Reviews.

" I ask myself , Is this a dream ? Will it all vanish into air ? Is there a land of such supreme And perfect beauty anywhere ? " Sweet vision ! Do not fade away ;

Linger until my heart shall take Into itself the summer day , And all the beauty of the lake . " Linger until upon my brain Is stamped an image of the scene , Then fade into the air again

, And be as if thou hadst not been . " Do Ave not all feel for " Belisarius " ?—' I am poor and old and blind ; The sun burns meand the Avind

, Blows through the city gate And coA ers me Avith dust From the Avheels of the august Justinian the Great .

" It AATIS for him I chased The Persians o ' er wild and waste , As General of the East ; Night after night I lay In their camps of yesterday ; Their forage A \ as my feast . " For himAvith sails of red

, , And torches at mast-head , Piloting the great fleet , I SAvept the Afrie coasts And scattered the Vandal hosts , Like dust in a Avindy street .

" For him I won again The Ausonian realm and reisrii , Rome and Parthenope ; And all the laud was mine From the summits of Apennine

To the shores of either sea . " For him , in my feeble age , I dared the battle ' s rage , To save Byzantium ' s state , When the tents of Zabergan , Like snoAv-drifts overran

The road to the Golden Gate " And for this , for this , behold . ' Infirm and blind and old , With gray , uncoA'ered head , Beneath the very arch Of my triumphal march , I stand and beg my bread !

" Methmks I still can hear , Sounding distinct and near , The Vandal monarch ' s cry , As , captive ancl disgraced , With majestic step he paced , — " All , all is Vanity ! " Ah ! vainest of all things

Is the gratitude of kings ; The p laudits of the croAvd Are but the clatter of feet At midnight in the street , HOIIOAV and restless and loud . " But the bitterest disgrace

Is to see for ever the face Of the Monk of Ephesus ! The unconquerable will This , too , can bear;—I still Am Belisarius " ! Is there not a depth of true poetry in

this sonnet 1 " When I remember them , those friends of mine , Who are no longer here , the noble three , Who half my life Avere more than friends to me , Aud Avhose discourse Avas like a

generous Avme , I most of all remember the divine Something , that shone in them , and made us see The archetypal man , and' what might be The amplitude of Nature ' s first design .

In vain I stretch my hands to clasp their hands ; I cannot find them , Nothing now is left But a majestic memory . They mean-Avhile

Wander together in Elysian lands , Perchance remembering me , AVIIO am bereft Of their dear presence , aud , remembering , smile . "

We cannot better , Ave think , conclude these notes than with another version of the same sad old story , Avhich seems to have so much interest for the poet's mind and pen : —

"The doors are all Avide open ; at the gate The blossomed lilacs counterfeit » blaze , And seem to warm the air ; a dreamy haze