And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave; The whole scene of the duel, or judicial combat, is conducted according to the strict ordinances of chivalry, and delineated with all the minuteness of an ancient romancer. The modern reader will probably find it rather tedious; all but the concluding stanzas, which are in a loftier measure. pp. 35, 36. In the following passage he is less ambitious; and confines himself, as an ancient"'Tis done, 'tis done! that fatal blow minstrel would have done on the occasion, to a minute and picturesque representation of the visible object before him : "When for the lists they sought the plain, The stately Ladye's silken rein Did noble Howard hold; And much, in courteous phrase, they talk'd The same scrupulous adherence to the style of the old romance, though greatly improved in point of brevity and selection, is discernible in the following animated description of the feast, which terminates the poem : "The spousal rites were ended soon; The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam, And all is mirth and revelry."-pp. 166, 167. The following picture is sufficiently antique in its conception, though the execution is evidently modern: "Ten of them were sheath'd in steel, They lay down to rest Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard; They carv'd at the meal With gloves of steel, Has stretch'd him on the bloody plain; And smooth his path from earth to heaven! Loose wav'd his silver beard and hair, Still props him from the bloody sod, We have already made so many extracts from this poem, that we can now only afford to present our readers with one specimen of the songs which Mr. Scott has introduced in the mouths of the minstrels in the concluding canto. It is his object, in those pieces, to exemplify the different styles of ballad narrative which prevailed in this island at different periods, or in different conditions of society. The first is constructed upon the rude and simple model of the old Border ditties, and produces its effect by the direct and concise narrative of a tragical occurrence. The second, sung by Fitztraver, the bard of the accomplished Surrey, has more of the richness and polish of the Italian poetry, and is very beautifully written, in a stanza resembling that of Spenser. The third is intended to represent that wild style of composition which prevailed among the bards of the northern continent, somewhat softened and adorned by the minstrel's residence in the south. We prefer it, upon the whole, to either of the two former, and shall give it entire to our readers; who will probably be struck with the poetical effect of the dramatic form into which it is thrown, and of the indirect description by which every thing is most expressively told, without one word of distinct narrative. "O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; [met barr'd.""-Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And they drank the red wine through the hel And, gentle Ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, A wet shroud roll'd round Ladye gay: Why cross the gloomy frith to-day?" ''Tis not because the ring they ride, A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; It redden'd all the copse-wood glen; Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie; Both vaulted crypt and altar's pale; Blaz'd every rose-carv'd buttress fair- The lordly line of high St. Clair! With candle, with book, and with knell; But the Kelpy rung, and the Mermaid sung The dirge of lovely Rosabelle !"-pp. 181-184. From the various extracts we have now given, our readers will be enabled to form a tolerably correct judgment of this poem; and if they are pleased with these portions of it which have now been exhibited, we may venture to assure them that they will not be disappointed by the perusal of the whole. The whole night-journey of Deloraine-the opening of the wizard's tomb-the march of the English battle-and the parley before the walls of the castle, are all executed with the same spirit and poetical energy, which we think is conspicuous in the specimens we have already extracted; and a great variety of short passages occur in every part of the poem, which are still more striking and meritorious, though it is impossible to detach them, without injury, in the form of a quotation. It is but fair to apprise the reader, on the other hand, that he will meet with very heavy passages, and with a variety of details which are not likely to interest any one but a Borderer or an antiquary. We like very well * Isle. to hear "of the Gallant Chief of Otterburne," or "the Dark Knight of Liddisdale," and feel the elevating power of great names, when we read of the tribes that mustered to the war, “beneath the crest of old Dunbar, and Hepburn's mingled banners." But we really cannot so far sympathise with the local par tialities of the author, as to feel any glow of patriotism or ancient virtue in hearing of the Todrig or Johnston clans, or of Elliots, Arm strongs, and Tinlinns; still less can we relish the introduction of Black John of Athelstane, Whitslade the Hawk, Arthur-fire-the-braes, Red Roland Forster, or any other of those wor thies who "Sought the beeves that made their broth, In Scotland and in England both," into a poem which has any pretensions to seriousness or dignity. The ancient metrical romance right have admitted those homely personalities; but the present age will not endure them: And Mr. Scott must either sacrifice his Border prejudices, or offend all his readers in the other parts of the empire. There are many passages, as we have already insinuated, which have the general character of heaviness, such is the minstrel's account of his preceptor, and Deloraine's lamentation over the dead body of Musgrave: But the goblin page is, in our opinion, the capital deformity of the poem. We have already said that the whole machinery is useless: but the magic studies of the lady, and the rifled tomb of Michael Scott, give occasion to so much admirable poetry, that we can on no account consent to part with them. The page, on the other hand, is a perpetual burden to the poet, and to the reader: it is an undignified and improbable fiction, which excites neither terror, admiration, nor astonishment; but needlessly debases the strain of the whole work, and excites at once our incredulity and contempt. He is not a "tricksy spirit," like Ariel, with whom the imagination is irresistibly enamoured; nor a tiny monarch, like Oberon, disposing of the destinies of mortals: He rather appears to us to be an awkward