long and elaborate. They withdraw our curiosity and attention from the subjects for which they had been bespoken, and gradually engage them upon a new and independent series of romantic adventures, in which it is not easy to see how Lord Wellington and Bonaparte can have any concern. But, on the other hand, no sooner is this new interest excited,-no sooner have we surrendered our imaginations into the hands of this dark enchanter, and heated our fancies to the proper pitch for sympathising in the fortunes of Gothic kings and Moorish invaders, with their imposing accompaniments of harnessed knights, ravished damsels, and enchanted statues, than the whole romantic group vanishes at once from our sight; and we are hurried, with minds yet disturbed with these powerful apparitions, to the comparatively sober and cold narration of Bonaparte's villanies, and to drawn battles between mere mortal combatants in English and French uniforms. The vast and elaborate vestibule, in short, in which we had been so long detained,

"Where wonders wild of Arabesque combine
With Gothic imagery of darker shade."

has no corresponding palace attached to it; and the long noviciate we are made to serve to the mysterious powers of romance, is not repaid, after all, by an introduction to their awful presence. The poem comes, in this way, to be substantially divided into two compartments ;-the one representing the fabulous or prodigious acts of Don Roderick's own time, and the other, the recent occurrences, which have since signalized the same quarter of the world. Mr. Scott, we think, is most at home in the first of these fields; and we think, upon the whole, has most success in it. The opening of the poem affords a fine specimen of his unrivalled powers of description.

"Rearing their crests amid the cloudless skies,
And darkly clustering in the pale moonlight,
Toledo's holy towers and spires arise,

As from a trembling lake of silver white;
Their mingled shadows intercept the sight
Of the broad burial-ground outstretched below,
And nought disturbs the silence of the night;

All sleeps in sullen shade, or silver glow,
All save the heavy swell of Teio's ceaseless flow.

"All save the rushing swell of Teio's tide,

Or, distant heard, a courser's neigh or tramp;
Their changing rounds as watchful horsemen ride,
To guard the limits of King Roderick's camp.
For, through the river's night-fog rolling damp,
Was many a proud pavilion dimly seen,

Which glimmer'd back, against the moon's fair lamp,
Tissues of silk and silver twisted sheen,

And standards proudly pitch'd, and warders armed between. *

"But, far within, Toledo's Prelate lent

An ear of fearful wonder to the King;
The silver lamp a fitful lustre sent,
So long that sad confession witnessing:
For Roderick told of many a hidden thing,
Such as are lothly uttered to the air,

p. 13, 14.

When Fear, Remorse, and Shame, the bosom wring, &c. "Full of the Prelate's face and silver hair,

The stream of failing light was feebly roll'd;

But Roderick's visage, though his head was bare,
Was shadow'd by his hand and mantle's foid,

While of his hidden soul the sins he told.' p. 16, 17.

The description of the enchanted hall is in the same strain of excellence.

"Long, large, and lofty, was that vaulted hall;

Roof, walls, and floor, were all of marble stone,

Of polished marble, black as funeral pall,

Carved o'er with signs and characters unknown.

A paly light, as of the dawning, shone

Through the sad bounds, but whence they could not spy; For window to the upper air was none;

Yet, by that light, Don Roderick could descry

Wonders that ne'er till then were seen by mortal eye.

"Grim centinels, against the upper wall,

Of molten bronze, two Statues held their place;
Massive their naked limbs, their stature tall,

Their frowning foreheads golden circles grace.
Moulded they seemed for kings of giant race,

That lived and sinned before the avenging flood;
This grasped a scythe, that rested on a mace;

This spread his wings for flight, that pondering stood;
Each stubborn seemed and stern, immutable of mood.

p. 21-2. The three grand and comprehensive pictures in which Mr. Scott has delineated the state of Spain, during the three periods to which we have already alluded, are conceived with much genius, and executed with very considerable, though unequal felicity. That of the Moorish dominion, is drawn, we think, with the greatest spirit.-The reign of Chivalry and Superstition we do not think so happily represented, by a long and laboured description of two allegorical personages called Bigotry and Valour. -Nor is it very easy to conceive how Don Roderick was to learn the fortunes of his country, merely by inspecting the physiognomy

and furnishing of these two figurantes. The truth seems to be, that Mr. Scott has been tempted on this occasion, to extend a mere Metaphor into an allegory ;-and to prolong a figure which might have given great grace and spirit to a single stanza, into the heavy subject of seven or eight. His representation of the recent state of Spain, we think, displays the talent and address of the author to the greatest advantage; for the subject was by no means inspiring;-nor was it easy, we should imagine, to make the picture of decay and inglorious indolence so engaging.

"And well such strains the opening scene became ;

For VALOUR had relaxed his ardent look,

And at a lady's feet, like lion tame,

Lay stretched, full loth the weight of arms to brook;
And softened BIGOTRY, upon his book,

Pattered a task of little good or ill;

But the blithe peasant plied his pruning hook,
Whistled the muleteer o'er vale and hill,
And rung from village-green the merry Seguidille.
"Grey Royalty, grown impotent of toil,

Let the grave sceptre slip his lazy hold,
And careless saw his rule become the spoil
Of a loose Female and her Minion bold;
But peace was on the cottage and the fold,

From court intrigue, from bickering faction far;
Beneath the chesnut tree Love's tale was told;
And to the tinkling of the light guitar,

Sweet stooped the western sun, sweet rose the evening star."

p. 35, 36.

