REVIEW.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume VII, Issue 413, 22 February 1877, Page 3

REVIEW.

'' Floweks of the Free Lauds," by Thomas Bracken. Mills, Dick and Co., Dunedin.

The author rather takes the sting out of our pen by his preface. His flowers, he says, are but " wild bush blossoms, that have received but slight attention in their growth; and therefore the critical floriculturist may expect to find a number of weeds clinging around the steins of many of them." Possibly the highest praises that can be bestowed upon these poems are of a negative character. Mr. Bracken should not quarrel with us in that, for we hardly suppose lie intends his fame as a New Zealand poet to rest on the volume just published. There is no high-strained effort perceptible, or seeking after highflown words. No attempt is made anywhere to introduce coarseness in lieu of wit; neither is there any attempt to scoff at the old faith, or the received hope of the future. Nothing is more perceptible throughout than the strong manly tone, and high standard of moral excellence, kept steadily in view. Many of the pieces were composed for special occasions—written, so to speak, to order. This alone would prevent any great height of poesy being reached. Consequently we find that, while several of the priie poems are creditable as such, and contain some fine passages introduced for declamatory effect, the pages of the book that have a fair chance of life are not filled with these. The best of the forced pieces are in memory of Burns and O'Connell. It is among the trifles of the book that we find what is more to our taste—the light spray of the poet's as yet undeveloped power. "The National Hymn," "Hurrah for New Zealand," "April here and April there," " Old Letters," " Wilson Gray," and otters, all bid fair to be popular, and to survive the crucial test of keeping. As a sample of the poet at his best, we give a few lines from " Ocean's Answer ":— I gazed Along the giant hills that proudly raised Their weather-beaten brows above 'the bay Which mirror'd all their forms upon its breast, And as my eye swept o'er the verdant meads And tall young saplings belting peaceful homes, 1 thanked my master for His gracious gifts To our New Land ; and as ruy gaze fell down Upon the fair white city that reposed In Sabbath quietness, within the vale, Again I thanked my God for all His gifts ; But, musing still, I said : "Ay, even there, In that calm city, there are weary hearts And wounded spirits crushed by worldly cares, And sad onea praying for the call of death, That they might leave their sufferings behind And go to sleep in peace upon yon hill Where those pale monuments as emblems stand Of human nothingness ! Why is it thus ? " Again the breakers to their mother went And brought this answer back : "God only knows." In a very different style is written an address spoken at the Princess Theatre in aid of the Hattie Shepparde memorial fund, which begins with the rather striking conceit:— The plot is short—the play is "Life and Death;" The players must be ready at the calls; Above a grave an angel holds a wreath— The exit wing is draped with gloomy palhv— A smile, a tear, a word, a passing breath:— The tableau is complete—the curtain falls! It is not fair to extract the jewels from the casket. " Flowers of the Free Lands" is worthy of a place among the favorite books of every cultivatod family. Our praises are not lavished wholesale, because Mr. Bracken deserves better treatment. We aro confident that if the dissipating nature of press work does not prove too heavy a handicap, he has in him a work that will live, and of which not only he, but New Zealand, may be proud. In the meantime we gladly welcome this bouquet of flowers, and cordially recommend it to the reading public. We have to thank the publishers, Messrs. Mills, Dick and Co., for a copy of the book, which appears to be creditably got up. Copies can be procured through Mr. L. W. Busch, of Naseby.