ed with his peculiar intellect. We would gladly specify their merits, but must refer the reader to the volumes themselves, and recommend him, by the way, to suspend his judgment, until he has read them twice. We should, likewise, be glad to speak, somewhat in detail, of his Dramatic Lyrics," some of which are written with great power and beauty, and some of which, in their abrupt beginning, and mysterious allusions, and sudden transitions, are as simple as a Chinese puzzle-you have only to find out their meaning in order to understand them. We open at random, and come upon Christina."

"She should never have looked at me

If she meant I should not love her;
There are plenty---men you call such,
I suppose---she may discover
All her soul to, if she pleases,

And yet leave much as she found them;
But I'm not so, and she knew it,

When she fixed me, glancing round them." This is the first verse. Our first exclamation is, "Who the devil is Christina." But there is nothing out of the poem, nor in it, that answers the question very satisfactorily. We are left to guess at the reply to all such suggestions of womanish curiosity. We are next struck by the slovenliness of versification, evidently showing that the poem was a mere impromptu. Indeed, the native freshness of none of these poems has been suffered to evaporate in the tedious processes of revision. But, unfortunately, such meteoric corruscations of poetic frenzy are sometimes a little bewildering to men of cooler imagination, and touchingly recall the injunctions of Horace, in regard to "limae labor et mora, and nonumque prematur in annum. Mr. Browning recite some of these lyrics to a crowd of listeners, and he would soon appreciate the beauty, as well as the necessity, of a more Homeric clearness and simplicity; or, let him subject one of his plays to the ordeal of the stage, and we know of nothing that would sooner teach him his defects in dramatic composition. Yet, however much they might be improved by a more finished versification, and a more simple diction, no one can read such productions as his "Garden Fancies," "The Lost Leader," "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," and "The Boy and the Angel," without a high estimate of the

Let

range, versatility, and originality of his mind.

And here we take our leave of this delightful author, convinced that he has yet high duties to fulfil for his age. Walter Savage Landor has said of him, excepting Shakspeare:

"Since Chaucer was alive and hale,
No man hath walkt along our roads with step
So active, so inquiring eye, and tongue
So varied in discourse;"

and these endowments, he feels, were given, not merely to amuse and delight his generation, but also to subserve the higher offices of teacher and thinker. His aim is not merely to combine the actual forms of Nature, and of life, so that they may feed the sense of beauty and of mirth. He has come into a mechanical time, to find men enamoured of a material prosperity, to see wealth exacting the homage due only to goodness, to see the leaders of public opinion pandering to that low estimate of education and morals, which regards merely their pecuniary value, to see marriage, friendship, social intercourse, the judg ments of mind, and the convictions of conscience, debased in vile thraldom by the despotism of gold; and while he reflects, in the mirror of poetry, all these, and the more lovely and holy characteristics of the age, he is not to forget to pour upon them a luminous effluence from his own spirit, which shall disabuse grosser minds of their false perception, by showing the sad effects of such worldliness upon the undying nature of the soul. He is sent, not merely to create a new world of Faney, but, likewise, to re-create this old world in a higher spirit, as, indeed, the mission of genius is always rather one of regeneration, than of creation. Forgotten truths, old conceptions of duty, old ideals of excellence, are to be revivified under the new aspects of present life. If men, in reliance upon the inventions of human reason, grow regardless of heavenly grace, he is to restore them to humble trust, not only by showing how illusory is that confidence, but, also, by showing how infallibly men grow into a likeness to that in which they confide. If men have set their hearts upon worldly gains, and honors, and delights, he is to open upon them the vision of unseen principles and ideal truth. If they are

dwarfing their minds by a vain admiration of the miracles of their own medianism, he must point to the consummate glories which go forth with the night, and the ineffable beneficence which returns with the rising sun. If, in their superiority of railroad and telegraphic communication, they exult over antiquity, he must sing to them of a time, when the angels of heaven bore messages of light and love between God and his crea

tures. If affection is absorbed in intellect, and intellect is made the drudge of the senses, he must lead the mind back through the heart into the wisdom of love and the beauty of holiness. It is in the discharge of these high functions of poet and teacher, that Mr. Browning manifests his highest excellence, surpassing, we had almost said, with the exception of Wordsworth, every poet of his time.

