This must
always be the opinion of readers who will not submit to stories in
verse; it by no means follows that the verse is bad. If we make an
exception, which we must, in favour of Chaucer, where is there
better verse in story telling in the whole of English literature?
The readers who despise "Marmion," or "The Lady of the Lake," do so
because they dislike stories told in poetry. From poetry they
expect other things, especially a lingering charm and magic of
style, a reflective turn, "criticism of life." These things, except
so far as life can be criticised in action, are alien to the Muse of
narrative. Stories and pictures are all she offers: Scott's
pictures, certainly, are fresh enough, his tales are excellent
enough, his manner is sufficiently direct. To take examples: every
one who wants to read Scott's poetry should begin with the "Lay."
From opening to close it never falters:-
"Nine and twenty knights of fame
Hung their shields in Branksome Hall;
Nine and twenty squires of name
Brought their steeds to bower from stall,
Nine and twenty yeomen tall
Waited, duteous, on them all . . .
Ten of them were sheathed in steel,
With belted sword, and spur on heel;
They quitted not their harness bright
Neither by day nor yet by night:
They lay down to rest
With corslet laced,
Pillowed on buckler cold and hard;
They carved at the meal
With gloves of steel,
And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.
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