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SCOTT, BYRON, SHELLEY, KEATSare best when they adhere most closely to the spiritand form of the old impersonal, simple, poignantfolk-song. His few personal lyrics are in the latereighteenth-century manner:Though fair her gems of azure hue,Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining ;I've seen an eye of lovelier blue,More sweet through wat'ry lustre shining."Ah! County Guy," which suggests rather the courtlythan the popular mediaeval lyric, is excellent; but thegreatest of Scott's <strong>lyrical</strong> flights are the fragmentswhich poor Madge Wildfire sings on her death, allgood in different kinds,—a song of harvest-home:A Methodist hymn:Our work is over—over now,The good-man wipes his weary brow,The last long wain wends slow away,And we are free to sport and play.When the fight of grace is fought —When the marriage vest is wrought.A "fragment of some old ballad 5 ':And finest of all:Cauld is my bed, Lord Archibald,And sad my sleep of sorrow ;But thine sail be as sad and cauld,My fause true-love ! to-morrow.Proud Maisie is in the wood,Walking so early ;Sweet Robin sits on the buahSinging so rarely.43
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