THIS is a novel, so totally different from all others, that it is difficult to speak of it as such, and yet the conception of the principal character can scarcely be called original. The delineation of Sidonia, in her demoniac career, is not unlike some of the creations of Maturin, Bulwer, Mrs. Shelley, and others, though far beneath them in power. The author refers to absolute evidences, and quotes seriously, we presume, truthfully,- (though we have neither opportunity nor desire to make the research,) from various historical and biographical authorities leaving the reader, nevertheless, to form his own opinion, as to the sources from which he has chiefly drawn ; or, whether, indeed, the story, as a whole, be actually truth or fiction. The style affects an easy, natural gossip, so plain and matter of fact, that the most incredible and ridiculous averments are swallowed whole, like an oyster, slipping down before we have time to taste the quality.

In order to spare the reader any difficulties which might present themselves to the eye and ear, in consequence of the old-fashioned mode of writing, the author professes to have modernized the orthography, and amended the grammar and structure of the phrases. The effect of this "old-fashioned mode," however, is increased by the use of the Latin pronouns Ille, Illa, Hic and Hæc, to denote the different characters speaking in dialogue. The author has made the story a vehicle for the introduction of his own peculiar views of Christianity.

Sidonia Von Bork is said to have belonged to a noble and ancient family of Pomerania. The first public judicial account of her trial for witchcraft is referred to the Pomeranian Library of Dahnert, 4th volume, article 7th, July number, of the year 1756. She is represented as "the most beautiful and the richest of the maidens of Pomerania." A marriage, about to be consummated between her and Duke Ernest Louis Von Wolgast, was prevented by the timely discovery of her infamous character. After many years of a wandering and dissolute life, she entered the convent of Marienflies, became subsequently its Prioress, and was finally convicted and executed for witchcraft.

Of the numerous portraits of this remarkable woman, our author declares himself acquainted with but one, which is at Stargard, near Regenwilde, in the castle of the Count Von Bork. In this portrait, Sidonia, we are told, is represented in the prime of mature beauty. "A gold net is drawn over her almost golden hair, and her neck, arms, and hands are profusely covered with jewels. Her boddice, a bright purple, is trimmed with costly fur, and the robe is of azure velvet. In her hand she carries a pompadour of brown leather, and of the most elegant form and finish. Her eyes and mouth are not pleasing, notwithstanding their great beauty, in the mouth, particularly, one can discern cold malignity. The painting is beautifully executed, and is evidently of the school of Louis Kranach.

Immediately behind this form, there is another looking over the shoulder of Sidonia, like a terrible spectre, (a highly poetical idea,) for this spectre is Sidonia herself, painted as a sorceress. It must have been added, after a lapse of many years, to the youthful portrait, which belongs to the school of Kranach, whereas the second figure portrays unmistaka bly the school of Rubens. The sorceress is arrayed in her death garments-white, with black stripes; and round her thin white locks is bound a narrow band of black velvet, spotted with gold. In her hand is a kind of work-basket of the simplest form."

In the novel its heroine is possessed of a sort of devilish grace and wit, which flashes brilliantly over the proud beauty of her youth, and throws a death-fire light on the the ugliness of her old age. Among the earliest examples of Sidonia's cruel nature, is an anecdote of picking and roasting a goose, alive, which, however, unluckily for the author's assumed antiquity, is precisely after the recipe given by Dr. Kitchener in the Cook's Oracle.

In the bloom of her maiden beauty, Sidonia is taken to the court of Wolgast, and admitted among the Maids of Honor to the Duchess. At the table of this pious lady our heroine betrays her ungodly education, by the inability to say grace; and, on the second, (it being Sunday,) to the amazement and horror of her highness, she is incapable of finding the les

sons for the day, and knows not the New Testament from the Old. She is accordingly placed under the instruction of her Grace's chaplain, Dr. Gerschovius, and required to learn, first, the Catechism Lutheri, and afterward the Catechism Gerschovii; in both of which she fails, and, indeed, turns the whole affair into ridicule, to the great scandal and disgust of her Grace, the Doctor, and the Ladies of Honor.

