hly parentage of Brian the Hermit.

The gain in style is less perceptible. Scott was never a great stylist;
he struck out at the very first a nervous, hurrying meter, and a strong
though rather commonplace diction, upon which he never substantially
improved. Abundant action, rapid transitions, stirring descriptions,
common sentiments and ordinary language heightened by a dash of pomp and
novelty, above all a pervading animation, spirit, intrepidity--these are
the constant elements of Scott's success, present here in their
accustomed measure. In the broader sense of style, however, where the
word is understood to include all the processes leading to a given
poetical effect, _The Lady of the Lake_ has some advantage, even over
_Marmion_. It contains nothing, to be sure, so fine or so typical of
Scott's peculiar power, as the account of the Battle of Flodden in
_Marmion_; the minstrel's recital of the battle of Beal' an Duine does
not abide the comparison. The quieter parts of _The Lady of the Lake_,
moreover, are sometimes disfigured by a sentimentality and "prettiness"
happily unfrequent with Scott. But the description of the approach of
Roderick Dhu's war-boats, already mentioned, the superb landscape
delineation in the fifth canto, and the beautiful twilight ending of
canto third, can well stand as prime types of Scott's stylistic power.

THE LADY OF THE LAKE

CANTO FIRST

THE CHASE

Harp of the North! that moldering long hast hung
On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring,
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung,
Till envious ivy did around thee cling,
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string-- 5
O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep?
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring,
Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep,
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep?

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 10
Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd,
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won,
Aroused the fearful, or subdued the proud.
At each according pause, was heard aloud
Thine ardent symphony sublime and high! 15
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed;
For still the burden of thy minstrelsy
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless eye.

O wake once more! how rude soe'er the hand
That ventures o'er thy magic ma