THE POEMS OF MILTON. VOLUME I. (2. 1CL164ill7r, /ll' THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON. WITH A LIFE, BY REV. JOHN MITFORD. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOLUME I. BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY. M.DCCC.LIII. RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. STEREOTYPED BY STONE AND SMART. CONTENTS. VOL. I. Page SONNET to the Bishop of Winchester, by the Rev. John Mitford.................................. v Advertisement.................................. vI LIFE OF MILTON................................ i Addenda.................................... cxvii APPENDIX: 1. Agreement for the publication of Paradise Lost.................................. cxxi 2. Alterations made in the second edition of Paradise Lost......................... cxxiii 3. Five Letters to Milton, from various friends, now first printed...................... cxxiv 4. Extracts of letters relating to Milton, from Burman's Sylloge Epistolarum......... cxxix Complimentary Verses of Barrow and Marvell..... cxxxv PARADISE LOST: Book I..................................... 1 Book II.................................... 36 Book III.................................. SO Book IV.................................... 111 VOL. II. PARADISE LOST: Book V.............................. 1 Book VI................................ 88 Book VII...................................... 73 Book VIII.................................... 101 Book IX.............................. 127 Book X........................................ 177 Book XI..................................... 223 Book XII................................... 260 II CONTENTS. Page PARADISE REGAINED: Book I........................................ 285 Book II......................... 308 Book III...................................... 328 Book IV...................................... 346 VOL. III. SAMSON AGONISTES.............................. 1 Comus, a Mask................................... 5 Lycidas................................... 123 II Penseroso..................................... 134 LAllegro.......................................... 141 Arcades........................................... 148 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS: On the Death of a fair Infant, dying of a Cough... 154 At a Vacation Exercise in the College............ 158 On the Morning of Christ's Nativity............. 163 The Hymn..................................... 165 The Passion.................................... 176 On Time..................................... 179 Upon the Circumcision........................180 At a Solemn Music............................. 182 An Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester.... 183 Song. On May Morning........................ 186 An Epitaph on the admirable Dramatic Poet, W. Shakspeare............................... 187 On the University Carrier....................... 188 Another on the same......................... 189 Fragments of Translations....................... 190 Epigram on Salmasius's Hundreda.............. 196 On the new Forcers of Conscience under the Long Parliament................................... 196 SONNETS: I. To the Nightingale......................... 198 II.' Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora.'.... 198 CONTENTS. III Page SONNETS: III.' Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera.'..... 199 Canzone................................... 200 IV.'Diodati, e te'l dirb con maraviglia.'.......... 200 V.' Per certo i bei vostr' occhi, Donna mia,'...... 201 VI.' Giovane piano, e simplicetto amante.'........ 201 VII. On his being arrived to the age of twentythree................................... 202 VIII. When the Assault was intended to the City.... 203 IX. To a virtuous young Lady................... 203 X. To the Lady Margaret Ley................. 204 XI. On the detraction which followed upon my w-riting certain Treatises................. 205 XII. On the same.............................. 206 XIII. To Mr. -I. Lawes on the publishing his Airs... 206 XIV. On'the Religious IMemory of Mrs. Catharine Thomson............................... 207 XV. To the Lord General Fairfax................. 208 XVI. To the Lord General Cromwell............. 209 XVII. To Sir Henry Vane the younger............. 210 XVIII. On the late Massacre in Piemont............ 211 XIX. On his Blindness.......................... 212 XX. To Mr. Lawrence.......................... 213 XXI. To Cyriac Skinner.......................... 213 XXII. To the same............................... 214 XXIII. On his deceased wife....................... 215 PSALMIS......................................... 216 Joannis Miltoni Londinensis Poemata............... 250 ELEGIARUM LIBER: I. Ad Carolum Deodatum....................... 256 II. In obitum Pruconis Academici Cantabrigiensis...................................... 260 III. In obitum Prmsulis Wintoniensis.............. 261 IV. Ad Thomam Junium, &c..................... 264 V. In adventum Veris......................... 269 VI. Ad Carolum Deodatum ruri commorantem.... 275 VII....................... 278 IV CONTE&NTS. Page EPIGRAMM3IATUM LIBER: I. In Proditionem Bombardicam................ 283 II. In eandem.................................. 283 III. In eandem.................................. 284 IV. In eandem.................................. 284 V. In Inventorem Bombarde.................... 284 VI. Ad Leonoram Romrn canentem............... 285 VII. Ad eandem................................. 285 VIII. Ad eandem................................. 286 IX. In Salmasii Hundredam...................... 286 X. In Salmasium............................... 287 X I.......................................... 287 XII. Apologas de Rustico et Hero.................. 287 XIII. Ad Christinum Suecorum Reginam, nomine Cromwelli............................... 288 SYLVARUM LIBER: * In obitum Procancellarii, Medici................ 289 In Quintum Novembris......................... 291 In obitum Praesulis Eliensis.................... 300 Naturam non pati senium....................... 303 De idea Platonica quemadmodum Aristoteles intellexit...................................... 306 Ad Patrem................................. 307 Psalm cxiv..................................... 312 Ad Salsillum, Poetam Romanum, aegrotantem..... 314 Mansus........................................ 316 Epitaphium Damonis........................... 321 Ad Joannum Rousium Oxoniensis Academiae Bibliothecarium................................. 330 SONNET TO CHARLES LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER ON HIS PUBLICATION OF MILTON DE DOCTRINA CHRISTIANA. As one whose footsteps by some ancient stream, Tibur, or old Ilissus, chance upturn, Of time forgotten, sculptur'd trunk or urn, WoriK of the Phidian chisel, as may seem Inimitable; straight as from a dream Waketh, nor hasteneth onward, till he learn, Wondering, each grace, each beauty:-so did burn My heart, when first by thee disclos'd, the gleam It caught of Milton's page, by envious crime Forgo:ten or deform'd. Oh! well hast thou And filiest, paid the debt, though late, that prime And holy song' requiting, by old time Remember'd, which twin-lustre sheds e'en now On thee and elder WINTON'S mitred brow. J.'M Benhall, rov. 1831. 1 See iiltoni Eleg. in Obitum Praes. Wintoniensis. ADVERTISEMENT. ON being requested to compose a brief MIemoir of the Life of Milton, adapted to the edition to which it was to be attached, I naturally searched for information among the former biographers of the Poet. Though the present Life is too contracted in its plan, and, perhaps, too slender in its materials, to pretend to rank among the laboured, ani established biographies of Milton, yet I must observe that in the arrangement of the subject, ia the opinions delivered, or the inferences drawn, it is dependent on none that has preceded it. I have consulted all the former writers for information, without copying them; and I have attenced respectfully to their reasoning without servilely adhering to it. After being indebted to tiem for the necessary facts, and for occasional expressions, the remainder of the narrative has been tie result of my own inquiries, and formed from the conclusions of my own judgment. To the?oetry of Milton, from my earliest youth down tc the commencing autumn of my life, I have ever looked with a reverence and love not easily to be surpassed: for the sentiments adopted and avowed by him on the great and complicated questions of ADVERTISEMENT. VII civil liberty and political rights, I have, as becomes my situation, and is suitable to the habits of my mind, expressed myself with that temperance of opinion and moderation of language which can alone expect to conciliate attention, or to command respect. The account of Milton by his nephew Edward Philips,' though less copious and instructive than might be expected, is interesting and valuable. It supplies us with many facts respecting the Poet's manner of life, his circumstances, and opinions. It was written by a person who had been educated in his youth by Milton, who had subsequently lived in habits of daily intimacy with him, and to whom Milton had mentioned many facts relating to himself. The biography by Toland2 was composed not 1 E. Philips mentioned Milton's name in his Theatrum Poetarum, 1675. An. Wood, in 1691, gave an account of Milton in his Fast. Oxon. for A. D. 1635, part i. fol. 480, ed. Bliss. Langbaine also gave some mention of him in 1691. The Life of Milton in the Biographia Britannica (A. D. 1760,) was by Dr. Nicholls. 2 I heard some particulars,' says Toland,' from a person that had been once his amanuensis, which were confirmed to me by his daughter, now dwelling in London, and by a letter written to me at my desire by his last wife, who is still alive. I perused the papers of one of his nephews, learned what I could in discourse with the other, and lastly consulted such of his acquaintance as, after the best inquiry, I was able to discover.' Life, p. 9. Toland's Life was published in 1698 with Milton's prose works; separately in 1699: and by Mr. T. Hollis in 1761. VIII ADVERTISEMENT. many years after the death of the Poet; and he enriched his materials with communications from members of Milton's family. The book is written in a grave and manly style, with high admiration of its subject; and it abounds with judicious reflections on the events of the-time. This work, together with those of Philips and of Wood, has formed the basis of all the subsequent biography. Next, I believe, in order of time, appeared the life written by the elder Richardson, the painter. He was an ingenious, inquisitive, and amiable man, but a singularly quaint and mannered writer. To him we are indebted for some further particulars of the Poet's life, for the most part gathered from the communications of Pope, or from the descendants of Milton's family. Doctor Birch, who was remarkable for his industrious, and indefatigable researches, added considerably to the amount of our information; and he first gratified the curiosity of the learned by an account of the manuscripts of Milton existing at Cambridge,3 and by transcripts of the variations which they exhibited from the established text. Johnson's biographical memoir, and the criti8 The variations in the Cambridge MSS. were imperfectly and incorrectly printed by Dr. Birch, and were given by T. Warton from a more minute and careful examination of the manuscript. See his edition of Milton's Poems (2nd ed.), p. 578. A very few have escaped even him. Peck's new Life of Milton was published in 1740, an abstract of its contents will be seen in a note in this Life, p. xvi. ADVERTISEMENT. IX cism attached to it, have excited so much discussion, and have been met by such variety of judgments, that I shall content myself with observing, that the character and the opinion of the Poet and the Biographer were in many important points, extremely dissimilar. That a violent tory and high churchman undertook to write the life of a republican and a puritan; that a man, remarkable for his practical wisdom, his strong sense, and his rational philosophy, delivered his judgments on the writings of one, distinguished for his high imagination, his poetical feeling, his speculative politics, and his visionary theology. Johnson came, it must be owned, with strong prejudice and much dislike to his subject; and nothing perhaps saved Milton from deeper censure4 but his biographer's conviction of his sincerity, his admiration of his learning, and his reverence for his piety. Had Johnson lived in the Poet's days, he would have stood by the side of Salmasius in the field of controversy, and opposed Milton on every question connected with the interests of society, the existence of the monarchy, and the preservation of the church. John4 Cowper, in his Letters (second series, vol. i. p. 316-319), says,' His criticisms on Milton and Prior are the two capital instances in which he has offended me.'