altogether) at the author's absurdity. The lines belong to the class helter-skelter flattest of all possible prose that is to say, they are the intentionally so, of course. The story (if story it can be called) embodies the lamentations of a poor Irish woman who has lost her son. "Autumn" and "A Song," (occupying each one page) have nothing about them especially remarkable. "Fair Ines is so beautiful that we shall purloin it in full- although we have no doubt that it is familiar to our readers : I. O saw ye not fair Ines? The smiles that we love best, II. O turn again, fair Ines, For fear the moon should shine alone, And blessed will the lover be That walks beneath their light, And breathes the love against thy cheek I dare not even write ! III. Would I had been, fair Ines, Who rode so gaily by thy side, That he should cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear? IV. I saw thee, lovely Ines, It would have been a beauteous dream - If it had been no more! Alas, alas, fair Ines, V. She went away with song, With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng; But some were sad and felt no mirth, But only Music's wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've loved so long, VI. Farewell, farewell, fair Ines So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before, Alas, for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shore ! - The smile that blest one lover's heart The only article which remains to be noticed, is "Miss Killmansegg and Her Precious Leg" and it is, perhaps, more thoroughly characteristic of Hood's genius than any single thing which he has written. It is quite a long poem-comprising nearly 3000 lines and its author has evidently laboured it much. Its chief defect is in its versification; and for this Hood had no ear— - of its principles he knew nothing at all. Not that his verses, individually, are very lame, but they have no capacity for running together. The reader is continually getting baulked not because the lines are unreadable, but because the lapse from one rhythm-to another is so inartistically managed. The story concerns a very rich heiress who is excessively pampered by her parents, and who at length gets thrown from a horse and so injures a leg as to render amputation inevitable. To supply the place of the true limb, she insists upon a leg of solid gold — a leg of the exact proportions of the original. She puts up with its inconvenience for the sake of the admiration it excites. Its attractions, however, excite the cupidity of a chevalier d'industrie, who cajoles her into wedlock, dissipates her fortune, and, finally, purloining her golden leg, dashes out her brains with it, elopes, and puts end to the story. It is wonderfully well told, and abounds in the most brilliant points-embracing something of each of the elementary faculties which we have been discussing but most especially rich in that which we have termed Fantasy. We quote at random some brief passages, which will serve to exemplify our meaning: ETTORE FIERAMOSCA, OR THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE TIMES OF THE MEDICI, BY MASSIMO D'AZEGLIO. TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN BY C. EDWARDS LESTER, U.S. CONSUL AT GENOA, AUTHOR OF "THE GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND," MEMBER OF THE ATENEO ITALIANO AT FLORENCE, ETC. NEW YORK PAINE & BURGESS. [Text: Broadway Journal, Aug. 9, 1845.] THIS is a neatly printed duodecimo of nearly 300 pages, and forms the first number of "The Medici Series of Italian Prose." The design of this series is to supply the American public with translations of the best Italian prose romances. Mr. Lester is to be translator and editor. Something of this kind is certainly much needed. While we have been fairly overwhelmed with both good and bad from the literature of France, Germany, and Sweden, that of Italy has been of late altogether, or nearly altogether neglected. The present enterprise extends, we believe, no farther than to the Italian Romance, in its ordinary acceptation; but it is not generally known that there exists a vast mine of Italian Comedy, some of which would amply repay the working. Marmontel in his " Encyclopédie," roundly declares that there is not a single comedy in the language worth reading; and the usual error on this subject has probably found its origin in his ignorance. Some of the greatest names in Italian Literature were writers of Comedy. Baretti mentions four thousand dramas collected by Apostolo Zeno; the greater portion of these were comedies; and many of them possessed not only high but very peculiar excellence. It is time that some of these works should be unearthed. "The Challenge of Barletta" has been frequently designated, by the Italian and British critics, as the best romance of its language. It is certainly a vivacious work, but is defective in having little of what we understand by the "autorial comment that which adds so deep a charm to the novels of Scott, of Bulwer, or of D'Israeli more especially to the works of Godwin and Brockden Brown. The book before us is feeble, too frequently, from its excess of simplicity in form and tone. The narrative proceeds as if to narrate were the author's sole business. The interest of mere incident, is all. It ne less a for so it wo in the I in th and leave has h other tence W Cind giver the S in th mea EDITORIAL MISCELLANY. [Text: Broadway Journal, Aug. 9, 1845.] WE find the following in the Express (of this city,) where it is accredited to the New York Correspondent of the Cincinnati Gazette: There has been a flare-up in the Broadway Journal, which prevented the appearance of one number a week or two since. It originated in some difference between one of the Editors and the Publisher. The Editor undertook to get a new Publisher on the paper, and so the Publisher turned round and put the name of the other Editor on his sheet. Where the merits or demerits of the case lie, we do not pretend to determine. The "Journal some good criticism, and a good deal of bad. has force calli Wh othe ot he has Broa view |