sort of a mongrel between Puck and Caliban; of a servile and brutal nature; and limited in his powers to the indulgence of petty malignity, and the infliction of despicable injuries. Besides this objection to his character, his existence has no support from any general or established superstition. Fairies and devils, ghosts, angels, and witches, are creatures with whom we are all familiar, and who excite in all classes of mankind emotions with which we can easily be made to sympathise. But the story of Gilpin Horner can never have been believed out of the village where he is said to have made his appearance; and has no claims upon the credulity of those who were not criginally of his acquaintance. There is nothing at all interesting or elegant in the scenes of which he is the hero; and in reading those passages, we really could not help suspecting that they did not stand in the romance when the aged minstrel recited it to the royal Charles and his mighty earls, but were inserted afterwards to suit the taste of the cottagers among whom he begged his bread on the Border. We entreat Mr. Scott to inquire into the grounds of this suspicion; and to take advantage of any decent pretext he can lay hold of for purging "The Lay" of this ungraceful intruder. We would also move for a Quo Warranto against the spirits of the river and the mountain; for though they are come of a very high lineage, we do not know what lawful business they could have at Branksome castle in the year 1550. We have called the negligence which could leave such lines as these in a poem of this nature inexcusable; because it is perfectly evident, from the general strain of his composition, that Mr. Scott has a very accurate ear for the harmony of versification, and that he composes with a facility which must lighten the labour of correction. There are some smaller faults in the diction which might have been as well corrected also: there is too much alliteration; and he reduplicates his words too often. We have "never, never," several times; besides "tis o'er, 'tis o'er"-"in vain, in vain"-"tis done, 'tis done;" and several other echoes as ungraceful. Of the diction of this poem we have but little to say. From the extracts we have already given, our readers will perceive that We will not be tempted to say any thing the versification is in the highest degree ir- more of this poem. Although it does not regular and capricious. The nature of the contain any great display of what is properly work entitled Mr. Scott to some licence in this called invention, it indicates perhaps as much respect, and he often employs it with a very vigour and originality of poetical genius as any pleasing effect; but he has frequently ex-performance which has been lately offered to ceeded its just limits, and presented us with the public. The locality of the subject is such combinations of metre, as must put the likely to obstruct its popularity; and the auteeth of his readers, we think, into some thor, by confining himself in a great measure jeopardy. He has, when he pleases, a very melodious and sonorous style of versification, but often composes with inexcusable negligence and rudeness. There is a great number of lines in which the verse can only be made out by running the words together in a very unusual manner; and some appear to us to have no pretension to the name of verses at all. What apology, for instance, will Mr. Scott make for the last of these two lines? For when in studious mood he pac'd St. Kentigern's hall." or for these? "How the brave boy in future war, Should tame the unicorn's pride." to the description of manners and personal adventures, has forfeited the attraction which might have been derived from the delineation of rural scenery. But he has manifested a degree of genius which cannot be overlooked, and given indication of talents that seem well worthy of being enlisted in the service of the epic muse. The notes, which contain a great treasure of Border history and antiquarian learning, are too long, we think, for the general reader. The form of the publication is also too expensive; and we hope soon to see a smaller edition, with an abridgement of the notes, for the use of the mere lovers of poetry. (August, 1810.) The Lady of the Lake: a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT. Second Edition. 8vo. pp. 434: 1810. MR. SCOTT, though living in an age unusu- proof of extraordinary merit,- -a far surer one, ally prolific of original poetry, has manifestly we readily admit, than would be afforded by outstripped all his competitors in the race of any praises of ours: and, therefore, though popularity; and stands already upon a height we pretend to be privileged, in ordinary cases, to which no other writer has attained in the to foretell the ultimate reception of all claims memory of any one now alive. We doubt, on public admiration, our function may be indeed, whether any English poet ever had so thought to cease, where the event is already many of his books sold, or so many of his so certain and conspicuous. As it is a sore verses read and admired by such a multitude thing, however, to be deprived of our priviof persons in so short a time. We are credibly leges on so important an occasion, we hope to informed that nearly thirty thousand copies be pardoned for insinuating, that, even in such of "The Lay" have been already disposed a case, the office of the critic may not be alof in this country; and that the demand for Marmion, and the poem now before us, has been still more considerable,-a circulation we believe, altogether without example, in the case of a bulky work, not addressed to the bigotry of the mere mob, either religious or political. A popularity so universal is a pretty sure together superfluous. Though the success of the author be decisive, and even likely to be permanent, it still may not be without its use to point out, in consequence of what, and in spite of what, he has succeeded; nor altogether uninstructive to trace the precise limits of the connection which, even in this dull world, ir disputably subsists between success and desert, and to ascertain how far unexampled popularity does really imply unrivalled talent. As it is the object of poetry to give pleasure, it would seem to be a pretty safe conclusion, that that poetry must be the best which gives he greatest pleasure to the greatest number of persons. Yet we must pause a little, betore we give our assent to so plausible a proposition. It would not be quite correct, we fear, to say that those are invariably the best judges who