but the poet, as usual, anchors his weird nightmares firmly to real names and times and places, Dryburgh Abbey, the black rood of Melrose, the Eildon-tree, the bold Buccleuch, and the Battle of Ancram Moor (1545).  The exact scene of the tragedy is Smailholme Tower, the ruined keep on the crags above his grandfather’s farm at Sandynowe, which left such an indelible impression on Scott’s childish imagination.[26] “The Eve” is in ballad style and verse: 

  “Thou liest, thou liest, thou little foot page,
  Loud dost thou lie to me! 
  For that knight is cold, and low laid in the mould,
    All under the Eildon tree.”

In his “Essay on the Imitation of Popular Poetry,” Scott showed that he understood the theory of ballad composition.  When he took pains, he could catch the very manner as well as the spirit of ancient minstrelsy; but if his work is examined under the microscope it is easy to detect flaws.  The technique of the Pre-Raphaelites and other modern balladists, like Rossetti and Morris, is frequently finer, they reproduce more scrupulously the formal characteristics of popular poetry:  the burden, the sing-song repetitions, the quaint turns of phrase, the imperfect rimes, the innocent, childlike air of the mediaeval tale-tellers.  Scott’s vocabulary is not consistently archaic, and he was not always careful to avoid locutions out of keeping with the style of Volkspoesie.[27] He was by no means a rebel against eighteenth-century usages.[28] In his prose he is capable of speaking of a lady as an “elegant female.”  In his poetry he will begin a ballad thus: 

  “The Pope he was saying the high, high mass
    All on St. Peter’s day”;

and then a little later fall into this kind of thing: 

  “There the rapt poet’s step may rove,
    And yield the muse the day: 
  There Beauty, led by timid Love,
    May shun the tell-tale ray,” etc.[29]

It is possible to name single pieces like “The Ancient Mariner,” and “La Belle Dame sans Merci,” and “Rose-Mary,” of a rarer imaginative quality and a more perfect workmanship than Scott often attains; yet upon the whole and in the mass, no modern balladry matches the success of his.  The Pre-Raphaelites were deliberate artists, consciously reproducing an extinct literary form; but Scott had lived himself back into the social conditions out of which ballad poetry was born.  His best pieces of this class do not strike us as imitations but as original, spontaneous, and thoroughly alive.  Such are, to particularise but a few, “Jock o’ Hazeldean,” “Cadyow Castle,” on the assassination of the Regent Murray; “The Reiver’s Wedding,” a fragment preserved in Lockhart’s “Life”; “Elspeth’s Ballad” ("The Red Harlow”) in “The Antiquary”; Madge Wildfire’s songs in “The Heart of Mid-Lothian,” and David Gellatley’s in “Waverley”; besides the other scraps and snatches of minstrelsy too numerous for mention, sown through the novels and longer poems.  For