said much here of paradise lost, but what hast thou to say of paradise found?" Milton made no reply then, but at a later period he showed him the "Paradise Regained," saying, "This is owing to you; for you put it into my head by the question you put to me at Chalfont*, which before I had not thought of." The secular literature of all the peoples of earth, ancient or modern, does not furnish more than four or five epic poems that will at all bear comparison with Milton's. Homer's Iliad," Virgil's "Eneid," Dante's "Divina Commedia," Tasso's "Jerusalem," and Camoens's "Lusiad," are among the gems that on the finger of Time glisten for ever. Competent critics, however, have assigned the meed of highest praise to Milton. Notwithstanding the disfavour in which the great poet was held, and contrary to the expectation of his timid publisher, his great poem was appreciated by those whose praise was fame, men of opposite opinions to Milton, and whose approbation was compelled by the force of his genius. Sir John Denham, himself a poet, and a courtier also, entered the House of Commons with a proof sheet of the "Paradise Lost," wet from the press, and said, "This is part of the noblest poem that * Chalfont, St. Giles, Bucks, where Milton lived in a pleasant cottage, procured by Ellwood, during the prevalence of the plague in London. ever was written in any language or in any age.' John Dryden, the first critic, and, except Milton, the greatest poet of the time, said quaintly, "This man cuts us all out, and the ancients too." Subsequently he recorded his praise in verse. "Three poets in three different ages born, The universal voice of posterity has fully confirmed that praise. And though party malice for a time shrouded the lustre of his name, and some biographies, particularly that by Dr. Johnson, were calculated to give a false view of John Milton as a man and a Christian, and were scarcely just to him as a poet, yet these mists and glooms have now cleared away, and we behold the great poet shining as one of the brightest constellations in the resplendent heaven of genius. Milton was so beyond our common humanity in his genius and his virtues, that his misfortunes seem essential to connect him with us, and to prevent our sympathy entirely merging in wonder and admiration. The poet is a seraph belonging * Richardson is the authority for this: it has been doubted by modern biographers. to another sphere. Old, poor, and blind, he is a man, and our hearts throb out in love and reverence towards him. The age of Milton, like that of his predecessor Shakspeare, was prolific in great men. There was, however, far less originality than in the preceding time. Talent rather than genius was the characteristic of the period. Milton's immediate friend, the noble Andrew Marvell, deserves an honoured remembrance, not only because he was Milton's friend, but because he was a fine writer and a good man; incorruptible in a venal age. The anecdote of Lord Danby seeking him out in his obscure lodging, and offering him royal patronage and an immediate sum of money, as evidence of the king's sincere admiration of him, and Marvell wittily but firmly refusing the offer, saying his dinner was provided, will endear his name to all lovers of true disinterested patriotism as long as public virtue wakes a responsive throb in the human heart. Marvell enjoyed a high reputation in his own time. But it seems strange to modern readers, that his noble commendatory lines prefixed to Milton's epic should have been necessary to aid the book in obtaining the suffrage of the public; for, it is evident, his prefatory poem, and Dr. Barrow's Latin exordium, were both judged necessary by the timid publisher to propitiate suc cess. Posterity feel that those great men received rather than conferred honour by their names being prefixed to Milton's work. Marvell was chiefly a satirist *: his most powerful writings both in prose and verse were sarcasms on the vices of the age, a fruitful theme; and he spared neither king, prelates, peers, nor commons when they merited censure. His works, referring rather to the passing events than to general topics, are now read more by the curious in the rise and progress of English satire, than by the general public. His " Naked Truth," and "Mr. Smirke, or the Divine in Mode," are pungent not more for their severity than their truth. Marvell was to the puritans and liberals of those times what Butler was to the royalists; as much, however, transcending Butler in a noble grateful heart, as it must be confessed Marvell was excelled by Butler in clearness, terseness, epigrammatic point, and brilliancy. The easy flow, the matchless rhymes, the distinct sharp point of Butler's verse, have made his poem "Hudibras" admired even by those who disliked his principles and were shocked at his indecency. At the town of Newport Pagnell there is an * Bishop Hall, so well known and esteemed for his religious writings, is the first eminent English satirist,—condemning the follies of his own times in racy verse. old house, yet standing, where tradition says Sir Samuel Luke resided, a puritan in religion and a republican in politics. During the protectorate, when Butler's opinions might have subjected him to annoyance, or it may be to persecution (for men of every party were then inclined to severity), Sir Samuel Luke took the poet to his house, where he resided twelve years in safe shelter and studious ease. Whether he was a guest, or held the office of tutor in the family, is not certainly known, but it is an unquestioned fact that after the Restoration Butler held up his patron and protector to universal ridicule as "Hudibras." He cleverly caricatured not only Sir Samuel Luke, but the religious opinions held by some of the wisest divines, and certainly by one of the greatest poets of that or any age; and poured contempt upon men whose patriotism has never been questioned even by those who differed from them. His poem so abounded in wit and genius that it served the royal party more than any work of that age; it was read and quoted by king and courtiers, and all who loved to have a laugh at the expense of religion and decorum. And some of its pungent couplets have become incorporated with our language, for the truths they certainly contain: fine gems whatever the setting! But though thus popular, the arrows of his wit supplying the empty quivers of many a fopling |