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O all-enjoying and all-blending sage, Long be it mine to con thy mazy page, Where half conceal'd, the eye of fancy views

Fauns, nymphs, and winged saints, all

gracious to thy muse!

I know few more striking or more interesting proofs of the overwhelming influence which the study of the Greek and Roman classics exercised on the judgments, feelings, and imaginations of the literati of Europe at the commencement of the restoration of literature, than the passage in the Filocopo of Boccaccio, where the sage instructor, Racheo, as soon as the young prince and the beautiful girl Biancofiore had learned their letters, sets them to study the Holy Book, Ovid's Art of Love. "Incominciò Racheo a mettere il suo officio in esecuzione con intera sollecitudine. E loro, in breve tempo, insegnato a conoscer le lettere, fece leggere il santo libro d'Ovvidio, nel quale il sommo poeta mostra, come I santi fuochi di Venere si debbano ne' freddi cuori accendere." (Coleridge.)

Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks,

And see in Dian's vest between the ranks

Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes

The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves,

With that sly satyr peeping through the leaves ! 1828. 1829.

PHANTOM OR FACT

A DIALOGUE IN VERSE

AUTHOR

A LOVELY form there sate beside my bed,

And such a feeling calm its presence shed,

A tender love so pure from earthly leaven,

That I unnethe the fancy might control,

'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven,

Wooing its gentle way into my soul! But ah! the change-It had not stirr'd, and yet

Alas! that change how fain would I forget!

That shrinking back, like one that had mistook!

That weary, wandering, disavowing look!

'Twas all another, feature, look, and frame,

And still, methought, I knew, it was the same!

FRIEND

This riddling tale, to what does it belong?

Is't history? vision? or an idle song? Or rather say at once, within what space

Of time this wild disastrous change took place?

AUTHOR

Call it a moment's work (and such it seems)

This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams;

But say, that years matur'd the silent

strife,

And 'tis a record from the dream of life. 1830. 1834.

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SCOTT

LIST OF REFERENCES

EDITIONS

POETICAL WORKS, edited by William Minto, 2 volumes, Edinburgh, 1887-88. POETICAL WORKS, 1 volume, edited, with revision of text, by W. J. Rolfe, Boston, 1888. POETICAL WORKS, edited by Andrew Lang, 6 volumes, 1902. POETICAL WORKS, 1 volume, edited by F. T. Palgrave, The Macmillan Co., 1866 (Globe Edition; not complete). - * COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS, 1 volume, edited by H. E. Scudder, The Houghton, Mifflin Co., 1900 (Cambridge Edition).- POEMS, 1 volume, edited by J. Logie Robertson, Clarendon Press, 1906 (Oxford Edition). - JOURNAL, 1825-1832, 2 volumes, edited by David Douglas, Edinburgh, 1890.FAMILIAR LETTERS, 2 volumes, edited by David Douglas, Edinburgh, 1894.

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BIOGRAPHY

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** LOCKHART (J. G.), Life of Sir Walter Scott, 1837.-*HUTTON (R. H.), Scott, 1878 (English Men of Letters Series). (Containing two chapters of excellent criticism on Scott as a poet.) · YONGE (C. D.), Scott, 1888 (Great Writers Series). SAINTSBURY (George), Sir Walter Scott, 1897 (Famous Scots Series). HUDSON (W. H.), Sir Walter Scott, 1901 (Scots Epoch Makers). - HUGHES (Mary A. W.), Letters and Recollections of Scott, Smith, Elder & Co., 1904. NORGATE (G. Le G.), Life of Sir Walter Scott, Methuen, 1906. JENKS (T.), In the Days of Scott, A. S. Barnes, 1906.*LANG (A.), Sir Walter Scott, 1906 (Literary Lives Series).

