posed to make. That they who seek to be original by means of affectation, should revolt more by their affectation than they attract by their originality, is just and natural; but even the nobler devices that win the suffrages of the judicious by their intrinsic beauty, as well as their novelty, are extremely apt to repel the multitude, and to obstruct the popularity of some of the most exquisite productions of genius. The beautiful but who had gone before them; and the most taking;-and whatever costs they were therefore put upon various the author much pains and labour, expedients for attaining their object, is usually found to require a corresand yet preserving their claim to ori-ponding effort on the part of the ginality. Some of them set them-reader, which all readers are not disselves to observe and delineate both characters and external objects with greater minuteness and fidelity, and others to analyze more carefully the mingling passions of the heart, and to feed and cherish a more limited train of emotion through a longer and more artful career, while a third sort distorted both nature and passion according to some fantastical theory of their own, or took such a narrow corner of each, and dissected it with such curious and microscopic ac-minute delineations of such admiracuracy, that its original form was no ble observers as Crabbe or Cowper, longer discernible by the eyes of the are apt to appear tedious to those uninstructed. In this way we think who take no interest in their subthat modern poetry has both been en- jects, and no concern about their riched with more exquisite pictures, art ;-and the refined, deep and sus and deeper and more sustained strains tained pathetic of Campbell, is of pathetic, than were known to the still more apt to be mistaken for less elaborate artists of antiquity; monotony and languor, by those who at the same time that it has been de- are either devoid of sensibility, or faced with more affectation, and impatient of quiet reflection. The loaded with far more intricacy. But most popular style undoubtedly is whether they failed or succeeded, that which has great variety and briland whether they distinguished them-liancy, rather than exquisite finish in selves from their predecessors by faults or by excellences, the later poets, we conceive, must be admitted to have almost always written in a more constrained and narrow manner than their originals, and to have de· parted farther from what was obvious, easy and natural. Modern poetry, in this respect, may be compared, perhaps, without any great impropriety, to modern sculpture. It is greatly inferior to the antient in freedom, grace and simplicity; but, in return, possesses a more decided ex-genius, we do not presume to deterpression, and more fine finishing of less suitable embellishments. Whatever may be gained or lost, however, by this change of manner, it is obvious, that poetry must become less popular by means of it. The most natural and obvious manner, is always its images and descriptions; and which touches lightly on many passions, without raising any so high as to transcend the comprehension of ordinary mortals-or dwelling on it so long as to exhaust their patience. Whether Mr. Scott holds the same opinion with us upon these matters, and has intentionally conformed his practice to this theory,-or whether the peculiarities in his compositions have been produced merely by fol lowing out the natural bent of his mine but, that he has actually made use of all our recipes for popularity, we think very evident; and conceive, that few things are more curious than the singular skill, or good fortune, with which he has reconciled his claims on the favour of the multitude, with his pretensions to more select wizards, and true lovers. He never admiration Confident in the force ventures to carry us into the cottage and originality of his own genius, he of the peasant, like Crabbe or Cowhas not been afraid to avail himself per; nor into the bosom of domestic of common-places both of diction and privacy, like Campbell; nor among of sentiment, whenever they appeared creatures of the imagination, like to be beautiful or impressive,-using Southey or Darwin. Such personthem however, at all times, with the ages, we readily admit, are not in skill and spirit of an inventor: and themselves so interesting or striking quite certain that he could not be as those to whom Mr Scott has raistaken for a plagiarist or imitator, devoted himself; but they are far he has made free use of that great less familiar in poetry-and are theretreasury of characters, images and fore more likely, perhaps, to engage expressions, which had been accumu- the attention of those to whom poetry lated by the most celebrated of his is familiar. In the management of predecessors; at the same time that the passions, again, Ir Scott appears the rapidity of his transitions, the no- to us to have pursued the same povelty of his combinations, and the pular, and comparatively easy course. spirit and variety of his own thoughts He has raised all the most familiar and inventions, show plainly that he and poetical emotions, by the most. was a borrower from any thing but obvious aggravations, and in the most poverty, and took only what he could compendious and judicious way. He have given if he had been born in an has dazzled the reader with the splenearlier generation. The great secret dour, and even warmed him with the of his popularity, however, and the transient heat of various affections; leading characteristic of his poetry, but he has now here fairly kindled appear to us to consist evidently in him with enthusiasm, or melted him this, that he has made more use of into tenderness. Writing for the common topics, images and expres- world at large, he has wisely abstained sions, than any original poet of later from attempting to raise any passion times; and, at the same time, dis- to a height to which worldly people played more genius and originality could not be transported; and conthan any recent author who has work-tented himself with giving his reader ed in the same materials. By the the chance of feeling, as a brave, later peculiarity, he has entitled