L'ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. PRELIMINARY NOTES ON L'ALLEGRO AND IL PENSEROSO. Ir will be no detraction from the powers of Milton's original genius and invention to remark, that he seems to have borrowed the subject of" L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso," together with some particular thoughts, expressions, and rhymes, more especially the idea of a contrast between these two dispositions, from a forgotten poem prefixed to the first edition of Burton's "Anatomie of Melancholy," entitled "The Author's Abstract of Melancholy; or a dialogue between Pleasure and Pain." Here Pain is Melancholy. It was written, as I conjecture, about the year 1600. I will make no apology for abstracting and citing as much of this poem, as will be sufficient to prove to a discerning reader how far it had taken possession of Milton's mind. The measure will appear to be the same; and, that our author was at least an attentive reader of Burton's book, will be perhaps concluded from the traces of resemblance which may be noticed in passing through the "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso." When I goe musing all alone, Thinking of diverse things foreknown; Voide of sorrow, voide of feare; Pleasing myself with phantasmes sweet; All my joyes to this are folly; All other joyes to this are folly; My sad and dismall soul affrightes: In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Nice Valour, or Passionate Madman," there is a beautiful song on Melancholy, some of the sentiments of which, as Sympson long since observed, appear to have been dilated and heightened in the "Il Penseroso." Milton has more frequently and openly copied the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher than of Shakspeare: one is therefore surprised, that in his panegyric on the stage, he did not mention the twin-bards, when he celebrates the "learned sock" of Jonson, and the "wood-notes wild" of Shakspeare: but he concealed his love.-T. WARTON. I will add the song from "Nice Valour," together with the remarks of an inge nious critic on its application to "Il Penseroso:" 1. Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly; But only Melancholy, O, sweetest Melancholy! 2. Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes; A look, that's fasten'd to the ground: 3. Fountain-heads, and pathless groves; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley: that "It would be, doubtless, in the opinion of all readers, going too far to say, this song deserves as much notice as the Penseroso' itself: but it so happens, that very little of the former can remain unnoticed, whenever the latter is praised. Of this song, the construction is, in the first place, to be admired: it divides into three parts: the first part displays the moral of melancholy; the second, the person or figure; the third, the circumstance, that is, such things as increase or flatter the disposition: nor is it surprising that Milton should be struck with the images and sentiments it affords, most of which are somewhere inserted in the 'Il Penseroso.' It will not, however, be found to have contributed much to the construction of Milton's poem: the subjects they severally exhibit are very different they are alike only, as shown under the same disposition of melancholy. Beaumont's is the melancholy of the swain; of the mind, that contemplates nature and man but in the grove and the cottage: Milton's is that of a scholar and philosopher; of the intellect, that has ranged the mazes of science, and that decides upon vanity and happiness, from large intercourse with man, and upon extensive knowledge and experience. To say, therefore, that Milton was indebted to Beaumont's song for his Penseroso,' would be absurd: that it supplied some images to his poem will be readily allowed; and that it would be difficult to find, throughout the Penseroso,' amidst all its variety, any more striking than what Beaumont's second stanza affords, may also be granted. Milton's poem is among those happy works of genius, which leave a reader no choice how his mind shall be affected," "Cursory Remarks on some of the ancient English Poets, particularly Milton." Lond. printed, but not published, 1789, p. 114. The date of these poems has not been ascertained; but Mr. Hayley has observed, "It seems probable, that these two enchanting pictures of rural life, and of the diversified delights arising from a contemplative mind, were composed at Horton ;" to which place Milton went to reside with his father in 1632, and where he continued at least five years.-TODD. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. or WHEN Milton's juvenile poems were revived into notice about the middle of the last century, these two short lyrics became, I think, the most popular: they are very beautiful but in my opinion far from the best of the poet's youthful productions they have far less invention than "Comus "Lycidas ;" and surely invention is the primary essential: they have more of fancy than invention, as those two words are in modern use distinguished from each other. Besides, it is clear that they were suggested by the poem prefixed to " Burton's Anatomie of Melancholy," and a song in the "Nice Valour" of Beaumont and Fletcher. There is here no fable, which is absolutely necessary for prime poetry: the rural descriptions are fresh, forcible, picturesque, and most happily selected; but still many of them seem to me much less original than those of "Lycidas and "Comus:" and though there is a certain degree of contemplative sentiment in them all, it is not of so passionate or sublime a kind as in those other exquisite pieces, in which there is more of moral instruction and mingled intellect; and, in short, vastly more of spirituality. If I The scenery of nature, animate and inanimate, derives its most intense interest from its connexion with our moral feelings and duties, and our ideal visions. am not mistaken, Gray thought this, when he spoke of merely descriptive poems. Gray's own stanza, in his "Fragment on Vicissitude," beginning Yesterday the sullen year Saw the snowy whirlwind fly... perhaps the finest stanza in his poems, is a most striking example of this sublime combination. I say, that these two admired lyrics of Milton have less of this combination than I could wish they were written in the buoyancy and joyousness of youth, though the joyousness of the latter is pensive: all was yet hope with the poet; none of the evils of life had yet come upon him: it was the joy of mental display and visionary glory; of a mind proudly displaying its own richness, and throwing from its treasures beams of light on all external objects: but it was the rapidity of a ferment too much in motion to allow it to wait long enough on particular topics; therefore there was in these two productions less