CRITICISM

BALL (Margaret), Sir Walter Scott as a Critic, 1907. - BEERS (H. A.), English Romanticism in the Nineteenth Century, 1901. - *BROOKE (Stopford A.), Studies in Poetry, 1907. - *CARLYLE (T.), Miscellanies, Vol. IV; from the London and Westminster Review, 1838. — CROCKETT (S. R.), The Scott Country, 1902. EMERSON (R. W.), Miscellanies. - HAY (John), Addresses: Speech at the Unveiling of the Bust of Scott in Westminster Abbey, 1897. HOWELLS (W. D.), My Literary Passions, 1895. HUGO (Victor), Littérature et Philosophie, 1834. HUTTON (R. H.), Brief Literary Criticisms, 1906.-JEFFREY (Francis), Edinburgh Review, No. 23 (April, 1808), Art. 1, Marmion; No. 32, Art. 1, Lady of the Lake; No. 36, Art. 6, Vision of Don Roderick; No. 48, Art. 1, Lord of the Isles. Also in his Critical Essays. -KER (W. P.), Scott, in Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature, Vol. III, new edition, 1904. *LANG (A.), Letters to Dead Authors, 1886. LANG (A.), Essays in Little, 1891. LANG (A.), Poets' Country, 1907. — PRESCOTT (W. H.), Biographical and Critical Miscellanies, 1845. - *PALGRAVE (F. T.), Introduction to the Globe Edition, 1866. *RUSKIN (John), Modern Painters, Part IV, Chap. 16 (especially sections 2245) and 17.- *RUSKIN (John), Fors Clavigera, Letters 31-34, 92. SAINTSBURY (G.), Essays on English Literature, Second Series, 1895. *SHAIRP (J. C.), Aspects of Poetry: Homeric Spirit of Scott, 1881. SMITH (Goldwin), Scott's Poetry again; in the Atlantic, March, 1905. STEPHEN (Leslie), Hours in a Library, Vol. I, 1874, 1892. - SWINBURNE (A. C.), Studies in Prose and Poetry, 1894. SYMONS (Arthur), Was Sir Walter Scott a Poet; in the Atlantic, Nov., 1904. SYMONS (Arthur), Romantic Movement in English Poetry, 1909. WOODBERRY (G. E.), Great Writers, 1907; from McClure's Magazine, June, 1905.

--

WILLIAM AND HELEN

SCOTT

Imitated from Bürger's Lenore. See Lockhart's Life of Scott, Volume I, Chap. 7. FROM heavy dreams fair Helen rose, And eyed the dawning red : "Alas, my love, thou tarriest long! O art thou false or dead?"

With gallant Frederick's princely power
He sought the bold crusade,
But not a word from Judah's wars
Told Helen how he sped.

With Paynim and with Saracen

At length a truce was made,
And every knight returned to dry
The tears his love had shed.

Our gallant host was homeward bound
With many a song of joy;
Green waved the laurel in each plume,
The badge of victory.

And old and young, and sire and son,
To meet them crowd the way,
With shouts and mirth and melody,
The debt of love to pay.

Full many a maid her true-love met,
And sobbed in his embrace,
And fluttering joy in tears and smiles
Arrayed full many a face..

Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad,
She sought the host in vain ;

For none could tell her William's fate,
If faithless or if slain.

The martial band is past and gone;
She rends her raven hair,

And in distraction's bitter mood
She weeps with wild despair.

"O, rise, my child," her mother said, "Nor sorrow thus in vain ;

A perjured lover's fleeting heart
No tears recall again."

"O, Mother, what is gone is gone,
What's lost forever lorn:

Death, death alone can comfort me;
O had I ne'er been born!

"O, break, my heart, O, break at once'
Drink my life-blood, Despair!
No joy remains on earth for me,
For me in heaven no share."

"O, enter not in judgment, Lord!"
The pious mother prays:
"Impute not guilt to thy frail child!
She knows not what she says.

"O, say thy pater-noster, child!
O, turn to God and grace!
His will, that turned thy bliss to bale,
Can change thy bale to bliss."

