The Hunting of Badlewe, a Dramatic Tale. 8vo. Edin. 1814. [From the Scottish Review.] THIS is indeed a most extraordinary production, in which the faults and the beauties are almost equally indications of no common-rate talents. The hitherto unknown author has marked out a path for himself with all the boldness at least, if not with all the originality, of Shakspeare. Those infringements of dramatic rules, or, in other words, those transgressions of probability and good taste, into which that master of the art was betrayed by ignorance, allured by indolence, or hurried by the fervours of an impetuous imagination, the author seems to have adopted from choice; and whilst he flounders, in company with his great master, through all the fragments of broken unities, he certainly comes nearer to him in his most daring and unequalled flights than perhaps any modern poct. In order, therefore, to convey some idea of his excellencies, we shall give a short outline of the story, with such extracts as in our judgment, tend to establish the truth of our opinion. The scene opens with a conversation between Glen-Garnet and Kilmorack, who, as we learn from their own mouths, are part of a royal party of pleasure enjoying the amusement of stag-hunting in disguised dresses, and under feigned titles. 'Gar. This is a dull retreat!-What seek we here Amid this waste where desolation scowls, And the red torrent, brawling down the linn, Sings everlasting discord? where the mists, In the course of this dialogue, Badenoch, another of the disguised nobles, joins the party, and gives the following spirited account of his success in the chace: 'Bad. At first his horns I saw, Between me and the welkin, cut the wind; So swift, they whistled in't, and play'd and toss'd Proud of his matchless speed, he snuff'd the wind, The arrow stuck-headlong he fell, then, rising, The windows of the firmament. The bounds Refused to leave its flowery pillow more.' Pp. 4, 5. The scaling of the windows of heaven is perhaps too lofty a simile for the vaulting of a wounded stag. From this conversation it appears that Badenoch, a licentious profligate, has a plot upon the virtue of Matilda, Lord Crawford's fair but proud and suspected wife, who is 'Elegant, comely, and tall, As is the poplar's stem; and her dark locks, With whom the milder graces of Annabel, the daughter of Sir The chaste snow That falls o'er night, when neither smoke nor steam, No, not the smallest atom is afloat To grime its breast, is not more pure than she.' P. 8. Badenoch, who is well named, after boasting of his seventeen mistresses, is found to be the seducer of Elenor, the daughter of the Earl of March, and who is now attending him in the dress and the character of a page. Annabel is pleased with the courtly manners and address of the knights, but particularly with Kilmorack. Sir Ronald, one of the party, in order to warn the unsuspecting Annabel of her lover's base designs, narrates the following beautiful incident: 'Once on a lovely day, it was in spring, I rested on the height of that dread cliff The birds sung sweet; the trees put forth their leaves, A flowret caught her eye-it was a primrose Pluck'd the wish'd flower-and sigh'd; for when she saw I came too late! Anna. O God! and did she fall? Rom. Yes, lady; far, far, down on rocks below Soon after this conversation, we find Lord March, in search of his runaway daughter Elenor, falling in with an honesthearted shepherd, who makes him acquainted with her un |