cial and political condition; their perpetual warfare with custom and prejudice, their long religious vassalage, and their final emancipation. These are all important topics; and all these, with much other collateral matter, are necessarily interwoven in the architectural history of our country. In the series now announced, the buildings will be classed and arranged in chronological order, whereby the progressive and almost imperceptible changes of style will be defined. From the earliest specimens to the reign of Elizabeth, every variety of design and every successive novelty will be displayed; and these will be engraved in plan, section, elevation, and perspective view, for the purpose of accurate and satisfactory delineation. By this mode, it is presumed, that a Grammar of English Architecture will be provided for the young student, and its Elements will be plainly and amply developed. A Dictionary of Terms, with de finitions, &c. will also be added. This series is intended to form a Supplement to the Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain; for which purpose proper titles, &c. will be given; but it will also constitute a separate, complete, and an independent work. Chronological and alphabetical indexes will be appended. It will be published in ten numbers, each of which will contain at least eight plates. Six of these will be executed in outline, or with slight shadowing, and the other two finished, to show the whole edifice, or the forms and effects of various members, when combined. Five of these numbers are contained in the present part. Although several works have been lately published on the history, principles, and science of the antient architecture of England; it is generally admitted, by those persons who have carefully and dispassionately reviewed the subject, that we are still without a grammar; - and that an ample and discriminating elementary and systematic publication is therefore a desideratum. Such a work is now commenced: and aided by the friendly and intelligent communications of correspondents, with the assistance of skilful artists, the author hopes to complete the undertaking with credit to himself, and with satisfaction to every liberal-minded reader. He has already received several letters on the subject, all of which shall have the most unreserved and unprejudiced attention and appropriation.' As the part which is before us contains nothing but the preface and engravings, we can give no opinion on the literary portion of the work. With respect to the pictorial department, however, the subjects for representation seem well chosen; and the execution is effected with that attention to excellence which is highly creditable to Mr. Britton, and so generally characterizes the works published under his superintendence. ART. ART. XIV. Lamia, Isabella, the Eve of St. Agnes, and other Poems. By John Keats, Author of Endymion. 12mo. 7s. 6d. Boards. Taylor and Hessey. 1820. TH HIS little volume must and ought to attract attention, for it displays the ore of true poetic genius, though mingled with a large portion of dross. Mr. Keats is a very bold author, bold perhaps because (as we learn) he has yet but little more than touched the "years of discretion;" and he has carried his peculiarities both of thought and manner to an extreme which, at the first view, will to many persons be very displeasing. Yet, whatever may be his faults, he is no Della Crusca poet; for, though he is frequently involved in ambiguity, and dressed in the affectation of quaint phrases, we are yet sure of finding in all that he writes the proof of deep thought and energetic reflection. Poetry is now become so antient an art, and antiquity has furnished such a store-house of expression and feeling, that we daily meet with new worshippers of the Muse who are content to repeat for the thousandth time her prescriptive language. If any one would deviate from this beaten track, and from those great landmarks which have so long been the guides of the world in all matters of taste and literary excellence, he will find that it requires no timid foot to strike into new paths, and must deem himself fortunate if he be not lost amid the intricacies of a region with which he is unacquainted. Yet, even should this be partially the case, the wild and beautiful scenery, which such an excursion is frequently the means of developing, is a fair remuneration for the inequalities and obstructions which he may chance to experience on his ramble We must add that only by attempts like these can we discover the path of true excellence; and that, in checking such efforts by illiberal and ill-timed discouragement, we shut out the prospect of all improvement. Innovations of every kind, more especially' in matters of taste, are at first beheld with dislike and jealousy, and it is only by time and usage that we can appreciate their claims to adoption. Very few persons, probably, will admire Mr. Keats