of the Teutonic descent, who, in their manners and religious rites, differed widely from the Celta; and it is curious and remarkable, to find this difference clearly pointed out in the poems of Ossian. His descriptions bear the native marks of one who was present in the expeditions which he relates, and who describes what he had seen with his own eyes. No sooner are we carried to Lochlin, or the islands of Inistore, than we perceive that we are in a foreign region. New objects begin to appear. We meet every where with the stones and circles of Loda, that is, Odin, the great Scandinavian deity. We meet with the divinations and enchantments for which it is well known those northern nations were early famous. "There, mixed "with the murmur of waters, rose the voice of aged men, "who called the forms of night to aid them in their war;" whilst the Caledonian chiefs, who assisted them, are described as standing at a distance, heedless of their rites. That ferocity of manners which distinguished those nations, also becomes conspicuous. In the combats of their chiefs there is a peculiar savageness; even their women are bloody and fierce. The spirit, and the very ideas of Regner Lodbrog, that northern scalder, whom I formerly quoted, occur to us again. "The hawks," Ossian makes one of the Scandinavian chiefs say, "rush from all their "winds; they are wont to trace my course. We rejoiced "three days above the dead, and called the hawks of hea46 ven. They came from all their winds, to feast on the "foes of Aanir."

Dismissing now the separate consideration of any of our author's works, I proceed to make some observations on his manner of writing, under the general heads of Description, Imagery, and Sentiment.

A poet of original genius is always distinguished by his talent for description.* A second-rate writer discerns * See the rules of poetical description excellently illustrated by lom

nothing new or peculiar in the object he means to describe. His conceptions of it are vague and loose; his expressions feeble; and of course the object is presented to us indistinctly, and as through a cloud. But a true poet makes us imagine that we see it before our eyes; he catches the distinguishing features; he gives it the colours of life and reality; he places it in such a light that a painter could copy after him. This happy talent is chiefly owing to a lively imagination, which first receives a strong impres sion of the object; and then, by a proper selection of capital picturesque circumstances employed in describing it, transmits that impression in its full force to the imagination of others. That Ossian possesses this descriptive power in a high degree, we have a clear proof, from the effect which his descriptions produce upon the imaginations of those who read him with any degree of attention and taste. Few poets are more interesting. We contract an intimate acquaintance with his principal heroes. The characters, the manners, the face of the country, become familiar; we even think we could draw the figure of his ghosts. In a word, whilst reading him we are transported as into a new region, and dwell among his objects as if they were all real.

It were easy to point out several instances of exquisite painting in the works of our author. Such, for instance, as the scenery with which Temora opens, and the attitude in which Cairbar is there presented to us; the description of the young prince Cormac, in the same book; and the ruins of Balclutha in Cartho. "I have seen the walls of

Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had re"sounded in the halls; and the voice of the people is "heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed "from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle

Kaims, in his Elements of Criticism, vel. iii. chap. 21, of narration and description.

"shook there its lonely head: the moss whistled to the "wind. The fox looked out from the windows; the rank

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grass of the wall waved round his head. Desolate is the “dwelling of Moina; silence is in the house of her fa"thers." Nothing also can be more natural and lively than the manner in which Carthon afterwards describes how the conflagration of his city affected him when a child: "Have I not seen the fallen Balclutha? And shall "I feast with Comhal's son? Comhal! who threw his fire "in the midst of my father's hall! I was young, and knew "not the cause why the virgins wept. The columns of "smoke pleased mine eye, when they rose above my "walls: I often looked back with gladness, when my "friends fled above the hill. But when the years of my "youth came on, I beheld the moss of my fallen walls.

My sigh arose with the morning; and my tears descend"ed with night. Shall I not fight, I said to my soul, 66 against the children of my foes? And I will fight, O "Bard! I feel the strength of my soul." In the same poem, the assembling of the chiefs round Fingal, who had been warned of some impending danger by the appearance of a prodigy, is described with so many pic. turesque circumstances, that one imagines himself present in the assembly. "The king alone beheld the terrible "sight, and he foresaw the death of his people. He "came in silence to his hall, and took his father's spear; "the mail rattled on his breast. The heroes rose around. "They looked in silence on each other, marking the eyes "of Fingal. They saw the battle in his face. A thou“sand shields are placed at once on their arms; and they "drew a thousand swords. The hall of Selma brightened "around. The clang of arms ascends. The grey dogs "howl in their place. No word is among the mighty "chiefs. Each marked the eyes of the king; and half"assumed his spear."

It has been objected to Ossian, that his descriptions of military actions are imperfect, and much less diversified by circumstances than those of Homer. This is in some measure true. The amazing fertility of Homer's invention is no where so much displayed as in the incidents of his battles, and in the little history pieces he gives of the persons slain. Nor, indeed, with regard to the talent of description, can too much be said in praise of Homer. Every thing is alive in his writings. The colours with which he paints are those of nature. But Ossian's genius was of a different kind from Homer's. It led him to hurry towards grand objects, rather than to amuse himself with particulars of less importance. He could dwell on the death of a favourite hero; but that of a private man seldom stopped his rapid course. Homer's genius was more comprehensive than Ossian's. It included a wider circle of objects; and could work up any incident into description. Ossian's was more limited; but the region within which it chiefly exerted itself was the highest of all, the region of the pathetic and sublime.

We must not imagine, however, that Ossian's battles consist only of general indistinct description. Such beautiful incidents are sometimes introduced, and the circumstances of the persons slain so much diversified, as show that he could have embellished his military scenes with an abundant variety of particulars, if his genius had led him to dwell upon them. "One man is stretched in the "dust of his native land; he fell, where often he had "spread the feast, and often raised the voice of the harp." The maid of Inistore is introduced, in a moving apostro phe, as weeping for another; and a third," as rolled "in the dust he lifted his faint eyes to the king," is remem bered and mourned by Fingal as the friend of Agandecca. The blood pouring from the wound of one who is slain by night, is heard, "hissing on the half extinguished oak,"

which had been kindled for giving light: Another, climbing a tree to escape from his foe, is pierced by his spear from behind; "shrieking, panting he fell; whilst moss and "whithered branches pursue his fall, and strew the blue "6 arms of Gaul." Never was a finer picture drawn of the ardour of two youthful warriors than the following: "I saw Gaul in his armour, and my soul was mixed with "his: for the fire of the battle was in his eyes; he look. "ed to the foe with joy. We spoke the words of friend"ship in secret; and the lightning of our swords poured "together. We drew them behind the wood, and tried "the strength of our arms on the empty air."

Ossian is always concise in his descriptions, which adds much to their beauty and force. For it is a great mistake to imagine, that a crowd of particulars, or a very full and extended style, is of advantage to description. On the contrary, such a diffuse manner for the most part weakens it. Any one redundant circumstance is a nuisance. It encumbers and loads the fancy, and renders the main image indistinct. "Obstat," as Quintilian says with regard to style, "quicquid non adjuvat." To be concise in description, is one thing; and to be general, is another. No description that rests in generals can pos sibly be good; it can convey no lively idea; for it is of particulars only that we have a distinct conception. But at the same time, no strong imagination dwells long upon any one particular; or heaps together a mass of trivial ones. By the happy choice of some one, or of a few that are the most striking, it presents the image more complete, shows us more at one glance than a feeble imagination is able to do, by turning its object round and round into a variety of lights. Tacitus is of all prosė writers the most concise. He has even a degree of abruptness resembling our author: yet no writer is more eminent for lively description. When Fingal, after having