-I have seen the copy of Johnson's Life of Milton which Cowper used, and have read his marginal observations, in which he has strongly expressed his opinion of the incorrectness of Johnson's reasoning, and the injustice of his criticism. If I rightly recollect, he left off, disgusted with the work, before he had read the half of it. X ADVERTISEMENT. son would have acknowledged no government that was not dependent on the throne, and he would have reverenced no ecclesiastical institution that was not united to a hierarchy. It would be curious to guess what his expression would have been, had he lived to read the defence of Polygamy, the denial of the eternal generation of the Son, the inferiority of the Holy Spirit, and the open avowal of Arianism. Bolt Court would have grown darker at his frown, as he directed the thunder of his wrath against an impracticable philosophy he would have despised, and an erratic theology he would have detested. To disarm the severity of this criticism, and to represent in fairer lights and with softer colours those circumstances which had excited the indignation of the critic, seems to have been the chief purpose 5 for which Mr. Hayley's Life was written. I cannot say much that is favourable to its execution; but we are indebted to him for first calling the attention of the learned to that singular Italian drama,6 the Adamo of Andreini, and other 5 Hayley is called by Mr. Todd, the affectionate biographer; but temperance and impartiality are the qualities required when the subject of the biography has become a matter of history. 6 I much question whether Milton ever read the numerous obscure Italian poems, whose names, Mr. Hayley, Dr. J. Warton, and others subsequently have mentioned, but many of which they themselves have never seen. Whether, as Hayley supposes, Milton was familiar with the Angeleida of Erasmo de Valvasone, Venet. 1590, or not, it certainly is ADVERTISEMENT. XI productions of the same class, which are the supposed prototypes of Milton's poem. Mr. Todd's exemplary diligence, his various information, and his extensive acquaintance with rare and curious books, has enabled him to throw light on some particulars of Milton's history that were previously obscure: the second edition of his work is also enriched with valuable documents lately brought to light. His narrative is for the most part copied from that of Dr. Johnson; and when he ventures to stray from his illustrious model, and alter his language, it is seldom with advantage. The latest biography which I have perused is that written by Dr. Symmons. This biographer was a violent Whig, a most warm and zealous partisan, and, I must add, an intemperate and incautious writer. The language which he uses towards those opposed to him in opinion, as to Johnson, and T. Warton, is far too violent and vituperative; and IHayley's name is seldom mentioned but to be coupled with contempt. His work is too much expanded with conjectures that cannot satisfy the mind, nor lead to the discovery of truth; and it has added but little to our knowledge of facts. Yet his metrical criticisms on the worthy of remark, that the Italian poet assigns to the infernal powers the invention of artillery; but on this subject consult a note by Todd in vol. ii. 465, on the Adamo. See Walker, on Italian Tragedy, p. 172, App. xkxii. on passages in the Paradise Lost, taken from the Setti giorni of Tasso. See Black's Life of Tasso, vol. ii. p. 469. XII ADVERTISEMENT. Latin poems of Milton, though they have not quite exhausted thQ subject, are more accurate and learned than ever before appeared: and some translations are given which are spirited and elegant. The notes which Bentley7 published on Paradise Lost appear to have been selected from that copy of Tonson's Milton, once belonging to him, which I now possess; and much as his violence and rashness of conjecture has been blamed, the public has yet to learn, that his alterations, numerous as they were, form only a selection from a much larger mass that still remains upon the margin of the edition which he used. But if the wild attempt to unite his own lifeless and prosaic passages with the living spirit of Milton's poetry, were an act of presumption in the aged critic; yet, I must confess, there is something less of arrogance in the manner in which they are proposed, than might have been expected, when the boldness of his system was so openly avowed. He had the humanity to leave the established text untouched: and to confine the troubled spirit of his emendations within the lower circle of his notes.'His changes (he says) are only sug7 Dr. Newton's observations on Bentley's Milton are temperate and judicious. See his Pref. p. 32. It appears that Dr. Heylin gave the notes which he had made on Milton, with the intention of publishing an edition, to Bentley, who has printed them as his own, without any acknowledgment, p. 34. ADVERTISEMENT. XIII gested to the reader, and not obtruded on him; and if any person will substitute better, he will deserve every reader's thanks; though it is to be hoped even these will not be found absurd, or disagreeing from the Miltonian character. Sunt et mihi Carmina, me quoque dicunt Vatem Pastores, sed non ego credulus illis.' The few notes which are now for the first time published, are partly designed to prove, that Bentley did not generally attempt to substitute the actual and genuine words of Milton in the place of the fictitious and adulterated text (v. Book viii. 653); but only to restore what he conceived to be the sense and meaning of the passage. The conjectures which, in his own printed edition, I find waiting in the margin, and eager for admittance into the verse; in his MS. copy are attended with a numerous train, as little plausible or satisfactory as themselves. He had a large store of arrows in his quiver, besides that which he had shot: nor can a reason be readily assigned for his preference of the one selected. The hypothesis which he formed, is, I presume, generally known and known only to be repudiated.' Our celebrated author, being obnoxious to the gout, poor, friendless, and, what is worst of all, blind with a gutta serena, could only dictate his verses -to be writ by another: when it necessarily follows that any errors in pointing, spelling, nay, even in whole words, of a like or near sound, are not to be charged upon the poet, but the amanuVOL. I. 2 XIV ADVERTISEMENT, ensis. The friend or acquaintance to whom Milton committed his copy, and the overseers of the press, did so vilely execute that trust, that Paradise, under his ignorance and audaciousness, may be said to be twice lost. But these typographical faults, occasioned by the negligence of his acquaintance, if all may be imputed to that, and not several wilfully made,8 were not the least blemishes brought upon our poem. For this supposed friend, knowing Milton's bad circumstances, thought that he had a fit opportunity to foist into the work several of his own verses, without the blind poet's discovery. This trick has too frequently been played, but especially in works published after the author's death; and poor Milton, in that condition, with sixty years' weight upon his shoulders, might be reckoned half dead.'-The whole of this visionary fabric seems to have been built by Bentley on the slender foundation that, owing to Milton's blindness, some mistakes in the text of the poem certainly did occur; and that such a one, as is found in P. L. x. 260, should pervade both editions (being an error which Milton himself had no means of detecting), certainly betrays the negligence or ignorance of those to whose care his edition was entrusted. Feeling, as truly as others, the absurdity of 8 See Note on P. L. i. 197.'Knowing by the passages, that our poet blind, and then poor and friendless, had frequently foul play.' ADVERTISEMENT. XV Bentley's system, the flatness of his prosaic alterations, and his great want of poetic feeling, I must still in justice say, that his remarks display the shrewdness of a person accustomed to read with curious and scrutinizing attention,9 to pay regard to the proper force and meaning of words, and the construction of sentences: that his observations are often ingenious, and his emendations sometimes acute; but that which strikes me as peculiarly offensive, is the apparent carelessnbss, and indifference with which he proceeds on his work of criticism. So far from approaching his author's text with a timid or reluctant hand, his boldest conjectures are proposed either with a confidence meant to overawe the reader, and compel conviction; or, what is worse, with an apparent'~ disregard as to whether they are 9 Warburton lent Dr. Newton Pope's copy of Bentley's Milton, wherein Pope had all along, with his own hand, set some mark of approbation, recta, bene, pulchre, in the margin over against such emendations of the Doctor's as seemed to him just and reasonable. It was a satisfaction to see what so great a genius thought particularly of that edition, and he appears throughout the whole to have been a very candid reader, and to have approved of more than really merits approbation. Newton's Preface, p. 35. T. Warton says,'Many of Bentley's emendations are acute, but he did not understand Milton's manner, nor the genius of the language of English poetry.' v. Todd's Milton, vol. vi. p. 307; see Hollis's Memoirs, p. 478. 522. 10 See the indifference shown in notes, iii. 597, iv. 769, vii. 406; one of the most objectionable notes is v. 415; one ludicrously ingenious, vi. 513; those at vii. 463, ix. 592, and XVI ADVERTISEMIENT. accepted or not. In P. L. ii. 1021, he strikes out the whole passage of Sin and Death following Satan, amounting to ten entire lines, and then says,' Perhaps I shall have some votes to accompany mine, that this too is an interpolation.' As he approached the last pages of his work, and looked back on the deformities he had left behind him in his ruthless path, and when he saw the ragged and meagre branches of the Critic's ivy eating into the noble and finished c9lumn, round which it had been trained; he seemed to entertain some misgivings of the soundness and success of his plan. He says,'If one small alteration appeared to be so presumptuous, what censure must I expect to receive who have presumed to make so many, but jacta est alea, non injussa cecini. - 7rtp etoiyE A' pXool, OZ KE ftC TtFtiOVGl, lutTCra de' [t7t~era'ZeiV. Bentley's ungrounded hypothesis, and the alterations which he built upon it, called forth a xi. 387, are flippant and trifling. The conjecture, at xi. 187, is confirmed by Milton's own editions, which Bentley did not know. In one note he appears designedly unjust, (i. 717,) where he accuses Milton of a false quantity in the use of the word' Serapis.' Bentley of course knew that the word was used with the middle syllable long: and Milton had a right to select the quantity most agreeable to his ear. Akenside uses the word'Hyperion,' with the penultimate syllable long, and Gray with it short; the former adhering to the true quantity, the latter adopting the more agreeable or convenient pronunciation; but Milton had authority, though inferior, on his side. ADVERTISEMENT. XVII volume of remarks from Dr. Zachary Pearce: which may be recommended as a model of sound and temperate reasoning in criticism. Bentley's innovations are for the most part refuted, but in a manner never wanting in respect to the fame or the age of that illustrious scholar. Since writing the above, I have had an opportunity of perusing Newton's Life of Milton; it is not written with any spirit or elegance of style, but it contains an impartial and accurate account of what is known of the Poet's history; and there is a temperance and propriety in its language, that might put some later biographers to the blush. Occasionally a smile may be excited, when he speaks of Milton's never having hunted (Milton hunting!!), or when he laments that the sale of Paradise Lost produced only ten pounds to the author, while Mr. Hoyle gained two hundred by the copyright of his Game at Whist. Some useful notes and illustrations have been added by Mr. Hawkins to the latest edition; but in one, he has unaccountably attributed the famous attack on Milton by Bishop Horsley, to a Prelate of very different opinions, talents, and character." Every successive volume of the biography of Milton is rapidly increasing in size. The elegant Memoir by Fenton is included in fifteen small pages; the narrative of Dr. Symmons has extended to nearly seven hundred; while the increase of bulk is not compensated by a propor11 See Newton's Milton, ed. Hawkins, p. xlii. XVIII ADVERTISEMENT. tionate accession of information.'2 Much vague and ingenious speculation, and much curious erudition not always bearing on the subject, have been called in by later writers to supply the place of authentic materials; and that which has reasonably been doubted, or directly refuted, still maintains its ground, as an arena, in which the writer may unfold the charms of his eloquence; or the critics may display their controversial skill. It is however to be hoped, that in all future biographies, what is neither pertinent nor true will be omitted. That we shall not again read long disputations on the nature of Milton's punishment at College; that the foolish and romantic story of the sleeping boy and the Italian lady will be forgotten, or be found only among the reveries of Miss Seward; that the supposed residence at Forest Hill (a day-dream of Sir William Jones) will be given up;-that we shall not hear of Milton's keeping school at Greenwich:13 That the insertion of the prayer into the Eikon Basilike from the Arcadia will be considered as set at rest: That the story of Sir John Denham (the account of a person, not a member, being permitted to instruct and entertain the House of Commons with the history of a new poem wet from the press,) may be heard 12 T. Warton first brought'Milton's Nuncupative Will' to light, and printed it in his edition of the Minor Poems; this was a valuable and authentic addition to our previous information. 