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Lord Dacre, with his horsemen light,

And stainless Tunstall's banner white, Shall be in rearward of the fight,

And Edmund Howard's lion bright, And succour those that need it most.

Still bear them bravely in the fight; Now, gallant Marmion, well I know,

Although against them come, Would gladly to the vanguard go;

Of gallant Gordons many a one,
Edmund, the admiral, Tunstall there,

And many a stubborn Badenoch man,T
With thee their charge will blithely share; And many a rugged border clan,
There fight thine own retainers 100,

With Huntley, and with Home.
Beneath De Burgh, thy steward true." _*

XXVII. * Thanks, noble Surrey !" Marmion said,

Far on the left, unseen the while, Nor farther greeting there he paid;

Stanley broke Lennox and Argyle ; But, parting like a thunderbolt,

Though there the western mountaineer**
First in the vanguard made a halt,

Rushed with bare bosom on the spear,
Where such a shout there rose

And Aung the feeble targe aside,
Of "Marmion! Marmion!" that the cry,

And with both hands the broadsword plied. Cp Fiodden mountain shrilling high,

'Twas vain :-But fortune, on the right, Startled the Scottish foes.

With fickle smile, cheered Scotland's fight. XXV.

Then tell that spotless banner white, tt Bount and Fitz-Eustace rested still

The Howard's lion fell; With lady Clare upon the hill;

Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew On which (for far the day was spent)

With wavering flight, while fiercer grew The western sunbeams now were bent;

Around the battle yell. The cry they heard, its meaning knew,

The border slogan rent the sky! Could plan their distant comrades view;

A Home! a Gordon! was the cry; Saily to Blount did Eustace say,

Loud were the clanging blows; "Unworthy office here to stay!

Advanced,--forced back, -now low, now high, No bope of gilded spurs to-day.

The pennon sunk and rose; Bat see! look up-on Flodden bent,

As bends the bark's mast in the gale, The Scottish foe has fired his tent.

When rent are rigging, shrouds, and sail, And sudden, as he spoke,

It wavered 'mid the foes. From the sharp ridges of the hill, t

No longer Blount the view could bear: Ali downward to the banks of Till,

“By heaven, and all its saints ! I swear, Was wreathed in sable smoke.

I will not see it lost! Volume and fast, and rolling far,

Fitz-Eustace, you with lady Clareti The cloud enveloped Scotland's war,

May bid your beads, and patter prayer, As down the hill they roke;

I gallop to the host.”' Nor martial shout, nor minstrel tone,

And to the fray he rode amain, Announced their march; their tread alone,

Followed by all the archer train. At times one warning trumpet blown,

The fiery youth, with desperate charge, At times a stified hum.

Made, for a space, an opening large, Tod England, from his mountain throne,

The rescued banner rose,King James did rushing come.

But darkly closed the war around, Scarce could they hear, or see their foes,

Like pine-tree, rooted from the ground, Inol at weapon point they close.

It sunk among the foes.
They close, in clouds of smoke and dust,

Then Eustace mounted too :-yet staid,
With sword-sway, and with lance's thrust; As loath to leave the helpless maid,
And such a yell was there,

When, fast as shaft can fly,
Of sudden and portentous birth,

Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread, As i men fought upon the earth,

The loose rein dangling from his head, And fiends in upper air;$

Housing and saddle bloody red, O life and death were in the shout,

Lord Marmion's steed rushed by; Recoil and rally, charge and rout,

And Eustace, maddening at the sight, And triumph and despair.

A look and sign to Clara cast, Long looked the anxious squires; their eye

To mark he would return in haste, II||
Could in the darkness naught descry.

Then plunged into the fight.

At length the freshening western blast

Ask me not what the maiden feels, Ayude the shroud of battle cast;

Left in that dreadful hour alone: And, first, the ridge of mingled spearsil

Perchance her reason stoops, or reels; Above the brightening cloud appears ;

Perchance a courage, not her own, And in the smoke the pennons flew,

Braces her mind to desperate tone.-As in the storm the white sea-mew.

