in our literature, a position due in great measure to the choice criticism with which these charming writers have enlivened their volumes, but due perhaps even yet more to a clearly defined and carefully fulfilled intention. And in this respect it is impossible to exaggerate the merits of Mr. Palgrave's Golden Treasury. That precious little volume, which deserves a place in the smallest library, and in the pocket or portmanteau of every traveller, is specially remarkable for the wise principles of selection on which it is based. A critic of the highest order, with a taste that is rarely at fault, and an enthusiasm sufficiently tempered with discretion, Mr. Palgrave has not only brought together the rarest gems of English lyric poetry, but he has done this so as to add an historical interest to the poetic value of the book. Ile has linked one age of our literature to another, in rhythmical harmony, showing how the poetry of different eras • .4 Household Boat of Boglish Petry. Selected and arranged with Notes. By Richard Chenovix Trench, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. London; Macmillan & Co. 4 possesses a lyrical unity, the poets a family likeness,—and he has done all this not by didactic precepts, but by the choicest illus- trations of the art. We suppose the Golden Treasury must be

termed a compilation, but it is a compilation that possesses many of the marks of a fine original work—high culture, critical insight, breadth of knowledge, and comprehensive taste.

With such a rival in the field as Mr. Palgrave, it may, perhaps, appear strange that Archbishop Trench should venture to produce a household book of English poetry, and conscious that such an objection might be urged, ho has anticipated it in the preface :

"The first question which I asked myself [ho says] when I resumed a purpose long ago entertained, and then for a long while laid aside, of publishing such a selection of English poetry as the present, was this, namely, whether Mr. Palgravo's Golden Treasury had not so oc- cupied the ground that there was no room for one who should come after. Tho selection is ono made with so exact an acquaint- ance with the sources from which his Treasury was to bo re- plenished, with so fine a taste in regard of what was worthy to be admitted thero, that this was the conclusion to which at the first I was disposed to arrive. Presently, however, I saw reason to change my mind. The volume which I meditated was on so different a scheme and plan from his, that while, no doubt, I should sometimes go over ground which he had gone over before, it was evident that for the most part our paths would bo different and my choice not identical with his. This to so great an extent has proved the case, that of more than throe hundred pieces which compose this volume, less than seventy have appeared in his, and it is easy to perceive how this should be. His is a Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language, and of these exclusively ; but within this circle he proposes to include all which is of first-rate excellence in our language by authors not living. My scheme is at once broader and narrower ; broader in that I limit myself to no particular class of poetry, and embrace the living and the dead alike; narrower in that I make no attempt to be exhaustive, or to give more than a very few samples even of tho best and greatest of our poets."

The Archbishop adds, in justification of the work, that many poems included in almost all collections will be looked for in vain in this, while not a few which, so far as he knows, none have in- cluded, have found room in it. " It is not always," he says, "that I have considered what I bring forward better than what to

make place for it I set aside ; but where I have only considered it as good, it has seemed a real gain to put new treasures within the reach of those who are little able, or if able are little likely, to go and discover such for themselves."

That the compiler has not entered upon his work without

reasonable grounds is fully made out by the preface; but the best justification of this household book will be found in its contents. The range, as in the case of the Golden 7'reasury, covers three

centuries ; but unlike that volume, this collection includes the poems of living writers. So that while the book opens with Sylvester, Spenser, and Ben Jenson, it closes with Tennyson and Browning, with Walt Whitman and Buchanan.

Notwithstanding the merits of this " Household Book," we do not anticipate for it the praise and popularity accorded to Mr. Palgrave's collection. Of the 288 poems in the Golden Treasury

there is scarcely one which is not marked by melody of language, or felicity of poetic thought, by lofty imagination, or graceful fancy ; by some of those qualities, in short, which distinguish the song, however humble, of the true poet from the brilliant exercises of the versifier. A man may express noble thoughts in irreproach- able metre without being a poet, but such thoughts might have been uttered as well, if not better, in prose ; whereas, the thought which is essentially poetical cannot be said, but must of necessity be sung. The spirit of Archbishop Trench's collection is didactic rather than lyrical, and we think that in many instances the com- piler has shown more regard to force of language or to a quaint originality of thought, than to those characteristics which belong to the poet, and to the poet alone.