13 See Newton's Life, p. Lxii. ADVERTISEMENT. XIX no more; and that Salmasius may be permitted to die in his old age without disgrace, or without the death-blow having been given by Milton's hand. - The notes also of the commentators have swelled to a useless and disproportionate size; a great part of them is unnecessary and inconvenient; and a future edition of Milton, if one on a more elaborate plan than the present is required, might be contracted into a smaller compass than Newton's, without any omission of useful or elegant information. After a patient, and, in the leisure which I possess, a not unwilling perusal of the writings of Milton and Salmasius, I could wish to have exhibited to my readers a fuller account of the controversy, and to have afforded adequate examples of the comparative skill and talents of the writers; but the contracted limits of my humble plan, precluded any lengthened or copious detail; nor could this subject be permited to occupy more than its proportionate share without injury to others of equal or greater importance. I found it also difficult to select what was valuable and interesting from much reasoning that was sophistical and distorted; much that was trifling and minute; some that rested on the support of obsolete and forgotten authorities; some that was wasted in the discussion of the remotest theories and the most abstract principles; and all intermingled with personal altercation, angry invective, and the intemperate ebullitions of a carnal XX ADVERTISEMENT. wrath. I found, too, that it would be difficult, except perhaps to the curiosity of a few inquisitive scholars, to direct or detain the attention on the discussion of a subject which once held all Europe in suspense; the progress of which, under the skill of the combatants, was watched with the most intense anxiety; which employed the most powerful minds, and included the most important interests; but which long since has passed away from the disputed possession of party writers, to remain under the graver and more impartial protection of history. A few original notes attached to this edition, are the gradual result of the Editor's reading, and were written in the margin of the copy which he used. Some have been selected from the different commentators, whose observations have been diligently collected by Mr. Todd; and, for a few, the editor has been indebted to his amiable and most accomplished friend, the Rev. Alexander Dyce, to whose industry and talents, all who are interested in our early poetry must feel great obligations; and from whose classical knowledge, sound judgment, and refined taste, that curious information which he is able to bestow, will be given with a precision, a temperance, and an elegance, except perhaps in the case of the learned and lamented Tyrwhitt, hitherto unknown among the editors of our elder poets. JOHN MITFORD. Benhall, 20th Nov. 1831. THE LIFE OF MILTON. BY THE REVEREND JOHN MITF,ORD. JOHN MILTON, magnum et venerabile nomen, the son of John Milton and Sarah Castor, a woman of incomparable virtue and goodness, and exemplary for her liberality to the poor, was born' in London on the 9th of December, 1608. His father was an eminent scrivener, and lived at the sign of the Spread Eagle2 (the armorial ensign of the family) in Bread Street. He was educated at Christ Church, Oxford, embraced the doctrines of the reformed church, and in consequence was disinherited by his father, who was a bigoted papist. The profession, however, which he chose was so successful, as to enable him to give his l Baptized the xx Dec. 1608, according to the Register of Allhallows, Bread Street. 2 This house wherein he was born, and which strangers used to visit before the fire, was part of his estate as long as he lived. v. Toland's Life, p. 148, on his mother's family. See Birch's Life of Milton, p. 11. The family of the Castors originally derived from Wales, as Philips tells us; but Wood asserts that she was of the ancient family of the Bradshaws, and a still later account informs us that she was a Haughton, of Haughton Tower, in Lancashire, as appeared by her own arms, &c. Both Toland and Philips date his birth in 1606, but erroneously, for the inscription under his print in the Logic says that in 1671, he was 63 years of age. Milton's armorial bearings were argent, an eagle displayed with two heads gules, legged and beaked sable. A small silver seal, with these arms, with which he was accustomed to seal his letters, was in the possession of the late Drn Disney. 11 LIFE OF MILTON. children a liberal education;3 and to allow him to pass his latter years in the leisure and tranquillity of a country life. The grandfather of the poet was keeper of the forest of Shotover, in Oxfordshire, and his family had been long settled at Milton,4 in that neighbourhood. They took, however, the unfortunate side in the civil wars, their estate was sequestrated, and their rank and opulence consequently destroyed. Milton's father was a person of a superior and accomplished mind, and was greatly distinguished for his musical talents; indeed, in science, he is said to have been equal to the very first musicians of the age.6 He saw the early promises of genius 3 He died about 1647, and was buried in Cripplegate Church. See T. Warton's note on Carmen ad Patrem, ver. 66, p. 523, ed. second. Aubrey says he read without spectacles at 84. 4 There has been some doubts about the situation of the village of Milton. See Todd's Life, p. 2, and the note. Wood's Fasti Oxon. vol. i. art. 262. 5 On a work called "A Sixefold Politician, together with a Sixefold Precept of Policy, 1609," attributed to him, see Mr. I. P. Collier's Poetical Decameron, vol. ii. p. 305, Philips says,' That as I have been told and I take it by our author himself, that his father composed an II Domine of forty parts, for which he was rewarded with a gold medal and chain, by a Polish prince, to whom he presented it, and that some of his songs are to be seen in Old Whitby's set of airs, besides some compositions of his in Ravenscroft's.Psalms, v. p. xli. ed. Pickering. Some beautiful lines in Milton's Poem' ad Patrem' allude to his father's skill in music.'Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus, Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti, Dividuumque deum genitorque, puerque tenemus.' See Burney's Hist. of Music, vol. iii. p. 134. In a little book which I possess, the Psalms, by W. Slatyer, 12mo. 1643, one of the tunes is by J. Milton. See also Todd's Milton, vol. i. p. 4, and vi. p. 337, and Aubrey Letters, vol. iii. p. 439. LIFE OF MILTON. iii in his son, and encouraged them by a careful and liberal education. Milton was at first placed under the domestic tuition of Thomas Young, a puritan minister, and native of Essex; to whom he was in after life much attached, and to whom his fourth elegy, and the first of his Latin Epistles, are inscribed. A portrait of him, by Cornelius Jansen,6 when only ten years old, shows the affection of the parents for their handsome and accomplished child, who even at that early age was expanding the first flower of his youthful genius; and whose vernal promise was ripening fast into works of finished and exquisite beauty. Young7 quitted England in 1623, and it is probable that in the same year Milton was admitted into St. Paul's School, under the care of Alexander Gill.8 His unwearied love of study had 6 This picture was in the possession of T. Hollis, Esq. and is engraven by Cipriani; in his Memoirs, p. 96, it represents the youthful poet in a richly worked collar, and striped jacket. It was purchased by Mr. Hollis at C. Stanhope's sale, who bought it for twenty guineas of the executors of Milton's widow. The picture of Milton when about twenty, was in the possession of the Right Honourable Arthur Onslow. 7 In Mr. Fellowes's translation of Milton's Letters, printed in Dr. Svmmons's edition, 1806. Why is the direction of Milton's Letters to Young translated to Thomas Jure? For an account of T. Young see Todd's Milton, vol. vi. p. 199, 207. Young returned to England in or before the year 1628; he was afterwards master of Jesus Col. Camb. and Vicar of Stow Market, in Suffolk. Milton, in his Elegy, ver. 83, says to him:' Te tamen interea belli circumsonat horror, Vivis et ignoto solus inopsque solo.' 8 See an account of Al. Gill, in Wood's Ath. Oxon. vol. ii. p. 22, and T. Warton's Milton, p. 419. I possess a copy of Gill's Parerga, sive Poetici Conatus, 12mo. 1632, that belonged to Is. Casaubon. A. Gill must have been a decided royalist, for he has several poems addressed to the royal iV LIFE OF MILTON. already commenced;'Ab anno,' he says,'aetatis duodecimo vix unquam ante mediam noctem a lucubrationibus cubitum discederem;' and Aubrey adds,' that when Milton went to school, he studied very hard, and sate up very late, commonly till twelve or one o'clock, and his father ordered the maid to sitt up for him.' In a letter to his preceptor, dated not long after this time, he says-' Hae scripsi Londini, inter urbana diverticula, non libris, ut soleo circumseptus.' Thus early and deep were laid the foundation of his future fame. His studies were in a great measure poetical. Humphrey Lownes, the printer, who lived in the same street, supplied him with Spenser and Sylvester's translation of Du Bartas: his admiration of the former is known to all; the attention which he paid to the more obscure, and now almost forgotten poet, was pointed out more fully than before, by my late ingenious friend Mr. Charles Dunster, in a little work which family, and to the bishops. He has an epistle, as Milton has, to his Father, p. 14. There is a line resembling one in Milton's verses to Christina. (' Christina arctoi Lucida stella poli!')' Pene sub arctoi sidere regna poli!' In Milton's third Elegy, ver. 9, are these lines, which puzzled the commentators till Sir D. Dalrymple explained them to T. Warton.' Tune memini clarique ducis, fratrisque verendi Intempestivis ossa cremata rogis.' In his Tillii Epitaphium, p. 91, Gill mentions who these brothers in arms were.' Quem nec Mansfeltus, quem nec Brunonius heros Arma nec annorum quem domuere decem;' i. e. Mansfelt and the Duke of Brunswick. Gill speaks of himself in the Preface;'Hactenus vitam egi nescio qua siderum inclementia, hominum et fortunne injuriis perpetuo colluctantem.' LIFE OF MILTON. V he called Milton's Early Reading,9 or the Prima Stamina of Paradise Lost. Aubrey says, Milton was a poet when only ten years old. Those who are interested in watching the early dawning of genius as it opens on the youthful mind, and in comparing the different periods in which great talents have displayed both the promise and the direction of their future power, will not be displeased at my recalling to their memory the passage in that elegant biography of Cowley, which Spratt addressed to their mutual friend Martin Clifford, and in which he mentions the age when Cowley first became inspired by the muse, and the book that excited his youthful imagination. There is a singular coincidence between these two great contemporaries, in the dates assigned by their respective biographers.' Vix dum