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CHAPTER II.

WE left the poet engaged in the pleasant task of revising his first work for the press.

    Towards the end of 1840, or about the beginning of 1841, Prince left Hyde, and with his wife and two daughters removed to Manchester, that he might be better able to superintend the publication of his work, now almost ready for the press, and have greater facilities for obtaining subscribers, and for increasing its circulation.  He took up his abode in a small dwelling house in Long Millgate, between the Chetham College gates and the Grammar School, and almost facing the old "Sun Inn," in Hanging Ditch, wherein many of his happiest and probably many of his saddest hours were afterwards spent.  Here he opened a small shop for the sale of odds and ends, including cheap stationery, periodicals, song books, etc., and whilst his wife and daughters disposed of these sundry wares, Prince himself, aided by his devoted friend and brother bard, John Bolton Rogerson, and other kindred spirits, corrected and revised his poems, prior to their publication.

    At length, in July 1841, "Hours with the Muses" was published under the patronage of, and dedicated to, Mr. Joshua Procter Westhead, afterwards M.P. for York; and all Manchester resounded with the fame of the unpretentious poet who had quietly settled in its midst.  "Prince's maiden volume," says Mr. Dawson, "was a complete success, a most warm reception being accorded to it from all quarters.  Never, indeed, was a book of poems, by a local author, welcomed in Lancashire with such hearty expressions of entire satisfaction before or since.  Provincial and metropolitan journals alike combined in lauding the work, and making known the author; edition after edition was called for; and the artisan class, in particular, rallied round him in great force, hailing him, with acclamations loud and sincere, as a true poet of the people."

    This success of Prince's poems would not, perhaps, have been so remarkable, had they been heralded by prospective reports of their merit, eulogised by literary magnates, or published under the aegis of an illustrious patron; but the fact of their having enjoyed none of these advantages clearly proves that their own intrinsic excellence was the sole cause of their enthusiastic reception.  When we consider the peculiarly unpropitious and depressing circumstances in which they were written, and the deservedly high reputation which their publication secured, we question if such success, under similar circumstances, is not unexampled in the annals of modern poetic literature; and, although many others may have acquired still greater celebrity in even a shorter period, we are not aware of any preceding tentative efforts having been rewarded with such genuine appreciation, against influences so unmitigated and discouraging.

    The spirit of these remarks may be found in an able review of "Hours with the Muses," which appeared in "Bradshaw's journal" [3] for January 1843, and from which we now quote in continuation:—"Friends, undoubtedly, the poet met with, and their seasonable aid was of much service, especially in enabling him to give his productions to the world without incurring a responsibility which, in his situation, might have crushed him.  These kindnesses he abundantly acknowledges in the several prefaces to the successive editions of his work, and in some of the minor poems.  The expressions of his gratitude are equally fervent and graceful; he evidently feels deeply, and displays his feelings in forms as remarkable for their eloquence as for their sincerity and tenderness.  Still we claim for Prince, what we are convinced will be ultimately and universally awarded to him, the merit of being the independent architect of his own literary fame.  The gratitude of modest genius is not the standard by which we are to judge of the actual amount of the service rendered.  No meretricious celebrity can be long sustained; no patronage can invest inanity with the attributes of mental energy and life.  The clamours which precede, and the pomp which ushers in a false reputation, will soon be superseded by the calmer tones and the more righteous adjustments of independent criticism.  The level of intellect is, in the issue, as certainly found as that of water; and that reputation is likely to be the most permanent which springs almost unaided, and, by the elastic bound of its own energy, rises to the elevation which it seems destined to occupy."

    In estimating the character of Prince's genius, therefore, we have no desire to bespeak indulgence or to plead for large concessions on account of the sad story of his life; and, instead of submitting his works to any imaginary standard which it may be supposed he might ultimately have reached had he enjoyed the advantages of education and easy circumstances, we prefer to regard them according to their own intrinsic merits, to estimate the faculty of the poet by his actual achievements, and to do justice to the energy and independence by which he was enabled to manifest the power and excellence of his gift notwithstanding almost insuperable difficulties, and circumstances of almost unexampled suffering and endurance.

    There are, unfortunately, those who, in making a deep scrutiny into the errors of the man, allow themselves to be blind to the excellences of the poet; but, whatever differences of opinion may exist as to Prince's character, there can be no doubt as to his genius, nor can anything that may be said of his eccentricities of conduct affect the genuineness, the purity, and the high moral aim of his poetry.

    In one so highly yet so weakly constituted as Prince, some allowance should be made for his human frailty, especially when we remember that in almost every instance in which he erred the severity of his self-accusation and the intensity of his remorse were almost beyond expression. We are warranted in believing that the special weakness of his character was, to a great extent, inherited, and it behoves us all to " let the memory of the hard-fated bard be regarded with tenderness, and the veil of oblivion gently drawn over faults attended by consequences so fatal, and atoned by remorse so bitter and confessions so candid."