The scattered van of England wheels ;-TT Then marked they, dashing broad and far,

She only said, as loud in air The broken billows of the war,

The tumult roared, “Is Wilton there ?"And plumed crest of chieftains brave,

They tly, or, maddened by despair, Floating like foam upon the wave ;

Fight but to die, -" Is Wilton there ?" But naught distinct they see :

With that, straight up the hill there rode,
Wide raged the battle on the plain ;

Two horsemen drenched with gore,
Spears shook, and falchions Aashed amain; And in their arms, a helpless load,
Fell England's arrow-flight like rain ;

A wounded knight they bore.
Crests rose, and stooped, and rose again,

His hand still strained the broken brand; Wild and disorderly.

His arms were smeared with blood and sand : Amid the scene of tumult, high

Dragged from among the horses' feet, They saw Lord Marmion's falcon fly:

With dinted shield, and helmet beat,

about to etow, as well as from his unstained loyalty and knightly faith His place of residence was Thurland Castle.

MS.- Beneath thy geneschal, Fitz Hugh.")

10f all the poetical battles which have been fought, from
the days of Horr to those of Mr. Southey, there is none, in our
Aso, at all comparable, for interest and animation,-for
breath of drawing and magniticence of effect,-with this of
M. Scott's." --JEFFREY.]
: This couplet is not in the MS. )

The next three lines are not in the MS.)
1M3.-" And fiest the broken ridge of spears.'']

T(In all former editions, Highlandman. Badenoch is the correction of the author's interleaved copy of the edition of 1830.!

** (MS.--" Though there the dauntless mountaineer.")
11 (MS.-"Fell stainless Tunstall's banner white,

Sir Edmund's lion tell.")
1: (MS.-"Fitz Eustace, you and Lady Claro

May for its safety join in prayer.'')
SS (MS.--"Like pine up-rooted from the ground."]

(M8.--"And cried he would return in haste,"']

TT (MS.-" Repulsed, the band of England wheels.")

The falcon crest and plumage gone,

Who built this cross and well. Can that be haughty Marmion!.

She filled the helm, and back she bied, Young Blount his armour did unlace,

And with surprise and joy espied And, gazing on his ghastly face,

A Monk supporting Marmion's head; Said -"By Saint George, he's gone!

A pious man, whom duty brought That spear-wound has our master sped,

To dubious verge of battle fought, And see the deep cut on his head !

To shrive the dying, bless the dead. Good night to Marmion.""Unnurtured Blount! thy brawling cease:

He opes his eyes," said Eustace; "peace !"

Deep drank Lord Marmion of the wave,

And, as she stooped his brow to lave-
When, doffed his casque, he felt free air,t

"Is it the hand of Clare," he said, Around 'gan Marmion wildly stare :

"Or injured Constance, bathes my head ?" "Where's Harry Blount? Fitz-Eustace where?

Then, as remembrance rose,

*Speak not to me of shrift or prayer! Linger ye here, ye hearts of hare! Redeem my pennon,-charge again!

I must redress her woes.

Short space, few words are mine to spare; Cry-Marmion to the rescue! -Vain ! Last of my race, on battle-plain

Forgive and listen, gentle Clare!"That shout shall ne'er be heard again !

"Alas!" she said, "the while Yet my last thought is England's-fly,

O, think of your immortal weal'! To Dacre bear my signet-ring

In vain for Constance is your zeal;

SheTell him his equadrons up to bring.

-died at Holy Isle." Fitz-Eustace, to Lord Surrey hie;

Lord Marmion started from the ground, Tunstall lies dead upon the field,

As light as if he felt no wound; His life-blood stains the spotless shield :

Though in the action burst the tide, Edmund is down :--my life is reft ;

In torrents, from his wounded side. The Admiral alone is left.

" Then it was truth,”-he said-"I knew Let Stanley charge with spur of fire,

That the dark presage must be true.-With Chesier charge, and Lancashire,

I would the fiend, to whom belongs Full upon Scotland's central host, $

The vengeance due to all her wrongs, Or victory and England's lost.

Would spare me but a day! Must I bíd iwice ?-hence, varlets, fly!

For wasting fire, and dying groan,** Leave Marmion here alone-to die.'

And priest slain on the altar stone, They parted, and alone he lay;

Might bribe him for delay. Clare drew her from the sight away,

It may not be !-this dizzy tranceTill pain wrung forth a lowly moan,

Curse on yon base marauder's lance, And half he murmured, -"Is there none,

And doubly cursed my failing brand ! Of all my halls have nurst,

A sinful heart makes feeble hand." Page, squire, or groom, one cup to bring

Then, fainting, down on earth he sunk, Of blessed water from the spring;

Supported by the trembling Monk.
To slake my dying thirst !"