decennis,' says Spratt,' Poeta factus est.' We shall be less surprised to hear that Spenser was alike the object of their early admiration,'legendo Spensero nostro, Scriptore sane illustri, et vel adultis difficili.' Happy had it been for Cowley's fame, had he not early wandered away from the instructor of his youth; and left for Epic, and Pindaric flights, that which even now delights, and must for ever please, his moral song, the voice of nature and of truth, the language of his heart. In 1623 Milton produced his translations of the 114th and 136th Psalms; and in his seven9 That Milton read and borrowed from Sylvester in his earlypoems, no one who reads Mr. Dunster's book can reasonably doubt. Sylvester had the jewels, and Milton set them beautifully. Du Bartas's fame is now in full blossom in Germany, and has received the praise of GOETHE himself. He is considered at Dresden and at Weimar as one of the greatest poet's that ever appeared. vi LIFE OF MILTON. teenth 1 year he was sent from St. Paul's school, and admitted a pensioner at Christ's College, Cambridge, on the 12th of February, 1624.11 He was there early distinguished for the elegance of his versification, and his unusual skill in the Latin tongue. A well known passage in his first Elegy certainly betrays some displeasure which he felt, or alludes to some indignities which he suffered from the severity of Collegiate discipline: this was probably occasioned by the freedom of his censures on the established system of education,l2 and his reluctance to conform to it. In his Reason of Church Government, he says,'their honest and ingenuous natures coming to the Universities to store themselves with good and solid learning, are there unfortunately fed with nothing else but the scragged and thorny lectures of monk10 Anthony Wood and Toland assert that he was sent to Cambridge in his fifteenth year, but erroneously. See Birch's Life, p. 3. 11 He was admitted Pensionarius minor, under Mr. William Chappell, afterwards provost of Trinity College, Dublin, and dean of Cassels, and at last bishop of Cork, to whom, among others, the celebrated treatise of the Whole Duty of Man has been imputed. See Birch's Life, p. 111. Milton took his first degree in Jan. 1628-9, and that of Master of Arts, in 1632. See Symmons's Pref. to Life, p. 5-7. He was transferred from Mr. Chappell (though contrary to the rules of the college) to Mr. Tovell. (Tovey) v. Aubrey Lett. iii. p. 445, he was admitted A. M. at Oxford, in 1635, v. Wood's Fasti, i. p. 262. 12 The author of a modest confutation against a slanderous and scurrilous libel, first charged him with being vomited out of the university, after an inordinate and riotous youth spent there, and the author of'Regii Sanguinis Clamor,' repeated the calumny.'Aiunt hominer Cantabrigiensi academia ob flagitia pulsum, dedecus, et patriam fugisse et in Italiam commigrasse.' The former tract,' Milton says, in his Apology for Smectymnus,' was reported to be written by the son of Bishop Hall.' LIFE OF MILTON. Vii ish and miserable sophistry; were sent home again with such a scholastical bur in their throats, as hath stopped and hindered all true and generous philosophy from entering; cracked their voices for ever with metaphysical gargarisms, hath made them admire a sort of formal outside men, prelatically addicted, whose unchastened and overwrought minds were never yet initiated, nor subdued under the true love of moral or religious virtue, which two are the best, and greatest points of learning: but either slightly trained up in a kind of hypocritical and hackney course of literature to get their living by, and dazzle the ignorant, or else fondly overstudied in useless controversies, except those which they use, with all the specious and delusive subtlety they are able, to defend their prelatical Sparta.' —And in his Apology for Smectymnus, he says,-' That suburb wherein I dwell shall be in my accounts a more honourable place, than his University; which as in the time of her better health, and mine own younger judgment, I never greatly admired, so now much less;' — and in his third letter to his friend and tutor Alexander Gill, he expresses the same opinion, concerning the superficial and 13 See his tractate on Education, where he speaks against the preposterous exaction of composing Themes and Orations, and the ill habit they got of wretched barbarizing against the Greek and Latin idioms,-' and then having really left grammatical flats and shallows, to be presented with the most intellectual abstractions of logic and metaphysics, to be tossed and turmoiled in the fathomless deeps of controversy, to be deluded with ragged notions and babblements, to be dragged to an asinine feast of sow-thistles and brambles.'-With these opinions, when called upon by the college for Latin themes.on logical and metaphysical subjects (see his Prolusiones) cannot we easily conceive the rebellion or discontent, the outbreaks ant flashes of his fiery mind? Viii LIFE OF MILTON. smattering'learning of the University and of the manner in which the clergy engage with raw, and untutored judgments in the study of theology, patching together a sermon with pilfered scraps, without any acquaintance with criticism or philosophy; again, in his Animadversions on the Remonstrant's Defence, he says,-" What should I tell you how the universities that men look should be the fountains of learning and knowledge, have been poisoned and choked under your governance?" Milton's natural genius, cultivated by the care of those excellent scholars, who had conducted his education, and enriched by his own indefatigable study, had doubtless made great advances in. those branches of knowledge at once congenial to his mind, and conducive to its improvement; and he might feel unwilling to be diverted from them, into the barren and unprofitable pursuits, which the old system of collegiate education too often required; 1 that which he disliked or despised, 14 The following passage in Milton's Prolusiones has been overlooked, which throws some light on the subject of his discussion with the college, and his renewed union. (v. p. 115.) lie disliked some parts of their studies, probably their logical and metaphysical Theses, and expressed his opinion too freely, or perhaps did not perform the tasks that were required. I feel convinced that the whole ground of offence, so much disputed, is to be found in this point.' Tum nec mediocriter me pellexit, et invitavit ad has partes subeundas vestra, (vos qui ejusdem estis mecum Collegii) in me nuperrime comperta facilitas, cum enim ante preteritos menses, aliquam multos oratorio apud vos munere perfuncturus essem, putaremque lucubrationes meas qualescunque etiam ingratas propemodum futuras, et mitiores habituras judices' Eacum et Minoa, quam e vobis fere quemlibet, sane praeter opinionem meam, praeter meam si quid, erat speculec, non vulgari sicuti ego accepi, imo ipse sensi omnium plausu excepts sunt immo eorum qui in me alias prop LIFE OF MILTON. ix his love of freedom on all subjects, and in every situation forbade him to conceal. It is probable that he underwent a temporary rustication. This however is certain,-that all misunderstanding was removed, and that he soon acquired the kindness and respect of the society with which he lived: he says,-" It hath given me an apt occasion to acknowledge publicly with all grateful mind that more than ordinary favour and respect, which I found above any of my equals at the hands of these courteous and learned men, the fellows of the college wherein I spent some years; who, at my parting, after I had taken two degrees, as the manner is signified many ways, how much better it would content them, if I would stay, as by many letters full of kindness, and loving respect, both before that time and long after, I was assured of their singular good affection towards me:"-and in another place he speaks of himself, as' Procul omni flagitio, bonis omnibus probatus.' In 1628 he wrote some lines on the subject,'Naturam non pati senium,' as an Academical exercise, to oblige one of the fellows of the college; and T. Warton says of it,'that it is replete ter studiorum dissidia essent prorsus infenso, et inimico animo; generosum utique simultatis exercendae genus, et regio pectore non indignum, siquidem cum ipsa amicitia plerumque multa inculpate facta detorquere soleat, tunc profectio acris et ifesta inimicitia errata JIrsitan multa, et haud pauca sine dubio indiserte dicta, lemter et clementius quam meum erat meritum interpretari non gravabatur. Jam semel unico hoc exemplo vel ipsa demens ira mentis compos fuisse videbatur, et hoc facto furoris infamiam abluisse. At vero summopere oblector, et mirum in modum voluptate perfundor, cum videam taca doctissimorum honminum frequentid circumfusum me, et undtue stipatum, &c. VOL. i. 3 X LIFE OF MILTON. with fanciful and ingenious allusions, it has also a vigour of expression, a dignity of sentiment, and elevation of thought rarely found in very young writers.' This praise is just: but its Latinity is not so flowing, or elegant, as that of his later poems. Milton was designed by his parents for the profession of the church; but during his residence at the University, he changed his intention. Dr. Newton considers that he had conceived early prejudices against the doctrine and discipline of the church; but Johnson seems to think that his objections lay not so much against subscription to the articles, but related to canonical obedience. His own account is as follows; 15 "By the intention of my parents and friends, I was destined of a child to the service of the church, and in mine own resolutions. Till coming to some maturity of years, and perceiving what tyranny had invaded the church, that he who would take orders, must subscribe Slave, and take an oath withal, which unless he took with a conscience that he would relish, he must either straight perjure or split his faith; I thought better to prefer a blameless silence before the sacred office of speaking, bought and begun with servitude and forswearing." In whatever line his objections lay, his youthful decisions seem to have been but little controlled by the exercise of parental authority; for in the beautiful lines which he addresses to his father, in the Latin language, he says,' Neque enim, Pater, ire jubebas, Qua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri Certaque condendi iulget spes aurea nummi 15 See Reason of Church Government urged against Prelacy. Vol. i. p. 123. LIFE OF MILTON. Xi Nec rapis ad leges, male custoditaque gentis Jura, nec insulsis damnas clamoribus aures. Sed magis excultam cupiens ditescere mentem, Me procul urbano strepitu, secessibus altis Abductum, AoniTe jucunda per otia Ripe, Phoebano lateri comitem sinis ire beatum'?' In 1632 he left the University, and retired to lis father's house at Horton,16 in Buckinghamshire, making occasional visits to London to meet his friends, to buy books, or to learn something new in mathematics or music. Here he resided five years, passing his time in regular and severe study; for he is said to have read over all the Greek and Latin writers: Johnson says,'that this account must be received with limitations;' but five years well employed would leave few of the ancient authors unperused: I think Wyttenbach has mentioned his having read through Athenxus in fourteen days; and Joseph Scaliger has left on record the short time in which he finished both the Iomeric Poems. What then might not Milton's enthusiastic pursuit of knowledge, and his unwearied industry perform? He says of himself at this time,'Et totum rapiunt, me, mea vita, libri.' 16 This house at Horton was pulled down about fourteen years ago. See Symmons's Life, p. 93. Milton's father had some country house besides this, nearer to London, of which we have had no notice. Milton's letter to A. Gill, is dated'E nostro Suburbano,' Dec. 4, 1634. And see his Elegy i. ver. 50.'Nos quoque lucus habet vicina consitus ulmo, Atque Suburbani nobilis umbra loci.' and in Prolusiones (p. 136,) he says,'Testor ipse lucos, et flumina, et dilectas villarum ulmos, sub quibus aestate proxime preterita (si dearum arcana eloqui liceat), summamr cum musis gratiam habuisse me jucunda memoria recolo, ubi et ego inter rura, et semotos saltus velut occulto aevo crescere inihi potuisse visus sum.' xii LIFE OF MILTON. In this studious retirement, and under the shelter of his paternal roof, it is believed that he wrote his Arcades, Comus, L'Allegro, II Penseroso, and Lycidas. In the neighbourhood of Horton, the Countess Dowager of Derby resided, and the Arcades was performed by her grandchildren at their seat, called Harefield Place. Was ever lady on her return to the hall of her ancestors, crowned with such poetic garlands, or greeted by a welcome so elegant as this? Some of his letters to Charles Deodati give us interesting particulars of his studies and habits of life.