his time, he completed his education by foreign travel; and was admitted to the intimacy of many of the most eminent scholars in Italy; where he conversed with Galileo, then blind, and must have seen the works of Raffaelle and Michael Angelo, though he nowhere alludes to them. On his return to England he precipitated himself upon the controversies of the time; and with an impassioned eloquence advocated the side of the Puritans against the bishops, and of the republicans against the court. In one of his most celebrated Latin tracts he vindicated the execution of Charles; and during the time of the Commonwealth he acted as Latin secretary to Cromwell. After the Restoration he retired to the country, where, blind and poor, he lived in obscurity; but in the composition of poetry which has rendered his name illustrious for ever. He died A.D. 1674. Milton's poetry possesses beyond any other the attributes of sublimity and majesty. Throughout it there is a magnanimous spirit and a sustained solemnity; and the structure is ever massive and strong. Its austerity, in which it is unapproached, does not prevent it from possessing also an occasional sweetness of a fine quality, and, though rarely, a deep pathos. In harmony, as in stateliness, it cannot be exceeded. Its special characteristic is its union of a Hebraic spirit with a classical form,- -a union which, in spite of its elevation, does not escape the drawback of incongruity. The defects of Milton's poetry are not less obvious than its merits are transcendent. To say that he has not the universality of Shakespeare, the spirituality of Dante, or the variety of either, would constitute no charge against it, since no poetry can unite every species of excellence. It is, however, impossible to defend the mechanical details included in Milton's description of the war in Heaven. Still less can we excuse conceptions of the Supreme Being which represent Him "as a school divine," or rather as a Calvinistic disputant. The Arianism of Milton's religious creed is patent in the Paradise Lost. It is, indeed, a circumstance both remarkable and significant, that that wonderful work should so long have taken rank as a Christian poem. His Paradise Regained betrays Milton's Arianism not less plainly; and in the great restoration of humanity no place is found for the Atonement. Milton's obligations to Italian and classical writers, as well as to the Sacred Scriptures, are so large as, without exposing him to the charge of plagiarism, to diminish, notwithstanding, his originality, and to constitute him a poet of the composite order. Milton was a man of gigantic intellect, heroic strength, and the severest morals; but the spirit of selfwill domineered in him, and he had fallen upon evil times. As in the hero of his Hebraic lyrical drama, there was a blindness mixed with his strength; his greatness was of that nature which pulls down rather than of that which builds up; and in his works, which include the defence of Regicide, Polygamy, and Arianism, if we must ever admire his genius, there is too often cause to deplore his use of it. SAMSON BEWAILING HIS BLINDNESS AND CAPTIVITY. [From Samson Agonistes.] Attendant leading him. A little onward lend thy guiding hand To Dagon their sea-idol, and forbid His godlike presence, and from some great act Design'd for great exploits; if I must die Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze; To grind in brazen fetters under task With this heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strength, Put to the labour of a beast, debased Lower than bond-slave! Promise was that I I Himself in bonds, under Philistian yoke. * * * * O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eased, Of man or worm: the vilest here excel me; Without all hope of day! O first-created Beam, and thou great Word, And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. She all in every part; why was the sight By privilege of death and burial, From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs; But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity Among inhuman foes. SPEECHES OF MANOAH THE FATHER OF SAMSON AND THE CHORUS Manoah. Samson hath quit himself Fully revenged, hath left them years of mourning, Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Soak'd in his enemies' blood, and from the stream, Will send for all my kindred, all my friends, With silent obsequy and funeral train, Home to his father's house: there will I build him Chorus. All is best, though we oft doubt What th' unsearchable dispose Of highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place And all that band them to resist His servants he with new acquist Of true experience from this great event MYTHOLOGY. [From Comus.] The first scene discovers a wild wood. The Attendant Spirit ascends or enters. In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care To such my errand is; and but for such, But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns, |