204 CAMPBELL'S THEODRIC· ROMANCE. Yet woo'd, and worshipp'd as she was, till few 666 Her father dwelt where yonder Castle shines p. 3-7. And scorning wealth, look'd cold ev'n on the claim Of manly worth, that lack'd the wreath of Fame.' We pass over the animated picture of the brother's campaigns, and of the fame of Theodric, and the affectionate gratitude of parents and sister for his care and praises of their noble boy. We must make room, however, for this beautiful sketch of his return. "In time, the stripling, vigorous and heal'd, THEODRIC. And fragrance from the mountain herbage blown, "His coming down yon lake his boat in view 205 And all their rapture's greeting, may be guess'd."—p. 12, 13. At last the generous warrior appears in person among those innocent beings, to whom he had so long furnished the grand theme of discourse and meditation. "The boy was half beside himself— the sire, "Thus, loth to wound their hospitable pride, pure esteem.' - p. 17, 18. Symptoms still more unequivocal, however, at last make explanation necessary; and he is obliged to disclose to her the secret of his love and engagement in England. The effects of this disclosure, and all the intermediate events, are described with the same grace and delicacy. But we pass at once to the close of poor Julia's pure-hearted romance. "That winter's eve how darkly Nature's brow 206 CAMPBELL'S THEODRIC CONSTANCE. And whilst their falling echoed to the wind, And Beauty died, and Friendship wept within! "Sweet Julia, though her fate was finish'd half, Still knew him smil'd on him with feeble laughAnd blest him, till she drew her latest sigh! "But lo! while Udolph's bursts of agony, Of Constance - brief and terrible they were," &c.- p. 35, 36. These must suffice as specimens of the Swiss part of the poem, which we have already said we consider as on the whole the most perfect. The English portion is undoubtedly liable to the imputation of being occupied with scenes too familiar, and events too trivial, to admit of the higher embellishments of poetry. The occasion of Theodric's first seeing Constance-in the streets of London on a night of public rejoicing - certainly trespasses on the borders of this wilful stooping of the Muses' flight-though the scene itself is described with great force and beauty. ""Twas a glorious sight! At eve stupendous London, clad in light, In open chariots pass'd, with pearl and plume. The description of Constance herself, however, is not liable to this, or to any other objection. "And to know her well Prolong'd, exalted, bound, enchantment's spell; CONSTANCE · CATASTROPHE. 207 She studied not the meanest to eclipse, And yet the wisest listen'd to her lips; She sang not, knew not Music's magic skill, But yet her voice had tones that sway'd the will."—p. 16. "To paint that being to a grov'lling mind Her temper's fond, and firm, and gladsome zeal, Of that pure pride, which, less'ning to her breast Before the mind completely understood That mighty truth-how happy are the good!"-p. 25. All this, we think, is dignified enough for poetry of any description; but we really cannot extend the same indulgence to the small tracassaries of this noble creature's unworthy relations their peevish quarrels, and her painful attempts to reconcile them - her husband's grudges at her absence on those errands their teazing visits to him and his vexation at their false reports that she was to spend "yet a fortnight" away from him. We object equally to the substance and the diction of the passages to which we now refer. There is something questionable even in the fatal indications by which, on approaching his home, he was first made aware of the calamity which had befallen him though undoubtedly there is a terrible truth and impressive brevity in the passage. "Nor hope left utterly his breast, We shall only add the pathetic letter in which this noble spirit sought, from her deathbed, to soothe the beloved husband she was leaving with so much reluctance. "Theodric! this is destiny above Our power to baffle! Bear it then, my love, As these clasp'd hands in blessing you now join : Shape not imagin'd horrors in my fate- My pard'ning angel, at the gates of Heaven, Shall gloom be from such bright remembrance cast? And kiss these words, where I have left a kiss The latest from my living lips for yours?"- p. 39-41. The tone of this tender farewell must remind all our readers of the catastrophe of Gertrude; and certainly exposes the author to the charge of some poverty of invention in the structure of his pathetic narratives — a charge from which we are not at this moment particularly solicitous to defend him. The minor poems which occupy the rest of the volume are of various character, and of course of unequal merit; though all of them are marked by that exquisite melody of versification, and general felicity of diction, which makes the mere recitation of their words a luxury to readers of taste, even when they pay but little attention to their sense. Most of them, we believe, have already appeared in occasional publications, though it is quite time that they should be collected and engrossed in a less perishable record. If they are less brilliant, on the whole, than the most exquisite productions of the author's earlier days, they are generally marked, we think, by greater solemnity and depth of thought, a vein of deeper reflection, and more intense sympathy with human |