"Unearthly phantoms danced with frantick air,
Glar'd on the knight, and shook their snaky hair.
But when he ceas'd-above, below, around
Was seen no phantom, and was heard no sound-
Deep silence reigned-so still, so deep, and dread
That they might hear the fairy's lightest tread—
Might hear the spider, as he wove his snare,

From rock to rock, or snail's soft creeping there."

The opening of "the magic volume" is attended with many strange and horrible sounds-among them:

"The lone owl hooted on his wizard oak."

And when the old man again closed it:

"the troubled air

And rocking earth grew tranquil, still and fair."

We come now to one of the resemblances, of which we have

spoken:

"From the touch'd lyre a soft bewilder'd sound

Of doubtful tones fell murmuring around.

The quivering chords, with light mysterious glow,
And all around a silver lustre throw."

The reader of the "Airs of Palestine," will hardly fail to recollect the following lines of that exquisite poem:

"As the young harper tries each quivering wire,

It leaps and sparkles with prophetic fire,

And with the kindling song the kindling rays

Around his fingers tremulously blaze.

The following description of morning is not merely beautiful -it is grand:

"Aurora bright,

From yon tall mountain's oriental height,
Precipitates her cataracts of light."

And the effect of the Enchanter's tread upon the solitude of nature, when every thing that had life, testified its consciousness of proximity to this fearful being, is inimitably described:

"The couchant tiger screamed as they pass'd by,
And on them wildly rolled his meteor eye-
The wolf sprang frighted from the crackling brake,
And on their path way coil'd the hissing snake.-
-The mountain tops, oak crown'd,

Toss'd in the storm, and echoed to the sound

Of trees uptorn, and thunders rolling round."

The opening to the second canto, is so masterly, and so entirely beyond the reach of common invention, that we forbear to make any remarks:

"Tremendous scene! the prowlers of the wood

Stopp'd in mid chase and spared their victim's blood,
Fled to their caves, or crouching with alarm,
Howl'd at the passing spirits of the storm.
Eye-blasting spectres and bleached skeletons
With snow white raiment, and disjointed bones
Before them strode; and meteors, flickering dire
Around them trailed their scintillating fire,
Livid and pale as light of funeral pyre.”

When the old man rebukes the storm

"The clouds dispers'd, again the tranquil mogn,
Sat in mid sky upon her silver throne-

No sound was heard, save where the torrent hoar
Down the steep mountain fell with sullen roar,
Or far away, exploding long and loud,

The deep-ton'd thunder rent the fiery cloud."

The hero soon gets into Fairy-land, where he finds groves of harmony and flowers-The description is all beautiful, except the uncommon interest which the mountains seem to take in what is going forward-they stood on tip toe, perhaps from a presentiment that their new visitor would expect some gambols for his entertainment.

We shall now point out a series of very singular and very close resemblances to Leigh Hunt, that excellent but affected poet; as in the lines printed in italics:

"Ev'n at my hand, the fearless songsters sing

And round me flutter with familiar wing;

Or mid the flowers like sun-beams glance about
Sipping with slender tongu‹ the dainty nectar out."

The bathing scene is perfectly like Hunt:

"Upon their beauteous bodies, with delight,
The billows leapt-O! 'twas a pleasant sight,
To see the waters dimple round for joy,
Climb their white necks and on their bosoms toy,
Like snowy swans, they vex'd the sparkling tide
Till little rainbows danc'd on every side.

Some swam, some floated, some on pearly feet
Stood sidelong smiling exquisitely sweet."

"The swell of distant melody is heard
Anon a golden chariot appeared-

Proudly advancing drawn by Peacocks-fair
With gorgeous plumery dancing in the air."

"Infernal shapes danc'd on the fiery wall.”

"On foamy steeds that toss'd their manes on high
Beside them rode with princely gallantry."

How much, in every line of the preceding extracts, to remind us of the fascinating quaintness and simplicity of Rimini, and the richness of "The Feast of the Poets!-"

The description of the palace is

"Like gorgeous clouds that throng the setting sun."

The pearly river and golden shores and huge and bright palace, are all beneath prose-but the "gaudy multitude of flowers" atones for all.

