As a matter of fact--such fact as one kisses the book to in a court of law--it was in a railway carriage on my way back to London that I first read Mr THOMPSON'S poem, _The Mistress of Vision_; but, in such truth as would pass anywhere but in a court of law, it was at Cambridge, in the height of the summer term and in a Fellows' Garden that the revelation first came. I thought then in my enthusiasm that no such poem had been written or attempted since COLERIDGE attempted, and left off writing, _Kubla Khan_. In a cooler hour I think so yet; and, were my age twenty-five or so, it would delight me to swear to it, riding to any man's drawbridge who shuts his gates against it, and blowing the horn of challenge. It is verily a wonderful poem; hung, like a fairy tale, in middle air--a sleeping palace of beauty set in a glade in the heart of the woods of Westermain, surprised there and recognized with a gasp as satisfying, and summarizing a thousand youthful longings after beauty. To me also my admiration seemed too hot to last; but four or five years leave me unrepentant. It seemed to me to be more likely to be a perishable joy, because I had once clutched at, and seemed to grasp, similar beauties in POE. Mr THOMPSON'S thought, always strong, often runs into phrases of exquisite sweetness and exquisite clarity.... The lines beginning: "Firm is the man, and set beyond the cast Of fortune's game and the iniquitous hour," are worthy to be remembered beside DANIEL'S _Epistle to the Countess of Cumberland_.--Sir A. QUILLER COUCH ("Q"), in _The Daily News_. Thompson's poetry is a "wassail of orgiac imageries." He is a poet's poet, like SHELLEY and BLAKE. In order to follow him as he soars from image to image and symbol to symbol, you must have the rare wings of imagination.... THOMPSON mixes his metaphors so wisely that they illumine each other, strange light shooting out of their weltering chaos, like the radiance of phosphorescent waves. He troubles you with sudden pictures that flash out against the blackness. This gift of dreadful vision is not found in CRASHAW or in PATMORE, in DONNE or in HERBERT, and therefore it seems to me that THOMPSON is essentially more akin to BLAKE, COLERIDGE and ROSSETTI than to the ecclesiastical mystics. He is a twentieth-century mystic with a seventeenth-century manner.--JAMES DOUGLAS, in _The Morning Leader_.