Three times in closing strife they stood, ; Foiled his wild rage, by steady skill Let recreant yield, who fears to die!" No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! The stream of life's exhausted tide, The knight winds his bugle, and is presently attended by four esquires who were in waiting; he leaves it to them to Vol. VI. Y Y convey the wounded chief on the horse intended for Ellen, and gallops full speed to Stirling to be present at the games. In the way old Douglas is descried, who has privately left his retreat, and is going to surrender himself a willing sacrifice for his friends. He resolves, however, to join in the sports, that King James, whose tuition he had formerly superintended, may judge whether the strength, which had been the admiration of his boyish days, was much impaired by, time. He triumphs in archery, in wrestling, and hurling; and as he receives three several prizes from the king's hand, watches his eye, but in vain, for some expression of sympathy and regard. A stag is let loose before the royal greyhounds, but Douglas's dog Lufra outstrips them, and brings down the game. The huntsman enraged at the interruption strikes the favourite hound, and Douglas, who can better endure personal neglect from the monarch and court, than an injury to the favourite of Ellen, revenges it with such a blow as might have been given by the hand of Ulysses or Entellus. He then declares himself, and submits to the king; who ap pears irritated with his boldness, and the murmurs of admiration for the noble exile which begin to rise and spread among the populace. The Douglas is ordered into custody, and as he is taken off employs his influence to tranquilize the rabble, who are ready to attack the guard and hazard their lives in his rescue. News comes to the king of hostilities between his troops under the earl of Mar, and the Highlanders of Roderick Dhu, which he sends a messenger to suspend, with intelligence of the fate of Roderick and Douglas. In the last Canto we have a description of the Guard-Room, a little in the manner of Mr. Crabbe. The guard are sure prised early in the morning by the entrance of an old soldier, charged by the earl of Mar with the conduct of Ellen and Allan-bane. One of them is on the point of offering rudeness to the lady, which she repels with the spirit and prudence of a Douglas, by unveiling herself, and appealing to his honour as a soldier, whether he would insult the daughter of a soldier and an exile. She shews the royal signet to the captain, and is led to a more suitable apartment to wait the king's rising; and just over this apartment our poet takes care to confine Malcolm, for the express purpose of indulging the lady and the reader with a song. Allan-bane intreats to be conducted to his master, and by mistake is led to the dying Roderick. Though we have already exceeded all reasonable license of quotation, we must be allowed to add the following lines. As the tall ship whose lofty prore Oh! how unlike her course at sea, Or his free step on hill or lea!' 2:9-260. The dying man, after learning that his dearest friends were in good plight, and that his clan had fought with honour and success, intreats the minstrel to solace him with a relation of the fight. A very long but very fine ode is then introduced, which narrates the events on Loch-Katrine, up to the arrival of King James's herald. But here the lay made sudden stand, His face grows sharp,-his hands are clenched, Is sternly fixed on vacancy. Thus motionless and moanless drew His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu.' 275. One of our strongest feelings, on the perusal of these admirable lines, was the delight of perceiving that Mr. Scott's powers of invention were yet unexhausted, and that he was still capable of at least equalling himself. Even the death of Marmion, though one of the finest passages in heroic poetry, is not, we think, so exquisitely natural or so painfully impressive as that of Roderick Dhu. As soon as the minstrel finds the indignant spirit has fled away to the shades, he strikes up another stave, by way of 'lament.' A few words will complete the story. Ellen is in due course visited by the gallant Fitz-James, who promises to conduct her to the king; she is led into the presence chamber, thronged with a dazzling assemblage of beauty and rank, among whom she looks round for the monarch, and has the astonishment to observe all uncovered-but her conductor! She sinks at his feet: he announces her father's restoration to royal favour and hereditary dignity, and significantly demands what boon she requires of her sovereign in redemption of his pledge. The noble-minded girl desires the pardon of Roderick; the king, lamenting his death, and repeating his inquiry,—which she eludes by handing the signet to her father,-throws a chain of gold round the neck of Græme, and gallantly commits him to the custody of his Ellen. Conscious as we are of the very great injustice the story of this poem must suffer from our