authenticated?_' and does not such an assertion promote the popular
superstition of witchcraft?

In a very different style of poetry, is the Rime of the Ancyent
Marinere; a ballad (says the advertisement) 'professedly written in
imitation of the _style_, as well as of the spirit of the elder poets.'
We are tolerably conversant with the early English poets; and can
discover no resemblance whatever, except in antiquated spelling and a
few obsolete words. This piece appears to us perfectly original in style
as well as in story. Many of the stanzas are laboriously beautiful; but
in connection they are absurd or unintelligible. Our readers may
exercise their ingenuity in attempting to unriddle what follows.

'The roaring wind! it roar'd far off,
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life,
And a hundred fire-flags sheen
To and fro they are hurried about;
And to and fro, and in and out
The stars dance on between.

The coming wind doth roar more loud;
The sails do sigh, like sedge:
The rain pours down from one black cloud,
And the moon is at its edge.

Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft,