advance, and in some respects an advance in the direction of "Waverley."

In "The Lady of the Lake" the poetical genius of Scott is usually supposed to have culminated. No doubt, at least, is entertained as to its superiority to the two which succeeded it, and by most writers it would, probably, be preferred either to "Marmion" or to the "Lay." Yet no one scene in the "Lady of the Lake" equals "Flodden Field" in grandeur, and to the general reader its uniform versification might seem monotonous. In what, then, consists its superior charm? This is not far to seek. The "Lady of the Lake" excels "Marmion" in some of the most important qualities of a poetical story. In the first place, the fable is constructed with much greater skill. Not meagre, as in the "Lay," nor holding a subordinate place; it is, on the other hand, free from the perplexed obscurity which disfigures the plot of "Marmion." The incidents succeed one another naturally, and no small merit-rapidly. Again, if there be in the " Lady of the Lake" no one picture which equals in grandeur-a grandeur derived largely from its subject-the battle in " Marmion," the number of brilliantly-drawn scenes is much greater. The sudden appearance of Clan Alpine, starting into life in the seeming loneliness of Ben Ledi, and their as sudden disappearance at the word of Roderick, is little, if at all, inferior to the grand painting which we have been examining. Probably many readers would prefer it. The description of Lough Katrine, of the Island, the distant approach of Clan Alpine.

along the lake, the speeding of the Fiery Cross, and the appearance of Ellen in the guard-room, are all in the highest style of art.

But that which most concerns us now, that which throws most light on the intellectual history of the author, is the still further advance here made in the delineation of character. Walter Scott is not very famous for his heroines, but Ellen is certainly a successful portrait. Indeed wonderfully successful as compared with the two former, of whom Clara is insipid, and Margaret is nothing at all but a charming young lady, whose duty is to be married at the proper time to the proper gentleman. The contrast between Fitz-James-brave, gay, fickle; and Roderickhaughty, dark, vindictive, but true, and not ungenerous—is very finely drawn; and if the features of the hero are somewhat unmarked and commonplace, we must remember that no charge has been more frequently brought against the author of "Waverley." The popular verdict, then, which places the "Lady of the Lake" at the head of Walter Scott's poems, may fairly be justified, not by its supremacy in any one point, but by the amount of varied excellence which it possesses. Still, I think, there is as yet no sufficient evidence to identify the great novelist. the author's predilections, his passionate love for the age of chivalry, his veneration for the most trifling peculiarity of a past time—of all that we have ample proof, and we have endeavoured to trace in its infancy that power which had so glorious a manhood. But there is something still wanting.

Of

That something seems to me to be entirely supplied by "Rokeby." It is, of course, easy to be wise after the event, but I cannot help thinking that there is now enough to identify the author of "Waverley." Here we see, no longer in its infancy, the power of the great artist, not so much to paint human character, as to make character paint itself. If you would fully know the growth of this power in the mind of Scott, place side by side the characters of Deloraine and Bertram as he has drawn them, and study them attentively. Of the first, I have said already, that he is a representative character. So, too, in a certain sense, is Bertram—indeed, the poet tells us so. If Deloraine is a representative moss-trooper, Bertram is a representative buccaneer. But he is more. The poet has given us here a work of much higher art. Self-drawn, with a power which even Scott has rarely exceeded, the portrait of Bertram stands out from the canvas in all the

strong lines of individual life. You might have a regiment of Deloraines-you could not have a regiment of Bertrams. And the effect of the drawing, powerful as it would be in itself, is marvellously heightened by the double contrast in which the poet has shown it-rugged and dark beside the gentle figure of Wilfred-almost bright when relieved against the blackness of Oswald. The whole scene in which these two are contrasted-the deeper, darker, but trembling villain, trying to worm out, without asking it, the fatal secret, and constantly baffled by the rough effrontery of his companion

is hardly surpassed by anything in all Scott's works, prose or poetry. And of Wilfred I may perhaps say, that nowhere has Scott drawn a more ambitious portrait. It is an attempt to make a gentle, shrinking, timid man, an object, not of compassion only, but of respect; and it is an attempt entirely successful. The triumph of the innate nobleness of his nature over physical, and, in a certain sense, moral weakness, commands our respect as perhaps nothing else can. But, in truth, Rokeby is full of successful portraits. Bertram, Oswald, Denzil, Edmund, Wilfred, Matilda, Redmond-no two of these are alike, and all are admirably drawn. Had Walter Scott been as careful in the versification of "Rokeby" as he was in the versification of the "Lay," Rokeby would probably have been placed at the head of his poetical works. Regarded merely as a novel, it is not only superior to the rest, but is absolutely of the highest order of merit. It is, moreover, just such a novel as the author of "Waverley" might have written.

I can give but a few words to the last of our author's great poems-"The Lord of the Isles." If "Rokeby" be a successful novel, this, on the other hand, is not a novel at all. It is a historical poem upon a noble theme-the struggle which vindicated the independence of Scotland; and I think it would be much improved if it were relieved of all claim to the other title. The loves of Ronald and Edith, which are unfortunately not reciprocal, might with great advantage be struck out. They have no con

nection with the main business of the poem; and when we are compelled to look at them, we cannot fail to see that the gentleman is disappointed, and that, if the lady is not, at least her chance of matrimonial happiness seems exceedingly questionable.

Yet, though less striking than its predecessors, the "Lord of the Isles" contains some very beautiful poetry. Instance more especially the night-watch in the island of Skye. The falling asleep of the page, followed by his murder, is given with great truth and force. The single combat between Bruce and Sir Henry Boune, at the eve of the Battle of Bannockburn, is also powerfully painted.

It is commonly said that the Battle of Bannockburn is drawn with less power than the Battle of Flodden. Certainly, regarded as a picture, it is not so grand; but that is largely due to a difference in *the author's purpose. In the second case, his only object is to paint a great picture. He regards the battle altogether with the eye of an artist—its details are indifferent to him, perhaps distasteful, and so he is at liberty to throw over his description a cloudy grandeur, which greatly heightens the effect.

Bannockburn, on the other hand, he does not, and could not, regard simply with the eye of an artist. To a patriot like Scott, every detail of that great battle is sacred. He lingers proudly over every incident-every military manœuvre-every turn of fortune, which marked that (we may call it) charter-field of Scotland. The principles of art would have required a less minute account. But the patriot is