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    noiihiilg but landscapes ! We lament , but we cannot understand , how the word could have occasioned a mistake so contradicted by all the rest of our context . We spoke , after all , of

    only a little bit of fine-lady ism , ' * and merely meant even that as one of a negative kind , originating in sympathies which she could not omit with her own circle , and exhibiting itself only in little lurking apologies for such handsome propensities as a love

    of fairy tales , and an inclination to stop and look at book-shops . The fair author is unquestionably one of the most graceful , facile , and feeling writers of the day , whether females or male ; and can touch the heart no less than the eye-sight ; as may be seen in some of the exquisite stories in her ' Gossip's Week /

    Helena . A Poem . By Thomas Wade . The Shadow Seeker . Ditto . Moxon . We notice these poems again , partly to correct a preposterous mistake of the press , and partly to express a hope , and indeed a certainty , that the gifted author

    has not lost his contributory good-will towards us on account of a sincerity , issuing out of our veity regard and admiration . Instead of the word " vanity , " the reader will substitute the one marked in italics in the exordium of the criticism ; which we here repeat , corrected : — " Thomas Wade , our esteemed

    contributor , is a poet ; and may go on his way , rejoicing in the dignity and rarity of that appellation ;" iAj ^ to the rest , we should not have thought it becoming in us to exercise the critical right of a

    senior over a : junior to the extent we ventured upon , had our opinion of Mr Wade ' s genius been less , or had we not thought him precisely one of the men

    qualified to extend among his fellow-creatures the beauty of hope , and the union of cheerfulness with endeavour . He has done the one often , and he is healthy and admired enough to do the other always ; and why should he forego his privilege

    ever ? "A poet , " says Plato , "is a light , a winged , and a sacred thing ; " sacred , not indeed in its superiority to any sympathy , —for that would be an inhumanity and a foppery , —but sacred in its power to sympathize without restriction ; but then its sympathy should be really powerful ; that

    is to say , powerful to help , and not merely able to complain . Mr Wade sometimes says as beautiful things as any man living : and all we should beg of him is , that he would never show himself inferior to that loving faith which is the only creator of the beautiful .

    Lyrics , By John Lee Stevens . This volume is bound in the most beautiful green cloth that ever rejoiced our eyes . It is as vivid as moss in spring , or an apple in sunny rain . And there is a son g behmd the green too , albeit the bird is of the mocking species , and reminds us too often of notes not its own , —often ijiferior ones . In short , if Mr

    Stevens values a true Tt > it of reputation , as we hope he will ( and the smallest poetical bit is surely a gem , —an emerald , like his green ) , he will bear to be told , that four-fifths of his book are

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    366 NewiBooks .

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Nov. 1, 1837, page 366, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1837/page/70/