    Dr. Murdock, speaking of Thomson, observes that, "The life of a good writer is best read in his works;" and there can be little doubt but that these almost invariably indicate the individualities of the author, and reveal the characteristics of his mind and the governing passions and impulses of his nature. "The tendencies of the poet's temperament must be followed, and can neither be concealed nor suppressed; and though he may etherealise the features of his spiritual countenance, through their being habitually operated upon by the impressions of truth and beauty, they cannot be either altered or hidden, and may be readily discovered amid the creations of his genius."  Applying this test to the works of Prince we at once obtain an unclouded view of his inner and higher, in contradistinction to his outer life; and if the vocation of the poet, as some one says, is to teach the true dignity and worthiness of human nature, to be the champion of virtue and worth, and to have a heart especially open to the claims of misery and woe, then, indeed, must we regard Prince as a true and noble-hearted poet who has proved himself worthy of his vocation.

    We here desire it to be clearly understood that we do not claim for Prince to be classified amongst the highest orders of genius.  Mr. Dawson has so admirably alluded to this fact that we cannot refrain from quoting his words:—"Though his note was all but perfect within its own limited range, it was by no means a high note.  No one was more aware of this than was Prince himself; indeed, he knew his own position in the tuneful art as well or better than any of his critics.  He says himself, in the preface to one of his works, 'The power to think and utter great things belongs to few, and I am not of them.'  He is not to be ranked, nor did he ever claim to be ranked, with the great inspired ones of the earth—demi-gods of song, whose trumpetings herald themselves through all time and fill the mouths of the multitudes in all ages.  The emanations of his muse are not to be classed with their emanations, nor is it to be expected they can live with them.  Still they have a sweet, low singing of their own—a quiet brook murmur of music which cannot fail to make itself heard for a long time to come, simply by the force of its exquisite melodiousness.  The principal characteristics of Prince's writings are sweetness and simplicity.  His muse was always melodious as a meadow brooklet, singing to itself in the spring sunshine, half hidden in grass and flowers.

    "Another excellent quality which characterises his productions, and which forces itself particularly on the attention of the reader, is their sincerity.  This grand merit is apparent in all that he wrote.  No dawdling sentimentality is anywhere visible; all is truly and absolutely of the heart.  Records of real, not fictitious, joys and sorrows are what he indited.  He lived his poems before he wrote them, as all true poets to a certain extent must do.  No high-flown bard, he dealt only with subjects nearest at hand, and never looked for thoughts and images beyond the position in which he was himself placed in society.  He aimed low and hit the mark, content to give us the clear music that was floating around him in the actual world, and striving not to catch the indistinct pulses of melody vibrating in ideal regions, in the far-off mysterious distance."

    Professor Shairp, in his recent review of Shelley's lyrics, says:—"All true literature, all genuine poetry, is the direct outcome, the condensed essence of actual life and thought.  Lyric poetry may be said to be the vivid expression of personal experience.  It is only as poetry is founded on reality that it has any solid value; otherwise it is worthless."  Tested by this ruling, Prince possessed undeniable claim to be regarded as a true poet; he spoke what he felt, and in rapturous language described what he saw.  These were the secret springs of his inspiration.  He did not look upon Nature through "the spectacles of books," but by his own clear insight revealed her mysterious charms, and saw the Deity in all His works.

    It has been said that the reputation of an author is generally associated with one particular work; we might easily furnish proofs of this assertion amongst ancient and modern writers; and we may certainly apply it to the works of Prince, as his name and reputation are inseparably connected with his first volume, "Hours with the Muses."

    Before entering upon a brief critical analysis of these poems we may mention that altogether six editions of this first work were issued; three within a period of about two years, while Prince lived in Manchester—the other three editions being published subsequently; and we are informed that, in addition to these, several issues of the work were published in America, where many of his poems were very popular.  The first and second editions contain lists of subscribers, and amongst these it is interesting to find the names of Thomas Moore, Charles Dickens, James Montgomery, Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Richard Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton), the Countess of Blessington, Lord Francis Egerton, J. Allsop (author of "Letters and Conversations of Coleridge," etc.), Dr. Neale Arnott, Lord Ashley, Sir William Eden, Ebenezer Elliott, William Howitt, Lady Wilton, etc., in addition to those of his fellow-bards of Lancashire and the neighbourhood, and many admiring and distinguished friends.

    Fearful of incurring a responsibility which he was by no means able to bear, as he tells us in the preface to the second edition, the impression of the first edition was limited to almost the precise number of subscribers; but by the efforts of kind friends such a further addition of subscribers was obtained in the course of printing the volume that upon its issue the impression was found to fall short of the subscription list by upwards of three hundred copies.  The list was further increased after its publication to such an extent that the author was soon placed in a position to require another and a much larger edition; and further, was speedily relieved by the generous zeal of friends from the anxiety of a speculation so far beyond his own pecuniary means.