-' You well know (he says) that I am naturally slow in writing, and averse to write. It is also in my favour, that your method of study is such as to admit of frequent interruptions, in which you visit your friends, write letters, or go abroad, but it is my way to suffer no impediment, no love of ease, no avocation whatever, to chill the ardor, to break the continuity, or divert the completion of my literary pursuits;'-in a subsequent letter, the honourable ambition of his youthful mind opens itself without reserve to his familiar friend.' Hear me,' he writes,' my Deodati, and suffer me, for a moment, to speak without blushing in a more lofty strain. Do you ask what I am meditating? by the help of heaven, an immortality of fame, but what am I doing? 7rTpoOVo. I am letting my wings grow and preparing to fly, but my Pegasus has not yet feathers enough to soar aloft in the fields of air....... You shall likewise have some information respecting my studies. I went through the perusal of the Greek authors to the time when they ceased to be Greeks. I was long employed in unravelling the obscure history of the Italians under the Lombards, the Franks, and LIFE OF MILTON. xiii Germans, to the time when they received their liberty from Rodolphus, king of Germany.' To B. Bonmatthaei he writes of his proficiency in the richest and most melodious of modern tongues.' I who certainly have not merely wetted the tip of my lips in'the stream of these languages, but, in proportion to my years, have swallowed the most copious draughts, can yet sometimes retire with avidity and delight to feast on Dante, Petrarch, and many others; nor has Athens itself been able to confine me to the transparent wave of its Ilissus, nor ancient Rome to the banks of its Tiber, so as to prevent my visiting with delight the stream of the Arno, and the hills of Fsesole.' The 17 Masque of Comus was presented at Ludlow, in 1634, then the residence of the Lord President of Wales, and was acted by the'8 Earl 17 The original manuscript of Comus is in Trin. Coil. Library; it was found among other papers that once belonged to Sir Henry Newton Puckering, a benefactor to the library, and was printed at London in 1637, 4to. Warton says,'It was with great difficulty and reluctance that Milton first appeared as an author.' Some account of Sir N. Puckering may be read in Warton's Milton, p. 578, and the original various readings to the Lycidas, Comus, and smaller poems from the Manuscript, p. 578 to 590. On the few variations not noticed by Warton, see Class. Journal, No. xxiii. p. 211. There is one rather curious:' While all the starry rounds, and arches blue.Resound, and echo Hallelu!' a manuscript copy of Comus is also in the Bridgewater library, a? Ashridge, (See Todd's Comus, p. 165) before it was corrected. * 18 Milton lost the friendship of the Bridgewater family by his Defensio. In a copy of it in Lord Stafford's library, the Earl (who performed the part of the first brother) wrote' Liber igne, autor furca dignissimi.' On this account Lawes's dedication is supposed to have been withdrawn from the subsequent editions. v. Todd, p. 2. xiv LIFE OF MILTON. of Bridgewater's sons, and his young daughter the Lady Alice Egerton. The story is said to have been founded on a circumstance that took place in the family of the Earl not long before; and Milton wrote his Masque at the request of Henry Lawes, the celebrated musician. Dr. Johnson observes that the fiction is derived froit Homer's Circe, but later investigations have discovered a closer resemblance in the Comus of Erycius Puteanus, and the Old Wives' Tale of George Peele.l9 It is one of the most beautiful and, with the exception of a few passages, one of the most finished Poems in our language. It has all the sweetness of Fletcher, with a richer structure of versification, more foreign idioms, more learned allusions, and a higher reach of fancy. It does not rise into all the wildness of the romantic fable, only because it is guarded and subdued by a chaste and elegant judgment. Sir Henry Wotton was peculiarly delighted in the lyrical parts, with what he quaintly, but not incorrectly calls —'a certain doric delicacy in the songs and odes.' And Warburton speaks of the bright vein of its poetry, intermixed with a softness of description.20 T. Warton observes'that Comus is a suite of speeches not interesting by discrimination of character, not conveying variety of incidents, nor gradually exciting curiosity; but perpetually attracting attention by sublime sentiment, and fanciful imagery 19 See G. Peele's Works by the Rev. A. Dyce, Vol. i. p. 204, ed. 1829. Is. Reed first directed attention to this play, then almost unknown. For extracts from Puteanus, see Todd's ed. of Comus, p. 57, 62. 23 On the system of'orthography' adopted by Milton in this and his other poems, consult Capel Lofft's Preface to Par. Lost. 4to. 1792, and Todd's Preface to Comus, p. viii. and Richardson's Life, p. cxxx. LIFE OF MILTON. XV of the richest vein, by an exuberance of picturesque description, poetical allusion, and ornamental expression.' 21 In November, 1637, he wrote Lycidas, an elegy occasioned by the death of a young and very accomplished person, Mr. King, who was the friend of Milton, and a great favourite at Cambridge. Milton's Poem was published at the end of a small volume of Elegies, with which the University honoured the memory of their student. Some of the songs of LYCIDAS I have read, for' He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme!' they are, for the most part, complimentary effusions on the birth of the children of Charles the First; but I have discovered nothing that I could extract with advantage.2 The beautiful 21 It has been asked where an illustration must be sought for the expression, ver. 252,' At every fall, smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled:' and the entire silence of the commentators has been remarked. I shall, therefore, observe that there can be no doubt, but that Milton had the following passage in Heywood's Love's Mistresse before him. Acti. iii.. 1. PSYCHE.'Time's eldest daughter, Night, mother of Ease, Thou gentle nurse, that with sweet lullabies Care-waking hearts to gentle slumber charm'st! Thou smooth cheek'd negro, Night, the black eyed Queen, That rid'st about the world on the soft backs Of downy Ravens sleeke and sable plumes, And from thy chariot silent darknesse flings, In which man, beast, and bird enveloped, Takes their repose and rest.' 22 Edward King, of Christ's Coll. Camb. son of Sir John King, Secretary for Ireland in the time of Elizabeth, James, and Charles. He was drowned on the passage from Chester Xvi LIFE OF MILTON. monody of Lycidas shows an intimate acquaintance with the Italian metres, and to one poem, the Alcon 23 of Balth. Castiglione, it is more peculiarly indebted for some of its imagery. It discovers also Milton's familiarity with our elder poets, and supported by the authority of his'lMaster Spenser,'24 in similar allusions; it has mixed up with its pastoral beauties a stern, and early avowal of his hostility to the church.25 to Ireland. See Birch's Life, p. xvii. for an account of the collection in which Milton's Poems were published. The names of T. Farnaby, H. Moore, J. Beaumont, Cleveland, W. Hall, are in the list of contributors. The shipwreck of MIr. King took place on the 10th of Aug. 1637; it appears that he might have escaped with some others in the boat; for an account of his poetry, see Warton's Milton, p. 39, second ed. 23 See Class. Journal, No. lxiii. p. 356, by G. N. Ogle. 24 There is among Spenser's Poems a Pastoral 2Eologue on Sir P. Sydney's death, by L. B. which Milton had read when he wrote Lycidas. v. Todd's Spenser, vol. viii. p. 76. 25 Mr. Peck thinks that the manner in which Milton has dispersed his, rhymes in Lycidas, is an attempt, though secretly, to give a poetical image or draught of the mathematical canon of music: he informs us how to make this out,'by drawing a bow line from rhyme to rhyme,' he considers the whole poem as a lesson of music consisting of such a number of bars. The rhymes are the several chords in the bar: the odd dispersion of the rhymes may be compared to the beautiful way of sprinkling the keys of all organ. He says, Dryden imagined the rhymes fell so, because Mister Milton could not help it. I think they lie so, because Mr. Milton designed it. v. New Memoirs, 4to. p. 32. Mr. Peck has favoured us with stage directions for Paradise Lost, asEnter Adam, with his arms across. Adam pauses. Thunder and Lightning. Eve approaches him. Adam kicks at her. Eve embraces his legs. Eve is ready to faint, &c. He considers Paradise Lost as partly formed out of Gusman d'Alfarache, the Spanish Rogue. He says Mr. Fenton was a good judge when he took time to consider things, p. 83; he has composed an epitaph for Mr. Milton, out of Val. Maximus, p. 101. He says,' His tip, and whiskers (an essay towards LIFE OF MILTON. xvii The short, but exquisitely beautiful poem, called'the Arcades,' was, as I have previously said, composed about this time; Milton wrote only the poetical part, the remainder probably consisted of prose and machinery. Having completed his circle of study in the retirement of the country, Milton became anxious to enjoy the learned society, and the refined amusements of town.' Excipit hinc fessum sinuosi pompa Theatri.' He writes to Deodati, I will tell you seriously what I design-' To take chambers in one of the inns of court, where I may have the benefit of a pleasant and shady walk, and where with a few associates I may enjoy more comfort, when I choose to stay at home, and have a more elegant society when I choose to go abroad: in my present situation you know in what obscurity I am buried, and to what inconveniences I am exposed.'-His seventh Elegy discovers that these shady26 and suburban a beard), were of a thick, lightish colour, p. 103; that his eyes were black at twenty-six, but blue at sixty. He is satisfied that Milton could take an organ to pieces, and clean it, and put it together without help, p. 111; this he deduces from Par. Lost, 1. 709; he thinks'ducks and nods' in Comus a sneer at the country people. He mentions Eve's instituting a religious order of young women, who were to continue virgins, 196; he speaks of Milton's great intimacy with Mrs. Thompson, p. 274. He considers King Charles the First a very proper person for Milton to present a poem to, by order of the House of Commons, p. 284. The Biography of Milton reads very differently through the medium of the laborious Mr. Todd, and the lepid Mister Peck. 26 In the time of Milton's youth, the fashionable places of walking in London were Hyde Park, and Gray's Inn Walks. See Warton's Quotations from Sir A. Cockaine's Poems, p. 470. In his Prolusiones, p. 113, he mentions the pleasures of London;'Cum ex ea urbe, qune caput urbium est, huc nuper me reciperem, Academici, deliciarum omnium, quibus is locus supra modum affluit, usque ad saginam, Xviii LIFE OF MILTON. walks were enlivened by forms that made no light impression even on a scholar's heart. Et modo qua nostri spatiantur in urbe Quirites, Et modo villarum proxima, rura placent; Turba frequens, facieque simillima turba dearum Splendida per medias itque reditque vias. Hiec ego non fugi spectacula grata severus, Impetus et quo me fert juvenilis agor. Unam forte aliis super eminuisse notabam, Principium nostri lux erat illa mali. Sic Venus optaret mortalibus ipsa videri, Sic regina deum conspicienda fuit. Interea misero, quns jam mihi sola placebat Ablata est, oculis non reditura meis. Ast ego progredior tacite querebundus, et excors, Et dubius volui sxepe reterre pedem. These plans of life were suddenly changed by his mother's death in 1637,27 and he then obtained his father's permission to go abroad. He left England in 1638, having previously obtained some directions for his travels from Sir Henry Wotton; and as a presiding maxim of prudence, and means of safety, amid civil broils, and spiritual dissensions, he was desired to recollect the following sentence, which that experienced statesman had also impressed on other travellers.