102 NETHER LOCHABER. 



us as we write from the opposite wall of our study, and constantly 

 reminds us of Scott's magnificent description of the stag that led 

 Fitzjames and his attendants such a merry dance in the Lady of 

 the Lake. "We must be pardoned for quoting a passage with which 

 every one is familiar : 



" As Chief, who hears his warder call, 

 ' To arms ! the foemen storm the wall,' 

 The antier'd monarch of the waste 

 Sprang from his heathery couch in haste. 

 But, ere his fleet career he took, 

 The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 

 Like crested leader proud and high, 

 Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; 

 A moment gazed adown the dale, 

 A moment snuff" d the tainted gale, 

 A moment listened to the cry, 

 That thicken 'd as the chase drew nigh ; 

 Then, as the foremost foes appeared, 

 With one brave bound the copse he clear'd 

 And, stretching forward free and far, 

 Sough b the wild heaths of Uam-Var." 



And yet some stupid people will ask if Scott was a poet ! 

 Even Landseer never painted anything finer or truer to the 

 life than that word-painting of Scott's. Every one admits that 

 Homer was a poet : well, then, search the Iliad, point out anything 

 better, or anything, entre nous, quite as good, and when you have 

 found it, please let us know, and we promise to reperuse the 

 passage, with every attention and care, in the original of Homer 

 himself, as well as in the translations of Pope, Cowper, and Blackie ; 

 and if you are right and we are wrong, we shall not hesitate to 

 confess it, and humbly cry peccavi. Meantime we shall continue 

 steadfast in our belief that Scott is a poet, and not only a poet, but 

 a poet of the highest order ; more " Homeric," too, than any other 

 poet you can name, either of the present or past century; and that 

 Mr. Gladstone has had the good sei se and penetration to discover 