    With characteristic modesty he does not attribute this success to the merits of the poems themselves, but "to the design in the principal poems of advocating the rights and elevating the tastes and pursuits of his labouring fellow-countrymen, and to a generous desire on the part of the public to aid the author in those struggles with poverty and its many attendant evils which had so far been his portion through life."  This is all very praiseworthy, yet there can be no doubt that the success of the work was principally due to its own intrinsic merits, and in some degree to the colouring it received from the romantic circumstances of the author's life.  He had touched the hearts of his own class by faithfully transcribing the feelings and sentiments they cherished, and yet, in pleading the rights of the poor, he in no manner seeks to ignore those of the rich; but uprears his fabric of regeneration on the basis of existing institutions, and eloquently pleads for the moral and intellectual advancement of mankind.

    His mission is to preach the gospel of humanity, to cheer and encourage the hearts of the people with the evangel of truth and love, of faith and charity, whilst he earnestly strives to federalise his fellow-men in a brotherhood of manly worth and independence.  In his zeal for the welfare of man, and the happiness of the world he forgets the deplorable circumstances of his own life; and so unselfish are his earnestness and enthusiasm that, from first to last, no trace of repining or misanthropy is to be found anywhere in his writings.

    Thus far for the principles of his teaching; let us now notice the quality of his poetry, and linger for a little amid the exquisite sweetness of his thrilling numbers.

    "The poetry of Prince," says the able reviewer in "Bradshaw's Journal," "is scarcely to be compared with that of any particular writer.  He frequently reminds us of several, but in no instance is he the servile copyist of any.  There are passages in some of the poems, such as 'The Poet's Sabbath,' 'The Captive's Dream,' 'The Student of Nature,' 'The Voice of the Primrose,' the sonnets and stanzas written in North Wales, the 'Sick Man's Fancies,' and the 'Father's Lament,' which not only contain great varieties of excellence, but exhibit proofs of a very high order of poetical genius.  These poems, as well as many others in the volume, prove the author to be a man of acute observation and of intuitive taste.  He looks upon Nature with a deep and heartfelt delight, and treats her with a boldness and comprehensiveness of handling suited to her grander aspects, or with a tenderness resembling the delicacy of her own commingled hues.  He has marked well the operations of his own mind.  This profound page has been often and thoughtfully perused by him; the metaphysics of the spirit and of the heart have been closely analysed, and hence we have, not unfrequently, thoughts springing from his own mental evolutions, of equal depth and beauty.  He is keenly alive to the social affections; he responds to them with a man's heart, and depicts them with a poet's gentle fervency.  He is universally benevolent; he has a moral community with all that suffer.  He has been severely schooled, but has come out of the ordeal with a spirit as gentle as that with which he first encountered the wounds of adversity.  Most men would have felt, or have affected misanthropy, had they met with a thousandth part of what he actually suffered; they would have vented their vexation in querulous complaint or bitter epigram; but nothing of this kind characterises Prince's poems, and, if we could refuse our admiration to their excellence as compositions, we could scarcely avoid loving the spirit which pervades them.  To the modest, the peculiarly gifted author, might have been said what Hamlet addresses to his faithful and accomplished friend Horatio:—

    The most ambitious, and perhaps the most exalted, effort of Prince's muse is "The Poet's Sabbath," a poem of fifty-six Spenserian stanzas, characterised by emotional and moral fervour, replete with a genuine poet's intense love of Nature and true insight into her mysteries, while displaying an elasticity of thought and a felicity of expression which is nothing short of marvellous under the circumstances in which it was written.  The artisan poet hails the Sabbath as the red-letter day of the week, when, for a short season, life's toils and cares are laid aside if not forgotten, and its hallowed influences stealing tenderly into his enraptured soul, awake the diviner impulses of his being.

    In the appropriate and glowing introduction to the poem there is all the ardent and impassioned enthusiasm of a soul peculiarly susceptible to the outward forms of the beautiful, and endowed with a keen perception of the analogies existing between natural objects and the feelings of the human heart.

The following stanzas bear some analogy to Burns' "Cottar's Saturday Night"—

    Reviewing briefly how the Scottish Covenanters and the Huguenots suffered for the religion that was dearer to them than even life itself, he cites their glorious example for the admiration of posterity; and, deploring the pride and custom which obtain in modern days,

as all unworthy the "Eternal One of Heaven" he continues:—

    That these broad views embody Prince's own religious opinions is, we think, sufficiently apparent, and that he had little sympathy with mere forms and ceremonies is fully attested in many of his poems; in the present instance, as if acknowledging the personal element in the last stanza we have quoted, he thus addresses the Deity in the one immediately succeeding:—

Further on, he is still more candid, and in the following lines affords us a still clearer insight into his religious belief:—

    The last-quoted verses may be compared with the two following stanzas from "A Sketch among the Mountains":—

    Now lying down upon the verdant slope, and gazing around him with a loving eye, gentle Fancy wafts him to the golden age of man's primeval innocence:—

    His mind revels amid the "fabled charms" which belong to the glorious time when

and his glowing imagination pictures the reign of love, innocence, and purity, throughout the earth; when peace and piety, truth and charity, knew no decay; when men were bound in a mighty brotherhood by indissoluble ties, and when

