she speaks not, who could give the reply but the Hercules who had grappled with Death, and knew the undiscoverable mysteries, and the holiness which the newly-vested spirit must in part put off, in the resumption of her mortal loveliness? Ad. Τί γάρ ποθ ̓ ἡδ ̓ ἄναυδος ἕστηκεν γυνή ; Ad. Why, then, does this lady stand speechless? In the tale of Orpheus, he is him- of the Winter's Tale. The fabulous is altogether dropped. We lose something, it is true, of the awful interest, the wondrous mystery of the rescue from Death itself that bold personification; but the situations, therefore, the more come home to our own hearts. In the Alcestis, we admire more than we pity. She is a voluntary sufferer. So, indeed, to a certain extent, is Hermione, for she endures a sixteen years' seclusion--unnecessarily, but for her honour's sake-but, in all that relates to her husband, she is vilely injured. Euripides makes Admetus but a poor character. Shakspeare makes Leontes a wicked one. Perhaps the Queen sees but his jealousy as the cause of his cruelty to her, and may therefore be excused for her final reconciliation; but the commanding one of his courtiers secretly to poison Polyxenes, the object of his jealous passion, his friend, and his guest, is so mean a piece of villany, that we are scarcely reconciled to him throughout the play, and are the less interested in his penitence. This would have been injurious to the piece, were it not for the divided interest afforded by Perdita in the two last acts. In Perdita Hermione finds her reward. She is, indeed, reconciled to Leontes, and wonderfully fine is that reconciliation, and therein she, too, like Alcestis, is silent; but Perdita she blesses-like a creature that had for years been conversant with holy thoughts and prayers for the preservation of her child, and as one entitled to bless. The statue is a fine conception, a beautiful version of the fable, and the peculiar character of Hermione well suits it. She has all the calm dignity, even in her greatest trials, which is the grace of ancient marbles. We are not surprised to see her represented, for she is statuesque (if there be such a word) throughout. She is sensible of her husband's full peni"Paulina. tence, and of his love, of the agony of his affection, yet still she moves not! The impetuous Paulina could not have borne this yet it is not for Hermione that she fears I'll draw the curtain, And even yet Hermione moves not. Nay! she waits the bidding, and as it were the animating the statue by an incantation; and when she stirs, she moves solemnly, as one slowly returning to life. Shakspeare here did not forget the mystery of the original fable "Paulina. Stir; nay, come away, Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Start not, her action shall be holy, as [Hermione comes down. Here, too, as far as he could, has Shakspeare taken advantage of the silence of Alcestis. They embrace, but not a word does she yet speak. We learn her action from others "Leontes. Oh, she is warm! If this be magic, let it be an act "Polyx. She embraces him." Alcestis has no friend, no companion. She needed none. Admetus was to her all in all-and she the selfdevoted. It was necessary for the plot that Hermione should have a friend; Leontes was not all to her she regarded the Oracle, and lived in hope of recovering her child. But, that she may stand alone in interest, how unlike is the calm Hermione to the impassioned and vehement Paulina, and how little do they come in contact in the play, that the majestic quiet may not suffer. As the original Orpheus is among the riotous Bacchants, so have the two plays their revel and wake. The jovial Hercules, who seems to have taken out a license "to be drunk on the premises," is at once the contrast and the relief to the universal wo of the house of Admetus. The country wake, with the merry knave Autolycus, set off the graver scenes, and pleasantly prepare the mind for the concluding happiness. Shakspeare must somehow or other have met with the play of Euripides, for he certainly alludes to the story. Florizel speaks of Apollo serving Admetus "And the fire-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, And it is not impossible that the very idea of the statue may have been suggested by the following passage from the Alcestis of Euripides, wherein Admetus proposes to have a statue made of his wife : Can we wonder at the charm of such tales as Orpheus, Alcestis, and Hermione—or in one, of Eurydice-the lost Eurydice!—the just recovered-and the lost again. What is it but the poetical version of bereft affection's nightly dream? Did it not glide in with the stillness of night, and, enacting life, draw Milton's curtain ? "Methought I saw my late espoused saint And such, as yet once more I trust to have Her face was veil'd; yet to my fancied sight But O, as to embrace me she inclin'd, I wak'd; she fled; and day brought back my night."