-' I pensieri stretti, ed il viso sciolto.' On his arrival at Paris, by the favour of Lord Scudamore, he was presented to Grotius, then prope dixerim, satur; sperabam mihi iterum aliquando otium illud Literarium, quo ego vitTe genere etiam coelestes animas gaudere opinor; eratque penitus in animo jam tandem abdere me in Literas et jucundissimne Philosophise perdius et per nox assidere, ita semper assolet laboris et voluptatis vicissitudo amovere satietatis tsedium, &c. 27 Mr. Godwin says,'There is great confusion among all the biographers of Milton, respecting the period of his travels, and this confusion originates with Milton himself.' See his Life of Philips, p. 357. LIFE OF MILTON. xix residing at the French court, as ambassador from the celebrated queen of Sweden. Philips says,' that Grotius took the visit kindly, and gave him entertainment suitable to his worth, and the high commendations he had heard of him.' After a residence of a few days, he proceeded directly to Nice, and embarked for Genoa,* from thence he passed through Leghorn and Pisa in his way to Florence. Milton had studied the language and literature of Italy with peculiar diligence and success; and at Florence he found himself honourably received by the most enlightened persons,28 as well as by the learned academicians. * SONNET. Rise, Genoa, rise in beauty from the sea, Old Doria's blood is flowing in thy veins! Rise, peerless in thy beauty! what remains Of thy old glory is enough for me. Flow then, ye emerald waters, bright and free! And breathe, ye orange groves, along her plains; Ye fountains, sparkle through her marble fanes: And hang aloft, thou rich and purple sky, Hang up thy gorgeous canopy: thou Sun! Shine on her marble palaces that gleam Like silver in thy never-dying beam: Think of the years of glory she has won; She must not sink before her race is run, Nor her long age of conquest seem a dream. Genoa, April, 1822. J. M. 28 See his verses to his friend, Giov. Salsilli, 10. Haec ergo alumnus ille Londini Milto Diebus hisce qui suum linquens nidum, Venit feraces Itali soli ad glebas Visum superba cognitas urbes fama Virosque, doctxeque indolem juventutis. See also his Epit. Damonis, ver. 137. Quin et nostra suas docuerunt nomina fagos Et )atis, et Francinus, erant et vocibus ambo Et studiis noti, Lydorum sanguinis ambo. XX LIFE OF MILTON. He formed a friendship with Gaddi, Carlo Dati, Frescobaldi, and other ingenious scholars. Dati presented him with an encomiastic inscription in Latin, and Francini with an Italian ode. A manuscript entitled, La'Tina,' by Antonio Malatesti29 was also dedicated to him while he was at Florence, by its author. His visit to the great and injured Galileo must not pass unnoticed. Most of the biographers of Milton have asserted that our poet visited the philosopher in prison; but the superior information of Mr. Walker has proved that Galileo was never a prisoner in the inquisition at Florence, but was confined at Rome, and at Sienna. After his liberation he went to Arcetri, where it is probable that Milton saw him. From Florence he passed to Sienna, and then to Rome, where he resided two months, experiencing the civilities, and partaking the hospitality of the learned, and the great. L. Holstenius, an eminent scholar, was at that time keeper of the Vatican Library; he introduced Milton to Cardinal Barbarini, who was'the peculiar guardian, or patron of the English;' and who, at a musical entertainment, waited for our youthful poet at the door, and 29 The full title of this work is'La Tina, Equivoci Rusticali di Antonio Malatesti, exposti nella sua villa de Taiano ii Septembre dell' anno 1637. sonnetti Cinquante, dedicate all' llo Sianore, e Padrone offro il Signor Giovanni Milton nobil' Inghilese. This manuscript was discovered by Mr. Brand on a book-stall; it was sent as a present to the Academia della Crusca, but came back to England, and was sold by Evans the auctioneer, in Pall Mall. See Todd's Life, p. 34. Mr. Hollis searched unsuccessfully the Laurentian Library for six Italian sonnets of Milton, addressed to his friend Chimentelli; for other Italian and Latin compositions, and for his marble bust, said to be at Florence. V. Warton's Milton, p. 333. Hollis's Memoirs, p. 167, 491. LIFE OF MILTON. Xxi presented him with respect to the company.80 Milton speaks of the Cardinal as one' Cujus magnae virtutes, rectique studium ad provocandas item omnes artes liberales egregie comparatum, semper mihi ob oculos versatur.' Salselli and Selvaggi praised him in some commonplace verses, (yet the best, I suppose, which they could give); and wherever he went, admiration and esteem accompanied him. From Rome he passed on to Naples, in company with a hermit, to whom he owed his introduction to Manso, Marquis of Villa, a nobleman of distinguished rank and fortune (who had supported a military character with high reputation,) of unblemished morals, a polite scholar, and known to posterity as the friend, the patron, and the biographer of Tasso.81 To him Milton addressed a beautiful Latin poem, in which he expresses his hope, if he could find such a friend and patron as Mianso, of celebrating in verse the exploits of King Arthur and his knights. Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem; Aut dicam invicte sociali fcedere menssn 3Iagnanimos heroas, et 0 modo spiritus adsit Frangam Saxonicas Britonum sub Marte Phalanges. 80 It was at the concerts of Barbarini, that Milton heard Leonora Baroni sing: who with her mother, Adriana of Mantua, was esteemed the first singer in the world. Milton has celebrated her in three Latin epigrams. It was the fashion for all ingenious strangers who visited Rome to leave some verses in her praise. Pietro della Valle, who wrote in 1640, on the Muses of his Time, speaks of the fanciful and masterly style in which Leonora touched the Arch lute to her own accompaniments, v. Warton's Milton, p. 479. 31 Tasso mentions Manso in the twentieth book of his Gierusal. Liberata, among other princes of Italy. He addressed to him five sonnets. Manso was also the patron of xxii LIFE OF MILTON. Dr. Johnson very justly says, that this poem must have raised a high opinion of English elegance and literature among the scholars of Italy. From Naples he intended to visit Sicily and Greece; but he now heard of the commencement of the quarrel between the king and the parliament; and he thought it his duty to hasten home where his countrymen were contending for their rights, rather than to pursue the enjoyments of more extended travel.'Turpe enim existimabam dum mei cives de libertate dimicarent, me animi causa, otiose peregrinari.' He returned by way of Rome, though some merchants had informed him of the enmity of the Jesuits on account of his freedom of conversation; and Manso was withheld from showing him some favours by the opinions which Milton had too openly expressed on religious questions. Sir Henry Wotton's advice, though neglected, was now seen to be prudent and wise; but we may conceive, that in those times, it was difficult to withhold opinions on subjects so much agitated, affecting the temporal interests of some, and awakening the spiritual alarm of others. The schism between the churches was comparatively fresh; the Church of Rome reluctantly beheld a great and growing kingdom rescued from her avarice and power.32 In the freedom of opinion, and by the discussion of rights, she saw Marino; and was the biographer of both these illustrious poets. Mr. Walker, when at Naples, endeavoured to dis cover the villa where Manso had received the visits of Milton and Tasso. See Hist. M3em. 1799. App. p. xxvi. xxxi. 32 Dum Cathedram, venerande tuam, diademaque triplex Ridet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni.' Miltoni Sylv. Quint. Nov. v. 94. LIFE OF MILTON. Xxiii her safety endangered, or her splendour diminished. She had fostered for her protection a body of men the most politic, and deep in worldly wisdom, whose existence depended on her prosperity: we shall not therefore be surprised if a young and zealous Protestant, who could not well endure the ecclesiastical establishment of his own country, simple and moderate as it was, should give offence when expressing his feelings in the inmost bosom of the Papal Church, in the verge of the Vatican, and under the very chair of St. Peter himself. He says, speaking of his conduct whilst in Italy,33'I laid it down as a rule for myself, never to begin a conversation on religion in these parts, but if interrogated concerning my faith, whatever might be the consequence, to dissemble nothing. If any one attacked me, I defended in the most open manner, as before, the orthodox faith for nearly two months more, in the city even of the sovereign Pontiff.' Milton staid about two months at Rome, and pursued his journey without molestation to Florence. He then visited Lucca, and spent a month at Venice. There he shipped for England the collection of books and music which he had formed, and travelled to Geneva, which, Johnson observes, he probably considered as the metropolis of orthodoxy. At Geneva he became acquainted with John Deodati,34 and Frederic Spanheim, the father of the eminently learned scholar and antiquary, whom 33 See Second Defence of the People, p. 884, ed. Burnet. 34 See some account of this Giov. Deodati, of his preaching at Venice in a Trooper's dress, and converting a Venetian courtesan, in Warton's Milton, p. 548. He was uncle of Charles,' mentioned below. xxiv LIFE OF MILTON. Milton subsequently knew. He now passed through France, and returned home after an absence of fifteen months. Of his habitual purity of morals, and sanctity of character, when abroad, he has himself informed us.' Deum hic rursus testem in vocem, me his omnibus in locis ubi tum multa licent, ab omni flagitio ac Probro, integrum atque intactum vixisse, illud perpetuo cogitantem, si hominum latere oculos possem, Dei certe non posse.' On his return he heard of the death of Charles Deodati, 3 and he has recorded the affection which he felt for his friend, in the Epithalamium Damonis. Nec dum aderat Thyrsis, pastorem scilicet ilium Dulcis amor musa Thusca retinebat in urbe Ast ubi mens expleta domum, pecorisque relicti Cura vocat, simul assueta seditque sub ulmo, Turn vero amissum, turn denique sentit amicum.36 Some passages in this poem are borrowed from the Aminta of Tasso; a few more lines, alluding to his recent travels, I shall quote. Heu quis me ignotas traxit vagus error in oras, Ire per aereas rupes, alpemque nivosam! Ecquid erat tanti Romam vidisse sepultam? (Quamvis illa foret, qualem dum viseret olim, Tityrus ipse suas, et oves et rura reliquit?) 85 C. Deodati was a native of England, but of an Italian family, which came originally from Lucca; but in its last generation established at Geneva. His father, Theodore, came early in life to England, married a lady of family and fortune, and practised as a physician. The son was bred to the same profession, and settled in Cheshire. See some further account in Todd's Milton, vol. vi. p. 173, 360. -The two Greek letters of Deodati, possessed by Toland, are now in the British Museum, (MS. Add. No. 5017, f. 71,) and will be found in the Appendix to this Memoir. 86 v. Ep. Damonis, ver. 12. LIFE OF MILTON. XXV Ut te tam dulci possem caruisse sodale Possem tot maria alta, tot interponere montes, Tot sylvas, tot saxa tibi, fluviosque sonantes. Ah certe extremum licuisset tangere dextram, Et bene compositos placide morientis ocellos, Et dixisse " vale, nostri memor, ibis ad astra." * e * * * O ego quantus eram, gelidi cum stratus ad Arni Murmura, populeumque nemus, qua mollior herba, Carpere nunc violas, nunc summas carpere myrtos, Et potui Lycidae certantem audire Menalcam' In these verses 3 he repeats his design of writing an epic poem on some part of the ancient British history. Dr. Johnson has observed that this' poem is written with the common but childish imitation of pastoral life.' As it is not however intended deeply to move the sources of our sympathy, or to come across a strong and recent sorrow,38 but to express, as in Lycidas, in a pleasing and gentle manner, the poet's affection and regret; the pastoral veil, in imitation of ancient poetry, and of later Italian models, is not inelegantly assumed. Besides, as Warton observes,'the common topics are recommended by a novelty of elegant expression; some passages wander far beyond the bounds of bucolic song, and are in his own original style of the more sublime poetry.' He might speak of its purpose as he does in his Prolusions (p. 91) of the Province of History;' Nunc inquietos animi tumultus sedet et componit, nunc delibatum gaudio reddit, mox evocat lacrymas, sed mites eas, et pacatas, et qume moestse nescio quid voluptatis secum afferat.' 37 See ver. 161-167. 38'Methinks, said Sancho, the thoughts that give way to verses, are not very troublesome. Therefore versify as much as you list, and I'11 sleep as much as I can.' Don 2Quixote, vol. iv. p. 212, (Shelton's Transl.) VOL. 1. 