which have been the fruit of modern industry, the result could not but be admirable. It is, in truth, exactly that which is acknowledged to be the most fascinating in manners,—a refined simplicity; a polished ease; nature well-dressed, but not incumbered by her trappings. In addition to all this, Mr. Scott, perhaps in imitation of Thalaba, but more probably from that honest confidence which belongs to real genius, adopted a system of versification entirely new and exceedingly well suited to the style of his composition. It is surprising that something of this kind was not earlier attempted. With all the deference due to the great masters who fixed our standard metres, it surely is true that iambicks repeated without variation are apt to drag heavily in a long poem. Our verses are a little like ourselves, stately and respectable, but rather dreary, and altogether exceedingly uninviting. They chime on, like the musick to our ordinary ballads and psalmody, which still runs the same drone through fifty stanzas, with the sense perhaps varying in each of them. A modern French writer of great genius says, that the English have taken the images for their poetry from the colour of their clouds, and the cadence of their verse from the roaring of the ocean. There is much truth in this; and though the force and genius of a writer may enable him to overcome these obstacles, it cannot be unwise to escape them; at least where the lightness of the subject allows, and even seems to require it. Mr. Scott has done this very successfully. If any one is startled at the innovation, let him consider what the Lay of the Last Minstrel would be in the metre of Milton, or drilled into the regular ten-syllable couplets. It would be about as fine as the Paradise Lost turned into the stanza of Chevy Chace.* * An ingenious gentleman, who was dissatisfied with Milton's manner of versifying, once on a time actually versified anew the whole of that noble poem. Farmer has given the following precious specimen of his However, we must not be understood to approve absolutely, and without exception, of the versification of the Lay: on the contrary, we think it much too capriciously irregular. Mr. Southey, who rejected rhyme (an appendage which no one will wish to retain, if it may with safety be dismissed,) is obliged to seek a compensation for this disadvantage in a continual variation of his cadence :—but those who have rhyme should have reason too, and not vary the length of their lines without an obvious necessity or expedience. The eight-syllable verse is that which Mr.Scott ordinarily uses;—a measure in which Dryden says a poet has not room to turn himself round, but which, though too short for the sententious, dialectick style of that great master, is very well adapted to the rapid action of a modern romance. The original versification of the Lay certainly contributed greatly to its effect and so, we are afraid, did the capricious variety of its metres, for variety is very fascinating. The same is probably true of some other of its peculiarities; as, the antiquarianism and minute details of dress and costume, which are at the best of very questionable merit, but which were engaging at first from their novelty. Yet, after all, the causes of the popularity of the Lay are principally to be sought in the genius of its author. The beautiful lines which commence and conclude the poem ; almost the whole of the second canto; the fine descriptions of morning and evening, heightened by the contrast of the preceding scenes; the exquisitely tender lines which close the third and open the fourth canto; the spirited introduction of the sixth; the march of the English forces; the portraiture of Howard; the delightful ballads of Fitztraver and Harold, with the descriptions of the two poets: these are passages which might well recommend any poem to the publick favour, without asking aid from peculiarities in the style or fable. These are gems that will give a value to the curious setting that enchases them, long after its fanciful and delicate workmanship has ceased to be admired. Success alarms the timid, and makes bolder spirits confident. Had Mr. Scott distrusted his powers too much, he would probably have written no more; distrusting them rather too little, he published Marmion; certainly the most daring contempt of the court of publick opinion that ever has been committed. This work, like the Lay, is formed upon the model of the old romance; and in such a composition the fable is of prime importance. To say, that in Marmion it is imperfect, or awkwardly constructed, would be an injustice to the author: there is none,-literally none. The whole action of the poem consists in the journey of a noble lord from Northumberland to Edinburgh and back again. The histories of Constance and Clara, which were intended for the plot, are