intensity than in most of the author's other poetry: he is here generally content to describe the surface of what he notices. His learned allusions abound, though not so much perhaps as in most of his other writings: these, however, are not the proofs of his genius, but only of his memory and industry. I admit, that the choice of the imagery of these pieces could only have been made by a true poet, of nice discernment and brilliant fancy; of a mind constantly occupied by contemplation, and skilful in making use of all those superstitions in which the visionary delight; and that the whole are woven into one web of congenial associations, which make a beautiful and splendid constellation: still a large portion of the ingredients, taken separately, have been anticipated by other poets. These remarks will probably draw forth the question, “Whence then has arisen the superior popularity of these two compositions?" I may now be forgiven for asserting, that popularity is a doubtful test of merit. One reason may be, that they are more easily understood; that they are less laboured, and less deep that they do not try and fatigue, either the heart or the intellect. The mass of the people like slight amusement, and subjects of easy apprehension: the greater part of Milton's poetry is too solemn and thought-working for their taste or their power. In the sublime bard's latter poems,-in his epics and his drama,—and even in his early monody of " Lycidas,"-his rural images, though not more picturesque, nor perhaps, except in "Lycidas," quite so fresh, yet derive a double force from their position;-from the circumstances of the persons on whom they are represented as acting;-as, for instance, on Adam, Eve, Satan, our Saviour, Samson, and on the mourners for the death of Lycidas. When the description of scenery forms part of a fable, and is connected with the development of a story, the mind of the reader is already worked up into a state of sensitiveness and sympathy, which confers upon surrounding objects hues of augmented impression. When Milton recalls to his mind those images with which he had been familiar in the society of his friend Lycidas, they awaken, from the accident of his death, affections and regrets which they never had done before. When Eve is about to be expelled from Paradise, how she grieves over her lost flowers and gardendelights! How the "air of heaven, fresh-blowing," invigorates and charms Samson, when brought out from a close prison! How affecting is the scene in the wilderness, when, after a night of tremendous tempest, our Saviour is cheered by a balmy morning of extreme brilliance ! These are what make fable necessary to constitute the highest poetry. I do not recollect that this has been sufficiently insisted upon by former critics: the want of it is assuredly experienced in Thomson's beautifully descriptive poem of "the Seasons." L'ALLEGRO. HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, * These are airs, "that take the prison'd soul, and lap it in Elysium.”—Herd. Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born. 10 13 Erebus, not Cerberus, was the legitimate husband of Night. "Tenebræ, miseria, querela, somnia, quos omnes Erebo et Nocte natos ferunt."-Cicero, "de Nat. Deor." b. iii. 17. Milton was too universal a scholar to be unacquainted with this mythology: but as Melancholy is here the creature of Milton's imagination, he had a right to give her what parentage! he pleased, and to marry Night, the natural mother of Melancholy, to any ideal husband that would best serve to heighten the allegory.-T. WARTON. b Jealous wings. Alluding to the watch which fowl keep when they are sitting.-WARBURTON. e In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. It should be remembered, that "Cimmeria tenebra" were anciently proverbial. The execration in the text is a translation of a passage in one of his own academic Prolusions: Dignus qui Cimmeriis occlusus tenebris longam et perosam vitam transigat." "Pr. W." vol. ii. 587.-T. WARTON. 66 d Two sister Graces. Meat and Drink, the two sisters of Mirth.-WARBURTON. e Some sager sing. Because those who give to Mirth such gross companions as Eating and Drinking, are the less sage mythologists.-WARBURTON. Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying. The rhymes and imagery are from Jonson, in the Mask at Sir William Cornwallis's house at Highgate. 1604. This song T. WARTON. See, who here is come a-Maying: Why left we off our playing? sung by Zephyrus and Aurora, Milton's two paramours, and Flora.— There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew", Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Quips, and cranks", and wanton wiles, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free1; And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew. So Shakspeare, as Mr. Bowle observes, "Tam. Shr." a. ii. s. 1: She looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew.-T. WARTON. h Quips, and cranks. 25 30 35 40 A "quip " is a satirical joke, a smart repartee. By "cranks," a word yet unexplained, I think we are here to understand cross-purposes, or some other similar conceit of conversation, surprising the company by its intricacy, or embarrassing by its difficulty. Our author has "cranks," which his context explains, "Pr. W." i. 165: "To show us the ways of the Lord, straight and faithful as they are, not full of cranks and contradictions." -T. WARTON. i Wreathed smiles. Come, and trip it as you go, &c. An imitation of Shakspeare, "Tempest," a. iv. s. 2. Ariel to the spirits : Come, and go, Each one tripping on his toe.-NEWTON. The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty. Dr. Newton supposes, that Liberty is here called the mountain-nymph, "because the people in mountainous countries have generally preserved their liberties longest, as the Britons formerly in Wales, and the inhabitants in the mountains of Switzerland at this day." Milton's head was not so political on this occasion: warmed with the poetry of the Greeks, I rather believe that he thought of the Oreads of the Grecian mythology, whose wild haunts among the romantic mountains of Pisa are so beautifully described in Homer's "Hymn to Pan." The allusion is general, to inaccessible and uncultivated scenes such as mountainous situations afford, and which were best adapted to the free and uninterrupted range of the nymph Liberty. He compares Eve to an Oread, certainly without any reference to Wales or the Swiss cantons, in "Paradise Lost," b. ix. 387. See also "El.' "" v. 127: of nature, Atque aliquam cupidus prædatur Oreada Faunus.-T. WARTON. That is, blameless, innocent, not subject to reproof. See “Paradise Lost," b. iv. 492.— T. WARTON. m To hear the lark begin his flight, &c. There is a peculiar propriety in "startle: "the lark's is a sudden shrill burst of song. SS |
