"There was room at least," continues Miss Barrett, "for lyrical emotion in those first steps into the wilderness, in that first sense of desolation after wrath, in that first audible gathering of the recriminating 'groan of the whole creation,' in that first darkening of the hills from the recoiling feet of angels, and in that first silence of the voice of God." There certainly _was_ room for lyrical emotion in these first steps into wilderness. All nature might most appropriately be supposed to break forth in melodious regrets around the footsteps of the wanderers: but we cannot think that Miss Barrett has done justice to nature's strains. Unless lyrical emotion be expressed in language as clear as a mountain rill, and as well defined as the rocks over which it runs, it is much better left unsung. The merit of all lyrical poetry consists in the clearness and cleanness with which it is cut; no tags or loose ends can any where be permitted. But Miss Barrett's lyrical compositions are frequently so inarticulate, so slovenly, and so defective, both in rhythm and rhyme, that we are really surprised how a person of her powers could have written them, and how a person of any judgment could have published them. Take a specimen, not by any means the worst, from the "Song of the morning star to Lucifer:"-- "Mine orbed image sinks Back from thee, back from thee, As thou art fallen, methinks, Back from me, back from me. O my light-bearer, Could another fairer Lack to thee, lack to thee? Ai, ai, Heosphoros! I loved thee, with the fiery love of stars. Who love by burning, and by loving move, Too near the throned Jehovah, not to love. Ai, ai, Heosphoros! Their brows flash fast on me from gliding cars, Pale-passion'd for my loss. Ai, ai, Heosphoros! "Mine orbed heats drop cold Down from thee, down from thee, As fell thy grace of old Down from me, down from me. O my light-bearer, Is another fairer Won to thee, won to thee? Ai, ai, Heosphoros, Great love preceded loss, Known to thee, known to thee. Ai, ai! Thou, breathing they communicable grace Of life into my light Mine astral faces, from thine angel face, Hast inly fed, And flooded me with radiance overmuch From thy pure height. Ai, ai! Thou, with calm, floating pinions both ways spread, Erect, irradiated, Didst sting my wheel of glory On, on before thee, Along the Godlight, by a quickening touch! Ha, ha! Around, around the firmamental ocean, I swam expanding with delirious fire! Around, around, around, in blind desire To be drawn upward to the Infinite-- Ha, ha!"