"Yet more! yet more! how fair array'd
They file from out the hawthorn shade,
And sweep so gallant by!

With all their banners bravely spread,
And all their armour flashing high,
St. George might waken from the dead,
To see fair England's standards fly."

Marmion, Canto VI. St. 19. 21.

Of those occasional ornaments, for which a writer of genius will sometimes step aside from the direct course of narrative, the most remarkable in the works before us are the Similes, which are very frequent, and in general distinguished either by the poetic beauty and elegance of the images, or by the felicity, and even wittiness of the application. I will offer two or three specimens which appear to me excellent in both respects.

"Now must she see her lover strain,
At every turn, her feeble chain,

Watch to new bind each knot, and shrink
To view each fast-decaying link.

Art she invokes to Nature's aid,

Her vest to zone, her locks to braid;
Each varied pleasure heard her call,
The feast, the tourney, and the ball:
Her storied lore she next applies,
Taxing her mind to aid her eyes;

Now more than mortal wise, and then
In female softness sunk again;

Now, raptured, with each wish complying,
With feign'd reluctance now denying;
Each charm she varied to retain
A varying heart, and all in vain!

"Thus in the garden's narrow bound,
Flank'd by some castle's Gothic round,
Fain would the artist's skill provide,
The limits of his realm to hide.
The walks in labyrinths he twines,
Shade after shade with skill combines,
With many a varied flowery knot,
And copse and arbour decks the spot,
Tempting the hasty foot to stay,
And linger on the lovely way-
Vain art! vain hope! 'tis fruitless all !
At length we reach the bounding wall,
And sick of flower and trim-dress'd tree,
Long for rough glades and forest free."

Bridal of Triermain, Canto II. St. 4, 5.

'I feel the terrors of a child, who has, in heedless sport, 'put in motion some powerful piece of machinery; and ' while he beholds wheels revolving, chains clashing, cylinders rolling around him, is equally astonished at 'the tremendous powers which his weak agency has called ' into action, and terrified for the consequences which he ' is compelled to await, without the possibility of averting 'them.'-Guy Mannering, Vol. II. ch. 10.

"He smooth'd his brows, as best he might,
To the dread calm of autumn night,

When sinks the tempest's roar;

T

Yet still the cautious fishers eye

The clouds, and fear the gloomy sky,

And haul their barks on shore."

Harold the Dauntless, Canto II. St. 8.

Neither was his eagerness proportioned in all cases ' to the motive of impulse, but might be compared to the 'speed of a stone, which rushes with like fury down the ' hill, whether it was first put in motion by the arm of a 'giant, or the hand of a boy.'-Bride of Lammermoor, Vol. I. ch. 8.

'The mind of England's Elizabeth....was like one of 'those ancient Druidical monuments, called Rockingstones. The finger of Cupid, boy as he is painted, could put her feelings in motion, but the power of Hercules 'could not have destroyed their equilibrium.'—Kenilworth, Vol. III. ch. 9.

"My soul, though feminine, and weak,
Can image his; e'en as the lake,

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke,
Reflects the invulnerable rock."

Lady of the Lake, Canto IV. St. 10.

They

Saw not nor heard the ambushment.
Heedless and unconcerned they sate,
While on the very verge of fate;

Heedless and unconcerned remained,

When Heaven' the murderer's arm restrained;

།

As ships drift darkling down the tide,
Nor see the shelves o'er which they glide."
Rokeby, Canto IV. St. 27.

"Then Roderick from the Douglas broke :-
As flashes flame through sable smoke,

Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low,
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow,
So the deep anguish of despair

Burst in fierce jealousy to air."

Lady of the Lake, Canto II. St. 34.

'He' (the Regent Murray) then turned slowly round 'towards Roland Græme, and the marks of gaiety, real

or assumed, disappeared from his countenance, as completely as the passing bubbles leave the dark mirror of a 'still profound lake into which a traveller has cast a " stone; in the course of a minute his noble features had 'assumed their natural expression of deep and even 'melancholy gravity.'-Abbot, Vol. II. ch. 3.

'It is probable the government' (of France in 1814-15) ' felt that their army resembled an evoked fiend, pressing 'for employment, and ready to tear to pieces even the 'wizard whom he serves, unless instantly supplied with ' other means of venting his malevolence.'-Paul's Letters, Letter IV.

I have noticed this comparison, because it seems to be a favourite. It occurs (as a quotation at least) in the life of Swift

'Swift's mind was by one of his friends well likened to a conjured spirit, that would do mischief if not supplied with constant employment.'-Sect. I. p. 19. Ed. 1814. And again in Waverley

"I never see that surly fellow that dogs his heels,' 'said the Colonel.... but he reminds me of lines I have 'somewhere heard-upon the stage, I think

"Close behind him

Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend,

Pressing to be employed *."

Waverley, Vol. III. ch. 9.

And the story of such a dæmon is told in a note on the Lay of the Last Minstrel (Canto II. St. 13), where we learn that Michael Scott at length conquered the fiend, by requiring him to make ropes of sand. I am well aware that the fiction itself has been made use of in various forms by English, French, and German writers; I only invite your attention here, to its frequent occurrence in the way of simile.

The following comparisons both turn upon the same thought

"The bard shall scorn pedantic laws;
And, as the ancient art could stain
Achievements on the storied pane,
Irregularly traced and plann'd,
But yet so glowing and so grand;
So shall he strive, in changeful hue,

Field, feast, and combat to renew," &c.

Marmion, Introduction to Canto V.

The language of Scripture-gave, in Macbriar's exhortation, a rich and solemn effect, like that which is produced by the beams of the sun streaming through 'the storied representation of saints and martyrs on the 'Gothic window of some ancient cathedral. Tales of My Landlord, 1st Series, Vol. III. ch. 5.

It is a frequent practice of the novelist, and of the author of Marmion in all his productions, to pause a moment in

* I am not acquainted with these lines, but am inclined to think the Colonel's great-grandfather may have heard them at the Globe or Red Bull, when the " Old Play" was acted there.