ens, too,
Strewed the pale corpse with many a milk-white bloom,
And parted the bright hair, and on the breast
Crossed the unconscious hands in sign of rest.

It is an indication of Mr. LOWELL'S capabilities for a more extended theme
that the second part of this poem is superior to the first. It is not
merely that the interest of the story increases, but the verse is more
compressed, the expressions are more graphic, and the flow of the stanza
is finer and more natural. The opening lines are as vivid and impressive
as a passage from Tasso:

'As one who, from the sunshine and the green,
Enters the solid darkness of a cave,
Nor knows what precipice or pit unseen
May yawn before him with its sudden grave,
And, with hushed breath, doth often forward lean,
Deeming he hears the plashing of a wave
Dimly below, or feels a damper air
From out some dreary chasm, he knows not where;
So from the sunshine and the green of Love,
We enter on our story's darker part,' etc.

The faults of the whole production are the necessary ones of all young
writers of original power; a too ready faculty of imitation, and a lack of
conciseness. The poets whom Mr. LOWELL mostly reminds us of, in his
faults, are SHELLY and SHAKSPEARE; the juvenile SHAKSPEARE, we
mean--SHAKSPEARE the sonnetteer. Both in the 'Revolt of Islam' and
'Tarquin and Lucrece,' blemishes resembling his own constantly occur. It
will nevertheless be gratifying to his many ardent admirers to perceive
that on the whole he has exhibited a more definite approach to what he is
capable of accomplishing, and that in proportion as he has grown less
vague and ethereal, less fond of personifying sounds and sentiments, so
has he advanced toward a more manly and enduring standard of excellence.
'Prometheus' is the next longest poem, and it has afforded us great
gratification. It might almost be mistaken for the breath of AESCHYLUS,
except that it contains sparkles of freedom that even the warm soul of the
Greek could never have felt. The first two lines glitter with light:

'One after one the stars have risen and set,
Sparkling upon the hoar-frost on my chain.'

Although, rhyme is no tyrant to our poet, yet he seems to take a fuller
swing when free from its influence; and the verse which he employs for the
vehicle of his thoughts in this genuine poem is peculiarly adapted to the
grandeur and dignity of his subject. This composition will stand the