With fruitless labour, Clara bound,
O, woman! in our hours of ease,

And strove to stanch the gushing wound: Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,

The Monk, with unavailing cares, And variable as the shade

Exhausted all the church's prayers. By the light quivering aspen made;

Ever, he said, that, close and near, When pain and anguish wring the brow,

A lady's voice was in his ear, A ministering angel thou!-

And that the priest he could not hear ; Scarce were the piteous accents said,

For that she ever sung, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid

"In the lost battle, borne down by the flying, To the nigh streamlet ran:

Where mingles war's

rattle with groans of the dyForgot were hatred, wrongs, and fears;

ing!" The plaintive voice alone she hears,

So the notes rung; , Sees but the dying man.ll

"Avoid thee, fiend !-with cruel hand, She stooped her by the runnel's side, 91

Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! But in abhorrence backward drew;

O, look, my son, upon yon signtt For, oozing from the mountain's side,

Of the Redeemer's grace divine; Where raged the war, a dark-red tide

O, think on taith and bliss ! Was curdling in the streamlet blue.

By many a death-bed I have been, Where shall she turn !-behold her mark

And many a sinner's parting seen, A little fountain cell,

But never aught like this.' Where water, clear as diamond-spark,

The war, that for a space did fail, In a stone basin fell.

Now trebly thundering swelled the gale, Above, some half-worn letters say,

And-Stanley! was the cry ;Drink, weary pilgrim, drink and pray

A light on Marmion's visage spread, For the kind soul of Sybil Grey,

And fired his glazing eye :#1 * (M8.-"Can that be { pravd} Lord Marmion !"

Was curdling in the streamlet blue.

Where shall she turn! behold, she marks + (MS.-"And when he felt the fresher air.")

A little vaulted cell, : (MS.-" Yet my last thought's for England-hie,

Whose water, clear as diamond-sparks,
To Dacre give my signet ring

In a rude basin fell.
Fitz Eustace, to Lord Surrey fly.";

Above, some half worn letters say: (MS:- Full on King James' central host,"1

Drink, passing pilgrim, drink, and pray.") "The hero of the piece, Marmion, who has been guilty of seducing a nun, and abandoning her to be buried alive, of forgery

** (MS.-"Fire, sacrilege, and dying groan, to ruin a friend, and of perfidy in endeavouring to seduce away

And priests gorged on the altar stone, from him the object of his tenderest affections, fights and dies

Might bribe him for delay, gloriously, and is indebted to the injured Clara for the last drop of

And all by rohom the deed roas done, water to cool his dying thirst. This last act of disinterested atten

Should with myself become his own, tion extorts from the author the smoothest, sweelest, and tender

It may not be est lines in the whole poem. It is with pleasure that we extract

++ (MS.-"o, look, my son, upon this cross, numbers so harmonious from the discords by which they are sur

O, think upon the grace divine, rounded." -- Critical Revier.)

On saints and heavenly bliss 1(MS.-"She stoop'd her by the runnel'a tide,

By many a sinner's bed I've been,
But in abhorrence soon withdrew,

And many a dismal parting seen,
For, oozing from the mountains wide

But never aught like this.")
Where raged the war, and dark-red tide

11 (MS." And sparkled in his eye.")

With dying hand, above his head,

As fearlessly and well; He shook the fragment of his blade,

Till utter darkness closed her wing And shouted Victory !

O'er their thin host and wounded King.
Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!" Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Were the last words of Marmion.

Led back from strije bis shattered bands;

And from the charge they drew.
By this, though deep the evening fell,

As mountain-waves, from wasted lands, Süll rose the battle's deadly swell,

Sweep back to ocean blue. For still the Scots, around their king,

Then did their loss his foeman know; Unbroken, fought in desperate ring.

Their King, their lords, their mightiest low, Wbere's now their victor vaward wing,

They melted from the field as snow, Where Huntly, and where Home ?

When streams are swoln and south winds blow 0, for a blast of that dread horn,

Dissolves in silent dew. On Fontarabian echoes borne,

Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash, Thai to king Charles did come,

While many a broken band, When Rowland brave, and Olivier,

Disordered, through her currents dash, And every paladin and peer,

To gain the Scottish land; On Roncesvalles died!

