self in point
of manners or education:--yet she scruples not to make "Aceldama"(r)
rhyme to "tamer," and "Onora"(r) rhyme to "o'er her." When we think of
these things, we turn to the following "stage-direction" with which her
"Drama of Exile" concludes--"There is a sound through the silence _as of
the falling tears of an angel_." That angel must have been a distressed
critic like ourselves.

Next to the "Drama of Exile," the longest poem in the collection is the
composition entitled "A Vision of Poets." This poem is designed, says
our authoress, "to indicate the necessary relations of genius to
suffering and self-sacrifice." It is stamped throughout with the
thoughtful earnestness of Miss Barrett's character, and is, on the
whole, a very impressive performance. But it would have been more
impressive still if it had been composed after less vicious models, or
if Miss Barrett had trusted more to a style prompted by her own native
powers, and less to the fantastical modes of phraseology which have been
introduced into literature by certain inferior artists of this and the
preceding generation. We cannot read it, however, without appreciating
the fervour which stirs the soul of the authoress through all its
depths, when she declares and upholds the sacred mission of the poet,
and teaches him that he must embrace his destiny with gratitude and
pride, even though the crown which encircles his living brows be one in
which the thorns far out-number the laurel leaves. We shall grace our
pages with a series of portraits, in which Miss Barrett sketches off
first the true poets and then the pretenders. They certainly contain
some good points, although many of her touches must be pronounced
unsuccessful. Let Homer lead the van:--

"Here, Homer, with the broad suspense
Of thunderous brows, and lips intense
Of garrulous god-innocence.

"There, Shakspeare! on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world! Oh, eyes sublime--
With tears and laughters for all time!

"Here, AEschylus--the women swoon'd
_To see so awful_ when he frown'd
As the gods did--he standeth crown'd.

"Euripides, with close and mild
Scholastic lips--that could be wild,
And laugh or sob out like a child

"_Right in the classes._ Sophocles,
With that king's look which down the trees,
Follow'd the dark effigies

"Of the lost Theban! Hesiod old,
Who somewhat blind, and deaf, and cold,
Ca