on a short acquaintance; and the light and the frivolous never will. If we would enjoy his poetry, we must think over it; and on this very account, which is perhaps the surest proof of its merit, we are afraid that it will be slighted. Unfortunately, Mr. Keats may blame himself for much of this neglect ; since he might have conceded something to established taste, or (if he will) established prejudice, without derogating from his own originality of thought and spirit. On the contrary, he seems REV. JULY, 1820. X to to have written directly in despite of our preconceived notions of the manner in which a poet ought to write; and he is continually shocking our ideas of poetical decorum, at the very time when we are acknowleging the hand of genius. In thus boldly running counter to old opinions, however, we cannot conceive that Mr. Keats merits either contempt or ridicule; the weapons which are too frequently employed when liberal discussion and argument would be unsuccessful. At all events, let him not be pre-judged without a candid examination of his claims. A former work by this very young poet, (Endymion,) which escaped our notice, cannot certainly be said to have had a fair trial before the public; and now that an opportunity is afforded for correcting that injustice, we trust that the candour of all readers will take advantage of it. For ourselves, we think that Mr. Keats is very faulty. He is often laboriously obscure; and he sometimes indulges in such strange intricacies of thought, and peculiarities of expression, that we find considerable difficulty in discovering his meaning. Most unluckily for him, he is a disciple in a school in which these peculiarities are virtues: but the praises of this small coterie will hardly compensate for the disapprobation of the rest of the literary world. Holding, as we do, a high opinion of his talents, especially considering his youth and few advantages, we regret to see him sowing the seeds of disappointment where the fruit should be honour and distinction. If his writings were the dull common-places of an every-day versifier, we should pass them by with indifference or contempt: but, as they exhibit great force and feeling, we have only to regret that such powers are misdirected. The wild and high imaginations of antient mythology, the mysterious being and awful histories of the deities of Greece and Rome, form subjects which Mr. Keats evidently conceives to be suited to his own powers: but, though boldly and skilfully sketched, his delineations of the immortals give a faint idea of the nature which the poets of Greece attributed to them. The only modern writer, by whom this spirit has been completely preserved, is Lord Byron, in his poem of "Prometheus." In this mould, too, the character of Milton's Satan is cast. The fragment of Hyperion, the last poem in the volume before us, we consider as decidedly the best of Mr. Keats's productions; and the power of both heart and hand which it displays is very great. We think, too, that it has less conceit than other parts of the volume. It is the fable of the antient gods dethroned by the younger, • Deep 6 Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, Spreading a shade: the Naïad 'mid her reeds • It seem'd no force could wake him from his place : Had stood a pigmy's height: she would have ta'en Or with a finger stay'd Ixion's wheel. Her face was large as that of Memphian sphinx, When sages look'd to Egypt for their lore. the Titans is splendidly So Saturn, as he walk'd into the midst, Felt faint, and would have sunk amongst the rest, Whose mightiness, and awe of him, at once Came like an inspiration; and he shouted "Titans, behold your God!" at which some groan'd; Some started on their feet; some also shouted; Some wept, some wail'd, all bow'd with reverence: X 2 Which, Which, when it ceases in this mountain'd world, Its strain, when other harmonies, stopt short, The description of Hyperion also is really fine: • Golden his hair of short Numidian curl, 'In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk To one who travels from the dusking East: And Phorcus, sea-born, and together strode, There those four shouted forth old Saturn's name; In whose face was no joy, though all the gods Gave from their hollow throats the name of "Saturn." The story of Isabella, or the Pot of Basil, from Boccaccio, is the worst part of the volume; and Mr. Barry Cornwall's versification of this fable in his Sicilian Story is in some respects superior to Mr. Keats's attempt. The latter gentleman seems inclined, in this poem, to shew us at once the extent of his simplicity and his affectation; witness the following tirade against the mercantile pride of the brothers of Isabella: Why were they proud? Because their marble founts Mr. Keats displays no great nicety in his selection of images. According to the tenets of that school of poetry to which he belongs, he thinks that any thing or object in nature |