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By Root 15987 0

intended the whole matter, in the first instance, as a solemnly serious thing; and that, having composed it in a grave vein, he became apprehensive of its exciting derision, and so interwove sundry touches of the burlesque, behind whose equivocal aspect, he might shelter himself at need. In no other supposition can we reconcile thespotty appearance of the whole with a belief in the sanity of the author. It is difficult, also, in any other view of the case, to appreciate the air of positive gravity with which he descants upon the advantages toScience which have accrued from a man’s making a frog of himself. Mr. Ward is frequently pleased to denominate Mr. Patch “a martyr of science,” and appears very doggedly in earnest in all passages such as the following:

Through the glad Heavens, which tempests now conceal,

Deep thunder-guns in quick succession peal,

As if salutes were firing from the sky,

To hail the triumph and the victory.

Shout! trump of Fame, till thy brass lungs burst out!

Shout! mortal tongues! deep-throated thunders, shout!

For lo! electric genius, downward hurled,

Has startled Science, and illumed the world!

That Mr. Patch was a genius we do not doubt; so is Mr. Ward; ­but the science displayed in jumping down the Falls, is a point above us. There might have been some science in jumpingup.

“The Worth of Beauty: or a Lover’s Journal;” is the title of the poem next in place and importance. Of this composition Mr. W. thus speaks in a Note: “The individual to whom the present poem relates, and who had suffered severely all the pains and penalties which arise from the want of those personal charms so much admired by him in others, gave the author, many years since, some fragments of a journal kept in his early days, in which he had bared his heart, and set down all his thoughts and feelings. This prose journal has here been transplanted into the richer soil of verse.”

The narrative of the friend of Mr. Flaccus must, originally, have been a very good thing. By “originally,” we mean before it had the misfortune to be “transplanted in the richer soil of verse” — which has by no means agreed with its constitution. But, even through the dense fog of our author’s rhythm, we can get an occasional glimpse of its merit. It must have been the work of a heart on fire with passion, and the utter abandon of the details, reminds us even of Jean Jacques. But alas for this “richer soil!” Can we venture to present our readers with a specimen?

Now roses blush, and violets’ eyes,

And seas reflect the glance of skies;

And now that frolic pencil streaks

With quaintest tints the tulips’ cheeks;

Now jewels bloom in secret worth,

Like blossoms of the inner earth;

Now painted birds are pouring round

The beauty and the wealth of sound;

Now sea-shells glance with quivering ray,

Too rare to seize, too fleet to stay,

And hues out-dazzling all the rest

Are dashed profusely on the west,

While rainbows seem to palettes changed,

Whereon the motley tints are ranged.

But soft the moon that pencil tipped,

As though, in liquid radiance dipped,

A likeness of the sun it drew,

But flattered him with pearlier hue;

Which haply spilling runs astray,

And blots with light the milky way;

While stars besprinkle all the air.

Like spatterings of that pencil there. ­

All this by way of exalting the subject. The moon is made a painter, and the rainbow a palette. And the moon has a pencil (that pencil!) which she dips, by way of a brush, in the liquid radiance, (the colors on a palette are not liquid,) and then draws (not paints) a likeness of the sun; but, in the attempt, plasters him too “pearly,” puts it on too thick; the consequence of which is that some of the paint is spilt, and “runs astray” and besmears the milky way, and “spatters” the rest of the sky with stars! We can only say that a very singular picture was spoilt in the making.

The versification of the “Worth of Beauty” proceeds much after this fashion; we select a fair example of the whole from page 43.

Yes! pangs have cut my soul with grief

So keen that gashes were