'Frail wrecks of mortality! where are they now?
Their glory departed long ages ago;
And woman's smooth cheek and the warrior's stern brow
Lie unmarked from the dust of the quiver and bow.
'Ay, I love thee, proud land! Thou hast eyes that are brighter,
Made radiant with smiles, by no sorrows o'ercast;
Thou hast forms that are fairer and hearts that are lighter,
Than Romance e'er saw in her dreams of the past.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'Bright home of my dreams! may I greet thee again!
In city and country I've mingled with men,
But they part and they meet with as little emotion
As the icebergs that float on the desolate ocean.'
The last couplet here is very original and striking. 'Dying Well,' 'The Lost that Come not Back,' and others which arrested our attention, will be read with pleasure; especially 'Beauty and Fame,' which we regret we have not space to present entire. It will be seen, however, by what we have quoted, that Mr. Kilbourne has a good share of poetic feeling and capability of expression. He has not lived in the world in vain; but with an eye, and an ear, and most of all, a heart. Yet several things are wanting, before our young bard can become an effective poet, which doubtless he must needs desire to be. He has more sensibility than taste; the consequence of which is, that the best passages in his best pieces are marred by the proximity of such as are weak and infelicitous. Then again there is a want throughout the volume of condensation and energy. Mr. Kilbourne must gird himself to greater terseness and strength; he must chisel and refine with a severer taste and more assiduity, before he can reach the place where doubtless bright anticipations have at times placed him. We beg him, in all due kindness, to remember, that it is easier to jump in thought to such a conclusion than actually to attain it. We conclude with the expression of our hope and trust that his day-dreams in this regard, in common with those of other gifted and rising spirits among us, may not have been altogether idle.
[EDITOR'S TABLE.]
Jeffrey and Gifford versus Shakspeare and Milton.—An acute and comprehensive mind, an intelligence superior to prejudice, and an undeviating conscientious spirit of rectitude, are among the necessary endowments of true criticism. But how rare has been this combination, even in the examples of those who have been admitted to be the most distinguished critics of their time! Let the whole history of literature furnish the answer; while we direct the reader to an amusing commentary upon this general theme, which we find in the last number of Frazer's Magazine, under the title of 'Jeffrey and Gifford versus Shakspeare and Milton.' 'We have often amused ourselves,' says the writer, 'by imagining how Shakspeare and Milton would have fared at the hands of these illustrious reviewers had the paramount pair of immortals and the two clever party writers been contemporaries. Let us follow out this curious speculation. To make our suppositions quite plain, we will imagine that the Edinburgh Review existed at the time of Shakspeare; that the disgust which is expressed for the tribunes, or the opposition, and the ministerial contempt of the people, shown forth in 'Coriolanus,' were disagreeable to the Whig party of that day; that Shakspeare's high Tory principles; the admiration which he appears to have felt for kings and princes, and the favor in which he may be fairly supposed to have stood at court; were unpalatable to the Liberals of the day. In such case we may be pretty sure he would have been given over for critical dissection to Mr. Jeffrey, who would probably have chosen the 'Tempest' as the subject of his subacid jocularity. Let us now suppose that the Quarterly Review was established at the Restoration; that Milton's 'Paradise Lost' had just been published by any bookseller but the Murray of those days; that Milton had been placed, a short time previous (as in fact he was) in the custody of the sergeant-at-arms; that his pamphlets for the liberty of the press, and against the prelates, had enraged the opponents of liberal principles and lovers of high-church politics; and it is easy to conclude that these persons would have infallibly consigned him to the secular arm of Mr. Gifford. Both of the worthy gentlemen we have named would, no doubt, have performed their functions to the entire satisfaction of their respective parties; Mr. Jeffrey with the lightness and liveliness which distinguish all he writes; Mr. Gifford with his usual strength and acuteness, mingled with his customary allusions to the personal history of the author whom he is reviewing. But the malice prepense—the intention to murder—would be equally apparent in both cases, though each would have his peculiar method of destroying.' The former editor of the Quarterly would be, like 'Tristan l'Hermite,' flinging his coarse and scurrilous jests upon the unfortunate person about whose neck he was fastening the rope, while his northern rival would rather resemble those eastern mutes who despatch you, with every appearance of respect for your person, with a silken cord.