from Dr. Beattie's Minstrel, and to bestow it on the work before us. In justice to the manly measures and sublime morality of that performance, we must protest against such a decision. Indeed, we cannot see how any parallel of comparison can be drawn between the works, except that the word " Minstrel" occurs in both their titles.

The Edwin of Dr. Beattie, (not exclusively a Scottish Minstrel,) early struck with the beauties and wonders of Nature, roves, delighted but bewildered, through her enchanting mazes, impelled, rather than conducted, by the amabilis insania of Fancy. In this " progress" of his ruling passion, led by untutored genius, he one evening visits the retreats of philosophic Truth, under the personification of a hermit; and learns sublime lessons of natural and moral wisdom:

Enraptur'd by the hermit's strain, the youth
Proceeds the path of science to explore," &c.

On the contrary, the "Lay of the Last Minstrel" is the wild, traditionary lore of an old harper, which he sings to the indulgent ear of Anne, the unfortunate widow of James, Duke of Monmouth and Buccleugh, beheaded in 1685. And, though it describes, at full length, the romantic manners of the timesthe licentious incursions of the borderers, their poverty, their pride, their rude hospitality, their belief in goblins and witchcraft, and their passion for arms, tournaments, and single combat; yet it chiefly comprises events which have befallen the clan and family of the Scotts, lords of Buccleugh. We should judge the author to be a descendant of this family, from his familiarity with their history, traditions, and private anecdotes.

The plan of the poem will be best learned from the author's short preface.

The poem, now offered to the public, is intended to illustrate the customs and manners which anciently prevailed on the borders of England and Scotland. The inhabitants, living in a state partly pastoral and party warlike, and combining habits of constant depredation with the influence of a rude spirit of chivalry, were often engaged in scenes highly susceptible of poetical ornament. As the description of scenery and manners was more the object of the author, than a combined and regular narrative, the plan of the ancient metrical romance was adopted, which allows greater latitude in this respect than would be consistent with the dignity of a regular poem. The same model offered other facilities, as it permits an occasional alteration of measure, which, in some degree, authorises the changes of rythm in the text. The machinery also, adopted from popular belief, would have seemed puerile in a poem, which did not partake of the rudeness of the old ballad, or metrical romance. For these reasons, the poem was put into the mouth of an ancient Minstrel, the last of the race, who, as he is supposed to have survived the Revolution, might have caught somewhat of the refinement of mo

dern

dern poetry, without losing the simplicity of his original model. The date of the tale itself is about the middle of the 16th century, when most of the personages actually flourished. The time occupied by the action is three nights and three days.'

Such are the outlines. As to the versification, it includes verses of all sorts and all sizes, from the lively sapphic to the gravest heroic; and some, which, were it not for their imagery and sentiment, would be no verses at all. Nevertheless, we shall not deny that they are generally appropriate to the speaker, and to the occasion.

The Last Minstrel is thus modestly, but auspiciously, introduced.

Amid the strings his fingers strayed,

And an uncertain warbling made,
And oft he shook his hoary head.
But when he caught the measure wild,
The old man raised his face and smiled;
And lightened up his faded eye,
With all a poet's extacy!

In varying cadence, soft or strong,
He swept the sounding chords along;
The present scene, the future lot;
His toils, his wants, were all forgot:
Cold diffidence, and age's frost,
In the full tide of song were lost;
Each blank, in faithless memory void,
The poet's glowing thought supplied;
And, while his harp responsive rung,
"Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.'

p. 16.

We must now expect, when we listen to the Minstrel, those irregular measures, and that uncontrouled enthusiasm of song, which may characterise one, who, though he survives the Revolution, and may be supposed " to catch something of the refinement of modern poetry, still does not lose the simplicity of his original model.” The following is his description of William of Deloraine, a knight sent by the Lady of Buccleugh on the dreadful errand of recovering a book of magic from the grave of a famous conjurer, Michael Scott, buried in Melrose Abbey, on

the banks of the Tweed.

XXI.

'A stark moss-trooping Scott was he,
As e'er couched border lance by knee:
Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss,
Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross;
By wily turns, by desperate bounds,
Had baffled Percy's best blood-hounds;
In Eske, or Liddell, fords were none,
But he would ride them one by one;

Alike

Alike to him was time, or tide,
December's snow, or July's pride;
Alike to him was tide, or time,
Moonless midnight, or mattin prime.
Steady of heart, and stout of hand,
As ever drove prey from Cumberland;
Five times outlawed had he been,

By England's king and Scotland's queen.'

pp. 30, 31: When this adventurous warrior arrives at Melrose, he is shewn the magician's grave, by a very aged monk, who alone, as his friend, had been trusted with the dreadful secret. The bard exhibits a fine moonlight view of the abbey. A Gothic cathedral, with its painted windows, never looked better in song.

XI.