On the young nobility and gentlemen of the Court, the new inmate produces quite an opposite impression. "All the young 'squires" fall in love with her, and she takes care to throw herself in their way, and by the arts and flatteries with which she knows how to increase the power of her charms, soon wins over the whole court to her interests..

"After dinner, in place of going direct to the ladies' apartments, she would take a circuitous route, so as to go by the quarter where the men dined, and as she passed their doors, which they left open on purpose, what rejoicing there was, and such running and squeezing just to get a glimpse of her-the little putting their heads under the arms of the tall, and there they began to laugh and chat; but neither the Duchess nor the old Chamberlain knew any thing of this, for they were in a different wing of the castle, and besides, always took a sleep after dinner."

With Prince Ernest she is especially successful, and to win his affections, and, through him, to become a Princess of the Ducal House of Pomerania, is her grand object.

The 11th chapter of our novel is headed : "How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, and how she whipped the young Casimir, out of pure evil-mindedness." How she repeated the catechism is as follows:

"The Sunday came at last, when Sidonia was to be examined publicly in the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius. Her Grace was filled with anxiety to see how all would terminate, for every one suspected (as indeed was the case) that not one word of it would she be able to repeat. So the church was crowded, and all the young men attended without exception, knowing what was to go forward, and fearing for Sidonia, because this Dr. Gerschovius was a stern, harsh man; but she herself seemed to care little about the matter, for she entered her Grace's closet as usual (which was right opposite the pulpit) and threw herself carelessly into a corner. However, when the doctor entered the pulpit, she became more grave, and finally, when his discourse was drawing near to the close, she rose up quietly and glided out of the closet, intending to descend to the gardens. Her Grace did not perceive her movement, in consequence of the hat with the heron's plume which she wore for the feathers drooped down at the side next Sidonia, and the other ladies were too

much alarmed to venture to draw her attention to

the circumstance. But the priest from the pulpit

saw her well, and called out-"Maiden! maiden! Whither go you? remember ye have to repeat your catechism!""

Then Sidonia grew quite pale, for her Grace and all the congregation fixed their eyes on her. So when she felt quite conscious that she was looking pale, she said-" You see from my face that I am not well; but if I get better, doubt not but that I shall return immediately." Here all the maids of honor put up their kerchiefs to hide their laughter, and the young nobles did the same.

"So she went away, but they might wait long enough, I think, for her to come back. So they all proceeded to Sidonia's little room; for there she was, to their great surprise, seated upon a chair with a smelling-bottle in her hand. Whereupon her Grace demanded what ailed her, and why she had not staid to repeat the catechism.

"Illa. Ah! she was so weak, she would certainly have fainted, if she had not descended to the garden to have a little fresh air.'"

Then," quoth her Grace, " you shall recite the catechism here for the doctor; for, in truth, Christianity is as necessary to you as water to a fish." The doctor now cleared his throat to begin, but she stopped him pertly, saying

The Duchess, on quitting the maiden, threatens to banish her the Court; for which Sidonia inflicts corporeal revenge upon the little Prince Casimir, who had offered to recite the catechism, instigated by his mother, to put Sidonia to shame.

She took it angrily, and, calling him over, said: Yes; come-I will hear your catechism.' And as the little boy came up close beside her, she slung him across her knee, pulled down his hose, and-oh, shame!-whipped his Serene Highness upon his princely podex, that it would have melted the heart of a stone. How this shows her cruel and mischievous disposition-to revenge on the child what she had to bear from the mother. on the maiden !"

Fie

The celebration of her Highness's birth-day affords a good picture of the barbarism and the splendor of the court. The grand ducal hall is described as of great magnificence, containing a painted window, sixty feet high, delineating the pilgrimage of Duke Bokislaff the Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerhard Horner, a Frieslander, and the most celebrated

painter on glass of his time. In this hall are assembled all the lords of the court, and at the sound of drums and trumpets the great doors, all wreathed with flowers, are flung open by the marshal, and the princely widow enters, with great pomp, leading the little Casimir by the hand. She is arrayed in the Pomeranian costume, a white silk underrobe, and over it a surcoat of azure velvet, brocaded with silver. A long train of white velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths, is supported by twelve pages in black velvet cassocks, with Spanish ruffs. From a coif of scarlet velvet, with small plumes, the Duchess wears a white veil, spangled with silver stars, and hanging to her feet, and from her neck is depended, by a gold and scarlet chain, a balsam flask in the form of a greyhound.

