trust will
be omitted from the next edition.

SALOME, THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS. A Dramatic Poem. New York;
Putnam, 532 Broadway.

When we criticize ever so lightly any modern poetical treatment of an
antique subject, we may as well premise that we do so as something which
is only partially true, since few writers have ever so perfectly
penetrated any foreign national spirit as to reproduce it--let us say,
like a translation. Even translations from the Greek are made
Miltonically, or Pope-ishly, or Shakespearian-ally, and seldom with that
racy literalness which characterizes Carlyle's occasional bits of German
poetic version. Sometimes, as in the present instance, the old form is
almost unattainable, for Hebrew poetry and the modes of speech used at
Herod's court are too little known in their first fresh life to be
vividly reproduced. Consequently the more modern forms are
indispensable. But, from the stand-point of English poetry, SALOME is a
production of more than marked ability--it is a boldly conceived,
genially executed, oftentimes a truly superb poem. The repentance of
SALOME has a broad lyrical and musical sweep which seems like an opera
of grand passions when the trivial associations of the opera are
forgotten. In the concluding scenes we seem to feel the inspiration of
GOETHE and of AESCHYLUS, for the author has combined with rare tact the
spirit of avenging fate with that of atonement--the Pagan and the
Christian; and if the language be here and there meagre or lack
concentrativeness, we pardon it in consideration of the high idea by
which plot, incident, and character are swayed. In one scene,
however--the dialogue between Antonius and the Jew--we find a degree of
historic truth, a reproduction in dramatic form of the sublime spirit of
Hebrew poetry, and an aesthetic color which, had it been maintained
throughout, would have neutralized our introductory remarks. This scene
is of itself a real poem. Herodias is, we may add, consistent, and
bravely accented in every thought and word; had she, however, been more
concise, she would have been more consistent to her earnestly malignant
nature. 'But, then, Shakespeare exaggerated the monologue!'

In conclusion, we commend SALOME cordially to all, for all can read it
with pleasure, and many, we may add, with profit. It belongs to a
soundly literary school, is disfigured with no extravagances, embodies
much real beauty, and is above all a poem of promi