are most easily pleased. The great multitude, even of the reading world, must necessarily be uninstructed and injudicious; and will frequently be found, not only to derive pleasure from what is worthless in finer eyes, but to be quite insensible to those beauties which afford the most exquisite delight to more cultivated understandings. True pathos and sublimity will indeed charm every one: but, out of this lofty sphere, we are pretty well convinced, that the poetry which appears most perfect to a very refined taste, will not often turn out to be very popular poetry. This, indeed, is saying nothing more, than that the ordinary readers of poetry have not a very refined taste; and that they are often insensible to many of its highest beauties, while they still more frequently mistake its imperfections for excellence. The fact, when stated in this simple way, commonly excites neither opposition nor surprise: and yet, if it be asked, why the taste of a few individuals, who do not perceive beauty where many others perceive it, should be exclusively dignified with the name of a good taste; or why poetry, which gives pleasure to a very great number of readers, should be thought inferior to that which pleases a much smaller number, the answer, perhaps, may not be quite so ready as might have been expected from the alacrity of our assent to the first proposition. That there is a good answer to be given, however, we entertain no doubt: and if that which we are about to offer should not appear very clear or satisfactory, we must submit to have it thought, that the fault is not altogether in the subject. In the first place, then, it should be remembered, that though the taste of very good judges is necessarily the taste of a few, it is implied, in their description, that they are persons eminently qualified, by natural sensibility, and long experience and reflection, to perceive all beauties that really exist, as well as to settle the relative value and importance of all the different sorts of beauty; they are in that very state, in short, to which all who are in any degree capable of tasting those refined pleasures would certainly arrive, if their sensibility were increased, and their experience and reflection enlarged. It is difficult, therefore, in following out the ordinary analogies of language, to avoid considering them as in the right, and calling their taste the true and the just one; when it appears that it is such as is uniformly produced by the cultivation of those faculties upon which all our pereptions of taste so obviously depend. It is to be considered also, that thought be the end of poetry to please, one of the parties whose pleasure, and whose notions of excel lence, will always be primarily consulted in its composition, is the poet himself; and as he must necessarily be more cultivated than the great body of his readers, the presumption is that he will always belong, comparatively speaking, to the class of good judges, and er deavour, consequently, to produce that sort of excellence which is likely to meet with their approbation. When authors, therefore, and those of whose suffrages authors are most ambitious, thus conspire to fix upon the same standard of what is good in taste and composition, it is easy to see how it should come to bear this name in society, in preference to what might afford more pleasure to individuals of less influence. Besides all this, it is ob vious that it must be infinitely more difficult to produce any thing conformable to this exalted standard, than merely to fall in with the current of popular taste. To attain the former object, it is necessary, for the most part, to understand thoroughly all the feelings and associations that are modified or created by cultivation:-To accomplish the latter, it will often be sufficient merely to have observed the course of familiar preferences. Success, however, is rare, in proportion as it is difficult; and it is needless to say, what a vast addition rarity makes to value, or how exactly our admiration at success is proportioned to our sense of the difficulty of the undertaking, Such seem to be the most general and im mediate causes of the apparent paradox, of reckoning that which pleases the greatest number as inferior to that which pleases the few; and such the leading grounds for fixing the standard of excellence, in a question mere feeling and gratification, by a different rule than that of the quantity of gratification produced. With regard to some of the fine arts-for the distinction between popular and actual merit obtains in them all-there are no other reasons, perhaps, to be assigned; and, in Music for example, when we have said that it is the authority of those who are best quali fied by nature and study, and the difficulty and rarity of the attainment, that entitles cer tain exquisite performances to rank higher than others that give far more general delight, we have probably said all that can be said explanation of this mode of speaking and judging. In poetry, however, and in some other departments, this familiar, though what extraordinary rule of estimation, is justi fied by other considerations. some As it is the cultivation of natural and per haps universal capacities, that produces that refined taste which takes away our pleasure in vulgar excellence, so, it is to be considered, that there is an universal tendency to the pro pagation of such a taste; and that, in times tolerably favourable to human happiness, there is a continual progress and improvement in this, as in the other faculties of nations and large assemblages of men. The number of intelligent judges may therefore be regarded as perpetually on the increase. The inner SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE. circle, to which the poet delights chiefly to | of unsuitable finery. There are other features, As it seems difficult to conceive that mere 47 of those images and phrases which had long The justice of these remarks will probably But it is not merely from the use of much excellent diction, that a modern poet is thus debarred by the lavishness of his predecessors. There is a certain range of subjects and characters, and a certain manner and tone, which were probably, in their origin, as graceful and attractive, which have been proscribed by the same dread of imitation. It would be too long to enter, in this place, into any detailed examination of the peculiarities originating chiefly in this source-which distinguish ancient from modern poetry. It may be enough just to remark, that, as the elements of poet |