him-kind and affectionate gentleman should self to the admiration of every description of readers ;-by the former, he is recommended in an especial manner to the inexperienced, at the hazard of some little offence to the more cultivated and fastidious. often feel in the ordinary course of his existence, without trying to breathe into him either that lofty enthusiasm which disdains the ordinary business and amusements of life, or that quiet and deep sensibility which unfits for all its pursuits. With it is quite obvious that Mr Scott has not aimed at writing either in a pure or a very consistent style. He seems to have been anxious only to strike, and to be easily and universally understood; and, for this purpose, to In the choice of his subjects, for example, he does not attempt to in-regard to diction and imagery, too, terest merely by fine observation or pathetic sentiment, but takes the assistance of a story, and enlists the reader's curosity among his motives for attention. Then his characters are all selected from the most common dramatis persona of poetry ;—have culled the most glittering and Kings, warriors, knights, outlaws, conspicuous expressions of the most nuns, minstrels, secluded damsels, popular authors, and to have inter Woven There is nothing cold, creeping or feeble, in all Mr Scott's poetry ;—no laborious littleness, or puling classical affectation. He has his failures, indeed, like other people; but he always attempts vigorously; and never fails in his immediate object, without accomplishing something far beyond the reach of an ordinary writer. Even when he wanders from the paths of pure taste, he leaves behind him the footsteps of a powerful ge nius; and moulds the most humble of his materials into a form worthy of a nobler substance. Allied to this inherent vigour and animation, and in a great degree derived from it, is that air of facility and freedom which adds to peculiar a grace to most of Mr Scott's compositions. There is certainly no living poet whose works seem to come from him with so much ease, or who so seldom appears to labour, even in the most burdensome parts of his performance. He seems, indeed, never to think, either of himself or his reader, but to be com pletely identified and lost in the personages with whom he is occupied ; and the attention of the reader is Woven them in splendid confusion with his own nervous diction and irregular versification. Indifferent whether he coins or borrows, and drawing with equal freedom on his memory and his imagination, he goes boldly forward, in full reliance on a never failing abundance; and dazzles, with his richness and variety, even those who are most apt to be offended with his glare and irregularity. There is nothing, in Mr Scott, of the severe and majestie style of Milton-or of the terse and fine composition of Pope-or of the elaborate elegance and melody of Campbell-or even of the flowing and redundant diction of Southey. But there is a medley of bright images and glowing words, set carelessly and loosely togethera diction, tinged successively with the careless richness of Shakespeare, the harshness and antique simplicity of the old romances, the homeliness of vulgar ballads and anecdotes, and the sentimental glitter of the most modern poetry,-passing from the borders of the ludicrous to those of the sublime, alternately minute and energetic-sometimes artificial, and frequently negligent-but al-consequently either transferred, unways full of spirit and vivacity,-abounding in images, that are striking, at first sight, to minds of every contextureand never expressing a sentiment which it can cost the most ordinary reader any exertion to comprehend. 1 Such seem to be the leading qualities that have contributed to Mr Scott's popularity; and, as some of them are obviously of a kind to diminish his merit in the eyes of more fastidious judges, it is but fair to complete this view of his peculiarities by a hasty notice of such of them as entitle him to unqualified admiration; -and here it is impossible not to be struck with that vivifying spirit of strength and animation which pervades all the inequalities of his composition, and keeps constantly on the mind of the reader the impression of great power, spirit and intrepidity. broken, to their adventures, or, if it glance back for a moment to the author, it is only to think how much more might be done, by putting forth that strength at full, which has, without effort, accomplished so many wonders. It is owing partly to these qualities, and partly to the great variety of his style, that Mr. Scott is much less frequently tedious than any other bulky poet with whom we are acquainted. His store of images is so-copious, that he never dwells upon one long enough to produce weariness in the reader; and, even where he deals in borrowed or in tawdry wares, the rapidity of his transitions, and the transient glance with which he is satisfied as to each, leave the critic no time to be offended, and hurry him forward along with the multitude, enchanted enchanted with the brilliancy of the exhibition. Thus, the very frequency of his deviations, from pure taste, comes, in some sort, to constitute their apology; and the profusion and variety of his faults to afford a new proof of his genius. t These, we think, are the general characteristics of Mr Scott's poetry. Among his minor peculiarities, we might notice his singular talent for description, and especially for the description of scenes abounding in motion or action of any kind. In this department, indeed, we conceive him to be almost without a rival, either among modern or antient poets; and the character and process of his descriptions are as extraordinary as their effect is astonishing. He places before the eyes of his readers a more distinct and complete picture, perhaps, than any other artist ever presented by mere words; and yet he does not enumerate all the visible parts of the subject with any degree of minuteness, nor confine himself, by any means, to what is visible. The singular merit of his delineations, on the contrary, consists in this, that, with a few bold and abrupt strokes, he finishes a most spirited outline,-and then