    Soon, however, the living present recalls the dreamer from the golden realms of fancy, and he exclaims:—

    In the extracts which we have quoted from this remarkable poem we have been anxious not so much to exemplify its poetic beauties as to cite those passages which are calculated to throw some light upon the religious opinions of the poet, inasmuch as some reviewers have taken exception to what they consider the unorthodox views enunciated in "The Poet's Sabbath."  This is not the place to institute any polemical inquiry, or to discuss the burning questions involved in the consideration of man's relation to his God; nor have we any intention of entering into the subtle intricacies of theological dogma and doctrine, but we must protest against the narrow-minded objections of those who have taken exception to the religious opinions of Prince as presented in the poem now under consideration.  It is true that he had a wholesome repugnance of cant and shallow sectarianism, and preferred to enjoy communion with his Maker through the medium of Nature, rather than the various forms and ceremonies that distinguish the accepted creeds: but it is unjust to infer from what he has written that the longings of his spirit were satisfied with a cold materialistic form of Nature-worship.

    The design of the poem in question was simply to express the gratitude of the poor artisan for the hallowed ordinance of the sacred day of rest, and to record the poet's intense admiration of the beauties of Nature, which called forth his cordial and unrestrained sympathies, and lifted up his enraptured soul in praise and adoration to the bounteous Creator.

    The quotations we have given are at least conclusive that Prince was a devout believer in all the fundamental doctrines of the Christian verities, and, although his views on religious matters may have been broader and more tolerant than those which find favour with the innumerable sectaries representing orthodoxy in faith and morals, it is manifestly unfair even to insinuate unbelief, because, forsooth, the poet's impassioned strains are not sufficiently interlaced with the petty and prosaic details of narrow-minded and exclusive formularies.  Prince's nature was deeply religious, and in everything he wrote the reverential spirit was always prominent; in fact, the natural expression of his inner, higher life, as evidenced in his works, is characterised by a high morality, which contrasts all the more strongly with the weaknesses of his character.

    The teaching of Prince's poems is ever pure, earnest, and dignified, yet so simple that "he that runs may read;" Love is his ruling passion; love for the beautiful and the true, for all that is good and virtuous, and for all God's creatures.  And Charity!  How oft is charity the subject of his song?  Charity, which is the bond of perfectness:—"Love God, and thy neighbour as thyself:" "Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you:" these are the themes on which his muse delights to dwell: and from first to last his poems abound with the spirit of kindness and tenderness, with loving sympathy and gentleness; and whilst the iris-tints of hope gleam from every tuneful page, every virtue which can ennoble mankind is communicated in "soulthrobs which beat grandly to the great heart of humanity."  Again we quote his own earnest words:—

    The quotations we have given from "The Poet's Sabbath" especially manifest that high moral tone which everywhere pervades Prince's poetry; but that there is no lack of poetic imagery in this noble effort of his muse is evidenced by the following passages, selected almost at random:—

    Again—

After alluding to "the golden age which blessed our fathers in the days of yore," and deploring the evil destiny that ended its reign, and destroyed its race of patriarchs, he says:—

How suggestive of Arcadia is the following stanza:—

We might present many delightful passages from this hallowed composition, but a few lines, on clouds at sunset, must serve as our last quotation:—

    We cannot, as already stated, claim for Prince the possession of that sublime and prophetic genius which distinguished those who, at various times, have shone like planets in the firmament of mind; yet, if not of the highest, his genius was certainly not of a low order; and, in relation with those whose greater light will glow undimmed through all time, illumining the nations, Prince may be compared to a bright-orbed star, whose pure chaste rays steal into human hearts, unsealing the springs of love and joyfulness, and awaking the music of Life into new and charming melodies.

    Poetry, characterised by strength of imagination, may be more attractive, but is neither so rich nor so captivating as the poetry of the heart; and this is, in all probability, the key to Prince's recognition as a poet of the people.  His own love of Nature was as intense as it was enthusiastic, and he describes her charms with childlike earnestness and simplicity, sings of her beauties in impassioned strains, and is everywhere an eloquent exponent of her beneficent power.  His views of life and its duties are ever dignified, and his teaching always high-toned and ennobling.  He knew every string upon the lyre of life, and swept its chords with the hand of a master.

    His fervour of expression is never so deep as when he is communing with Nature or appealing on behalf of the suffering and the poor; and there is a spirit of earnest devotion and genuine social sympathy diffused through his works which shows the large-heartedness and generosity of his aims and the purity and sincerity of his motives.  His love for the people was characterised by the purest philanthropy, and his advocacy of their rights and liberties was as discreet as vehement; yet his sympathies were nowhere circumscribed by the exigencies of class or creed, and he strove ever and solely for the moral and social elevation of the masses, and for the welfare and happiness of all ranks and conditions of men.  And although what he had himself so keenly felt is reflected in that fine melancholy which permeates his verse, yet few have sung so sweetly and so well of contentment and happiness, and of better days to come.

    In addition to the admirable union of moral truth with all the exquisite imagery of poetry, Prince's muse is pre-eminently characterised by fineness and delicacy of rhythm and exquisite sweetness of cadence. From beginning to end they are

and, read where we may, we find no imperfect metre, no halting lines, but everywhere the same soft euphonious sweetness, like the low mellow murmuring of a crystal brook.

    Sweet simplicity is perhaps the principal charm of Prince's poetry, but the all-pervading tenderness and purity of sentiment, the graceful elegance of expression, and the gentle play of fancy which distinguish it, are so many evidences that the mind of the poet was illuminated by

"The light that never was on sea or land."

    The vivid accuracy of delineation, the truthfulness of detail, and the warmth of colour and tone which characterise his charming word pictures, incontestably prove that he possessed all the qualifications of a gifted artist.

    "The Captive's Dream" is a poem of thrilling power, complete in detail; and whilst bristling in concise, illuminating portraiture, is replete with a spirit of deep pathetic tenderness.  The frame-work of the poem consists of some twenty-five Spenserian stanzas, surrounding four charming lyrics, which represent the Voices of the Seasons as calling the captive out of captivity, and in its main features is in many respects analogous to Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon."  As in all Prince's poems, we find here no archaic or mystical phrases, but the utmost simplicity of form and expression, and the clearest utterance in the sweetest music.

    Having reviewed the Captive's life and labours in the cause of virtue and humanity, the high and holy aims he cherished for the welfare of mankind, the hallowed mission in which he had engaged, and which at length won for him

"A felon's fare, and worse than felon's doom,"

the poet tells us that

    To this succeeds the four tuneful lyrics personifying the four Seasons, each differing in tone and rhythm according to the poet's conception of their respective characters, and all replete with minor beauties and the charms of lyrical poetry.  We quote the introductory stanza of the first three, and prefer to give the "Voice of Winter" entire, if only on account of its gracefulness and easy-flowing melody.

    Here the voice of Winter ends, and the Captive awakes to find his glorious vision, alas! but a dream.  The poet continues:—

    Dr. Southey, quoting from the Welsh Triads, says in a note to "Madoc," "The three primary requisites of poetical genius are—An eye that can see Nature, a heart that can feel Nature, and a resolution that dares follow Nature."  How far Prince possessed this elemental trinity will be best seen by grouping together a few poems in which he not only portrays Nature's objective beauty and sublimity, but demonstrates in her ever-varying forms types of human thought and life.  Taking some of the poems of this class in the order in which they occur in "Hours with the Muses," the first is a graceful and melodious lyric addressed "To an early Primrose," from which we quote the following stanzas:—

    How extremely sensitive the lyre of the poet is to the lightest touches of beauty, and how true to Nature his artistic word-portraiture, is evidenced in his glowing description of "A Summer's Day."  How fine the opening lines:—

and again, in the same stanza,—

    We may compare this poem to a charming picture, divided into four panels, representing respectively, Morn, Noon, Evening, and Night, each of which is characterised by boldness of expression, delicacy of touch, and an almost infinite variety of tone and tint.  The sonnets on Evening and Night reveal the realistic power of the poet-artist:—

    There is a spirit of mournful tenderness in "Stanzas, written after a Winter's Walk in the Country," and the pathetic sweetness with which the poet draws analogies between the changed aspect of Nature under the influence of Winter, and the vicissitudes of his own life, is very touching and effective.  In a pensive mood he seeks the solemn shades of patriarchal trees, under whose giant leaf-clad branches he had in former years spent many happy precious hours in silent communion with Nature; now the icy hand of Winter has stripped them of their foliage, he tramples the dead leaves under his feet, and, flying back to memories of the past, he grieves for the saddened lapse of time which he has spent away from their embracing bowers.  Now Hope whispers again to his saddened spirit, and he sings:—

    Anon he stands beside the "bright waters of the solitude" to catch their silvery voices as they flow, but the spell of the Frost King is upon them, they are dumb; and

Still looking forward hopefully, however, he exclaims,

    The remaining verses [4] contain a painful retrospect of the poet's chequered experiences during his residence "in the dark labyrinths of yonder town," where he now feels he had tarried too long, debasing the proud aspirations of his soul amid the seductions of injudicious and prolonged conviviality, and he returns as a repentant prodigal to the ever-open arms of Nature, sorrowing and weary, and seeking once more for pleasures "pure and undefiled."  How applicable are the following lines to the flattery that often assailed and humiliated him!

    The next poem in the group under consideration—"A Sketch among the Mountains," [5]—will serve as a favourable example of the picturesque character of the poet's muse, and, in addition to the purity of its language, its glowing fervour and impassioned music, is replete with the choicest imagery, presenting a succession of highly-wrought poetic pictures, worthy the pencil of the artist.

