The adoption of the Greek choric metres, in some of the poems, appears to us the more inexplicable, because in others, when he descends from his classic altitudes, our author shows that he is by no means insensible to the power of melody. True, he wants that peculiar characteristic of a good poet--a melody of his own; for no poet is master of his craft unless his music is self-inspired: but, in default of that gift, he not unfrequently borrows a few notes or a tune from some of his contemporaries, and exhibits a fair command and mastery of his instrument. Here, for example, are a few stanzas, the origin of which nobody can mistake. They are an exact echo of the lyrics of Elizabeth Barrett Browning:-- "Are the accents of your luring More melodious than of yore? Are those frail forms more enduring Than the charms Ulysses bore? That we sought you with rejoicings, Till at evening we descry, At a pause of siren voicings, These vext branches and this howling sky? Oh! your pardon. The uncouthness Of that primal age is gone, And the kind of dazzling smoothness Screens not now a heart of stone. Love has flushed those cruel faces; And your slackened arms forego The delight of fierce embraces; And those whitening bone-mounds do not grow. 'Come,' you say; 'the large appearance Of man's labour is but vain; And we plead as firm adherence Due to pleasure as to pain.' Pointing to some world-worn creatures, 'Come,' you murmur with a sigh: 'Ah! we own diviner features, Loftier bearing, and a prouder eye.'"