A Dream of Idleness, and other Poems. By W. Cosmo
Monkhouse. (Edward Moxon.)—Mr. Monkhouse tells us he "has written much verse, and hopes to write more." We fear it is our duty, if not to object to his past expenditure of time, to divert his hopes in another direction. The verses are very passable verses for a young man to write, and no more ;—those perhaps called " An Evil Spirit" being the best. We feel sure, however, that there are no good data in this volume for any hope Mr. Monkhouse may have formed that he is a poet. We are strongly inclined to think there are good grounds for an opposite opinion. The lines on "The Night Express" could scarcely have been written by: a man with the organization of a poet. They begin thus :— " With three great anorts'of strength, Stretching my mighty length Like some long dragon gathering his coil, Out from the glare of gas Into the night I pass, And slowly settle to Titanic toil."
A dragon on rails could, we conceive, scarcely "gather his coil " con- veniently, whatever that may mean, but we do not wish to pick holes, but only to point out to Mr. Cosmo Monkhouse that the effort to con- ceive of a great machine, like a locomotive with its train attached, as a living organism, is so very far from the effort of a naturally poetic tem- perament,—so very wide of the natural impression made upon a mind sensitive to the distinctive effects of different objects on our imagination,— that it looks like a systematic attempt to embody the vague nineteenth century creed that steam-power must be poetical at bottom if one could only see where, by a man who believes the creed, but does not see exactly where. Accordingly he puts out tentative feelers (far from successful) in the direction of dragons with noisy nostrils—and this as a symbol of the steady and punctual energy of steam power ! Mr. Cosmo Monkhouse would do better to direct his hopes elsewhere than to a poetical future. What fancy or imagination he has, will probably be useful enough to him in other occupations.
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