To town and tower, to down and dale, Such blast might warn them, not in vain,

To tell red Flodden's dismal tale, To quit the plunder of the slain,

And raise the universal wail.s And turn the doubtful day again,

Tradition, legend, tune, and song, While yet on Flodden side,

Shall many an age that wail prolong: Afar, the royal standard flies,

Still from the sire the son shall hear And round it toils, and bleeds, and dies,

Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Our Caledonian pride!

Of Flouden's fatal field, In vain the wish-for, far away,

Where shivered was fair Scotland's spear, While spoil and havoc mark their way,

And broken was her shield! Near Ssbil's cross the plunderers stray.

XXXV. "O, Lady," cried the Monk, " away!"*

Day dawns upon the mountain's side :-|| And placed her on her steed,

There, Scotland! lay thy bravest pride, And led her to the chapel fair,

Chiefs, knights, and nobles, many a one: Of Tilmouth upon Tweed.

The sad survivors all are gone. ---There all the night they spent in prayer,

View not that corpse mistrustfully, And at the dawn of morning, there

Defaced and mangled though it be;
She met her kinsman, Lord Fitz-Clare.

Nor to yon border casile high,

Look northward with upbraiding eye
But as they left the dark’ning heath,

Nor cherish hope in vain, More desperate grew the strife of death.

That, journeying far on foreign strand, The English shafts in volleys hailed,

The Royal Pilgrim to his land In headlong charge their horse assailed

May yet return again. Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep,

He saw the wreck his rashness wrought; To break the Scottish circle deep,

Reckless of life, he desperate fought, That fought around their King.

And fell on Flodden plain : But yet, though thick the shafts as snow,

And well in death his trusty brand, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go,

Firm clenched within his manly hand, Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow,

Beseemed the monarch slain. I Unbroken was the ring;

But, O! how changed since yon blithe night!The stubborn spearmen still made goodt

Gladly I turn me from the sight, Their dark impenetrable wood,

Unto my tale again. Each stepping where his comrade stood,

XXXVI. The instant that he fell.

Short is my tale :- Fitz-Eustace' care No thought was there of dastard Aight;

A pierced and mangled body bare Linked in the serried phalanx tight,

To moated Lichfield's lofty pile ; Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, And there, beneath the southern aisle, • (MS.-" In vain the wish for far they stray,

The cloven cuirass, and the heimless head," &c.
And spoil and hasoc mark'd their way.

BYRON'S Lara. I '0, Lady,' cried the Monk, 'uway!'"]

T There can be no doubt that King James fell in the battle of (MS.-"But still upon the darkening heath."')

Flodden. He was killed, says the curious French Gazelle, within IMM8.-"Ever the stubbom spears made good

a lance's length of the Earl of Surrey; and the same account Their dark imp netrable wood;

adds, that none of his division were made prisoners, though many Each 3cot stepp'd where his comrade stood, were killed a circumstance that testifies the desperation of their The instant that he fell,

resistance. The Scottish bisturians record many of the idle reTill the last ray of pirting light,

ports which passed among the vulgar of their day. Home was Then ceased perforce the drealful fight,

accused, by the popular voice, not only of fuiling to support the And sunk the battle's yell.

King, but even of having carried him out of the field, and murThe skilful Surrey's wage commands

dered him. And this tale was revived in my remembrance, by an Drew from the strife his shatter'd bands.

unauthenticated story of a skeleton, wrapped in a bull's hide, and Their loss his foenen knew;

surrounded with an iron chain, said to have been found in the Their King, their Londs, their inichtiest low, well of Home Castle ; for which, on inquiry, I could never find They melted from the field as show,

any better authority, than the sexton of the parish having said, When streams are swoln and south winds blow, that, if the noel were cleaned out, he would not be surprised Melt, from the mountain blue.

