k face that is?

"Pluck, pluck cypress, oh pale maidens;
Dusk the hall with yew."

This poem must be read as a whole; for not only would it be difficult
to select particular passages for extraction, but such extracts, if
made, would fail in producing any adequate impression.

We have already quoted so larely from the concluding piece,
"Resignation," that it may here be necessary to say only that it is
in the form of speech held with "Fausta" in retracing, after a lapse
of ten years, the same way they had once trod with a joyful company.
The tone is calm and sustained, not without touches of familiar
truth.

The minor poems comprise eleven sonnets, among which, those "To the
Duke of Wellington, on hearing him mispraised," and on "Religious
Isolation," deserve mention; and it is with pleasure we find one, in
the tenor of strong appreciation, written on reading the Essays of
the great American, Emerson. The sonnet for "Butler's Sermons" is
more indistinct, and, as such, less to be approved, in imagery than
is usual with this poet. That "To an Independent Preacher who
preached that we should be in harmony with nature," seems to call for
some remark. The sonnet ends with these words:

"Man must begin, know this, where nature ends;
Nature and man can never be fast friends;
Fool, if thou canst not pass her, rest her slave."

Now, as far as this sonnet shows of the discourse which occasioned
it, we cannot see anything so absurd in that discourse; and where the
author confutes the Independent preacher by arguing that

"Nature is cruel; man is sick of blood:
Nature is stubborn; man would fain adore:
Nature is fickle; man hath need of rest:"

we cannot but think that, by attributing to nature a certain human
degree of qualities, which will not suffice for man, he loses sight
of the point really raised: for is not man's nature only a part of
nature? and, if a part, necessary to the completeness of the whole?
and should not the individual, avoiding a factitious life, order
himself in conformity with his own rule of being? And, indeed, the
author himself would converse with the self-sufficing progress of
nature, with its rest in action, as distinguished from the troublous
vexation of man's toiling:--

"Two lessons, Nature, let me learn of thee,
Two lessons that in every wind are blown;
Two blending duties harmonised in one,
Tho' the loud world proclaim their enmity."--p. 1.

The short