The presence and protection of his God,
And in that strength is strangely confident

'Gainst all the world. Oh would'st thou take on thee

High enterprize, daring and dangerous,

Be thou religious-that thou may'st be strong,
And beat all barriers down. Look up to God,
And down on man; trusting so fervently
As shall flame out and dissipate all fear,
So shalt thou turn thy brow to adamant
Against the opposer's threats; doubting no doubt,
Dreading no dread; but doing all thou dost
As thou hadst heard God's voice within thy ear,
Go do it. Our greatness is but this, to be
Thus greatly ancestored-coming from God;
For what but littleness can come of man,

From the worm he is? he must put off himself,

And be regenerate unto the Lord,

Then shall he feel a strength to wield the whole world.
Then, as the heaven is high above the earth,

So shall his courage rise above his fear,
Till the hugest fear show faint as a far speck;
And the most stormy blast danger can blow,
He will lay bare his head, open his breast,

To brace his nerves by its breath- Danger, come on,
Thou'rt but a storm, and soon thou must blow o'er;
I'll stand and shout against thee.' Such e'en then,
Was the spirit that possest young Hermann's soul."

We lament all the more the author's error in this respect, as in the character of Arthur Hermann, otherwise Ernest, he has shewn that degree of skill in depicting moral agency, which might have stood him in good stead. He is described as being one of an organised brotherhood.

"Where every man was zealous, not alone
With his single zeal, but with the fervency

Of the whole host. They had been banded long-
But so, as by the rulers of the land

They were deemed only what they seemed to be,
Preachers, austere and devout listeners,

Aiming at Heaven, and for this earth's estate,
How it were ruled, little regarding it,

Nor caring to disturb. Thus as they grew,
Others confided-truly confidence

Thou'rt a good swordsman, but yet all unfit
To hold the shield. And so this people waxed
Daily and hourly, trunk and branches too,
Spreading o'er all the region round about,
Like a fresh fame; that who of the poor sort,
Belonged not to them, lived as one plague-sick
So shunned and pointed at. They'd a good cause,
And more than that, they had a method too
Bettering that goodness. He is but a fool
Who would cry down a state with another cry
Than that of religion: treason's a hot taste,
And needs hot appetite to swallow it-
A hot enthusiastic appetite;

And this enthusiasm is a fire

That feeds on its own smoke-easy kept up,
If we but starve it of all solid food,

And diet it with vapours. Who sees clear
He is no zealot: truth doth purge for him
Those visionary fumes; but where none knows,
And each man' may believe whate'er he list,
There is the enthusiast a king indeed,
And of wide royalty: then hail to thee,
Religion, nursing mother of that fire,

Predestined to consume the bonds of man,
Easy as withered tow!"

Rulers of the land! here is your ignorance and its specific kind, distinctly pointed out! Ponder on this, as ye value the safety of the realm! The men who have arrayed themselves against you, are, as they style themselves, "Saints"-men having "ever in their mouth the praise of God, and in their sinewy hands a twoedged sword, to execute sharp vengeance-to smite kings to the ground, and smitten, to bind them in chains, them and their nobles too." The poem proceeds to describe other means of enlarging their numbers, and improving the discipline of their adherents. "To sum all,

They were a mass so many as might well
Peril a stronger state, and all in one

So bonded and compact, as needs must make
That staggering peril a sure overthrow."

Nor do we believe that there is any poetical exaggeration in these descriptions. All things being thus prepared, advantage is taken of a public fair to throng the spot in fearful multitudes-the yeomanry, who are present, demand the surrender of Hess, Hermann, and Linsingen: this is refused. Christopher Ernst is foremost in the fray that ensues-and is slain,—

The old harper declares, that he saw the souls of Ernest and others who died in the conflict,

"mount up on high,

In a strange glory to the sky."

And, encouraged by his wild strains, the party proceed to attack the castle of Count Stolberg, whose dead body lies on the field. The reader will perceive, that to disguise the immediate design of the poem, German names are given to persons and places, clearly English.

The eleventh book commences with a vigorous apostrophe to daringness" that has hands only, and no tongue at all." The Stolberg garrison annihilated by the popular wrath; the conspirators then take counsel together, and resolve to procure to their cause the aid of the smugglers on the coast. This is done and the statement of the means shews the poet's knowledge of the kind of life predicated. The service is proposed for Linsingen, who, as the

N. S.-VOL. II.

F

head, refuses to be the feet, and, therefore, the task is undertaken by the more generous Hermann, who turns out in the end to be not the old traitor's son, but a foundling of the royal family of Ernest. Linsingen, Lucy, and her father, fall victims to the insurrectionary movement. Nevertheless, it is more than a revolt-it is a revolution. The popular cause succeeds; and the poem thus concludes:

"But Hermann! where is he?

Where is the king? come forth and show thyself,
That loyalty may do thee obsequious due,

And crown thee with a free crown laurel-wreathed
By victory. Oh, come, they call for thee,
Thy faithful people. Shine in their glad eyes,
And be so kingly in thy grace, as they
Are loyal in their love. All ask of thee,
Questioning darkly, in wild tumultuous wise,
But none may answer them. Why, 'tis most strange?
Strange as the trunk and limbs to stand alone,
And the head gone-when was it heard before,
A king was lost and no more known of him,
More than a gypsey's brat. Treason, speak out;
Hast slain him? if thou hast, thou'lt answer it
Fearfully to such wrath as ne'er raged yet,
The wrath of a mad people. But who last
Beheld him? in what place and circumstance,
What time? Then many spake, but only one
Was listened, for his grave authority
Outweighed the worth of many witnesses:
"Twas he—the honest shepherd then came forth
And said, I loved him much, and honoured him,
And therefore through the danger of the day
I watched him close: when we broke out at last
He was in front of us, cheering us on,