U such a discovery. Home was the Chamberlain of the King. By various march their scatter'd hands,

and his prime favourite; he had much to lose (in fact did lose all) Disorder'd gain'd the Scottish lands.

in consequence of James's death, and nothing earthly to gain by Day dawns on Flodden's dreary side,

that event: but the retreat, or inactivity, of the left wing, which And show'd the scene of carnage wide :

he commanded, after defeating Sir Edmund Howard, and even There, Scotland, lay thy bravest pride!")

the circumstance of his returning unhurt, and loaded with spoil, * The powerful poetry of these paysages can receive no from so fatal a conflict, rendered the propagation of any calumny hastration from any praises or observations of ours. It is supe against him easy and acceptable. Other reports gave a still more nor, in our apprebenxjon, to all that this author has hitherto pri). romantic turn to the King's fate, and averred, that James, weary dared ; and, with a few faults of diction, equal to any thing that of greatness after the carnavo among his nobles, had gone on a has ever been written upon similar subjects. From the moment pilgrimage, to merit absolution for the death of his father, and the the author gets in sight of Flodden field, indeed, to the end of the oreach of his oath of amity to Henry. In particular, it was ob. pyn there is no tarne writing, and no intervention of ordinary ected to the English, that they could never show the token of the Desene. He does not once flag or grow tedious; and neither ron belt; which, however, he was likely enough to have laid element to describe dresses and ceremonies, nor to commemorate aside on the day of battle, as encumbering his personal exertions. the harsh Dames of feudal barons from the Border. There is a flight of five or six hundred lines, in short, in which he never

They produce a better evidence, the monarch's sword and dagger, Kada te wing, nor wavers in his course ; but carries the reader

which are still preserved in the Herald's College in London.

Stowe has recorded a degrading story of the distrace with which forward with a spore rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than the remains of the unfortunate monarch were treated in his time. any space bard that we can at present remember."-JEFFREY.) An unbewn column marks the spot where James fell, still called "I'Day glimrners on the dying and the dead,

the King's Stone.

A tomb, with Gothic sculpture fair

But say, "He died a gallant knight, Did long Lord Marmion's image bear,

With sword in hand, for England's right." (Now vainly for its site you look ;

XXXVIII. Twas levelled, when fanatic Brook

I do not rhyme to that dull elf, The fair cathedral stormed and took ;*

Who cannot image to himself, But, thanks to heaven, and good Saint Chad,

That all through Flodden's dismal night, A guerdon meet the spoiler had !)

Wilton was foremost in the fight; There erst was martial Marmion found,

That, when brave Surrey's steed was slain, His feet upon a couchani hound,

'Twas Wilton mounted him again; His hands to heaven upraised;

'Twas Wilton's brand that deepest hewed, I And all around, on scutcheon rich,

Amid the spearmen's stubborn wood :
And tablet carved, and fretted niche,

Unnamed by Hollinshed or Hall,
His arms and feats were blazed.
And yet, though all was carved so fair,

He was the living soul of all;

That, after fight, his faith made plain,
And priest for Marmion breathed the prayer He won his rank and lands again;
The last Lord Marmion lay not there.
From Ettrick woods, a peasant swain

And charged his old paternal shield

With bearings won on Flodden field.-
Followed his lord to Flodden plain, -
One of those flowers, whom plaintive lay

Nor sing I to that simple maid,
In Scotland mourns as
wede away :"

To whom it must in terms be said,

That King and kinsmen did agree, Sore wounded, Sybil's cross he spied,

To bless fair Clara's constancy;
And dragged him to its foot, and died,

Who cannot, unless I relate,
Close by the noble Marmion's side.
The spoilers stripped and gashed the slain,

Paint to her mind the bridal's state;
And thus their corpses were mista'en ;

That Wolsey's voice the blessing spoke And thus, in the proud Baron's tomb,

More, Sands, and Denny, passed the joke; The lowly woodsman took the room.

That bluff King Hal the curtain drew,
And Catherine's hand the stocking threw:

And afterwards, for many a day,

That it was held enough to say,
Less easy task it were, to show

In blessing to a wedded pair,
Lord Marmion's nameless grave, and low.t “Love they like Wilton and like Clare!"
They dug his grave e'en where he lay, #

But every mark is gone;
Time's wasting hand has done away

The simple cross of Sybil Grey,

Why then a final note prolong,
And broke her font of stone:

Or lengthen out a closing song,
But yet from out the little hills

Unless to bid the gentles speed, Oozes the slender springlet still.

