Mr. Dermody is no common-place poet. His are not borrowed streams from ancient Helicon, filtered through the chill medium of modern refinement; but rush, with glowing energy, impetuous from the heart. Goldsmith appears to be his favourite model, and he could not have chosen one more worthy of poetic emulation. Yet the Bard of Auburn is followed with no servile step. There is a nerve and spirit in the productions of Mr. D. peculiarly his own, and a pathos which genuine feeling only can inspire.