    The poet stands upon Kinder's

and, on the glorious Sabbath morn—

he rejoices in the brief respite from

while he abandons himself to the enrapturing influences of the glorious scenes around him.  Reflecting upon the trials and vicissitudes of life, "the peasant's earliest hymn" is wafted

"From yon low temple bosomed in the bower,"

and, wondering if the soft sweet sounds ascend from happy hearts, he moralises on the misery and crime which are abroad in the world, until, at length, the sadness of his spirit is subdued by the surrounding beauties of Nature, and he exclaims:—

    The following brief but suggestive quotation might fitly form a theme for the painter's art:—

And again, in the passages which we now select from the poet's description of a storm, how many glowing word-pictures await the interpretative power of the artist!

    How full of grandeur, passion, and mournful tenderness are the following stanzas:—

    Some chaste sweet verses, suggested by the Rhaidr Mawr, in the Vale of Conway, tell of the poet's love for the grand and majestic, and exemplify the power he possessed of delineating the charms of natural objects.  After an animated description of the great waterfall, he moralises thus:—

    "The Voice of the Primrose" is full of imaginative beauty and delicacy of feeling and fancy, reminding one of those minor poems of Shelley's, whose melody lingers in the ear like the echoes of sweet voices from the dear Long Ago.  Sparkling with originality, felicitous in conception, and sweet as the softest breathings of an Eolian harp, this exquisite composition is, perhaps, one of the choicest of Prince's productions; and, as extracts can give no adequate idea of its beauty as a whole, we refer the reader to the work itself.

    Of this class also is "The Sick Man's Fancies," a poem of much merit, embodying, as may be inferred from the title, the delirious dreams and hallucinations of a fever-stricken invalid: "the horrible visions of the agonised spirit," the legions of terrible forms which assailed the fevered poet in his mental wanderings.  In it the alternating "scenes of delicious fascinations" through which he passed are depicted with considerable vigour and genuine artistic effect.

    As manifesting Prince's intense love of Nature, and his power of describing her beauties, as well as showing how lovingly he appreciated the efficacy of her hallowed ministry in his own soul, and how earnestly he strove to elevate the hearts and lives of others, by teaching them as she had herself instructed him, we might multiply quotations indefinitely, but will only cite two further examples from this group of subjects, in the belief that those we have selected will suffice to prove that Prince was indeed a priest of Nature, an inspired interpreter of her glorious power and purpose.

    Describing his ascent of Snowdon, in a poem entitled "The Mountain Spring," and giving a vivid account of his upward progress, he continues:—

    The poet then describes the sublime grandeur of what his eye surveys, and before descending, apostrophises "The Well of the Mountain Wild," in a charming lyric, from which we quote the following lines:—

From a fragment entitled "The Student of Nature," we might select many passages of genial fancy; the subjoined verses will, however, suffice to show the high finish, purity of sentiment, and melodious rhythm which characterise the poem. Having rapturously described the beautiful and sublime in Nature's vast domain, he hies away

and thus vividly portrays the scenes which passed before his mental vision:—

    The more one peruses Prince's poetry the more is one charmed with his unbounded catholicity of spirit.  Ever true to his own order, he never seeks to libel those placed above it in the social scale.  Well would it be if every toiler would listen to his melodious and spirited hymnings; for there is scarcely one stanza that does not contain some lesson which they would gain by learning, some sentiment which they might become all the nobler by making their own.

    It has been said that the poems of a man are beaten out upon the anvil of his life; and there are comparatively few poetic works to which this aphorism is more applicable than those of John Critchley Prince.  In those poems which are especially written for, and addressed to, the people, and which are associated more with the music of the heart than with any brilliancy of imagination, his individuality and earnestness are expressed in life tones which are sternly and terribly realistic.  He had lived over and over again every poem he wrote, and the knowledge he had gained in the sad school of adversity taught him not only what the people had to suffer and endure, but enabled him to recognise, and with no uncertain sound to advocate, those means which were best calculated to promote the moral and intellectual elevation of the order to which he himself belonged.

    Humanity is the glorious cause for which he does battle; he is ever actuated by a spirit of true philanthropy, and, whilst striving zealously for the welfare and happiness of the poor, his appeals, however fervid and impassioned, are always couched in the language of intercession rather than of imprecation.  An earnest student of human nature, he influences the minds of those whom he addresses by first touching their hearts; and, having an intense hatred of all narrowness and conventionality of thought and feeling, he pleads for a higher standard of manly worth and independence; and, whilst cordially sympathising with what may be denominated the conservative elements of society, contends for mutual interaction between all ranks and classes for the common good.

    The late William Howitt did not hesitate to describe these noble appeals as "The true poetry of the people and the time;" and whilst regretting our inability to quote some of this group of poems in extenso, we must content ourselves by selecting a few passages, from which their general character may be inferred:—
 

    The following verses are from "A Vision of the Future," and speak for themselves:—

    Here Fancy leads him through an Arcadian realm, the domain of Beauty and Liberty, wherein is neither tyranny nor priestcraft, falsehood nor oppression, war nor poverty, misery nor intemperance; with graphic power he describes the Elysium into which Fancy has conducted him, and thus continues:—
 

    Of this class of poems "Hours with the Muses" contains "The Poor Man's Appeal," and "A Plea for the Uneducated," which we might define as noble themes most nobly wrought; also "A Call to the People," "The Slave," "A Song of Freedom," etc., all characterised by flowing melody, purity of thought, and dignified views of life and conduct.

