The tone employed in the concluding portions of Alnwick Castle, is, we sincerely think, reprehensible, and unworthy of Halleck. No true poet can unite in any manner the low burlesque with the ideal, and not be conscious of incongruity and of a profanation. Such verses as Men in the coal and cattle line From Teviot's bard and hero land, From royal Berwick's beach of sand, From Wooller, Morpeth, Hexham, and Newcastle upon Tyne, may lay claim to oddity--but no more. These things are the defects and not the beauties of _Don Juan_. They are totally out of keeping with the graceful and delicate manner of the initial portions of _Alnwick Castle_, and serve no better purpose than to deprive the entire poem of all unity of effect. If a poet must be farcical, let him be just that, and nothing else. To be drolly sentimental is bad enough, as we have just seen in certain passages of the _Culprit Fay_, but to be sentimentally droll is a thing intolerable to men, and Gods, and columns. _Marco Bozzaris_ appears to have much lyrical without any high order of _ideal_ beauty. _Force_ is its prevailing character--a force, however, consisting more in a well ordered and sonorous arrangement of the metre, and a {335} judicious disposal of what may be called the circumstances of the poem, than in the true _materiel_ of lyric vigor. We are introduced, first, to the Turk who dreams, at midnight, in his guarded tent, of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power-- He is represented as revelling in the visions of ambition. In dreams through camp and court he bore The trophies of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard; Then wore his monarch's signet ring: Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king; As wild his thoughts and gay of wing As Eden's garden bird. In direct contrast to this we have Bozzaris watchful in the forest, and ranging his band of Suliotes on the ground, and amid the memories, of Platœa. An hour elapses, and the Turk awakes from his visions of false glory--to die. But Bozzaris dies--to awake. He dies in the flush of victory to awake, in death, to an ultimate certainty of Freedom. Then follows an invocation to Death. His terrors under ordinary circumstances are contrasted with the glories of the dissolution of Bozzaris, in which the approach of the Destroyer is welcome as the cry That told the Indian isles were nigh To the world-seeking Genoese, When the land-wind from woods of palm, And orange groves and fields of balm, Blew o'er the Haytian seas. The poem closes with the poetical apotheosis of Marco Bozzaris as One of the few, the immortal names That are not born to die.