We now come to the description of Oberon's approach, and all the petty glories of that bewildering land, and except the sculptured clouds of ivory, we think it unequalled.

"On this green isle the splendid palace stood
And rainbow bridges arch'd the heav'nly flood-
A fairer bow, fair Juno ne'er display'd

In vernal skies, tho' not like Juno's made
Of subtile sunbeams, but of solid gems-

Such as adorn imperial diadems.

Its blue was solid sapphire. Its gay green
Was massy emerald. The ruby sheen
Form'd its bright curve of rich and rosy red,
Its yellow hue the golden topaz shed.

And now a bugle breathed a silver sound,
Whose notes with soft reverberations, round,
Rang sweet and long.—”

"And now rode out a fairy cavalcade

In order❜d march, with banners bright display'd,
With diamond lances, and with golden helms,
And shields of gold emboss'd with sparkling gems;
Advanced the pageant; proud beneath each knight
O'er grassy levels pranc'd their steeds milk-white,
Whose ivory hoofs in glitt'ring silver shod,
With nimble grace in blushing flow'rets trod.
Prancing they came, and as the trumpets blow,

They neigh'd for pride, and arch'd their necks of snow,
Toss'd their proud heads indignant of the rein,

Champ'd their foam❜d bits, and paw'd the trembling plain.

Warriour and steed array'd for battle shone,
Whose burnish'd mail and bright caparison
Illum'd far round the flow'r-enwoven field;

AND RESTLESS SPLENDOURS FLASH'D FROM SHIELD TO SHIELD.”
"Loud in the van, the wreathed bugle spoke,”-
"The rain-bow arch beneath the measur'd tread

Of prancing steeds harmonious clangour made.”

The curious will be amazed at the resemblance of the preceding lines to some which were given to us last July, and published in our October number, under the title of the Lyre of the Winds. That was fairy minstrelsy, and every line conspired to swell the concert. It is not possible that the author of either production could have seen the other. Here are the lines to which we allude:

Now a silv'ry sob, as of elf-babe sighing,

Now distant, yet clear, like fairy-steed neighing,
When it springs on the air with a spirited shake,
And is answered again from the hare bell and brake,
When the cry of the bugle is heard for the strife,
And it gallops abroad full of laughter and life;
When a diamond-edg'd scymetar swings from each side,
And the streamers sing clearly and sharp as they ride,
When echo leans forward and mimics the sound,
And melody leaps to their helmets fine ringing,
And the minstrels of fairy-land prancing around,
On cymbal-hoof'd chargers are shouting and singing,
When the sweet bustling sounds are all dancing and light,
As if spirits of harmony mingled in fight.

And clank'd their toned armour and pour'd their sweet breath
In a struggle for melody's wind woven wreath.

We select a few more lines for their resemblance to Hunt.

domes and turrets bath'd in show'rs

Of saffron light, and rais'd preeminent,

Tall cupolas that propp'd the firmament,

And lifted high on stately colonade,

With richest coverings flourished and portrayed” —
"Balconies bright, and galleries of gold-"

"A thousand pillars all of ivory,

Adorn'd with wreaths and fairest imagery.

Romantic fancy nor elysian dream

E'er form'd so fair, so exquisite a dream."

The whole picture is fuller of fancy and fire than any modern production that we know.

The epithets are generally descriptive and appropriate, but we do not admire the perpetual recurrence of huge and foamy, and melancholy; or the application of sublime to a fairy palace. The effects of enticement are pictured with all the breathing tenderness of a voluptuary:

Her glowing hand, his glowing hand did press,
And from her forehead many a golden tress,
Fell on the panting bosom of the knight,
Whose fettered eyes grew dizzy at the sight.

Among the terrific sounds that amused the knight in his solitude we give the preference to these, the "whet of daggers, gnash of iron teeth," and "the gasping breath of dying men."

The rainbow bridge is demolished too frequently even for magick; and when one of Oberons tremendous spells is broken, the poet is too anxious for the introduction of his "frantic lightnings" "bickering mad meteors," &c. but when peace is restored:

"And bowers and groves come dancing on the sight
And all the waters roll in saffron light,”

we feel contented with his own way of managing his subject. The following are the richest, best finished, and most poetical lines in the whole poem: