Scott, as most romantic in his themes, but Byron, in his mood.

So, too, Mr. Sidney Colvin[16] denies that "a predilection for classic
subjects . . . can make a writer that which we understand by the word
classical as distinguished from that which we understand by the word
romantic. The distinction lies deeper, and is a distinction much less of
subject than of treatment. . . In classical writing every idea is called
up to the mind as nakedly as possible, and at the same time as
distinctly; it is exhibited in white light, and left to produce its
effect by its own unaided power.[17] In romantic writing, on the other
hand, all objects are exhibited, as it were, through a colored and
iridescent atmosphere. Round about every central idea the romantic
writer summons up a cloud of accessory and subordinate ideas for the sake
of enhancing its effect, if at the risk of confusing its outlines. The
temper, again, of the romantic writer is one of excitement, while the
temper of the classical writer is one of self-possession. . . On the one
hand there is calm, on the other hand enthusiasm. The virtues of the one
style are strength of grasp, with clearness and justice of presentment;
the virtues of the other style are glow of the spirit, with magic and
richness of suggestion." Mr. Colvin then goes on to enforce and
illustrate this contrast between the "accurate and firm definition of
things" in classical writers and the "thrilling vagueness and
uncertainty," the tremulous, coruscating, vibrating or colored light--the
"halo"--with which the romantic writer invests his theme. "The romantic
manner, . . . with its thrilling uncertainties and its rich suggestions,
may be more attractive than the classic manner, with its composed and
measured preciseness of statement. . . But on the other hand the
romantic manner lends itself, as the true classical does not, to inferior
work. Second-rate conceptions excitedly and approximately put into words
derive from it an illusive attraction which may make them for a time, and