    Of the poems just alluded to, "The Poor Man's Appeal" and "The Slave," were considerably altered from their original form in compliance with the request of Mr. Westhead, Prince's patron and friend.  The former first appeared in the "Manchester Guardian," and the latter, then styled "The Factory Slave," became an expression of sympathy with the "Ten Hours' Factory Act."  A series of poems entitled "Lyrics for the People," are appended to the volume, but do not call for any special notice, although they are euphonious and spirited in composition, and moderate in tone.

    Prince had a large loving heart, which was peculiarly sensitive to the slightest touches of pure and refined feeling, and so, amongst the many devout aspirations and ennobling sentiments which, upspringing from his heart, have flown into life through the medium of thrilling verse, we should expect to find many varied phases of domestic life and character, and many records of the affections which hallow and beatify humanity.  Nor shall we be disappointed; for love was the ruling passion in his soul; and sorrow and suffering had so heightened and intensified the tender susceptibilities of his sympathetic nature, that his poetry literally teems with melodious hymnings expressing the feelings and the affections of the human heart.

    There is a purity about all his poetry, as though, to borrow the beautiful simile of Wordsworth in his noble sonnet on Izaak Walton's "Lives,"

All that is fair and lovable both in outward nature and in the soul of man is not merely treated with proper respect, but "put to worship" with the earnest devotion of a true poet, whose ardent aspirations are to elevate and ennoble.

    A striking feature of Prince's poetry is his love of female purity; and we might cite many instances showing how fondly he dwelt on that domestic happiness which can only spring from connubial fidelity and devotion.  There is not a line in all that he wrote to bring a blush to the chastest cheek; and how thoroughly he appreciated the truly civilising influence of good women may be inferred from the following lines:—

    Again, in his charming little "Domestic Melody:"—

    Prince's passionate love of children is evidenced in his prose writings as well as in his poems, as will be seen in his "Rambles of a Rhymester," etc.; but from "Hours with the Muses " we might select many loving allusions, fraught with the fondest affection for children—the most tender devotion to everything associated with and appertaining to childhood.  To one of his quiet pleasures he thus alludes:—

and some beautiful lines, entitled "The Poet to his Child," are brimful of this healthy, fatherly feeling.  What an agony of love there is in "A Father's Lament," which could only come from the heart torn and bleeding, as it were, with the bereavement of a beloved child; and in his stanzas to the child of his poet-friend, John Bolton Rogerson, how feelingly he says—

In his autobiographical address to Mr. J. P. Westhead, he tells us,
 

We might linger long over the beauties which abound in these delightful poems of the affections, but from the few selections we have made it will be seen how sweetly and naturally his love of children finds expression in his graceful numbers.  In the same category are some exquisite lines "On seeing a Picture of two Children," "The Poet at the Grave of his Child," etc.; also the poem, "Written at the Grave of Shakespeare," the latter especially burning with a fervour of thought and a depth of feeling which reach a high standard of poetic eloquence.

    The remainder of the volume is occupied by some fifty Sonnets, Songs, and Lyrics, of varying poetic power and beauty, but all manifesting the sweetness and simplicity, felicity of expression, and purity of sentiment, which are the invariable characteristics of Prince's unaffected muse.

    Of the foregoing, many are occasional, many general.  That the sonnet was a favourite form of expression with the poet when addressing his friends in verse, is evidenced by many of the sonnets in "Hours with the Muses " being dedicated to brother-bards and kindred spirits, viz., to John Bolton Rogerson; Sylvan (R. W. Procter), George Richardson, Quintus Hortensius (G. F. Mandley), John Dickinson, Julius (Mr. J. Minter Morgan), etc.  Many of these sonnets are almost Wordsworthian in their carefully-chiselled beauty and exquisite finish.  We quote the two following, not necessarily as the choicest in the casket, but as fair examples of the whole collection.  The first, in point of order, is entitled "May:"—

Again, how chastely sweet is the following, "Written in the Castle of Caernarvon:"—

    Amongst the songs and lyrics are many little graceful tissues of feeling and fancy into which the poet has subtly interweaved the heart's own music; and, like a skilful musician, improvising soft melodies in the pensive twilight, his hand wanders lovingly over the keys of Life and Love, as he plaintively sings of joys and sorrows, which, alternating, like the lights and shadows of an April day, thrill the heart with gladness, and linger sweetly in the ear of memory.