"O mother, mother, what is bliss?
O mother, what is bale?

My William's love was heaven on earth, Without it earth is hell.

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"Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven,
Since my loved William's slain?
I only prayed for William's sake,
And all my prayers were vain.”
"O, take the sacrament, my child.
And check these tears that flow;
By resignation's humble prayer,
O, hallowed be thy woe!"

"No sacrament can quench this fire,
Or slake this scorching pain;
No sacrament can bid the dead
Arise and live again.

"O, break, my heart, O, break at once! Be thou my god. Despair!

Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me, And vain each fruitless prayer."

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Wild she arraigns the eternal doom,
Upbraids each sacred power,
Till, spent, she sought her silent room,
All in the lonely tower.

She beat her breast, she wrung her hands,

Till sun and day were o'er,

And through the glimmering lattice shone

The twinkling of the star.

Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell
That o'er the moat was hung;
And, clatter! clatter! on its boards
The hoof of courser rung.

The clank of echoing steel was heard
As off the rider bounded;

And slowly on the winding stair
A heavy footstep sounded.

And hark! and hark! a knock
tap!

- tap!

A rustling stifled noise ;-
Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;
At length a whispering voice.

"Awake, awake, arise, my love!
How, Helen, dost thou fare?
Wak'st thou, or sleep'st! laugh'st thou,
or weep'st?

Hast thought on me, my fair?"

"My love! my love!-so late by night!I waked, I wept for thee;

Much have I borne since dawn of morn; Where, William, couldst thou be?"

"We saddle late--from Hungary
I rode since darkness fell;

And to its bourne we both return
Before the matin-bell."

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"Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush!

This night we must away; The steed is wight, the spur is bright; I cannot stay till day.'

"Busk, busk, and boune! Thou mount'st behind

Upon my black barb steed :
O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles,
We haste to bridal bed."

"To-night-to-night a hundred miles!O dearest William, stay!

The bell strikes twelve-dark, dismal hour!

O, wait, my love, till day!"

"Look here, look here-the moon shines clear

Full fast I ween we ride : Mount and away! for ere the day We reach our bridal bed.

"The black barb snorts, the bridle rings;

Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee! The feast is made, the chamber spread, The bridal guests await thee."

Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes,

She mounts the barb behind,

And round her darling William's waist
Her lily arms she twined.

And, hurry! hurry! off they rode,
As fast as fast might be ;

Spurned from the courser's thundering

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"But why so stern and cold?

"What yonder rings? what yonder

sings?

Why shrieks the owlet gray?"

""T is death-bell's clang, 't is funeral

song,

The body to the clay.

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"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear,

Dost fear to ride with me?— Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!""O William, let them be !

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See there, see there! What yonder
swings

And creaks, mid whistling rain?"—
Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel;
A murderer in his chain.—

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'Hollo! thou felon, follow here:
To bridal bed we ride;

And thou shalt prance a fetter dance
Before me and my bride."

And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash!
The wasted form descends;

And fleet as wind through hazel bush
The wild career attends.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they
rode,

Splash! splash! along the sea;
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

How fled what

showed!

moonshine faintly

How fled what darkness hid!
How fled the earth beneath their feet,
The Heaven above their head!

"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear,

And well the dead can ride; Dost, faithful Helen, fear for them?""O leave in peace the dead!”

"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock,
The sand will soon be run :

Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air;
The race is well-nigh done."

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,

Splash! splash! along the sea;
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

"Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead;
The bride, the bride is come;
And soon we reach the bridal bed,
For, Helen, here's my home."

Reluctant on its rusty hinge
Revolved an iron door,

And by the pale moon's setting beam
Were seen a church and tower.

With many a shriek and cry whiz round
The birds of midnight scared;
And rustling like autumnal leaves
Unhallowed ghosts were heard.

O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale
He spurred the fiery horse,
Till suddenly at an open grave

He checked the wondrous course.

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