-Milton. A dream! it shall be the poet's dream. And here is Elton's "Dream of Orpheus." He has most happily treated the subject as a dream, with the boldness, the transition, the action of a Greek. He is Greek in his dream, and has given us an English version not to be despised. The poet, in a vision,-" my visual sense was soul," is amongst strange mountains and forests. He pierces" a cavern's mouth," and visits the subterranean cataracts. So much we consider as the drop-scene indicative of the general character of the piece, for in other respects it is unnecessary. From this he emerges, in his "bodiless, swift presence," and is again upon the mountains, which are poetically described as fit scenery for the agency of the poem. "The vulture cross'd the azure with his shade, That boil'd in clefts of rocks, and tigers slow Stole from the brake, or, crouching, gazed below On some aërial antelope, anon Starting, as 'twere a leaf, scarce seen and gone."-Page 181. He is in the territory of the Bacchants, hears enchanting music, and "with a thought" is before a mountain grotto. There are "nymphs with vine-leaves erown'd." Orpheus, of the music of whose lyre he had heard, is here introduced with effect. "Stags, with their antlers, peep'd; and the streak'd pard Against the lichen'd rock; within his grasp A seven-string'd shell; a coil'd and trampled asp Beneath his foot, the fang still dropping gore."-Page 182. There is then silence-afterwards comes the song of the Bacchants, who taunt Orpheus with his absence, and his worship of his unaiding god, when his Eurydice, flying from the shepherd Aristæus, fell under the bite of the asp. They then try their amorous arts to engage him in a new affection. În vain "There was a pause: a silence, fearful, deep, As though the wilderness were hush'd in sleep; ORPHEUS. I fix my eyes upon thee, mighty Sun! Thou hear'st what these have witness'd, and behold'st The god, whom they blaspheme, is their own god, And see thee in thy naked majesty, God of the vine they worship. Hear me now! That runn'st thy race of strength around the stars! Thou Neptune, brother of thyself, that rulest Thou! who art both the sign and source of all, The world of earth and waters and deep skies, The token is the repossession of Eurydice. Orpheus breaks from the Bacchants, throws himself to the branch of a high tree, whence "rock'd giddily," "when it bending swept The verdure-tufted crag, at once he leapt Then javelins shook and clash'd; a long shrill yell "My sprite was with the bard; I follow'd him The poet is in spirit with him, and the description of the descent is truly graphic. Orpheus arrives in confidence at the very centre of Infernal Glory, which is gorgeously painted. "At length the rock receded over-head; A sky of amethyst o'er-arching spread Its concave, studded with strange stars, and bright Melted from Orpheus' lips; he dared to climb Beneath his toiling feet, till to my view He stood diminished; the last stair he trode, Fainting, and touch'd the footstool of the god."-Pp. 193, 4. Mr Elton has made the most advantageous use of the Orphic Remains, and has embodied with high poetical conception the Zus of the ancient Greek. The following lines are extremely beautiful, and the dream-like visionary transmutation of the distinct yet blended powers of the One are in the true spirit of poetry : "He saw a monarch in his pomp of place Anon The apparition of that shape was gone; A giant king, whose spiky crown was set O'er locks that dropp'd in rings of clustering jet; Sate twain, or one; with crisp'd, or flowing, hair; Or stern, or melancholy mild: each came And went alone; each different, yet the same; Nor e'er at once were those grand phantoms seen A lonely king, a solitary queen. One only lean'd upon that staff of gold, And whom you late beheld, you still behold: Her sandal'd feet still press the agate stair, And his those raven brows, that tower-wreathed hair; of form and sex, pass'd with alternate change And reappear'd; and still a disc of rays Haloed each brow-a faint and flickering blaze; His priesthood pure, his inspirations true. The female Jove of hell, the subterranean Sun; Lifted his plaintive chant, and hailed the goddess-god."-Pp. 194, 6. The "Song of Orpheus," excepting the first few lines of the poem, we think a failure. It sadly wants dignity. The metre offends, and meets with little apology in the matter. It is of the common sing-song elegiac; and as good verses may be found in every village album amongst its fairhanded specimens of youthful and virgin talent. Nor do we see any charm in the speech of Proserpine, who tells Orpheus that, under spell, his Eurydice "flits behind him". "But beware lest haste The spell dissever, She is dead for ever!"-P. 201. From this point Mr Elton reassumes his poetical dignity and power. The dreaming Poet had been disengaged from the Bard Orpheus during the upward passage, left therefore undescribed. He awaits him at the entrance of the enormous cavern, the roarings of whose subterranean waves are |