_The Last Constantine_ may be considered as the concluding great effort of Mrs Hemans, in what of her writings may be said to belong to the classical school. She seems here first to have felt her own power, and, leaving precept and example, and the leading-strings of her predecessors, to have allowed her muse to soar adventurously forth. The _Tales and Historic Scenes_, the _Sceptic_, _Dartmoor_, and _Modern Greece_, are all shaped according to the same model--the classical. The study of modern German poetry, and of Wordsworth, changed, while it expanded, her views; and the _Forest Sanctuary_ seems to have been composed with great elaboration, doubtless, while in this transition state. In matter it is too flimsy and etherial for a tale of life; it has too much sentiment and too little action. But some things in it it would be difficult to rival. The scenery of Southern America is painted with a gorgeousness which reminds us of the Isle of Palms and its fairy bowers; and the death and burial at sea is imbued with a serene and soul-subduing beauty. Diminishing space warns us to betake ourselves again to the lyrics and shorter pieces, where so much poetry "of purest ray serene" lies scattered. Of these we prefer such as are apparently the expressions of spontaneous feelings of her own to those which are built upon some tale or legend. It happens too, unfortunately, that in the latter case we have first to read the legend or fable in prose, and then to read it again in verse. This gives something of weariness to the _Lays of Many Lands_. Still less fortunate, we think, is the practice Mrs Hemans indulges in of ushering in a poem of her own by a long quotation--a favourite stanza, perhaps--of some celebrated poet. We may possibly read the favourite stanza twice, and feel reluctant to proceed further. For instance, she quotes the beautiful and well-known passage from Childe Harold upon the spring, ending with-- I turned from all she brought to all she could not bring; and on another occasion, that general favourite, beginning-- And slight, withal, may be the things which bring; and then proceeds to enlarge upon the same sentiments. Her own strain that follows is good--but not _so_ good. Is it wise to provoke the comparison?--and does it not give a certain frivolity, and the air of a mere exercise, to the verse which only repeats, and modifies, and _varies_, so to speak, the melody that has been already given? Or if the quotation set out with is looked on as a mere prelude, is it good policy to run the risk of the prelude being more interesting than the strain itself? The beautiful passage from Southey-- They sin who tell us love can die, &c., is too long to be quoted as merely a key-note to what is to follow, and is too good to be easily surpassed.