Is what he is by mistake.
For they say that a sleep fell on nature
In the midst of the making of things;
And she left him a two-legged creature,
But wanting in wings.'
Wings! ay, that is what we should all of us like. Fancy being able to soar and tumble in mid-ether, like those pigeons that flash round our roofs. Fancy having power to follow the summer like 'the temple-haunting martlet,' which leaves its house under our eaves for a residence somewhere in Central Asia! What Mr. Courthope wants, in our judgment, is greater imaginative intensity: he plays laughingly with his theme, and even so did Aristophanes, his master; but he does not attain as yet the lofty poetry, the strong humour, which are born of earnestness in Aristophanes.
The Marriage of Peleus and Thetis; and other Poems. By Tankerville Chamberlayne, B.A. Hurst and Blackett.
There is curious variety of style, of finish, and of theme in this little volume. A classical epos is followed by a monody on Lord Derby, and translations from Horace and Heine. Elegies on Napoleon, Peabody, and Mozart, are interspersed with love ditties and theological speculations. A discussion of the probable condition of Napoleon's soul in the other world is terminated by the following most inappropriate couplet:—
''Tis ours in peace to let him rest
With hope upon his Saviour's breast.'