was applied to this department of poetry; and, in individual, so long will individual history and individual virtue be the readier and more accessible road to general interest and attention; and, perhaps, we may add, that it is the more useful, as well as the more accessible, inasmucn as it affords an example capable of being easily imitated. According to the author's idea of Romantic Poetry, as distinguished from Epic, the former comprehends a fictitious narrative, framed and combined at the may judge best: which neither exacts nor refuses the use of supernatural machinery; which is free from the technical rules of the Epée; and is sub Modern poets may therefore be pardoned in seeking this than any thing else. Hebraisms and Grecisms are to be of Chaucer." "I must not conclude without cautioning all writers without genius in one material point, which is, never to be afraid of having too much fire in their works. I should advise rather to take their warmest thoughts, and spread them abroad upon paper; for they are observed to cool before they are read."-POPE. The Guardian, No. 78. 1" In all this we cheerfully acquiesce, without abating any thing of our former hostility to the modern Romaunt style, which is founded on very different principles. Nothing is, in our opinion, so dangerous to the very existence of poetry as the extreme laxity of rule and consequent facility of composition, which are its principal characteristics. Our very admission in favour of that license of plot and conduct which is claimed by the Romance writers, ought to render us so much the more guarded in extending the privilege to the minor poets of composition and versification. The removal of all technical bars and impediments sets wide open the gates of indifferently treated have still the interest and charm of novelty, and which thus prevents them from adding insipidity to their other more insuperable defects.1 "In the same letter in which William Erskine acknowledges the receipt of the first four pages of Rokeby, he adverts also to the Bridal of Triermain as being already in rapid progress. The fragments of this second poem, inserted in the Register of the preceding year, had attracted considerable notice; the secret of their authorship had been well kept; and by somo means, even in the shrewdest circles of Edinburgh, the belief had become prevalent that they proceeded not from Scott but from Erskine. Scott had no sooner completed his bargain as to the copyright of the unwritten Rokeby, than he resolved to pause from time to time in its composition, and weave those fragments into a shorter and lighter romance, executed in a different metre, and to be published anonymously in a small pocket volume, as nearly as possible on the same day with the avowed quarto. He expected great amusement from the comparisons which the critics would no doubt indulge themselves in drawing between himself and this humble candidate; and Erskine good-humouredly entered into the scheme, undertaking to do nothing which should effectually suppress the notion of his having set himself up as a modest rival to his friend."-Life of Scott, vol. iv. p. 12. The Bridal of Triermatu. INTRODUCTION. I. COME, LUCY! while 'tis morning hour, Though vanish'd from the velvet grass. For here compell'd to disunite, Round petty isles the runnels glide, And chafing off their puny spite, The shallow murmurers waste their might, Yielding to footstep free and light A dry-shod pass from side to side. II. Nay, why this hesitating pause? That this same stalwart arm of mine, Which could yon oak's prone trunk uprear, Shall shrink beneath the burden dear So, now, the danger dared at last, III. And now we reach the favourite glade, Paled in by copsewood, cliff, and stone, Where never harsher sounds invade, To break affection's whispering tone, Than the deep breeze that waves the shade, Than the small brooklet's feeble moan. 1 MS.-"Haughty eye." Come rest thee on thy wonted seat, Who would that not their love be seen. That fain would spread the invidious tale, How Lucy of the lofty eye,l Noble in birth, in fortunes high, She for whom lords and barons sigh, Meets her poor Arthur in the dale. IV. How deep that blush -how deep that sigh! Pride mingled in the sigh her voice, And shared with Love the crimson glow; Well pleased that thou art Arthur's choice, Yet shamed thine own is placed so low : Thou turn'st thy self-confessing cheek, As if to meet the breeze's cooling; Then, Lucy, hear thy tutor speak, For Love, too, has his hours of schooling. Too oft my anxious eye has spied "with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love. Thou wouldst not yield, for wealth or rank, To meet a rival on a throne: VI. My sword-its master must be dumb; Nor dread to hear of Arthur's shame. That boasts a pulse so warm as mine ?1 Match'd with thine eyes, I thought it faded; And titles of high birth the token— I might have learn'd their choice unwise, VII. My lyre-it is an idle toy, That borrows accents not its own, Like warbler of Colombian sky, That sings but in a mimic tone. 3 Ne'er did it sound o'er sainted well, Nor boasts it aught of Border spell; 1 MS.