Upon the right, behind the wood, The Scottish chivalry; With foot in stirrup, hand on mane, Then, "Mount, ye gallants free!" He cried; and, vaulting from the ground, His saddle every horseman found. On high their glittering crests' they toss, As springs the wild-fire from the moss; The shield hangs down on every breast, Each ready lance is in the rest, And loud shouts Edward Bruce,"Forth, Marshal! on the peasant foe! We'll tame the terrors of their bow, And cut the bow-string loose!" 2 XXIII. Then spurs were dash'd in chargers' flanks, Pierced through, trode down, by thousands slain, XXIV. The King with scorn beheld their flight. But, in mid-space, the Bruce's care here! Loud from the mass confused the cry They broke like that same torrent's wave XXV. Too strong in courage and in might Was England yet, to yield the fight. Her noblest all are here; Names that to fear were never known, And Oxford's famed De Vere. Bottetourt and Sanzavere, Ross, Montague, and Mauley, came,1 And Courtenay's pride, and Percy's fame- The bills with spears and axes met, Firmly they kept their ground; And Slaughter revell'd round. XXVI. Unflinching foot 3 'gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell. Were drown'd amid the shriller clang Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, 1 MS." Ross, Tybtot, Neville, Mauley, came." 2 MS.-" Names known of yore," &c. a MS." Unshifting foot," &c. 4"All these, life's rambling journey done, Have found their home, the grave."-COWPER. 5 "The dramatic, and even Shakspearian spirit of much of this battle must, we think, strike and delight the reader. We pass over much alternate, and much stubborn and 'unflinching' contest This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady's love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the grave!* XXVII. The tug of strife to flag begins, 6 "The adventures of the day are versified rather too literally from the contemporary chronicles. The following passage, however, is emphatic; and exemplifies what this author has so often exemplified, the power of well-chosen and wellarranged names, to excite lofty emotions, with little aid either from sentiment or description."-JEFFREY. 7 MS." The sinking," &c. 8 See Appendix, Note 4 C. 9 MS." Then hurry to the shock!" "Carrick, press on— -they fail, they fail ! Press on, brave sons of Innisgail, The foe is fainting fast! Each strike for parent, child, and wife, XXIX. The fresh and desperate onset bore Alone, De Argentine Yet bears on high his red-cross shield, And still makes good the line. To hem the Islesmen round; XXX. The multitude that watch'd afar, When strove the Bruce for Scotland's right; To us, as to our lords, are given The vengeance for our nation's wrongs; And cursed their caitiff fears; I know his banner well. XXXII. Again he faced the battle-field, Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield." "Now then," he said, and couch'd his spear, "My course is run, the goal is near; One effort more, one brave career, Must close this race of mine." "Saint James for Argentine!" 1 MS. "of lead or stone." 2 MS.-" To us, as well as them, belongs." 8 See Appendix, Note 4 D. 4 MS.-" And rode in bands away." 5 See Appendix, Note 4 E. 6 MS." And bade them hope amid despair." 7 The MS. has not the seven lines which follow. -Stirrup, steel-boot, and cuish gave way, Beneath that blow's tremendous sway, The blood gush'd from the wound; And the grim Lord of Colonsay Hath turn'd him on the ground, And laugh'd in death-pang, that his blade The mortal thrust so well repaid. XXXIII. Now toil'd the Bruce, the battle done, Fell faintly on his ear; "Save, save his life," he cried, "O save The kind, the noble, and the brave!" The squadrons round free passage gave, The wounded knight drew near; He raised his red-cross shield no more, Helm, cuish, and breastplate stream'd with gore, Yet, as he saw the King advance, He strove even then to couch his lance- The spur-stroke fail'd to rouse the horse; He stumbled on the plain. "Lord Earl, the day is thine! My Sovereign's charge, and adverse fate, As boon from ancient comrade, crave- XXXIV. Bruce press'd his dying hand-its grasp Kindly replied; but, in his clasp, 1 MS.-"Now toil'd the Bruce as leaders ought, To use his conquest boldly bought." 2 See Appendix, Note 4 F. 3 MS." And the best names that England owns Swell the sad death-prayer's dismal tones." 4 MS." When for her rights her sword was bare, Rights dear to all who freedom share." 5 "The fictitious part of the story is, on the whole, the least interesting-though we think that the author has hazarded rather too little embellishment in recording the adventures of the Bruce. There are many places, at least, in which he has evidently given an air of heaviness and flatness to his narration, by adhering too closely to the authentic history; and has lowered down the tone of his poetry to the tame level of the rude chroniclers by whom the incidents were originally recorded. There is a more serious and general fault, however, in the conduct of all this part of the story,—and that is, that it is not sufficiently national-and breathes nothing either of that animosity towards England, or that exultation over her defeat, which must have animated all Scotland at the period to which he refers; and ought, consequently, to have been the ruling passion of his poem. Mr. Scott, however, not only It stiffen'd and grew cold"And, O farewell!" the victor cried, "Of chivalry the flower and pride, The arm in battle bold, The courteous mien, the noble race, O'er better knight on death-bier laid, XXXV. Nor for De Argentine alone, Through Ninian's church these torches shone, And rose the death-prayer's awful tone.2 That yellow lustre glimmer'd pale, On broken plate and bloodied mail, Of Baron, Earl, and Banneret; Since Norman William came. Grudge not her victory, When for her freeborn rights she strove; XXXVI. Turn we to Bruce, whose curious ear "For the mute page had spoke.”