abstract, we yet flatter ourselves that it will appear sufficiently interesting to atone for its length. The adventure of the Scotish prince, which forms the basis of the whole narrative, is in strictness a fiction; but it accords very well with the authentic anecdotes of those excursions in disguise, which he was as fond of as the Calif Haroun, or the Emperor Joseph; and in which he commonly assumed the name of the gude man of Ballinguich.' There is, on the whole, perhaps, not more of historical truth in the story, than in that of Marmion. We have no hesitation, however, in ranking it above that performance, both for dramatic and poetical merit. A very few remarks must suffice on each of these subjects. The superiority of the present poem will appear in the probability of the story, the interest of the situations, and the grandeur of the characters. There are, perhaps, a few concurrences of events that seem too necessary to the progress of the plot, to have been the work of accident; but while they are so convenient as to betray the art, they are not so unnatural as to discredit the artist. Several essential circumstances, however, are not very satisfactorily explained; as how the alarm of hostilities should have been given to the mountaineers, without the privity of the king: how he should have depended so confidently on Ellen's disposition to elope; and why Murdoch was instructed to lead the supposed spy into an ambuscade, instead of being provided with force to seize him at once. Nor can we discover any reason why this poor wretch was not suffered to whoop again for his life,-except that it would have been death to the whole story. It is somewhat strange, that Douglas was quietly suffered to contend for the prizes, after being recognized, as it seems he was, both by the people and the prince. We do not perceive very clearly at what time Fitz-James discovered the rank of Ellen. Her journey with the old minstrel to Stirling must have been in the middle of the night. It seems, at p. 109, as if the squires were ignorant of their master's real character. We will not add to these objections, that though the weapon he wears in hunting is only a whinyard' when he has to draw it against the stag, it suddenly becomes a ' faulchion' which 'has been tried,' when there is a chance of its being wanted in that capacity. It will appear evident from our abstract, that there are several periods of the action which are calculated to produce the strongest emotions of sympathy. Not to mention any of the inferior passages, nearly the whole of the fourth and fifth cantos, describing Fitz James's return, keeps the feelings in a state of excitement almost agonizing. It is the characters, however, that most conspicuously distinguish this poem from Mr. Scott's other works. The most brilliant characters in Marmion forfeit all claim to respect and compassion by their atrocious crimes; and while the heroic couple are too guilty, the virtuous are too insignificant; so that the best character is actually that of old Angus, who performs but a secondary and superfluous part. In the present performance, there are four if not five characters of the highest order. They are admirably set off and relieved by each other, without any of the artifice and affectation of contrast. That of Malcolm, the least considerable, is so finely sketched by the poet, and his demeanour during the short period of his appearance on the stage is so spirited and prepossessing, that we readily admit his title to the happiness he obtains. The charms of Ellen, while they are rendered more fascinating by her very levity, are ennobled by her frank manners, her intrepid spirit, her lofty disinterestedness, and her affectionate heart. On the splendid characters of James and Douglas, it is needless to comment. In that of Roderick, there is a wild lustre flashing across the gloom, that strikes us with admiration as well as terror; our abhorrence of his ferocity is mingled with respect for his heroic ardour and magnanimity, sympathy with his hopeless passion and pity for his unhappy fate. We cannot sufficiently applaud the skill of the poet in so combining the elements of this chieftain's character, as to excite a sublime instead of a loathing sensation. His indignant replies to the several accusations of Fitz-James, assure us that he is not de. graded in his own esteem, though they fail to sustain him in ours; and before the crisis of his destiny comes on, we feel considerably interested in his behalf by the kindness, forbearance, and honour, with which he requites avowed enmity and bold defiance. There is an exquisite nicety in the poet's adjustment of contending claims upon our sympathy, in the fatal combat. To set Fitz-James on a level with his generous enemy, it was necessary he should offer terms of reconciliation: and to give him a preference, those terms must be disdainfully rejected, his courage questioned, and his attention recalled to the wrongs which he had pledged himself to avenge. The dig |