instantly kindles it by the sudden light and colour of some moral affection. There are none of his fine descriptions, accordingly, which do not derive a great part of their clearness and picturesque effect, as well as their interest, from the quantity of character and moral expression which is thus blended with their details, and which, so far from interrupting the conception of the external object, very powerfully stimulate the fancy of the reader to complete it; and give a grace and a spirit to the whole representation, of which we do not know where to look for any other example. Another very striking peculiarity in Mr Scott's poetry, is the air of freedom and nature which he has contrived to impart to most of his distinguished characters; and with which no poet more modern than Shakespeare has ventured to repre sent personages of such dignity. We do not allude here merely to the genuine familiarity and homeliness of many of his scenes and dialogues, but to the air of gaiety and playfulness in which persons of high rank seem, from time immemorial, to have thought it necessary to array, not their courtesy only, but their generosity and hostility. This tone of good society, Mr Scott has shed over his higher characters with great grace and effect; and has, in this way, not only made his representátions much more faithful and true to nature, but has very agreeably re lieved the monotony of that tragic solemnity which ordinary writers appear to think indispensable to the dignity of poetical heroes and heroines. We are not sure, however, whether he has not occasionally exceeded a little in the use of this ornament; and given, now and then, too coquetish and trifling a tone to discussions of great interest. Mr. Scott has many other characteristic excellences; but we have already detained our readers too long with this imperfect sketch of his poetical character, and must proceed, without further delay, to give them some account of the work which is now before us. Of this, upon the whole, we are inclined to think more highly than of either of his former publications. We are more sure, however, that it has fewer faults, than that it has greater beauties; and as its beauties bear a strong resemblance to those with which the public has already been made familiar in these celebrated works, we should not be surprised if its popularity were less splendid and remarkable. For our own parts, however, we are of opinion, that it will be oftener read hereafter than either of them; and that, if and rocky shores, spread out in glory if it had appeared first in the series, their reception would be less favour-before him. After gazing with adable than that which it has experi- miration on this beautiful scene, which enced. It is more polished in its is described with greater spirit than diction, and more regular in its ver- accuracy, the huntsman sounds his sification; the story is constructed horn, in the hope of being heard by with infinitely more skill and address; some of his attendants, and sees to there is a greater proportion of plea- lis infinite surprise, a little skiff, sing and tender passages, with much guided by a lovely woman, glide less antiquarian detail; and, upon from beneath the trees that overhang the whole, a larger variety of cha- the water, and approach the shore at racters, more artfully and judiciously his feet. The lady calls to her father; contrasted. There is nothing so fine, and, upon the stranger's approach, perhaps, as the battle in Marmionpushes her shallop from the shore in or so picturesque as some of the alarm. After holding a short parley scattered sketches in the Lay; but with him, however, from the water, there is a richness and a spirit in the she takes him into the boat, and whole piece, which does not pervade carries him to a woody island, where either of these poems,--a profusion she leads him into a sort of sylvan of incident, and a shifting brilliancy mansion, rudely constructed of trunks of colouring, that reminds us of the of trees, moss and thatch, and hung witchery of Ariosto,-and a con- round, within, with trophies of war, stant elasticity, and occasional energy, and of the chase. An elderly lady which seem to belong more peculi- is introduced at supper; and the arly to the author now before us. stranger, after disclosing himself to be James Fitz-James, the knight of Snowdoun,' tries in vain to diacover the name and history of the ladies, whose manners discover them to be of high rank and quality. He then retires to sleep, and is disturbed with distressful visions,-rises and tranquilizes himself, by looking on the lovely moonlight landscape, says his prayers, and sleeps till the heathcock crows on the mountains behind him; and thus closes the first It may appear superfluous, perhaps, for us to present our readers with any analysis of a work, which is probably, by this time, in the hands of as many persons as are likely to see our account of it. As these, however, may not be the same persons, and as, without making some such abstract, we could not easily render the few remarks we have to offer, intelligible, we shall take the liberty of beginning with a short summary of the fable. The first canto, which is entitled the Chase, begins with a pretty long description of a stag-hunt in the Highlands of Perthshire. As the chase lengthens, the sportsmen drop off; till at last the foremost huntsanan is left alone; and his horse, overcome with fatigue, stumbles and dies in a rocky valley. The adventurer pursues a little wild path, through a deep ravine; and at last, climbing up a craggy eminence, discovers, by the light of the evening sun, LochKatrine, with all its woody islands 6 canto. The second opens with a fine pic. ture of the aged harper, Allanbane, sitting on the island beach with the damsel, watching the skiff which carries the stranger back again to land. The minstrel sings a sweet song; and a conversation ensues, from which the reader gathers, that the lady is a daughter of the house of Douglas, and that her father, having been exiled by royal displeasure from the court had been fain to accept of this asylum from Sir Roderic Dhu, a Highland chieftain, who had long been |