— "Page!" said Fitz-Louis, " rather say, An angel sent from realms of day, To burst the English yoke. dwells fondly on the valour and generosity of the invaders, but actually makes an elaborate apology to the English for having ventured to select for his theme a story which records their disasters. We hope this extreme courtesy is not intended merely to appease critics, and attract readers in the southern part of the island-and yet it is difficult to see for what other purposes it could be assumed. Mr. Scott certainly need not have been afraid either of exciting rebellion among his countrymen, or of bringing his own liberality and loyalty into question, although, in speaking of the events of that remote period, where an overbearing conqueror was overthrown in a lawless attempt to subdue an independent kingdom, he had given full expression to the hatred and exultation which must have prevailed among the victors, and are indeed the only passions which can be supposed to be excited by the story of their exploits. It is not natural, and we are sure it is not poetical, to represent the agents in such tremendous scenes as calm and indulgent judges of the motives or merits of their opponents; and, by lending such a character to the leaders of his host, the author has actually lessened the interest of the mighty fight of Bannockburn, to that which might be supposed to belong to a wellregulated tournament among friendly rivals."—JEFFREY. I saw his plume and bonnet drop, A step as light upon the green, As if his pinions waved unseen!" "Spoke he with none?"-" With none-one word "What answer made the Chief?"-" He kneel'd, XXXVII. Even upon Bannock's bloody plain, A nation's thanks to gracious Heaven. Let him array, besides, such state, CONCLUSION. Go forth, my Song, upon thy venturous way; Go boldly forth; nor yet thy master blame, Who chose no patron for his humble lay, And graced thy numbers with no friendly name, Whose partial zeal might smooth thy path to fame. There was-and O! how many sorrows crowd Into these two brief words!-there was a claim By generous friendship given--had fate allow'd, It well had bid thee rank the proudest of the proud! All angel now-yet little less than all, While still a pilgrim in our world below! What 'vails it us that patience to recall, Which hid its own to soothe all other woe; What 'vails to tell, how Virtue's purest glow Shone yet more lovely in a form so fair:5 And, least of all, what 'vails the world should know, That one poor garland, twined to deck thy hair, Is hung upon thy hearse, to droop and wither there! 6 1 MS.-" Excepted to the Island Lord, When turning," &c. 2 MS."Some mingled sounds of joy and woe." 3 The MS. adds: "That priests and choir, with morning beams, Prepare, with reverence as beseems, To pay," &c. 4" Bruce issues orders for the celebration of the nuptials; whether they were ever solemnized, it is impossible to say. As critics, we should certainly have forbidden the banns; because, although it is conceivable that the mere lapse of time might not have eradicated the passion of Edith, yet how such a circumstance alone, without even the assistance of an interview, could have created one in the bosom of Ronald, is altogether inconceivable. He must have proposed to marry her merely from compassion, or for the sake of her lands; and, upon either supposition, it would have comported with the delicacy of Edith to refuse his proffered hand.”—Quarterly Review. "To Mr. James Ballantyne.-Dear Sir,-You have now the whole affair, excepting two or three concluding stanzas. As your taste for bride's-cake may induce you to desire to know more of the wedding, I will save you some criticism by saying, I have settled to stop short as above.-Witness my hand, "W. S." 5 The reader is referred to Mr. Hogg's "Pilgrims of the Sun" for some beautiful lines, and a highly interesting note, on the death of the Duchess of Buccleuch. See ante, p. 407. 6 The Edinburgh Reviewer (Mr. Jeffrey) says, "The story of the Lord of the Isles, in so far as it is fictitious, is palpably deficient both in interest and probability; and, in so far as it is founded on historical truth, seems to us to be objectionable, both for want of incident, and want of variety and connexion in the incidents that occur. There is a romantic grandeur, however, in the scenery, and a sort of savage greatness and rude antiquity in many of the characters and events, which relieves the insipidity of the narrative, and atones for many defects in the execution." After giving copious citations from what he considers as "the better parts of the poem," the critic says, "to give a complete and impartial idea of it, we ought to subjoin some from its more faulty passages. But this is but an irksome task at all times, and, with such an author as Mr. Scott, is both invidious and unnecessary. His faults are nearly as notorious as his beauties; and we have announced in the outset, that they are equally conspicuous in this as in his other productions. There are innumerable harsh lines and uncouth expressions,-passages of a coarse and heavy diction,-and details of uninteresting minuteness and oppressive explanation. It is needless, after this, to quote such couplets as or A damsel tired of midnight bark, 'Tis a kind youth, but fanciful, or to recite the many weary pages which contain the colloquies of Isabel and Edith, and set forth the unintelligible reasons of their unreasonable conduct. The concerns of these two young ladies, indeed, form the heaviest part of the poem The mawkish generosity of the one, and the piteous fidelity of the other, are equally oppressive to the reader, and do not tend at all to put him in good humour with Lord Ronald,who, though the beloved of both, and the nominal hero of the work, is certainly as far as possible from an interesting person. The lovers of poetry have a particular aversion to the |