the song. The ballad of "Woodman, spare that tree"--one of those
accidents of genius which, however, never happen but to consummate
artists--is so familiar to every mind and heart, as to resent
citation. Take, then, "My Mother's Bible." We know of no similar
production in a truer taste, in a purer style, or more distinctly
marked with the character of a good school of composition. Or
take "We were boys together." In manly pathos, in tenderness and
truth, where shall it be excelled? "The Miniature" posses the
captivating elegance of Voiture. "Where Hudson's Wave" is a glorious
burst of poetry, modulated into refinement by the hand of a master.
Where will you find a nautical song, seemingly more spontaneous in
its genial outbreak, really more careful in its construction, than
"Land-ho!" How full of the joyous madness of absolute independence,
yet made harmonious by instinctive grace, is "Life in the West!"
That the same heart whose wild pulse is thrilled by the adventurous
interests of the huntsman and the wanderer, can beat in unison
with the gentlest truth of deep devotion, is shown in "When other
Friends are round Thee." "I love the Night" has the voluptuous
elegance of the Spanish models. Were we to meet the lines "Oh, think
of me!" in an anthology, we should suppose they were Suckling's--so
admirably is the tone of feeling kept down to the limit of
probable sincerity--which is a characteristic that the cavalier
style of courting never loses. "The Star of Love" might stand as
a selected specimen of all that is most exquisite in the songs of
the "Trouveurs." "The Seasons of Love" is a charming effusion of
gay, yet thoughtful sentiment. The song, "I never have been false
to thee," is, of itself, sufficient to establish General Morris's
fame as a great poet--as a "potens magister affectuum"--and as
a literary creator of a high order. It is a thoroughly fresh and
effective poem on a subject as hackneyed as the highway; it is as