"As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and blushing cheeks, all bowed low and kissed her hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each offered his congratulations as best he could.

Among them came Johann Neander, Archdeacon of St. Peter's, who was seeking preferment, considering that his present living was but a poor one; and so he presented her Grace with a printed tractatum dedicated to her Highness, in which the question was discussed whether the ten virgins mentioned Matt. xxv. were of noble or citizen rank. But Dr. Gerschovius made a mock of him for this afterward, before the whole table."*

Prince Ernest having yielded to the fascinations of Sidonia, it is decided by the Duchessand her honest counsellor, Ulrich, to send the young lady away; but no sooner has she gone than the Prince is seized with convulsions, and carried fainting to his bed, where he only revives to call on Sidonia-his beloved Sidonia. We think we have known gentlemen in these modern times, affected similarly in somewhat similar cases, where the fits were pretty sure to operate on tender female sensibilities. Her Grace summons the

* Over these exegetical disquisitions of a former age we smile, and with reason; but, we pedantic Germans, have carried our modern exegetical mania to such absurd lengths, that we are likely to become as much a laughing-stock to our cotemporaries, as well as to posterity, as this Johannes Neander. In fact our exegetists are mostly pitiful schoolmasters-word-anatomists and one could as little learn the true spirit of an old classic poet from our pedantic philologists, as the true sense of Holy Scripture from our scholastic theologians. What with their grammar twistings, their various readings, their dubious punctuations, their mythical and who knows what other meanings, their hair splittings, and prosy vocable tiltings, we find at last that they are willing to teach us every thing but that which really concerns us, and like the Danaides, they let the water of life run through the sieve of their learning.

The learned Doctor prescribes in vain, and the Duchess recalls Sidonia. The Prince recovers, and between him and Sidonia a private marriage is planned, which is prevented, however, by the accidental discovery, through Clara Von Dewitz, of Sidonia's criminality.

This good and modest Clara stands always in delicate contrast to the splendid beauty and mischievous wickedness, the mingled pride and meanness of Sidonia. Many years afterwards, when Sidonia, separated from the robber band, her associates, is caried forcibly into the Castle of Daber, by her cousin, Marcus Bork, whom she endeavors to stab, the character of Clara is brought out pleasingly:

"All this while no one had troubled himself about Sidonia. My gracious lady wept, the young lords laughed, old Ulrich swore, while the good Marcus murmured softly to his young wife

"Be happy Clara; for thy sake I shall consent to go to Saatzig. I have decided.''

"This filled her with such joy that she danced, and smiled, and flung herself into her mother's arms; nothing was wanting now to her happiness! Just then her eyes rested upon Sidonia, who was leaning against the wall as pale as a corspe. Clara grew quite calm in a moment, and asked, compassionately

"What aileth thee, poor Sidonia ?""

I am hungry!" was the answer. "At this the gentle bride, was so shocked that the tears filled her eyes, and she exclaimed

66 6

Wait, thou shalt partake of my weddingfeast; and away went she.

"The attention of the others was, by this time, also directed to Sidonia. And old Ulrich said'What shall we now do with Sidonia ?'

"Upon which my Lady of Wolgast turned to her, and asked her if she were yet wedded to her gallows-bird?

"Not yet,' was the answer, but she would soon be.'

"Then my gracious Lady spat out at her; and, addressing Ulrich asked what he would advise.

"So the stout old knight said—

"If the matter were left to him he would just send for the executioner, and have her ears and nose slit, as a warning and example, for no good could ever come of her now, and then pack her off next day to her farm at Zachow; for if they let her loose, she would run to her paramour again, and come at last to gallows and wheel; but if they just slit her nose, then he would hold her in abhorrence, as well as other maiden folk.'

During this Clara had entered, and set fish, and wild-boar, and meat, and bread, before the girl; and as she heard Ulrich's last words, she bent down and whispered

"Fear nothing, Sidonia, I hope to be able to protect thee, as I did once before; only eat, Sido