Who long have listed to my rede ?-** Oft halts the stranger there,

To statesmen grave, if such may deign, For thence may best his curious eye

To read the minstrel's idle strain, 'The memorable field descry;

Sound head, clean hand, and piercing wit, And shepherd boys repair

And patriotic heart--as Pitt! To seek the water-flag and rush,

A garland for the hero's crest, And rest them by the hazel bush,

And twined by her he loves the best; And plait their garlands fair;

To every lovely lady bright, Nor dream they sit upon the grave,

What can I wish but faithful knight? That holds the bones of Marmion brave.

To every faithful lover too, When thou shalt find the little hill,li

What can I wish but lady true? With thy heart commune, and be still.

And knowledge to the studious sage; If ever, in temptation strong,

And pillow to the head of age. Thou left'st the right path for the wrong;

To thee, dear schoolboy, whom my lay If every devious step thus trod,

Has cheated of thy hour of play, Still led thee farther from the road;

Light task, and merry holiday! Dread thou to speak presumptuous doom

To all, to each, a fair good night, On noble Marmion's lowly tomb;

And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!ft * This storm of Lichfield cathedral, which had been garrisoned bly operated, as yet, rather to deter, than to encourage, the bord on the part of the took place in the Great Civil far. Lord of rivals and imitators ; but if, by the help of the good parts of Brook, who, with Sir John Gill. commanded the assailants, was his poem, he succeeds in suboring the verdict of the public in shot with a' musket-ball through the vizor of his helmet. The lavour of the bad parts also, and establishes an indiscriintate royalists remarked, that he was killed by a shot fired from St. taste for chivalrous legends and romance in integular rhyme, he Chad's Cathedral, and upon St. Chad's day, and received his death-wound in the very eve with which he had said, he hoped Schiller, and upon becoming the founder of a new schism in the

may depend upon having as many copyists as Mrs. Ratcliffe of to see the ruin of all the cathedrals in England. The magmfi catholic poetical church für which, in spite of all our exertions, cent church in question suffered cruelly upon this, and other occa there will probably be no cure, but in the extravagance of the last sions ; the principal spire being ruined by the fire of the besiegers and lowest of its followers. It is for this reason that we concerte it

+ ("A corpse is afterwards conveyed, as that of Marmion, to to be our duty to make one strong effort to bring back the great apas the Cathedral of Lichfield, where a magnificent tomb is erected tle of the heresy to the wholesome creed of his instructers, and to to his memory, and masses are instituted for the repose of his stop the insurrection before it becomes desperate and senseless soul ; but, by an admirably-imagined act of poetical justice, we by persuading the leader to return to his duty and allegiance are informed that a peasant's borly was placed beneath that We admire Mr. Scott's genius as much as any of those wbo may costly monument, while the haughty Baron himself was buried be misled by its perversion; and, like the curate and the barbat like a vulgar corpse, on the spot on which he died."- Monthly Don Quixote, lament the day when a gentleman of such enRevier)

dowments was corrupted by the wicked tales of knight: errantry 1 (MS.-" They dug his bed e'en where he lay."]

and enchantment."-JEFFREY) $ (MS. But yet where suces the little hill.")

("We do not flatter ourselves that Mr. Scott will pay to Car (M8.-" If thou should'st find this little tomb,

advice that attention which he has refused to his acute friend Beware to speak a hasty doom."!

Mr. Erskine ; but it is possible that his own good sense mas in T (M8.-" He hardest pressid the Scottish ring;

time persuade him not to abandon his loved fairy ground, (a por 'Twas thought that he struck down the King."'] vince over which we wish him a long and prosperous govem ** Used generally for tale, or discourse.

ment,) but to combine the charms of lawful poetry with those ** ("We have dwelt longer on the beauties and defects of this of wild and romantic fiction.

As the first step to this desirable poem, than, we are afraid, will be agreeable either w the partial end, we would beg lum to reflect that his Gothie models will not or the indifferent; not only because we look upon it as a misap bear him out in transferring the loose and shuffling ballad metre plication, in some degree, of very extraordinary talents, but be. lo a poem of considerable length, and of complicated interest like cause we cannot help considering it as the foundation of a new the present school, which may hereafler occasion no little annoyance both to

It is a very easy thing to write tive hundred ballad

verse®, stans pede in uno : but Mr. Scott needs not to be told, us and to the public. Mr. Scott has hitherto filled the whole that five hundred verses written on one fout, have a very pour stage himself; and the very splendour of his success has proba chance for immortality.”- Monthly Review.)

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[Published in 4to, June, 1810.

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