After having thus breathed his passion, in a diatribe which beats in abomination any slang that was ever ranted out of a tub by a mountebank saint, he harps back upon the prodigious attractiveness of his mistress, in the following pathetic, though not very consistent terms-- "Ah but had you known my Lilian! (a sweet name?) Indeed, indeed, I doted on my Lilian. None can praise her half her meed. Perfect in soul; too gentle--others' need she made her need; "_Quite passionless_, but ever bounteous-minded even to waste; Much tenderness in talking; very urgent, yet no haste; _And chastity--to laud it would have seem'd almost unchaste._ "Graced highly, too, with knowledge; versed in tongues; a queen of dance; An artist at her playing; a most touching utterance In song; her lips' mild music could make sweet the _clack_ of France." Amid such outpourings of feculent folly, it is scarcely worth our while to take notice of the minor offences against good taste that abound in these poems; yet we may remark, that the writer who here condescends to use such a word as _clack_, and who, on other occasions, does not scruple to talk of _a repeat_ and _a repay_, instead of "a repetition," and "a repayment," does not consider the word _watch-dog_ sufficiently elevated for his compositions. Whenever he alludes to this animal, he calls him a _guard-hound_--a word which we do not remember ever to have encountered either in conversation or in books, but which, for ought we know, may be drawn from those "pure wells of English undefiled," which irrigate with their fair waters the provincial districts of the modern Babylon. The author of "Lillian" evidently piques himself on the fidelity with which he has adhered to nature in his treatment of that story. But there are two ways in which nature may be adhered to in verse; and it is only one of these ways which can be considered poetical. The writer may adhere to the truth of _human_ nature, while he elevates the emotions of the heart in strains which find a cordial echo in the sentiments of all mankind. Or, if his whole being is sicklied over with silliness and affectation, he may adhere to the truth of _his own_ nature, and while writing perfectly naturally _for him_, he may unfold his delineations of character in such a manner as shall strip every passion of its dignity, and every emotion of its grace. Now, it is only by reason of their adherence to the latter species of nature, that "Lillian" and the other compositions of Mr Patmore can be considered natural, and, viewed under this aspect, they certainly are natural exceedingly.