episodical; and the battle of Flodden Field, which occupies nearly the whole of the last canto, and gives a name to the work, has about as much connection with the principal narrative as the battle of Marathon. For the characters, the account of them is like that of our old races; "Eclipse first, and all the others no where." Marmion is finely drawn, but he has neither equal nor second. Constance is a bad woman, with very strong passions; Clara is a good one, with none at all; De Wilton only stalks and groans; and the rest are mere shadows. A third part of the poem is filled with processions and such mummery, the tedious tales of Mine Host and Sir David Lindesay, and the still more stupid narratives of the Prioress and De Wilton. Then, for fear of wanting letterpress, half a dozen things are thrown in, that are called Introductions; which, like dedications in blank, have just this merit, that they will suit all persons and all poems equally well. Add to this, that what is good in Marmion is all of the same character, severe and lofty; addressed only to the highest faculties of the understanding. Nothing is sacrificed to the graces. The poem contains scarcely a single passage of refinement or tenderness: the writer never studies to delight the taste or interest the feelings. Yet, with all these faults, and they are unpardonably great and numerous, Marmion is without doubt a very extraordinary production. It is full of defective passages; but whatever is not bad, is excellent; so excellent, that nothing in the Lay can be set in competition with it. For a long time the genius of the writer seems struggling with a cloud, and the light is faint and fitful; but towards the close of the fourth canto it breaks forth with considerable lustre, shines with a pleasing brilliancy through the earlier part of the fifth, and in the sixth bursts out with such astonishing splendour, that all the faults and all the merits of the preceding parts are thrown into the shade. The versification of Marmion is superior to that of the Lay; more free, full, and flowing; and less irregu lar. In the description of the battle there is a wildness and confusion, which remind one of the bold attempt by Julio Romano, in his Battle of Constantine, to imitate the bustle and tumult of the scene, by scattering his figures and confounding the masses of light and shade. But the poet has been more successful than the painter.-We may here observe, in passing, that the principles on which metre in poetry should be made to assist the sense, seem hardly yet generally understood. Where this is seriously attempted, it ordinarily fails, though the taste and feeling of our best writers often reach it accidentally. The truth is, there should always be a correspondence between the sound and sense, but never an echo: just as in musick, where the influence of sound is more completely felt, a good master chooses both his principal keys, and those into which he modulates, with reference to the subject; but he does not mimick the separate tones of joy, and pain, and peace. Compare a chorus in the Messiah with the celebrated air in Acis and Galatea: the effect is admirable in both; but it is a general effect; not a particular imitation, like the notes of a mock-bird. Yet even Handel, like Pope and Cowley, sometimes forgets the limits of his art, and attempts to scatter his notes, like the sheep upon the mountain. This is punning. The reception of Marmion was by no means very flattering to its author. Expectation, indeed, had been raised so high, that it could hardly have been satisfied with any thing; and while every body saw the faults of the poem, and felt its deficiencies, few could estimate its merits. The ladies, particularly, whose praises had contributed greatly to Mr. Scott's success, and probably not a little to his idleness, now began to murmur against their knight, and complained of the total want of interest in the new poem; for his antique sketches had lost their novelty, and there was little of genuine nature to supply the vacancy. Some people began to talk of the whole as an imposture; and many, who were persuaded that they had not been deluded into their admiration of the Lay, expressed a fear that the reign of their favourite was over. Mr. Scott at the same time received some very severe, but salutary, discipline from the Edinburgh Reviewers, who mingIed high applause with just and well-directed censures. ORIGINAL POETRY. FOR THE ANTHOLOGY. The following epistle from one of our friends in Europe, we publish with peculiar pleasure, and shall welcome his return, if not with equal elegance of language, with as much warmth of expression, as he employs in the anticipation of it. PARVULA J. S. B. S. ED. ANTH. PETROPOLI, V. A. KAL. SEXTIL. 1810. ARVULA incomptâ recitare formâ Taedet et scripti numero soluti; Altiùs tendo, lyricisque versor |