    As an example of these minor poems, we quote the first stanza of a lyric entitled "There is Beauty;" also the first verse of an "Evening Song:"—

    If poetry is to be estimated according to its originality, and if this forms, as some one says, the real and only criterion of poetic merit, we must frankly own that Prince's muse cannot be said to have reached a very high standard; but, as we have already pointed out, there are degrees of poetic genius, as there are varieties and grades of excellence in poetic composition; and we must expect to find its expression partaking largely of the individuality of its possessor.  Thus, for example, we recognise Milton's sublimity, Byron's fiery sentiment, the deep mysticism of Shelley, and the passive dreaminess of Wordsworth; and so, notwithstanding the comparative absence of

"Beautiful things made new"

in Prince's poems, his genius is characterised by great naturalness and simplicity of expression, and music subtly and unsurpassably sweet.  While we cannot, therefore, claim for Prince genius of a very high order, yet the gift of genius, in contradistinction to mere poetic taste, he certainly possessed, and for purity and tenderness in no ordinary degree.  His poetry is the outward expression of a gifted nature, and demanded utterance.  He looked on Nature with a lover's eyes, sang of her beauties in numbers as natural and sweetly-thrilling as the song of a nightingale, and painted her charms with all the fidelity and boldness of an enthusiastic artist.

    We have hitherto referred only to the charms of Prince's poetry, but we cannot shut our eyes to occasional faults and weaknesses which, indeed, are to be found in poems of a far more pretentious character, and which, in the case of Prince, are for the most part the natural result of the circumstances in which they were written.  As literary compositions these blemishes undoubtedly mar the beauty of the poems in which they occur, but the gentle spirit pervading everything that he ever wrote far more than atones for trivial imperfections of style and expression, which, after all, are but the deficiencies of inexperienced authorship, arising out of circumstances peculiarly and deplorably unpropitious.

    Perhaps the weakest characteristic of the lyrical compositions of Prince is his continuity of description, without that skilful introduction of passages of sentiment and passion which constitute the grace and charm of the highest order of poetry.  A mere descriptive poem may weary by its very brilliancy, if not relieved by appeals to the heart as well as to the imagination; nevertheless, there run through all Prince's poems a deep plaintiveness and a sorrowful sadness which were the echoes of his own consciousness, and which seldom fail to awaken within us the spirit of condoling sympathy.

    Prince had drunk deeply of "the well of English undefiled," and had been familiar with the works of our choicest English poets from his boyhood; it is little to be wondered at, therefore, that in his own poems we find him unconsciously imitating in thought, style, and diction, passages from the works of his favourite authors, and in some instances so closely as to render him almost liable, however unjustly, to a charge of plagiarism.  For example, the introductory stanzas to Prince's "Farewell to Poesy," bear a strong resemblance to those prefacing Burns' eloquent poem, "The Vision;" and his sonnet "To the Cricket" is very similar to Cowper's translation of Vincent Bourne's lines on the same subject.  In the "Poet's Sabbath," also, there is a stanza in which the ideas certainly seem borrowed from a passage in Cowper's "Task."  Cowper says,

Prince's lines are as follows:

    We might adduce many other instances, yet, as Prince's reviewer says, [6] "there is sufficient originality, and a sufficient variety in handling that which is coincident, to convince a candid critic that the imitations have been unconsciously adopted.  Coincidence of thought there will always be in minds somewhat similar in structure and temperament, and when the resemblance is continued through two or three stanzas, or is sufficiently long to form a part of the plan of the whole poem, it is difficult to persuade suspicious criticism that the imitation is not intentional; but the memory, as all who have been in the habit of watching the operation of their own minds must know, retains the shadowy and faint reflections of things, or trains of thought, when the writer has forgotten their sources, and, therefore, regards them as the legitimate offspring of his own mental creations."

    Prince is also too apt to present the same idea in various forms, and thus runs the risk of self-repetition; and the reiterated presentation of the same images, however original and beautiful in themselves, forcibly suggests poverty of thought and diction.  Few things more easily provoke ill-will towards an author, especially a poet, than self-quotation; and on this account alone he should be most careful to avoid this danger.  Prince's faults, however, in this direction are by no means numerous, and are fairly attributable to his inexperience; and although it is a somewhat perilous argument to speculate upon what an author might have attained to in future, judging from his past achievements, yet we have every reason to believe that such blemishes as we have thus briefly indicated would not have existed in the subsequent products of his genius had nothing occurred to retard, and ultimately to arrest its development.

    We must now bring our rather discursive notice of "Hours with the Muses " to a conclusion.  Prince's first volume proved his genius as a true and noble-hearted poet, but the circumstances arising out of its success were, to some extent, the causes of his humiliation as a man.  Let us trust, however, that his poetry will live when his errors and his weaknesses have been long forgotten!

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FOOTNOTES.

3.    A literary journal started in Manchester in 1842, and edited by Mr. George Falkner.

4.    This poem does not appear in "Hours with the Muses" before the third edition; subsequently, therefore, to the poet's residence in Manchester.

5.    The ridge of hills running northward and eastward from Hayfield is the highest in Derbyshire:—Kinder-Scout is the summit, and commences that tract of picturesque scenery which spreads itself over Edale, the Woodlands, Hopedale, and the valley of the Derwent.  This charming locality is the scene of "A Sketch among the Mountains."—Vide "Black's Guide to Derbyshire."

6.    "Bradshaw's Journal."