LADY OF THE LAKE. XIII. As the tall ship, whose lofty prow The chieftain rear'd his form on high, But ghastly, påle, and livid streaks 1 Hark, minstrel! I have heard thee play, With measure bold, on festal day, In yon lone isle-again where ne'er Strike it! and then (for well thou canst), * XV. BATTLE OF BEAL AN DUINE. The minstrel came once more to view Upon the eyrie nods the erne, The deer has sought the brake; Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, I see the dagger-crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, That up the lake comes winding far! * XVI. * Their light-arm d archers far and near Their centre ranks, with pikes and spear, Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, * There breathed no wind their crests to shake, Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake, Can rouse no lurking foe, Nor spy a trace of living thing, Save when they stirr'd the roe; The host moves like a deep sea-wave, XVII. At once there rose so wild a yell For life! for life! their flight they ply- Before that tide of flight and chase, -"Down, down," cried Mar, "your lances down! Like reeds before the tempest's frown, And closely shouldering, side by side, rofessor Wilson ranks Scott far above Byron, in point < genius. His remarks, in substance, are as follows: We shall never say that Scott is Shakspeare; but we shall say that he has conceived and created-you know the meaning of these words-a far greater number of characters of real living, flesh-and-blood human beings-and that more naturally, truly, and consistently, than Shakspeare, who was sometimes transcendently great in pictures of the passions; but out of their range, which surely does not comprehend all rational being; was-nay, do not threaten to murder us-a confused and irregular delineator of human life The genius of Sir Walter Scott, it will not be denied is pretty national, and so are the subjects of all his noblest works, be they poems, or novels and romances by the author of “Waverley." Up to the era of Sir Walter, living people had some vague, general, indistinct notion about dead people mouldering away to nothing centuries ago, in regular kirk-yards and chance burial-places, "mang muirs and mosses many O," somewhere or other in that difficultly distinguished and very debateable district called the Borders. All at once he touched their tombs with a divining rod, and the turf streamed out ghosts. Some in woodman' dresses-most in warrior's mail-green archers leaped for with yew bows and quivers, and giants stalked, shaking spears. The gray chronicler smiled, and, taking up his pen, wrote in lines of light the annals of the chivalrous and heroic days of auld feudal Scotland. The nation then, for the first time, knew the character of its ancestors; for those were not spectres-not they, indeed-nor phantoms of the brain-but gaunt flesh and blood, or glad and glorious; baseborn cottage-churls of the olden time, because Scottish, became familiar to the love of the nation's heart, and so to its pride did the high-born lineage of palace kings. His themes in prose or numerous verse are still "knights, and lords, and mighty earls," and their lady-loves-chiefly Scottishof kings that fought for fame or freedom-of fatal Flodden and bright Bannockburn-of the Deliverer. If that be not national to the teeth, Homer was no Ionian, Tyrtæus not sprung from Sparta, and Christopher North a Cockney. Let Abbotsford, then, he cognomened by those that choose it, the Ariosto of the Iorth-we shall continue to call him plain, simple, immortal Sir Walter. There is a long catalogue of other poets, of more or less note, for an account of whom we can, with great pleasure, only refer to Chambers's "History of English Literature," from which we have freely selected and copied, in making out these sketches and selections. To the same work would we refer the student for satisfactory and able record of the Prose-writers of Great Britain, that have flourished since the beginning of English literature. PART VII. AMERICAN LITERATURE. CHAPTER I. AMERICAN POETS. SECTION I. POETS OF OUR REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD. [It is suggested to teachers, in the use of the Seventh as well as the Sixth Part, to examine their pupils upon the characteristics of each author, and to require them to read, before their class, the specimens of each poet with a view to literary criticism.] MR. GRISWOLD, in his Collection of American Poetry, remarks that before the Revolution, before the time when the spirit of freedom began to influence the national character, very little verse worthy of preservation was produced in America, and that the Poetry of THE COLONIES Was without originality, energy, feeling, or correctness of diction. (1.) Of the Revolutionary times PHILIP FRENEAU was the most distinguished poet-the room-mate, while in Princeton College, of James Madison. (2.) JOHN TRUMBULL, LL.D., born in Connecticut, 1750, died in 1831, having distinguished himself as the author of M'Fingal, a burlesque poem, directed against the enemies of American liberty. It is written in Hudibrastic strain, and is said to be the best imitation of the great satire of Butler that was ever written. He was author of another poem written in the same style, entitled the" Progress of Dullness," which was eagerly read during the Revolution. From his description of the fop of those days we extract the following lines Then, lest religion he should need, Of pious Hume he'll learn his creed; |