a century--perhaps for ever--by substituting the novel
as the favourite medium for the storyteller. Great ballads we were to
have in every decade from that day to this, but never another 'best
seller' like _Marmion_ or _The Lady of the Lake_. Our _popular_ poets
had to express themselves in other ways. Then Borrow, although his verse
has been underrated by those who have not seen it at its best, or who
are incompetent to appraise poetry, was not very effective here,
notwithstanding that the stories in verse in _Romantic Ballads_ are all
entirely interesting. This fact is most in evidence in a case where a
real poet, not of the greatest, has told the same story. We owe a
rendering of 'The Deceived Merman' to both George Borrow and Matthew
Arnold, but how widely different the treatment! The story is of a merman
who rose out of the water and enticed a mortal--fair Agnes or
Margaret--under the waves; she becomes his wife, bears him children, and
then asks to return to earth. Arriving there she refuses to go back when
the merman comes disconsolately to the churchdoor for her. Here are a
few lines from the two versions, which demonstrate that here at least
Borrow was no poet and that Arnold was a very fine one:

GEORGE BORROW

'Now, Agnes, Agnes list to me,
Thy babes are longing so after thee.'
'I cannot come yet, here must I stay
Until the priest shall have said his say,'
And when the priest had said his say,
She thought with her mother at home she'd stay.
'O Agnes, Agnes list to me,
Thy babes are sorrowing after thee,'
'Let them sorrow and sorrow their fill,
But back to them never return I will.'

MATTHEW ARNOLD

We climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,
And we gazed up the aisles through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:
'Margaret, hist! come quick we are here!
Dear heart,' I said, 'we are long-alone;
The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan,'
But, ah, she gave me never a look,
For her eyes were sealed on the holy book!
Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more!
Come away, come down, call no more!

It says much for the literary proclivities of Norwich at this period
that Borrow should have had so kindly a reception for his book as the
subscription list implies. At the end of each of Wilkin's two hundred
copies a 'list of subscribers' is gi