The pithy disticbs of Barton Holyday, for instance, would well deserve insertion in a selection of epigrammatic sayings, but appear inappropriate in a volume of household poetry. Quito out of place, too, as it seems to us, in such a selection are such poems as " The Soul's Errand," by an anonymous writer, or " The World's Fallacies," by Quarles which seems to have been

suggested by it, or the " Hymn for Advent," by Jeremy Taylor, most impotent of writers in verse, most eloquent in prose I or "Tho Valediction," by good Richard Baxter, who also became crippled and sterile when he affected metre. Moreover, exce0 from association, the lines of Charles I., "A Royal Lamentation," greatly abridged in the collection, have no interest whatever, and

the rather long and anonymous poem entitled " Loyalty Confined " has not even this merit. We might also take objection to some pieces inserted in this volume composed by men of conspicuous ability, but who wrote verse as Warren Hastings wrote it, for relaxation, and wrote it ill, were it not that Archbishop Trench defends their introduction on the ground that poems from such authors "must always have a special interest for us." We do not question the interest, but we maintain that it is of a scarcely legi- timate character. Because these men have done badly or even moderately well what they had better not have done at all, it does not follow that their efforts, however curious, should be stereotyped in an anthology. If Mr. Tennyson were to produce a volume of sermons no doubt intense interest would be excited, but it does not follow that a place ought to be found for the poet's theology in a body of English divinity.

These, however, are matters of opinion, for it is not to be expected that a collector of poems and a reviewer of the poems collected should in all instances see with the same eyes. Suffice it that, on the whole, the book is worthily compiled, and that it has a character of its own which marks it off with evident distinctness from other collections of English poetry.

Many familiar names and others less known, but almost equally worthy, are omitted from this anthology. Among the earlier poets no place is found for Daniel, for Browne of the Pastorals, or for the two Fletchers, Phineas and Giles ; among the later poets we miss Shenstone, Goldsmith, Crabbe, Hemans, Praed, Rogers, and others. Again, while several notable poets are but slightly represented,—Pope, Cowper, Southey, and Mrs. Brown- ing, for example,—others, like William Drummond, William Blake the poet-artist, Hartley Coleridge, and David Gray are lavishly cared for. Indeed, Archbishop Trench, as already inti- mated, has aimed at novelty, and there are few poetry lovers who will not find in this volume some sweets hitherto nntasted.

We are glad to see, by the way, that due praise is given to Henry Vaughan, whose poetic store has been conspicuously rifled by at least one modern poet. Vaughan acknowledged Herbert as his master, but we agree with Archbishop Trench in a preference for the pupil. The Silex Scintillans, which was published in a modern shape by Pickering about twenty years ago, contains, with not a few verses crude and fantastical, much sacred poetry of the highest order, and some written with a graceful freedom that the reader fresh from the quaint and often grotesque verses of Herbert cannot fail to appreciate. Another poet of the same period, who

receives from tho compiler a due meed of praise, is Charles Cotton,—" hearty, cheerful Mr. Cotton," as Lamb calls him,—

whose poems, although praised by Wordsworth and Coleridge, are read by few :—

" They are sometimes prosaic [says the Archbishop], sometimes blemished by more serious faults, but for homely vigour and purity of language, for the total absence of any attempt to conceal the deficiency of strong and high imagination by a false poetic diction, purple rags torn from other men's garments, and sewn upon his own, he may take his place among the foremost masters of the tongue."

We are glad, too, to find here the best illustrations of the genius of Davenant and Sylvester, both true poets, and both comparatively unknown. Sylvester was born several years earlier than Herbert, and as a proof that what we consider quaintness was not the natural product of the age, we may quote his brief poem upon " Content," which has the ring of sonic verses on the same subject conceived more recently. One stanza is omitted for the sake of brevity :— "I weigh not fortune's frown or smile ; I joy not much in earthly joys ; I seek not state, I seek not style ; I am not fond of fancy's toys ; I rest so pleased with what I have, I wish no more, no more I crave.

" I quake not at the thunder's crack ; I tremble not at noise of war ; I awound not at the news of wrack ; I shrink not at a blazing star ; I fear not loss, I hope not gain ; I envy none, I none disdain.

"I feign not friendship where I hate ;

I fawn not on the great in show ; I prize, I praise a mean estate—

Neither too lofty nor too low : This, this is all my choice, my cheer— A mind content, a conscience clear."

There is so much in this admirable collection suggestive of criti- cism that we are tempted to add to these remarks ; but enough has been said perhaps to show the character of the volume ; and if this has been done, any further comment is superfluous. Hence- forth the Household Book of English Poetry should be placed on the same shelf which contains the Golden Treasury. The charm and worth of the one will be beet appreciated by a knowledge of the other also.