place them among the very first of the age. The poetry of Savage Landor has not been so much read as his prose. His Imaginary Conversations have eclipsed his verse. Yet there is great vigor, much satire, and much tender feeling in his poems, which should render them acceptable to all lovers of manly writing. His Gebir was written early. The scene lies chiefly in Egypt, and introduces sorcerers, water nymphs, and the like characters, which might charm a youthful imagination, but are too far removed from reality to make them general favorites. Yet there is much fine, imaginative, and passionate poetry in this composition. His Hellenics transport you at once to the ordinary life of ancient Greece, and are written with great force, clearness, and succinct effect. His dramas of Count Julian, Andrea of Hungary, Giovanna of Naples, Fra Rupert, The Siege of Ancona, etc., are reading dramas, very fine of their kind. They abound with splendid writing and the noblest sentiments. Giovanna of Naples is one of the finest and most beautiful characters conceivable; and Fra Rupert has furnished Landor with a vehicle for expressing his indignant contempt of a proud, arbitrary, and hypocritical priest. There are many occasional verses, in which the poet has expressed the feelings of the moment, arising out of the connections and incidents of his life; and these are equally remarkable for their tenderness and their very opposite quality of caustic satire. I must not allow myself to do more than quote a few passages from his poetical writings, which are characteristic of the man. This fine one occurs in the last of his Hellenics, p. 486, vol. ii. of his uniform edition:-- "We are what suns, and winds, and waters make us; The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills Fashion and win their nurslings with their smiles. But where the land is dim from tyranny, There tiny pleasures occupy the place Of glories and of duties; as the feet Of fabled fairies, when the sun goes down, Trip o'er the grass where wrestlers strove by day. Then justice, called the Eternal One above, Is more inconstant than the buoyant form That burst into existence from the froth Of ever varying ocean; what is best Then becomes worst; what loveliest, most deformed. The heart is hardest in the softest climes, The passions flourish, the affections die." This true sentiment is put into the mouth of Count Julian--page 506, vol. ii.