Then crawled I to her feet, in whose dear cause I made this venture, and ‘Behold,’ I said, ‘How I am wounded for thee in these wars.’ But she, ‘Poor cripple, would’st thou I should wed A limbless trunk?’ and laughing turned from me. Yet she was fair, and her name ‘Liberty.’ The sonnet beginning A prison is a convent without God— Poverty, Chastity, Obedience Its precepts are: is very fine; and this, written just after entering the gaol, is powerful: Naked I came into the world of pleasure, And naked come I to this house of pain. Here at the gate I lay down my life’s treasure, My pride, my garments and my name with men. The world and I henceforth shall be as twain, No sound of me shall pierce for good or ill These walls of grief. Nor shall I hear the vain Laughter and tears of those who love me still. Within, what new life waits me! Little ease, Cold lying, hunger, nights of wakefulness, Harsh orders given, no voice to soothe or please, Poor thieves for friends, for books rules meaningless; This is the grave—nay, hell. Yet, Lord of Might, Still in Thy light my spirit shall see light. But, indeed, all the sonnets are worth reading, and _The Canon of Aughrim_, the longest poem in the book, is a most masterly and dramatic description of the tragic life of the Irish peasant. Literature is not much indebted to Mr. Balfour for his sophistical _Defence of Philosophic Doubt_, which is one of the dullest books we know, but it must be admitted that by sending Mr. Blunt to gaol he has converted a clever rhymer into an earnest and deep-thinking poet. The narrow confines of a prison cell seem to suit the ‘sonnet’s scanty plot of ground,’ and an unjust imprisonment for a noble cause strengthens as well as deepens the nature. _In Vinculis_. By Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, Author of _The Wind and the Whirlwind_, _The Love Sonnets of Proteus_, _etc. etc._ (Kegan Paul.) THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO WALT WHITMAN (_Pall Mall Gazette_, January 25, 1889.)