-"That boasts so warm a heart as mine." MS." And Lucy's gems before her eyes." 3 The Mocking Bird. 4 MS-" Perchance, because it sung their praise." See Appendix, Note A. "The Introduction, though by no means destitute of beauties, is decidedly inferior to the Poem: its plan or conception, is neither very ingenious nor very striking. The best passages are those in which the author adheres most strictly to his original: in those which are composed without having his eyes fixed or his model, there is a sort of affectation and straining at humour that will probably excite some feeling of disappointment, either because the effort is not altogether successful, or because it does not perfectly harmonize with the tone and colouring of the whole piece. "The Bridal' itself is purely a tale of chivalry; a tale of Britain's isle, and Arthur's days, when midnight fairies daunced the maze.' The author never gives us a glance of ordinary life, or of ordinary personages. From the splendid court of Arthur, we are conveyed to the halls of enchantment, and, of course, are introduced to a system of manners, perfectly decided and appropriate, but altogether remote Its strings no feudal slogan jour, VIII. But, if thou bid'st, these tones shall tell That best may charm romantic ear. For Lucy loves,—like COLLINS, ill-starred name. Whose lay's requital, was that tardy fame, Who bound no laurel round his living head, Should hang it o'er his monument when dead,For Lucy loves to tread enchanted strand, And thread, like him, the maze of fairy land; Of golden battlements to view the gleam, And slumber soft by some Elysian stream; Such lays she loves,—and, such my Lucy's choice, What other song can claim her Poet's voice ? The Bridal of Triermain. CANTO FIRST. I. WHERE is the Maiden of mortal strain, from those of this vulgar world."-Quarterly Review, July, 1813. "The poem now before us consists properly of two distinct subjects, interwoven together something in the manner of the Last Minstrel and his Lay, in the first and most enchanting of Walter Scott's romances. The first is the history (real or imaginary, we persume not to guess which) of the author's passion, courtship, and marriage, with a young lady, his superior in rank and circumstances, to whom he relates at intervals the story which may be considered as the principal design of the work, to which it gives its title. This is a mode of introducing romantic and fabulous narratives which we very much approve, though there may be reason to fear that too frequent repetition may wear out its effect. It attaches a degree of dramatic interest to the work, and at the same time softens the absurdity of a Gothic legend, by throwing it to a greater distance from the relation and auditor, by representing it, not as a train of facts which actually took place, but as a mere fable, either adopted by the credulity of former times. or invented for the purposes of amusement, and the exercise of the imagination."-Critical Review, 1813. 7 See Appendix, Note. B She must be lovely, and constant, and kind, When it breaks the clouds of an April day; Courteous as monarch the morn he is crown'd, Generous as spring-dews that bless the glad ground; Noble her blood as the currents that met That shall match with Sir Roland of Triermain. II. Sir Roland de Vaux he hath laid him to sleep, His blood it was fever'd, his breathing was deep. He had been pricking against the Scot, All in the castle must hold them still, III. It was the dawn of an autumn day; When that Baron bold awoke. IV. "Hearken, my minstrels ! Which of ye all Touch'd his harp with that dying fall, So sweet, so soft, so faint, It seem'd an angel's whisper'd call And hearken, my merry-men! What time or where Did she pass, that maid with her heavenly brow, With her look so sweet and her eyes so fair, And her graceful step and her angel air, And the eagle plume in her dark-brown hair, That pass'd from my bower e'en now ?" V. Answer'd him Richard de Bretville; he Was chief of the Baron's minstrelsy,"Silent, noble chieftain, we Have sat since midnight close, When such lulling sounds as the brooklet sings, Murmur'd from our melting strings, And hush'd you to repose. When she thinks her lover near." Else had I heard the steps, though low VI. "Then come thou hither, Henry, my page, And redden'd all the Nine stane Hill, Made the warrior's heart-blood chill. 1 Dunmailraise is one of the grand passes from Cumberland into Westmoreland. It takes its naine from a cairn, or pile of stones, erected, it is said, to the memory of Dunmall, the last King of Cumberland. Of kingdoms' fall, and fate of wars, Framed from the rainbow's varying dyes, Shall ever rest De Vaux's bride !"2 VII. The faithful Page he mounts his steed, Left Mayburgh's mound4 and stones of power, And traced the Eamont's winding way, VIII. Onward he rode, the pathway still He saw the hoary Sage: The silver moss and lichen twined, And o'er him shook the aspin-tree, And then for counsel crave. IX. "That maid is born of middle earth, And may of man be won, Though there have glided since her birth Five hundred years and one. But where's the Knight in all the north, That dare the adventure follow forth, 1 "Just like Aurora, when she ties A rainbow round the morning skies."-MOORE. "This powerful Baron required in the fair one whom he should nonour with his hand, an assemblage of qualities, that appears to us rather unreasonable even in those high days, profuse as they are known to have been of perfections now unattainable. His resolution, however, was not more inflexible than that of any mere modern youth; for he decrees that So perilous to knightly worth, In the valley of St. John? Listen, youth, to what I tell, And bind it on thy memory well; Nor muse that I commence the rhymne Far distant 'mid the wrecks of time. The mystic tale, by bard and sage, Is handed down from Merlin's age. X. Lyulph's Tale. "KING ARTHUR, has ridden from merry Carlisle When Pentecost was o'er : He journey'd like errant-knight the while, XI. "O rather he chose, that Monarch bold, In plate and mail, by wood and wold, The bursting crash of a foeman's spear Than courtier's whisper'd tale: To their monarch's praise his nightly visitant, of whom at this time he could know nothing, but that she looked and sung like an angel, if of mortal mould, shall be his bride."-Quarterly Review. 3 See Appendix, Note C. 4 See Appendix, Note D. 6 Ulswater. "The small lake called Scales-tarn lies so deeply embosomed in the recesses of the huge mountain called Saddleback, more poetically Glaramara, is of such great depth, and so com. |