If the poems of Scott abound in arresting and compelling phrases, lines, and stanzas of alliterative beauty, the number of brilliant and luminous color phrases, lines, and whole stanzas in his poems is astounding. The following will serve in illustration:— Bright as a sun spot in a globe of dew. • • • • The leaves dry up as pale as honeycomb. • • • • Or peacock tints on pools of amber gloom. • • • • Like the curve of a fragile ivory hand. • • • • the light slides there Like minnows in a pool—slender and slow. • • • • Blown on a gold black flute. • • • • A miracle of foam and ivory. • • • • In loops of silver light. • • • • The gold moted wood-pools pellucid as her eyen. • • • • Snow peaks arise enrobed in rosy shadows. • • • • Tawny like pure honey. • • • • Fragile as frost pansies. • • • • Rubies, pale as dew ponds stained with slaughter. How luminous, translucent, yet graphic and vivid, are all those colorful lines. They are the ‘painting’ of a poet who has, above all things, the eye of the naturalist and also a fairy fantasy. If in those lines we find in Scott a genius for exquisite and translucent verbal coloring, corresponding to the art of Constable or Corot in imaginative vision or fantasy, we discover the romantic pigmentation of Rossetti (as a painter) and the rich luminous impressionism of Monet, in the lines following the final apostrophe to Beauty in Scott’s noble _Ode for the Keats’ Centenary_:— For Beauty has taken refuge from our life That grew too loud and wounding . . . Beauty is gone, (Oh, where?) To dwell within a precinct of pure air Where moments turn to months of solitude; To live on roots of fern and tips of fern, On tender berries flushed with the earth’s blood. Beauty shall stain her feet with moss And dye her cheek with deep nut-juices Laving her hands in the pure sluices Where rainbows are dissolved. Beauty shall view herself in pools of amber sheen Dampened with peacock-tints from the green screen That mingles liquid light with liquid shadow.