His prose style was charming--clear, masculine, and to the point. The
public eagerly read his prose, while his poetry remained unnoticed on
the shelves. The poet could not accept this view of his merits. Of the
"Curse of Kehama" he wrote:

"I was perfectly aware that I was planting acorns while my
contemporaries were setting Turkey beans. The oak will grow, and though
I may never sit under its shade, my children will. Of the 'Lady of the
Lake,' 25,000 copies have been printed; of 'Kehama', 500; and if they
sell in seven years I shall be surprised."

Scott wrote a kindly notice of Southey's poem. It was not his way to cut
up his friend in a review. He pointed out the beauties of the poem, in
order to invite purchasers and readers. Yet his private opinion to his
friend George Ellis was this:

_Mr. Scott to Mr. G. Ellis_.

"I have run up an attempt on the 'Curse of Kehama' for the _Quarterly_:
a strange thing it is--the 'Curse,' I mean--and the critique is not, as
the blackguards say, worth a damn; but what I could I did, which was to
throw as much weight as possible upon the beautiful passages, of which
there are many, and to slur over its absurdities, of which there are not
a few. It is infinite pity for Southey, with genius almost to
exuberance, so much learning and real good feeling of poetry, that, with
the true obstinacy of a foolish papa, he _will_ be most attached to the
defects of his poetical offspring. This said 'Kehama' affords cruel
openings to the quizzers, and I suppose will get it roundly in the
_Edinburgh Review_. I could have made a very different hand of it
indeed, had the order of the day been _pour déchirer_."