Poems. By Thomas Wilson. (Glasgow : Murray.)—Mr. Wilson is a
gentleman whose poetical gifts appear to be of a somewhat versatile kind. Within the narrow compass of one small volume be gives us a sensation drama called "Sir Ralph Meredith ;" a dramatic sketch, entitled
4 Vanderdecken," in which the Flying Dutchman is intended to "embody those doubts and perplexities which in the present age are shaking the traditions of the past to their foundations ;" and a few minor poems, some of which are of a more or less comic nature. We are inclined tc regard "Sir Ralph Meredith" as the gem of the volume. Mr. Wilson possesses the happy faculty of blending most harmoniously language of transpontine energy with the simple utterances of every-day life. Thus, there is the genuine Victoria ring in the following retort from a willanous notary, in reply to an insult from Sir Ralph :—
" But I have seen too much of this strange world, Fathomed earth's good and ill, and learnt to count Such outbursts but as wasteful excrement."
On the other hand, nothing can be more touchingly natural than the reply of Miss Adeline Meredith, when her lover, observing that she looked sad, asks her what ails her:— " Well, I hardly know myself, And yet I am not happy as I should be."
And in another speech of the aforesaid notary we have a happy combi- nation of both styles :— "Now, baffled murderer ! for I name thee such, As such was thy intent, let us proceed To business."
'These extracts give a very fair idea of Mr. Wilson's quality.
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