re is a vast difference between such blemishes of the
unrhymed heroic measure as terminating a line with "and," "of," or
"but," or inattention to the caesural pauses, and that mathematical
precision of foot and accent, which, after all, can scarcely be
distinguished from prose. Whatever may be his shortcomings, Mr.
Heavysege speaks in the dialect of poetry. Only rarely he drops into
bald prose, as in these lines:--

"But let us go abroad, and in the twilight's
Cool, tranquillizing air discuss this matter."

We remember, however, that Wordsworth wrote,--

"A band of officers
Then stationed in the city were among the chief
Of my associates."

We had marked many other fine passages of "Saul" for quotation, but must
be content with a few of those which are most readily separated from the
context.

"Ha! ha! the foe,
Having taken from us our warlike tools, yet leave us
The little scarlet tongue to scratch and sting with."

"Here's lad's-love, and the flower which even death
Cannot unscent, the all-transcending rose."

"The loud bugle,
And the hard-rolling drum, and clashing cymbals,
Now reign the lords o' the air. These crises, David,
Bring with them their own music, as do storms
Their thunders."

"Ere the morn
Shall tint the orient with the soldier's color,
We must be at the camp."

"But come, I'll disappoint thee; for, remember,
Samuel will not be roused for thee, although
I knock with thunder at his resting-place."

The lyrical portions, of the work--introduced in connection with the
demoniac characters--are inferior to the rest. They have occasionally a
quaint, antique flavor, suggesting the diction of the Elizabethan
lyrists, but without their delicate, elusive richness of melody. Here
most we perceive the absence of that highest, ripest intellectual
culture which can be acquired only through contact and conflict with
other minds. It is not good for a poet to be alone. Even where the
constructive faculty is absent, its place may be supplied through the
development of that artistic sense which files, weighs, and
adjusts,--which reconciles the utmost freedom and force of thought with
the mechanical symmetries of language,--and which, first a fetter to the
impatient mind, becomes at length a pinion, holding it serenely poised
in the highest ether. Only the rudiment of t