nean and Archipelago, and
through the states of ancient Greece. When we speak of journal, we mean
rather to designate the topics of the work than the manner of its
execution; for it is highly poetical. Most contrary to the spirit of
those less fanciful records, his Lordship sublimely discards all facts
and histories; all incidents; A.M. and P.M.; and bad inns and worse
winds; and battles and feasts. Seizing merely upon the picturesque
features in every object and event before him, he paints and records
them with such reflections, moral or immoral, as arise in his ardent
mind.

The "Childe Harolde" is the traveller; and as he is a mighty surly
fellow, neither loves nor is loved by any one; "through sin's long
labyrinth had run, nor made atonement when he did amiss;" as, moreover,
he is licentious and sceptical; Lord Byron very naturally, and
creditably to himself, sets out in his Preface with disclaiming any
connection with this imaginary personage. It is somewhat singular,
however, that most of the offensive reflections in the poem are made,
not by the "Childe," but the poet.

[Here follows a summary of the two cantos, with extensive quotations.]

Having by these extracts endeavoured to put our readers in possession of
some of the finest parts of this poem, and also of those passages which
determine its moral complexion, we shall proceed to offer a few remarks
upon its character and pretensions in both points of view.

The poem is in the stanza of Spenser--a stanza of which we think it
difficult to say whether the excellencies or defects are the greatest.
The paramount advantage is the variety of tone and pause of which it
admits. The great disadvantages are, the constraint of such complicated
rhymes, and the long suspension of the sense, especially in the latter
half of the stanza. The noblest conception and most brilliant diction
must be sacrificed, if four words in one place, and three in another
cannot be found rhyming to each other. And as to the suspension of the
sense, we are persuaded that no man reads a single stanza without
feeling a sort of strain upon the intellect and lungs--a kind of
suffocation of mind and body, before he can either discover the
lingering meaning, or pronounce the nine lines. To us, we confess that
the rhyming couplets of Mr. Scott, sometimes deviating into alternate
rhymes, are, on both accounts, infinitely preferable. One of the ends of
poetry is to relax, and the artificial and ela