"High on her speculative tower
Stood Science, waiting for the hour
When Sol was destined to endure
That darkening."
So in "The Excursion,"
"The cold March wind raised in her tender throat
Viewless obstructions."
[349] According to Landor, he pronounced all Scott's poetry to be
"not worth five shillings."
[350] Prelude, Book VI.
[351] This was instinctively felt, even by his admirers. Miss Martineau said to Crabb Robinson in 1839, speaking of Wordsworth's conversation: "Sometimes he is annoying from the pertinacity with which he dwells on trifles; at other times he flows on in the utmost grandeur, leaving a strong impression of inspiration." Robinson tells us that he read "Resolution" and "Independence" to a lady who was affected by it even to tears, and then said, "I have not heard anything for years that so much delighted me; but, after all, it is not poetry."
[352] Nowhere is this displayed with more comic self-complacency than when he thought it needful to rewrite the ballad of Helen of Kirconnel,—a poem hardly to be matched in any language for swiftness of movement and savage sincerity of feeling. Its shuddering compression is masterly. Compare
"Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
That died to succor me!
O, think ye not my heart was sair
When my love dropt down and spake na mair?"
compare this with,—
"Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts
That through his brain are travelling,
And, starting up, to Bruce's heart
He launched a deadly javelin:
Fair Ellen saw it when it came,
And, stepping forth to meet the same,
Did with her body cover
The Youth, her chosen lover.
* * * * *
"And Bruce (as soon, as he had slain
The Gordon) sailed away to Spain,
And fought with rage incessant
Against the Moorish Crescent."