POISTRY.—Dun Rectum; or, a Forest Tangle. By James Rhoades,. (Kagan
Paul, Trench, and-Co.)—Mr. Rhoades's " Comedy,".as he calls it, is technically entitled to that :same, because it has the happy ending whioh the laws of tragedy forbid. Bat it is a serious drama, written, for the most part, in the ".grand style." The rebellious peasants talk, it ia.trae, a very curious dialect, in which we seem to trace Someraetahire, Lincolnshire, and Cockney speech, the combina- tion representing the patois of the Booby of Sehlafenstein; and the Princess's companion and the Prince's friend spar at each other in elegant iambics, so contributing a comic element. But, as a rule, it is the " pall that comes sweeping by." Very fine verse it is that Mr. Rhoades often writes, and he never falls below an average that may be called good. Here, for instance, is Heinrich the disguised Duke's complaint of the blindness of fortune :- " Is not the whole world's record marred by this That power is oft his birthright. on whose soul Waters has set no mark of sovereignty, But either s ass enslaves him, and his month Needs bit and bridle, whose hand holds the rain, Or thirst for conquest, or mme may creed Of honour, makes his people mi erahle; Or he is one for lowlier service framed By heaven, to labour for the needs of men, As wise physician, skilled artificer,
Or, lover of the soul'. more lonely heights, Pot or saint or sage. There throned he sits, While in the crowd, nanoticed haply, stands The heaven-born ruler; but the same dark fate That made him kingly, made him not a king ; So the blind law of birth confounds us all."
And here is a fine landscape in verse :-
" Why, what a thief art thou. that heat purloined The light. the breath, the lineaments of Nature, And lured them to thy service. The boughs toss, The mist is curdling, and anon will bier
Those air-washed isles of sapphire. How yon spurt Of water sways, blown outward on the fall, Like rent white robes o' the flying Bacchanal, Caught in some windy cleft I "
We most frankly say that it is as a poem rather than as a drama that Dux nedux interests us.—Parva. By E. Fuller Maitland. (Black- wood and Son.)—Mr. Faller Maitland seems to have read his Herrick to some purpose. Now and then, as in the verses to " Orinda : who is Soft-Hearted" (one of the best pieces in the volume), there is a higher tone than Herrick knows. On the whole, we should be inclined to give the palm to " The Alchemist still, I win, does there exist An almighty Alchemist, At whose bidding we behold Dross transformed to shining gold— Dross transformed to shining gem—
Fit for monarch's diadem.
Ms tool indeed his powers: Brokaw playthings, faded flowers, Ribands, such no maidens wear, Conde, and toys, and locks of hair—
Let him touch, and to I they be Things of priceless rarity.
With assurance of his fame Yon would also learn his name ?
Hash !—I speak with bated bre dh- For his name in Love or Death, And as Love or. Death alone, He is unto mortals known."
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