The moon on the east oriel shone,
Through slender shafts of shapely stone,
By foliaged tracery combined;

Thou would'st have thought some fairy's hand,
'Twixt poplars straight, the osier wand,

In many a freakish knot, had twined;
Then framed a spell, when the work was done,
And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
The silver light, so pale and faint,
Shewed many a prophet and many a saint,
Whose image on the glass was dyed;
Full in the midst his Cross of Red
Triumphant Michael brandished,

And trampled the Apostate's pride.

The moon-beam kissed the holy pane,
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain.'

pp. 50, 51.

This book of magic, and a goblin page to Lord Cranstoun, (taken from the history of Gilpin Horner, an elf well-known in Scotland,) perform most of the nodos vindice dignos, in this poem. On Deloraine's return, he meets with this Lord Cranstoun; who being of a hostile family, a fight ensues, in which the weary moss-trooper is wounded and unhorsed. The victor leaves his mischievous goblin page to staunch the borderer's wounds. This imp espies the " mighty book;" whose iron clasps refuse to be unclosed, till besmeared by the christened blood of the weltering Deloraine; and reads some of the spells, that" made a nut-shell seem a gilded barge, &c.;" but, he is forced by a superior power to forbear his studies. Afterwards, in the form of a playmate, with fiendish intent, he decoys the heir of Buccleugh from home; and," with his fingers long and lean," would have crippled or strangled the child. But, in crossing a stream, the magic book obliges him to re- assume his elfish shape. His propensity to mischief however, is gratified; for this young heir of VOL. II. Buccleugh

Buccleugh is taken prisoner by the English: sad feuds follow between them and their neighbours, and the war-beacons blaze on every side. We think the bard's description of two warrior steeds, as their riders are preparing for combat, is rarely excelled, by Homer, or by Pindar.

Their very coursers seemed to know,
That each was other's mortal foe;
And snorted fire, when wheel'd around,
To give each knight his vantage ground.".
The meeting of these champions proud,
Seemed like the bursting thunder-cloud."

When the armies of each nation meet for fight, the heralds propose that a single combat shall decide the quarrel. Richard of Musgrave, for the English, is to fight William of Deloraine, whom Lord Cranstoun, personates. This nobleman is enamoured of Margaret," the flower of Teviot;" but a mortal foe to the house of her father. Musgrave is slain; the heir of Buccleugh is restored: and, as a reward for his services, Cranstoun obtains the hand of Margaret. The two clans are reconciled: the two nations are at peace again; and all are invited to Branxholm castle, to celebrate the nuptials. The boundless festivity and hospitality of the times are richly pourtrayed.

VI.

The spousal rites were ended soon;
'Twas now the merry hour of noon,
And in the lofty-arched hall
Was spread the gorgeous festival:
Steward and squire, with heedful haste,
Marshalled the rank of every guest;
Pages, with ready blade, were there,
The mighty meal to carve and sharę :
O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane,
And princely peacock's gilded train,
And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave,
And cygnet from St. Mary's wave ;
O'er ptarmigan and venison,
The priest had spoke his benison.

Then rose the riot and the din,

Above, beneath, without, within!

For, from the lofty balcony,

Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery;

Their clanging bowls old warriors quaffed,
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laughed.;
Whispered young knights, in tone inore mild,
To ladies fair;-and ladies smiled.

The hooded hawks, high perched on beam,
The clamour joined with whistling scream,

>

And

And flapped their wings, and shook their bells,
In concert with the staghounds' yells.
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine,

From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine;
Their tasks the busy sewers ply,

And all is mirth and revelry.' p. 174. 175.

The goblin page, however, not yet conjured down, incites the guests to quarrel over their cups; and even vents his malice, by interrupting the hearty mirth of his fellow servants in the buttery; till the Lady of Buccleugh bids the minstrels of each nation tell their simple tales, and soothe the discord into peace and harmony. The English minstrel is a favourite in "haughty Henry's court." And, it is said,

The gentle Surrey lov'd his lyre

Who has not heard of Surrey's fame?'

These recitations are highly characteristic; we regret that we cannot give them to our readers. The mischievous goblin is now to be remanded to his brother imps. He had constantly cried out, nobody knew why, Lost! lost! lost! He now exclaims, Found! found! found! While a spirit, said to be that of Michael Scott, enveloped in magic horrors, exclaims, GYLBIN, COME!"-and he vanishes in a clap of thunder. Ha nuga in seria ducunt: the tale closes in a solemn manner, with a pilgrimage to Melrose Abbey, for the soul of the conjuror; and prayers and pious requiems, too awful for the occasion, are chanted by the holy fathers, over his grave. As they are the last words of the last Minstrel, we must give them to our readers.

HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?
When shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead
O! on that clay, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,

Though heaven and earth shall pass away!' pp. 201, 202.

We have received so much pleasure in perusing this work, that we are unwilling to particularize its faults. We might, however, submit to the ingenious writer, whether it would not be a considerable improvement, if the purposes to be answered

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