4 XXvi LIFE OF MILTON. Milton's return to England took place about the time of Charles's second expedition against the Scots, in which his forces were defeated by General Lesly, in the month of August, 1639, and therefore not long before the meeting of the long parliament. In a Bible, once in the possession of Mr. Blackburn, and which is supposed to have been the companion of Milton's travels, are some manuscript remarks, dated Canterbury, 1639, among which is a quotation from Maccabees 1, xiv. 15:'Now when it was heard at Rome, and as far as Sparta, that Jonathan was dead, they were very sorry.' When that day of death shall come, Then shall nightly shades prevaile. Soon shall love and music faile; Soon the fresh turfe's tender blade Shall flourish on my sleeping shade. Of the authenticity of these remarks, and of the book having been the property of Milton, reasonable doubts have been entertained; but I consider it my duty not to pass over in silence a circumstance which has been recorded and credited by the most industrious and inquisitive among the biographers of the Poet.89 He now hired a lodging in St. Bride's Churchyard, Fleet-street, at the house of one Russel, a tailor, and undertook the education of his two nephews, John and Edward Philips.40 Finding 39 See Todd's Life (first edit.) p. 39, Gent. Mag. July, Sept. Oct. 1792, Feb. 1790, March, 1803, p. 199. 40 Their mother had married again, therefore Milton might feel it his duty to take these boys under his care. They lived with him about five or six years. Mr. Godwin thinks John Philips's Scarronides (1664) was written in an excessive spirit of spite and malignity against Milton, v. Life of Philips, p. 148. As long as he lived he never relaxed in his LIFE OF MILTON. Xxvii his rooms inconvenient, and not large enough for his books, he soon removed into a handsome garden-house in Aldersgate Street, free from the noise and disturbance of passengers,41 and received some of his friends' sons to be instructed and educated by him. His father was still living, the allowance which he received was small, and he supplied its deficiencies by a respectable employment. The expense of his travels, to which he has alluded in one of his tracts, probably rendered it necessary for him to abstain from pressing more deeply on the limited resources of his father.' My life,' he says,'has not been unexpensive, in learning and voyaging about.' The Aubrey Letters mention that Milton went to the university at his own charges only, but in his Latin Epistle to his father, ver. 77, he says; Tuo pater optime sumptu Cum mihi Romulene patuit facundia linguae, Et Latii veneres, et quae Jovis ora decebant, Grandia magniloquis elata vocabula Graiis Addere suasisti quos jactat Gallia jfores. * * * * * Per te nosse licet, per te, si nosse licebit, &c. unnatural animosity against his uncle, p. 157. Mr. Godwin calls him a shameless unfeeling buffoon, p. 161. Milton made his nephews songsters, and sing from the time they were with him. v. Aubrey Let. 3. 446. 41 Philips says,'He made no long stay in his lodgings in St. Bride's Churchyard, necessity of having a place to dispose his books in, and other goods fit for the furnishing of a good handsome house, hastening him to take one; and accordingly a pretty garden-house he took in Aldersgate Street, at the end of an entry, and therefore the fitter for his turn, by the reason of the privacy, besides that there were few streets in London more freefrom noise than that." v. p. lii. Al. Gill, his old tutor, being driven from St. Paul's, set up a private school in the same street. Wood's Ath. Ox. ii. c. 22. XXViii LIFE OF MILTON. The system of education which he adopted was deep and comprehensive, it promised to teach science with language; or rather to make the study of languages subservient to the acquisition of scientific knowledge. Dr. Johnson has severely censured this method of instruction, but with arguments that might not unsuccessfully be met. The plan recommended by the authority of Milton seems to be chiefly liable to objection, from being too extensive; and while it makes authors of all ages contribute to the development of science; it of course must reject that careful selection, which can alone secure the cultivation of the taste. We may also reply to Johnson, that although all men are not designed to be astronomers, or geometricians: a knowledge of the principles on which the sciences are built, and the reasonings by which they are conducted, not only forms the most exact discipline which the mind can undergo, giving to it comprehension and vigour; but is the only solid basis on which an investigation of the laws of nature can be conducted, or those arts improved that tend to the advantage of society, and the happiness of mankind. Johnson says, we are not placed here to watch the planets, or the motion of the stars, but to do good. But good is done in various ways, according to opportunities offered, and abilities conferred; a man whose natural disposition, or the circumstances of whose education lead to pursue astronomical discoveries, or the sublime speculations of geometry, is emphatically doing good to others, as he is extending the boundaries of knowledge, and to himself, as he is directing the energies of his mind to subjects of the most exalted contemplation. LIFE OF MILTON. XXiX But if the word' good' is restricted to the performance of charitable actions, or the fulfilment of moral duties, we may ask, what opposition is there between the practice of virtue, and the pursuit of science? Every man is bound by the laws of God, and the design of his creation to do good, for this purpose was he placed here; but are men of science therefore unfitted for the performance of their civil and religious duties? are they, on account of their enlargement of mind or their sublime speculations, less virtuous, less selfdenying, or less benevolent than others? Is not their occupation itself almost a school of virtue? Lessons of civil wisdom, and maxims of prudential conduct will be learnt by all; and is not a man eminently doing good, who is subduing the wild powers of nature under the dominion of skill, diminishing the extent of human suffering, or dissipating ignorance? —like Franklin disarming the lightning of its fires, or like Watt binding an element of tremendous power into a safe and commodious form; whose future effects on the social system of the world, even the eye of' trembling Hope' dares not follow? The philosopher, whose discoveries in science can facilitate the communication between distant nations, and carry the arts of civilized life into the bosom of the desert, may well be called the benefactor of mankind; and what fatal delusions may have been expelled by him, who could first calculate with precision the regularity of the comet's return? The most abstract and exalted departments of science are the foundation of those inventions that are of practical benefit and vulgar use.42 42 Johnson's Life of Milton is written with his usual vigour of thought and clearness of expression; it abounds with many XXX LIFE OF MIILTON. To a knowledge of the Greek and Latin writers, Milton added a cultivation of the eastern languages, the Chaldee, Syriack, and Hebrew: he made his pupils "go through the Pentateuch and gain an entrance into the Targum:"'Nor were the best Italian and French authors forgotten. One part of his method, says Johnson, deserves general imitation: he was careful to instruct his scholars in religion. Every Sunday was spent upon theology, of which he dictated a short scheme gathered from the writers that were then fashionable in the Dutch universities.' Pearce has observed, that Fagius was Milton's favourite annotator on the Bible. Once in three or four weeks he relaxed from his spare diet and hard study, and passed a day of indulgence with some young sparks of his acquaintance, the chief of whom, his nephew says,'were Mr. Alphry and Mr. Miller, the beaux of those times, but nothing near so bad as those now-a-days; with these gentlemen he made so far bold with his body, as now and then to keep a gaudy day.' I am now to pass to that period of Milton's life, in which he first engaged in the controversies of the times; and published a Treatise on Reformation, in 1641, in two books, against the Bishops4' and Established Church;'being wiljust and striking observations; but it is deeply coloured with prejudice, and the reasoning is sometimes sophistical and incorrect. I am supported in this opinion by Mr. Hawkins; see Pref. to Newton's Milton, p. 25, ed. 1824. I do not approve of the spirit or manner of Archd. Blackburne's observations. 43 Dr. Symmons considers Milton as the leader of the attack against the prelates; his tutor Young had been one of the victims of the primate's intolerance'; and Milton en LIFE OF MILTON. Xxxi ling, he says, to help the Puritans who were inferior to the Prelates in learning;' in this, his earliest publication in prose, he throws out a hint of something like his great poem, that might hereafter be expected from him.'Then amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints, some one may perhaps be heard offering at high strains, in new and lofty measures to sing, and celebrate thy divine mercies, and marvellous judgments in this land throughout all ages.' In 1641, Hall, Bishop of Norwich, a learned, witty, and eloquent writer, at the request of Laud, published'an humble remonstrance in favour of Episcopacy.' Five ministers, under the title of Smectymnus44 (a word formed from the first letters of their names), wrote an answer, of which the learned and venerable Archbishop Usher45 published a confutation, called'The Apostolical Institution of Episcopacy;' to this confutation Milton replied in his Treatise of Prelatical Episcopacy. The point at issue was the divine or human origin of episcopacy, as a peculiar order tered in his career, with the blended feeling of private and public wrong, v. Life, p. 226. The fact was, the Puritans were totally unable to compete with such men as Usher. Hall, Bramhall, and others of the established religion, in theological learning and knowledge of Ecclesiastical history, as may be seen by reading the controversy; and they were glad even of Milton's eloquence; for that was all he brought them, and all the young scholar could be expected to bring.' Nec adhuc maturus Achilles.' 44 Stephen Marshall, Edward Calamy, Thomas Young, Mathew Newcomen, and William Spurstow. The' W' in whose name must be pronounced'U,' to form the word. 45 Usher, Gataker, and Reynolds, were the three Protestant divines in England, who had the greatest reputation on the continent for their learning; see Calomies' Mel. Curieux,.p. 834. Their three rivals abroad, among the Protestants, for erudition, were Blondel, Petitus, and Bochart. xxxii LIFE OF MILTON. in the church, invested with spiritual rights and powers, distinct in kind, and preeminent in degree. He added to this reply another performance, called'The Reason of Church Government* urged against Prelacy.' Bishop Hall published a defence of the Humble Remonstrance, well written and closely argued; and Milton wrote animadversions upon it. These treatises were published in the year 1641.t It was in his Reason of Church Government that he discovered, as Johnson observes, his high opinion of his own powers, and promised to undertake something that may be of service and honour to his country. This (he said) was not to be obtained but by devout prayer to the Eternal Spirit, that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases. To this must be added select reading, steady observation, and insight into all seemly and generous arts and affairs, till which in some measure he compassed, I represent to sustain this expectation.'From a promise like this, says his biographer, at once fervid, pious, and rational, might be expected the Paradise Lost.' In 1642 he closed the controversy which I have mentioned, by an apology for Smectymnus, in answer to the confutation of his animadversions, written, as he supposed, by Bishop Hall or his son. His friendship for Youngf probably led * See Symmons's Life, p. 234. t See Hall's Works, ed. Pratt, vol. ix. p. 641. $ Toland says of his'Reason for Church Government,' the eloquence is masculine, the method is natural, the sentiments are free, and the whole (God knows) appears to have very different force from what the nonconformist divines wrote in those days, or since that time, on the same subject.' v. Life, p. 31. LIFE OF MILTON. Xxxiii him into the field of controversy; for he owns that he'was not disposed to this manner of writing, wherein knowing myself inferior to myself, led by the genial power of nature to another task, I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.' Weapons, says one of his biographers, more effectual than pens were now drawn against the church, and exposed by the injudicious conduct of some of its prelates, it