THE REVOLUTIONARY EPICK.

STANDING on the plains of Troy, "the lightning playing over Ida," and so tbrth," DISRAELI the Younger" conceived the scheme of the Revolutionary Epick. Raised by the fine frenzy of the mo- ment, or the contemplation of the intended work, to a juxtaposition with the mightiest of vanisbea ages, he determined to journey the road they had travelle.d. The poet, thought he, embodies the spirit of his time. The heroic age " produced, in the Iliad, an heroic epick ; the consolidation of the most superb of empires pro- duced, in the -Eneid, a political epick ; the revival of learning and the birth of vernacular genius presented us, in the Divine Comedy, with a national epiek ; and the Reformation and its conaequences called from the rapt lyre of MILTON a religious epick." The greatest is behind. The present age ia the age of Revolution. The genius of " DISRAELI the Younger" has received the im- press of the age. lie has jumped to the conclusion that " for him remains the Revolutionary epick."

IL requires no extraordinary critical perception to see, that the effects which the impress of the age produced upon the great poets to whom allusion is made, were indirectly shoal'. They were ex- hibited in the choice of a subject, and in its mode of treatment ; in the manners and senthnents of the characters, in their way of acting and conversing ; and in the general cast of thought and sty le of expression throughout the poem. it is mobable that those mighty men thought no more of " embodying the spirit of the time," than the choicest productions of nature have an idea of dis- playing the effects of "air and sun and shower," of an adapted soil, of innumerable experiments, and of careful cultivation. They brought forth their works as the teeming eat th produces her fruits, in due season, with as little of apparent effort, and in as complete state. Or if the notion of representing the character of the age presented itself to their minds, their consummate art taught them it must be carefully concealed. We sec how VinGt r. fared in his .endeavour to combine reality with fable—to paint AUGUSTUS as " pater A:Was." We may guess how faint would have been the " itopiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer " of the individual Achilles, bail II 0 NI ER attempted to represent an abstract conception. How weak and yet how wearisome would have been the first book of the Thad, had the goddess-born been brought forth as the embodied spirit of heroism, to !nit in a plea against Thersites the demagogue; compared with the spirit-stirring interest and dramatic action con- sequent upon the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilies, and the en- deavours of the dillarent monarchs to compose the strife! How heavy would have been the opening of Paradise Lost, liad the vigorous controversial coarseness of LUTHER, or the strong severity of A I.VI N, been substituted for the description of the "dungeon horrible," the rousing and mustering of the infernal host., and the gathering of the princes of hell around their yet undaunted leader! As to the Rerolationary Epick, the first book only is before us; and its contents are soon told. Demogorgon is seated on his throne, surrounded by the " spirits of his host," ranking according to their respective grades. In consequence of the changes upon the earth, Magros, the genius of Feudalism, and Lyndon, the genius of deralisw, appear before him, to refer thin cause to his decision. Meatus, as the elder, and, it would appear, the plaintiff, has the privilege of speaking first; and with his Conservative oration in favour of Aristocracy, wherein every thing that took place under its sway is represented as springing from its blessings, the volume concludes. The second book is to contain the answsr of Lyndon. When this is finished, we guess that Demogorgon, or Omniscience, will be unable to decide the case. The world will be left to itself, to choose between the rival principles ; Magtos and Lyndon will form the machinery of the (Tick ; and the action will commence with the third book.

Of course, no opinion can be formed upon the epiek, because we as yet know nothing of it : " the Spanish fleet I cannot see, be- cause 'us not in sight: But it appears to us injudicious to occu- cupy so large a portion of a work with introductory matter; and it may be gathered from our preceding observations, that we have no great faith in illustrative poems, where the duke is pretty sure to sink in proportion as the utile rises, or where, too frequently, they both evaporate. Considering the present book as a phi- losophic poem, composed designedly to represent one side of a sub- ject only, its merits and defects may be quickly despatched. In the greater part, it is a florid rhapsody, brilliantly gorgeous, but more rhetorical than poetical. In its inferior passages, the sen- .timents are so overlaid with words, or the attention so diverted from the leading idea by a profusion of images, that the mind can only comprehend distinctly by an ellart; the figures are disguised, not draped. In the best parts, there is much eloquence, some tenderness, and at times a laconic and pointed richness. The description of the social state in the last decline of the Roman Empire, superadds to these qualities a philosophical truth, and exhibit* the very essence of history.

That antique globe seened then in its decay—

Creeds, customs, statutes, changing like a dream,

The dying dream of dim decrepitude—

Feeble and nerveless, wild at once and weak.

A change that had no order and no aim, The shifting of the sufferer in his cell, 'Who varies torture with his restlessness.

And all was pithless, silent, vague, and dull, Anil Nature and Society both seemed Alike exhausted like an ancient pair Upon the winter of whose latter days Pour thick the shrivelled leaves, that gusty Sorrow Drives from Misfortune's tree. A piteous scene ! War brought no glory, Peace bore no delight ;

The hand forgot its craft—the eye its skill—

All sense of beauty, and all sights of love, Droop'd off and died; the temple of high thought Raised by the lofty souls that conquer 'Time,

Each hour some falling column told its fate—

The very soul of man seen1 changed and struck, For even his crimes lacked vigour, though most vile--.

The craft of woman and the eunuch's spite—

All honour, justice, love of father-land, And holy faith, and household chastity, And the high soul that will not breathe a blare,

And all fur which men strive, or live, or the, All wither'd from the fare of the wan earth—

While mid the ruins of her palaces, Discruwn'd Empire, with her toothless threats. Sat like a beldame on a churchyard tomb, At whom the urchins scoff.

Here is a rich picture, though the allegory is somewhat forced.

Whoso within the mighty woods may lie, What time refulgent June her votary calls Upon the fragrant turf his form to fling, And build bright castles in a summer sky, Shall view the mien of some majestic oak, Spreading its noble branches in the air, Ifpun the bosom of the heated eat th Deep shadows casting. 31ark its awful trunk ! Column superb ! A navy ia its eore! Firm in the roots of ages, see it shoot Its valiant members from its sapful heart ; From these broad boughs dependent branehes spring, And gentler shoots from them, till in the end Some slender spray, whet eon a little bird May sing in innocence. While everywhere, Or thick as bowers where lovers choose to sigh, Or glancing in the sun's transparent gleam, And quivering with the breeze that scarcely breathes, So thm, so delicate; the lively leaves Rejoice in their existence ! Beautiful ! The starry heavens and the leafy woods! And oh ! as round a regal sun may roll Triumphant planets, as from parent trunk Swell the wide branches, and the vigorous boughs, Thus did a bright and strong nobility Gather around the glory of a throne !

We have not space fur inure extracts, but these are sufficient for specimens of a specimen. The reader will perhaps think, that if the whole work is ta be composed in a similar strain to the last quotation, it will bear small resemblance to an epick poem, and have still fewer marks of the impress of the age. The heroic style is simple, the heroic taste severe, the heroic narrative rapid, and dealing more perhaps in compound words and similes, than in short allegories, which distract the attention and destroy the unity of the narration. Both the spirit of heroic poesy and the spirit of the age are stoutly opposed to an inflated mode of composition. We also suspect that " D'Isaasts the Younger" has not the dramatic power necessary to sustain the action of an epick, or the universality of genius which raises its owner above the sins of af- fectation and egotism.