Himself the first of the rush. I followed him
Fearless, for there was something more in him
Than doth belong to man; so it seemed then,
And so his bearing shewed. He rode forthright
O'er rough and level, hill, brushwood and bog,
Through the wild panic of the enemy
In midst of danger; and soliciting death,
But ne'er inflicting it: striking no stroke;
Firing no shot at all, but with sword hung
Heavily from his hand by his horses' flank,
E'en as his arm were shattered, so he rode,
And so I followed him up to the stream,

Or hard upon; when, as we neared the bank,
Down fell my horse stumbling in the thick furze,
I under him-and there, senseless and stunned,

I saw no more; but rising after awhile,

Looked round, and nought was there in front of me,
But the swift river flowing silently

Behind; and on each side the din of war
Roaring as ye all heard it. I've said all.

Heaven grant us better certainty than this

That I can shew." Then was much murmuring,
Since that no light appeared from all that tale

But darker doubt. Then was the river too

Questioned with drags, and with all manner of search
To tell the truth: vainly-for were it so,

Yet such a royal prize once chanced to him
Was little hope that he would render it,
And so perplexity, all means being spent,
Stood there with folded arms. But time past on
Indifferent; and days were heaped on days
To a full month; and in that while the folk
Confest the hand of God seen plainly there,
And grew to cheerful calm: then as they met
Duly, for statement of their ordinance;

And there was question who for their lost king
Should rule them in his stead-" No, we'll have none,
(Cried the conspiring universal voice,)

No other ruler. only his memory

And the rule he gave shall be our sovereign,

And in his empty throne none else shall sit

Till he return-for he but bides his time,

As ancient Providence hath so ordained;
And as of late he did no less again.

He will revisit us at pinch of need,

Watchful whene'er. Meanwhile we'll honour him

Our patriot hero, in honour next to God,

With ceremonious due, festal and full,

The yearly celebration of set days,

And with heart-worship holier than all,

And deeper? that this land's prosperity

May ne'er forget herself whence she first rose,
Nor him the fountain and the source of all:
But emulate her ever-growing weal

With the like growth of fuller gratitude,-
So be it and Ernest, when thou com'st again,
As thou would'st find us so may we be found.".

This reminds us of Sophocles' Edipus Coloneus.

We have now given sufficient specimens to show the spirit in which the physical-force principle is conceived, and the intelligence, both poetical and religious, by which it is supported. Singular that the Chartist-cause, even in its cradle, should possess a poet to render it at once immortal. It is so: for this work once made known to the public, can never die. It can never die, for it is a work of genius. We blush not that we have mentioned in connexion with it, the productions of Milton and Dante. Would, however, that the author had learned wisdom from their experience. He knows not what he has lost by it. He might have made this poem the epic of the age, suited to its wants and character; but in this he has failed because of his one-sidedness. Homer celebrates Hector quite as much as Achilles-he does justice to both parties. But the poet of Ernest is blind to the excellence of existing institutions, and the merit of established functionaries. He has contented himself with being the poet of a party, when he might have been the poet of his time. We are not insensible to the claims of the operatives; and in our "Judgement of the Flood," asserted their rights in such parts of the poem as related to the race of Cain, who are the workmen of the antediluvian period; but we shewed also what of

right belonged to the races of Abel and of Seth; and no poem that takes up this great argument, should treat it under fewer than these three points of view. Pity, with the advantages of a subject coming to the business and bosoms of all people at the present day, that a writer of the ability before us, should address one section of social interests, and that in a manner subversive of all present good, and establishing no future equivalent.

It could easily be proved that his plan of political regeneration is a mere dream; that he substitutes opinions for principles, and that the principles assumed are carried out more beneficially by existing arrangements, than they could be by those he proposes to substitute.

We have said something above of the subject being fitted for the epic of the age, when such shall be written; and might, if more wisely planned, have made, even this, the predicated work. recollect walking with Mr. THOMAS CARLYLE down Regent Street, when he remarked, that we poets had all of us mistaken the argument that we should treat. "The past," he said, " is all too old for this age of progress. Look at this throng of carriages, this multitude of men and horses, of women and children. Every one of these has a reason for going this way rather than that. If we could penetrate their minds, and ascertain their motives, an epic poem would present itself, exhibiting the Business of Life as it actually is, with all its passions and interests, hopes and fears. A poem, whether in verse or prose, conceived in this spirit, and impartially written, would be the epic of the age." And in this spirit it was that he conceived the plan of his own "French Revolution, a History."

Considering the political aim and tendency of this poem, it was not without reluctance or advice, that we resolved on giving it this prominent notice. We were, on one side, counselled to throw contempt on it, to cover it with ridicule because of its cause. But we considered that nothing could be more contemptible or ridiculous than such a line of proceeding. On the other hand, we were recommended (and among our advisers on this side, was no less an authority than William Wordsworth, with whom we had lately the pleasure of conversing on this and other subjects) to give the author all the credit due to him, rather to err; indeed, on the side of praise than of blame; and then to urge on the statesman-like mind the attention and consideration that a phenomenon of the sort naturally demanded. For is not the appearance of such a poem, under such circumstances, something in the nature of a miracle? Moreover, does it not utter the groans and supposed wrongs of millions of our countrymen? Should we not see to this? If the lower orders of society have their attention directed to the first principles that lie as the ground and basis of society, is it not due to the manner in which they have recently been sported with for partypurposes? Have not the Poor Law Amendment Act, and the criticisms for and against it, in the leaders of influential newspapers, had strong and deep influence on the agitated intellect of the time; always at work now to canvass every new measure?