The picture of Bonaparte, too, considering the difficulty of all contemporary delineations, is not ill executed.

"An Iron Crown his anxious forehead bore;

And well such diadem his heart became,
Who ne'er his purpose for remorse gave o'er,
Or checked his course for piety or shame;
Who, trained a soldier, deemed a soldier's fame
Might flourish in the wreath of battles won,
Though neither truth nor honour decked his name;
Who, placed by fortune on a Monarch's throne,

Recked not of Monarch's faith, or Mercy's kingly tone.' p. 38. We have the same objections, however, to the visible form of ambition stalking before him with a blazing torch, that we have already stated to the allegorical presentment of Valour and Bigotry;-nor can we very greatly admire the history of the coronation of the 'wan fraternal shade ;-nor the commemoration of the services of our lady of the Pillar.'-The landing of the English, however, is admirably described; nor is there any thing

finer in the whole poem than the following passage,-with the exception always of the three concluding lines, which appear to ús to be very nearly as bad as possible.

"Don Roderick turn'd him as the shout grew loud-
A varied scene the changeful vision show'd,
For, where the ocean mingled with the cloud,
A gallant navy stemm'd the billows broad.
From mast and stern St. George's symbol flow'd,
Blent with the silver cross to Scotland dear;
Mottling the sea their landward barges row'd

And flashed the sun on bayonet, brand, and spear,
And the wild beach returned the seaman's jovial cheer..
"It was a dread, yet spirit-stirring sight!

The billows foamed beneath a thousand oars,
Fast as they land the red-cross ranks unite,
Legions on legions brightening all the shores.
Then banners rise, and cannon-signal roars,

Then peals the warlike thunder of the drum,
Thrills the loud fife, the trumpet-flourish pours,

And patriot hopes awake, and doubts are dumb,
For, bold in Freedom's cause, the bands of Ocean come!

"A various host they came-whose ranks display

Each mode in which the warrior meets the fight;

The deep battalion locks its firm array,

And meditates his aim the marksman light;

Far glance the lines of sabres flashing bright,

Where mounted squadrons shake the echoing mead,
Lacks not artillery breathing flame and night,

Nor the fleet ordnance whirl'd by rapid steed,

That rivals lightning's flash in ruin and in speed.' p. 49–51.

The three succeeding stanzas are elaborate; but we think, on the whole, successful. They will probably be oftener quoted than any other passage in the poem.

"A various host-from kindred realms they came,
Brethren in arms, but rivals in renown—

For yon fair bands shall merry England claim,

And with their deeds of valour deck her crown.
Her's their bold port, and her's their martial frown,
And her's their scorn of death in freedom's cause,
Their eyes of azure, and their locks of brown,

And the blunt speech that bursts without a pause,
And freeborn thoughts, which league the Soldier with the Lays.
"And O! loved warriors of the Minstrel's land!

Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave!
The rugged form may mark the mountain band,
And harsher features, and a mien more grave;

But ne'er in battle-field throbb'd heart so brave
As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid;
And when the pibroch bids the battle rave,

And level for the charge your arms are laid,
Where lives the desperate foe, that for such onset staid!
"Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy,
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings,
And moves to death with military glee :
Boast, Erin, boast them! fameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known,
Rough Nature's children, humorous as she :

And He, yon Chieftain-strike the proudest tone

Of thy bold harp, green Isle !-the Hero is thine own. ' p. 51-53. The Conclusion is, on the whole, rather noisy than spirited; and makes up, by a kind of sonorous impetuosity, for whatever it may want in novelty, or variety of conception. The following verses are from a powerful hand certainly ;-and yet they might be matched, perhaps, without any great expenditure of power.The tone, to our ears, is decidedly vulgar ;-and if Mr. Scott had never written any thing better, his poetical reputation would not at this moment have stood much higher than that of the author of the Battles of Talavera.

"Go, baffled Boaster? teach thy haughty mood

To plead at thine imperious master's throne!
Say, thou hast left his legions in their blood,
Deceived his hopes, and frustrated thine own;
Say, that thine utmost skill and valour shown
By British skill and valour were outvied;
Last say, thy conqueror was WELLINGTON!

And if he chafe, be his own fortune tried-
God and our cause to friend, the venture we'll abide.
'Yes! hard the task, when Britons wield the sword,

To give each Chief and every field its fame:
Hark! Albuera thunders BERESFORD,

And red Barosa shouts for dauntless GRÆME!

O for a verse of tumult and of flame,

Bold as the bursting of their cannon sound,

To bid the world re-echo to their fame!

For never, upon glory battle-ground,

With conquest's well-bought wreath were braver victors crown'd!

'O who shall grudge him Albuera's bays,

Who brought a race regenerate to the field,

Roused them to emulate their fathers' praise,

Temper'd their headlong rage, their courage steel'd,

And raised fair Lusitania's fallen shield,