It is so rarely that the reviewer now-a-days has to cope with anything even remotely resembling an epic, that when such a work does happen to fall in his way, he is apt to consider the perusal of it as an achievement almost worthy to form the subject of a poem of equal pretensions. Nor is it in all moods that he would so much as attempt the task; for indeed we fear it might almost be said of Homer himself, that only when that great man is found nodding could he count safely upon the “used-up” energies of a modern critic as being in perfectly sympathetic relation with him.

The poem whose title and genealogy heads our present article is not, however, a direct descen–dant from the great epic stock, but rather belong–ing to that illegitimate line which claims Ariosto for its ancestor—a bastard, for the matter of that, with a dash of the Falconbridge humour in him, and not at all disposed to yield the hereditary lion's skin to any that has not strength to keep it. Or perhaps, on some accounts, the author of would have preferred to trace the pedi–gree of his work through Tasso's branch of the heroic family, which, if more legitimate, has yet always seemed to us to be less akin to the parent stock in vigour than is the misbegotten fire of Ariosto; and, indeed, almost liable now and then to that irreverent imputation of being “got be–twixt sleep and wake.” Au reste , we can assure the reader that whatever may have been the balance of our author's predilections, his poem of is a perfect cornucopia of marvellous ad–venture; where king's sons are dethroned and reinstated; where usurpers, in the hour of triumph, find themselves cloven to the chine; where the unjustifiable lives of dragons are held on the most perilous tenure; where the gods themselves are the “medium” of prophecy; and where the valour of the hero is unsurpassed, ex- cept, perhaps, by that of his lady—the love here being not only platonic, but generally having Mars for a Cupid.

Before proceeding to give a translated extract from the poem, we need merely premise regard–ing its author, Ser Francesco Polidori (the Ser being a legal title), that he was born in the year 1720, at Pontedera, in Tuscany; that he followed the profession of the law, in which, how–ever, his natural goodness of heart appears to have interfered with his success; and that he died in 1773. , which seems to have been his only considerable work, after remaining in the limbo of manuscript for about a century, now at length sees the light under the auspices of a nonagenarian descendant; for such, as may be gathered from the preface, is now the venerable age of its editor, of whom we shall have more to say anon.

The following extract is taken from a passage of the poem where Prince Losario and his friend Antasete are informed by a river-nymph of the means whereby they may succeed in destroying a dragon which troubles her dominion:—

There is movement in the above description, and the bloody work is done with an appro–priately savage relish. Nor is this, perhaps, the best passage which we could have taken from the poem; but its episodical character recommended it to extract.

Having said thus much of and its author, we shall add, before we conclude, some little regarding its editor, whose own poetical works (and he has written much) we have been looking over at the same time with this his last publication; which, moreover, as its title-page indicates, owes its concluding cantos to his hand.

We have said above that Mr. Polidori is now in his ninetieth year; and we find, by the preface to his collected poems, that sixty of these years have been spent in England. Nor has his sojourn here been without results: having led apparently to an extensive acquaintance with our literature, and induced him probably to undertake his ex–cellent translation of Milton's works, whose value has been acknowledged both here and in his own country. Among his other labours as a trans–lator, the version of Lucan's deserves high praise, and has obtained it in many quarters. To him, also, the student of Milton is indebted for the modern republication of that very rare work the of Valvasoni; accompanied by a valuable dissertation regarding its claims to have suggested in any degree the structure of the great We may add that Mr. Polidori was the father of the late Dr. Polidori, who wrote the , erroneously attributed to Lord Byron; and that he is the father-in-law of Professor Rossetti, celebrated among the patriotic poets of his country, and in the selva oscura of Dantesque criticism.

We gather from the preface to Mr. Polidori's original poems that, during four years of his youth, he was secretary to that Byron of the classic school, or Racine of romanticism, “rejected by both,”—the great Alfieri; a strange kind of prodigal-ascetic, suggesting fantastic combina–tions; of whom one might say that he seemed bent on carrying on simultaneously the two phases of Timon's career, and “throwing in” Shakspere par étrenne. In this preface are many most curious anecdotes, exhibiting the stoical preten–sions and childish self-will, the republicanism and brutal arrogance, the euphuistic woman-worship and private unmanliness (for none of these terms are too harsh), which were among the contradic–tions that “made up” this unchivalrous trouba–dour. Some of these scraps from the unacted biography of one who was seldom behind the scenes, we would willingly extract for our readers; but, indeed, they should rightly be read together. We, therefore, prefer translating a couple of specimens from the poems in Mr. Polidori's volume.

The following passage occurs in the second of two poems, entitled and which may be translated and or, perhaps, more properly, and The joint theme seems to us admirably chosen, and its execution highly successful.

We doubt not that many of our readers will enjoy with us, in the above beautiful passage, both the close observation of nature, and the un–der-current of suggestive thought. In our second extract, which closes this notice, it seems to us that the beauty of Mr. Polidori's images is suf–ficient to disprove their modest application to his own poetic powers.