generously bestows on him his share of their property, on condition that he will give his daughter to Laneham. The old gentlemen agrees to the compact; and if the reader should have patience enough to carry him so far through the book, he will, towards its conclusion, be rewarded with a marriage, according to the old established laws of romance writing. Why did Mr. Bulwer so far forget the "originality of matter and of manner," in other words, the new school of poetry, which he promised us in the preface, as to put us off with so trite a conclusion? In a passage towards the close of the poem, the indomitable egotism of our author appears, in a curious allusion which he makes to the failure of his efforts to become a member of parliament at the last general election. His hero Laneham, for he is the true hero of the work, had been a more successful candidate for the people's favour. The poet says, without jealousy, we presume,-- "Moreover in the late election He won a certain Burgh's affection. Dined--drank--made love to wife and daughter, Poured ale and money forth like water, And won St. Stephen's Hall to hear This parliament _may_ last a year! The sire's delight you'll fancy fully-- He thinks he sees a second Tully; And gravely says he will dispense With Fox's force and Brinsley's wit, So that our member boast the sense Of that great statesmen--Pilot Pitt! For me, my hope lies somewhat deeper; We'll now, they say, be governed _cheaper!_ So Julian, pour your wrath on robbing, And keep a careful eye on jobbing. If you should waver in your choice To whom to pledge your vote and voice, You'll waver only, we presume, Between an Althorpe and a Hume. But mind--ONE vote--o'er all you hold, And let the BALLOT conquer GOLD. Don't utterly forget those asses,-- Ridden so long,--the lower classes; But waking from sublimer _visions_, Just see, poor things! to their _provisions_. Let them for cheap bread be your debtor, Cheap justice, too--that's almost better. And though not bound to either College, Don't clap a turnpike on their knowledge. * * * * * And ne'er forget this simple rule, boy, Time is an everlasting schoolboy, And as his trowsers he outgoes, Be decent, nor begrudge him clothes. * * * * * In these advices towards your policy, Many, dear Julian, will but folly see; Yet what I preach to you to act is But what _had been your author's practice_, Had the mercurial star that beams Upon elections blessed his dreams, Had--but we ripen with delay, And every dog shall have his day!" From the last couplet, it appears, that our author has not yet relinquished his expectations of being gratified with a seat in St. Stephens.