The Valley of Tears. A Poem. By John Croker Barrow,
ILA. (Longmans.)—This is a singular production, and we can liken it to no- thing but one of the metrical histories of the middle ages. With no poetic graces, but with a simplicity that is quite touching at times, the author tells the story of his strange life in octosyllabic verses, and weaves into it descriptions of Creation, the Fall, and the scheme of redemption, abridgments of Old and New Testament history, allusions to ancient and modern heresies, and finally the creed and dogmas of the Church of Rome. "Doubt-haunted while a youth," he visits Jerusalem, where he meets with a hermit-priest, who amongst other things speaks to him.
"Of Nazareth, Where Mary, ever virgin, dwelt, The First of Adam's Daughters, Free from Sin ; The antitype of Aaron's Rod."
Horrified at the sight of the Crescent, ho flies to Rome, and there he hears a friar, who, "In his leood, Preached to the crowd on either side, The Story told of Passion-tide By John the great Evangelist,— Preached weeping for the Blood of Christ, Weeping as ithe could have shed A tear for every drop of blood."
He convinces the Church "That he believed The whole full Faith which she received," —mid returning to England, finds his father's house burnt" because the Son conformed to Rome." He is cursed by his father, nursed by some good nuns ; he then finds an unbelieving lady kneeling by a grave, con- verts and marries her ; she dies, and he than vows "To go enrolled a Knight Among the Knighthood of St. John, To bring his people back again. . . . . . . Back to the long forgotten fold."
He labours hard, and has flings at ancient heresies and modern falla- cies,—at a certain "pseudo-patriotic Chief and renegado General," well esteemed by his "foolish fellow-countrymen," and derives great comfort from a voice, "Piercing the nations one and all With its Divine Encyclical ;" —but on the whole, we must suppose, is unsuccessful, as he finishes in purgatory, and his people are a long way from the fold. "I am waiting," he says, "Until the Resurrection day, When taken out of Quarantine, The body which my spirit owns Will be restored to her again. Yet I am not to wait alone, But with the spirit of my wife, Now more than ever mine."
And he sees upon the earth sweet faces looking love,— " Not through any medium Of magical delirium ; Of spirit rapping in the air, Or table turning in the dark,
But in the livieg atmosphere
Of that communion of the dead
Iu which, as in a friendly clime,
The parted meet from time to time."
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