What will the Critics of the Cockney School of Poetry say to this?—Lie on, and swear that it is high patrician poetry, and of very noble birth.
The introductory stanzas are on the same subject, Venice; and are better.
[‘I stood in Venice, on the bridge of sighs,’ &c. (stanzas 1, 2, and 3)].
The thought expressed in the last stanza, ‘but nature doth not die,’ is particularly fine, and consolatory to the mind. We prefer the stanza relating to the tomb of Petrarch, to any others in the poem:—
[‘There is a tomb in Arqua;—rear’d in air,’ &c. (stanzas 30–33)].
The apostrophe to Tasso and to his patron is written with great force, but in a different spirit:—
[‘Ferrara! in thy wide and grass-grown streets,’ &c. (stanzas 35–38)].
In the same strain, and with an alternate mixture of enthusiasm and spleen, the author pays the tribute of acknowledgement to the artist of ‘the statue that enchants the world,’ to the shades of Michael Angelo, Alfieri, ‘the starry Galileo,’ Machiavel, and to the Bard of Prose, ‘him of the Hundred Tales of Love’—Boccacio.
From these recollections the poet proceeds to describe the fall of the Velino, ‘a hell of waters.’ We cannot say but that we think his powers better suited to express the human passions than to reflect the forms of nature. In the present instance, however, the poet has not invoked the genius of the place in vain: it represents, in some measure, the workings of his own spirit,—disturbed, restless, labouring, foaming, sparkling, and now hid in labyrinths and plunging into the gloom of night. The following description is obscure, tortuous, perplexed, and abortive; yet who can say that it is not beautiful, striking, and impassioned?—
[‘How profound