medium, are common to him with his readers. He has none of
Mr. Wordsworth's _idiosyncracy_. He differs from his readers only in a
greater range of knowledge and facility of expression. His poetry
belongs to the class of _improvisatori_ poetry. It has neither depth,
height, nor breadth in it; neither uncommon strength, nor uncommon
refinement of thought, sentiment, or language. It has no originality.
But if this author has no research, no moving power in his own breast,
he relies with the greater safety and success on the force of his
subject. He selects a story such as is sure to please, full of
incidents, characters, peculiar manners, costume, and scenery; and he
tells it in a way that can offend no one. He never wearies or
disappoints you. He is communicative and garrulous; but he is not his
own hero. He never obtrudes himself on your notice to prevent your
seeing the subject. What passes in the poem, passes much as it would
have done in reality. The author has little or nothing to do with it.
Mr. Scott has great intuitive power of fancy, great vividness of pencil
in placing external objects and events before the eye. The force of his
mind is picturesque, rather than _moral_. He gives more of the features
of nature than the soul of passion. He conveys the distinct outlines and
visible changes in outward objects, rather than "their mortal
consequences." He is very inferior to Lord Byron in intense passion, to
Moore in delightful fancy, to Mr. Wordsworth in profound sentiment: but
he has more picturesque power than any of them; that is, he places the
objects themselves, about which _they_ might feel and think, in a much
more striking point of view, with greater variety of dress and attitude,
and with more local truth of colouring. His imagery is Gothic and
grotesque. The manners and actions have the interest and curiosity
belonging to a wild country and a distant period of time. Few
descriptions have a more complete reality, a more striking appearance of
life and motion, than that of the warriors in the Lady of the Lake, who
start up at the command of Rhoderic Dhu, from their concealment under
the fern, and disappear again in an instant. The Lay of the Last
Minstrel and Marmion are the first, and perhaps the best of his works.
The Goblin Page, in the first of these, is a very interesting and
inscrutable little personage. In reading these poems, I confess I am a
little disconcerted, in turning over the p