fell under the assault. If argument and reason could have prevailed, the result would have been different. The learning of Usher, and the wit of Hall, certainly preponderated in the contest, and they seem to have been felt not only by the Smectymnan divines, but by Milton himself. If the church at this crisis could have been upheld by the ability of her sons, it would have been supported by those admirable prelates, but numbers, exasperation and enthusiasm were against them.' 46 The main purpose which Milton had in view in these different publications, was to alter the Episcopal form of the church, and to assimilate it to the simpler, and, as he deemed, the apostolical model of the reformed churches in other countries; to join with them in exactness of discipline, as we do in purity of doctrine. But as in these churches, the Presbyterian discipline was united to a republican form of government, he therefore attempts to prove that the existence of the hierarchy'adds nothing to the security or the proper splendour of the throne; that the fall of Prelacy could not shake the least fringe that borders the royal canopy. He denies the apostolical institution of bishops, and, as he argues for the greatest degree of honest liberty in religion, as in other institu46 See Symmons's Life of Milton, p. 240. XXXiv LIFE OF MILTON. tions, he urges that prelacy is the natural agent and minister of tyranny. He advocates the sweetest and mildest manner of paternal discipline, the independent ministry of each congregation; and he wishes the Angel of the Gospel to ride on his way, doing his proper business, conquering the high thoughts and proud reasonings of the flesh. As long as the church (he says), in true imitation of Christ, can be content to ride upon an ass, carrying herself and her government along in a mean.and simple guise, she may be, as she is, a lion of the tribe of Judah, and in her humility all men will, with loud hosannas, confess her greatness.' When his opponents urged the learning of the University and the clergy, he said,'that God will not suffer true learning to be wanting, when true grace and obedience to him abounds; for if he give us to know him aright, and to practise this our knowledge in right established discipline, how much more will he replenish us with all abilities in tongues and arts, that may conduce to his glory and our good. He can stir up rich fathers to bestow exquisite education on their children, and to dedicate them to.the service of the Gospel. He can make the sons of nobles his ministers, and princes to be his Nazarites.' That Milton engaged in the heat and dust of these great controversial questions, from motives of conscience, and with intentions upright and' pure, no one can reasonably doubt, but they were alien from his elegant and learned pursuits; they were scarcely congenial to his age; and himself, as well as his brethren whom he defended, were infinitely inferior to Bishop Hall in theological learning, and in controversial skill; that learned Prelate's victory over Smectymnus was complete. LIFE OF MILTON. XXXV Milton's father4 came now to reside in his son's house. Philips says of him;'the old gentleman lived wholly retired to his rest and devotion, without the least trouble imaginable.' At Whitsuntide, in 1643, in his thirty-fifth year, Milton married Mary, the daughter of Mr. Powell, a justice of the peace in Oxfordshire. After an absence of little more than a month, he brought his bride to town with him, and hoped, as Johnson observes, to enjoy the advantages of a conjugal life; 4 but spare diet, and hard study, and a house full of pupils, did not suit the young and gay daughter of a Cavalier. She had been brought up in very different society; so having lived for a month a philosophic life, after having been used at home to a great house,49 and much company and joviality, her friends, possibly by her own desire, made earnest suit to have her company the remaining part of the summer, which was granted upon a promise of her return at Michaelmas. When Michaelmas 47 Till the taking of Reading, in April 1643, by the Earl of Essex, he had lived there, in the house of his son Christopher. 48 Toland gives four conjectures on this subject. 1. Whether it was that this young woman, accustomed to a large and jovial family, could not live in a philosophical retirement; 2. or that she was not satisfied with the person of her husband; 3. or, lastly, that because all her relations were addicted to the Royal interest, his democratical principles were disagreeable to her humour; 4. nor is it impossible that the father repented of this match, upon the prospect of some success on the King's side, who then had his head-quarters at Oxford, See Life, p. 52. 49 T. Warton had a MS. inventory of Mr. Powell's goods; and he says,'by the number, order, and furniture of the rooms, he appears to have lived as a country gentleman, in a very extensive and liberal style of house keeping.' v. Todd's Life, p. 176. Xxxvi LIFE OF MILTON. came, the lady had no inclination to quit the hospitality and delights of her father's mansion for the austerer habits and seclusion of the Poet's study. Aubrey says,'no company came to her, and she often heard her nephew cry and be beaten;' Milton sent repeated letters to her, which were all unanswered; and a messenger, who was dispatched to urge her return, was dismissed with contempt. A resistance so pertinacious and illegal as this, must have rested on some grounds that were at least imagined favourable to the conduct of the wife. We must, therefore, refer to the unsettled situation of the kingdom, by which the authority of the laws was weakened, and obedience imperfectly enforced; and we must recollect, that at the time when she refused to return to her husband's roof, the King, with all his forces, was quartered in the neighbouring city of Oxford; that her family was of course surrounded with the gay and licentious adherents of the monarch, the carousing Cavaliers; that' living in the camp of the enemy,' she must have been in the daily habit of hearing hatred, scorn, and contempt, uttered against the party whose sentiments were so strongly adopted by her husband; that a prospect of success now dawned upon the fortunes of the King; and, looking at the apparent interests of the family, considering her wavering or alienated affections, and interpreting fairly the language of Philips, we may presume that had the side of the royalists been victorious, the marriage with the Puritan husband would have been cancelled or concealed. Milton, whose mind was never given to halfmeasures, resolved immediately to repudiate her on the ground of disobedience; and to support the propriety and lawfulness of his conduct, he LIFE OF MILTON. XXXVii published in 1644,'The doctrine and discipline of divorce, the judgment of Master Bucer concerning Divorce,' the next year he printed his Tetrachordon, or expositions on the four chief places of scripture, which treat on marriage. His last tract' Colasterion' was an answer to a pamphlet recommended by Mr. Joseph Caryll,50 the author of a Commentary on Job, and a presbyterian divine, the author was anonymous, but Milton calls him a serving-man both by nature and function, an idiot by breeding, and a solicitor by presumption.' In this treatise, Dr. Symmons thinks that Milton has made out a strong case, and fights with arguments not easily to be repelled; and Mr. Godwin says,'that the books on divorce are written with the most entire knowledge of the subject, and with a clearness and strength of argument, that it would be difficult to excel; and it must be remembered that Selden wrote his'Uxor Hebraica,' on the same side of the question. Without entering into the intricacies of so great an argument, I shall content myself with saying, that all the ingenuity of Milton, and the learning of Selden are of no avail against the acknowledged experience of society, which seems to have silently consented to the wisdom of the established law. Tempers once deemed incompatible, may gradually assimilate. The interests of children, the advancement of fortune, the respect of society, moral principle, religious feeling, the force of habit, are all assisting the reconciliation of wedded discontent. Incompatibility of temper, 50 Of Mr. Caryll, Toland says, (p. 60),'in his voluminous and senseless commentaries, he did more injury to the memory of Job, than the Devil, and the Sabeans could inflict torments on him in his lifetime. XXXviii LIFE. OF MILTON. cannot be submitted to legal proof, or determined by any unerring standard; will it not therefore be often advanced to cover the wishes of inconstancy, or the desires of impurity? Does not legal separation allow all that is necessary in extreme cases of insufferable evil? Is an incompatible temper to be advanced as the cause of one divorce, or may it release from a succession of imprudent engagements? Milton's courtship was apparently sudden and short; and no one can be much surprised at the disagreements that followed: but it appears that. he subsequently lived in happiness with his wife, and with renewed affection. Hence the divorce, at one time so much desired, would probably have destroyed, if granted, the future happiness of both parties. There is one passage in this treatise, in which Milton clearly points to himself, and to the presumed causes of his unhappiness.'The soberest, and best governed men, he says, are least practised in these affairs; and who knows not that the bashful muteness of a virgin may oftentimes hide all the unliveliness and natural sloth which is really unfit for conversation, nor is there that freedom of access granted or presumed, as many suffice to a perfect discerning till too late; and when any indisposition is suspected, what more usual than the persuasion of friends, that acquaintance as it increases, will amend all; and lastly, is it not strange that many who have spent their youth chastely, are in some things not so quick sighted, while they haste too eagerly to light the nuptial torch. Nor is it therefore for a modest error, that a man should forfeit so great a happiness, and no charitable means to relieve him. Since they who have lived most loosely, LIFE OF MILTON. XXXix by reason of their bold accustoming, prove most successful in their matches, because their wild affections unsettling at will, have been as so many divorces to teach them experience. Whereas the sober man honouring the appearance of modesty, and hoping well of every social virtue under that veil, may easily chance to meet if not with a body impenetrable, yet often with a mind to all other due conversation inaccessible, and to all the more estimable and superior purposes of matrimony useless and almost lifeless, and what a solace, what a fit help such a consort would be through the whole life of a man, is less pain to conjecture, than to have experience.' He speaks again' of a mute, and spiritless mate;' and again,'if he shall find himself bound fast to an image of earth and phlegm, with whom he looked to be the copartner of a sweet and gladsome society:' these observations will, I think, put us in possession of his wife's'fair defects,' and the causes of the separation. Whoever differs from Milton in the inferences which he draws, and the doctrine which he advocates, must yet allow that these Treatises on Divorce are written with the command of scriptural learning, with many ingenious explanations of the intent of the divine laws, and human institutions; and with a force of argument sometimes difficult to resist. The whole is composed with uncommon zeal and earnestness, and conveys the sentiments of one who feels his own important interests are at issue; the causes of dislike in this little month of wedlock, must have struck deep root, for he alludes much to rash, sudden, and mistaken choices, he urges the justice of divorce in cases where' a violent hatred in matri xl LIFE OF MILTON. mony has arisen, yet not sinful, irksome, grievous, obstinately hateful, and injurious even to hostility; he speaks of invincible antipathies, when the work of sorrow lasts, till death unharness them; and upon the ground that such matches in this misery are insufferable, unalterable, and without hope, or prospect of termination, he claims the power of release from his unequal yoke. That his whole argument hinges on his own case, no one who reads these tracts can reasonably doubt: and that his sorrows were seen through an exaggerating medium, seems hardly less clear. His own experience is the best refutation of his work; his marriage, though clouded over in its rise, and portending storms and sorrows, and strife, ended, as we believe, in the smiles of renewed affection, in conjugal endearments, and continued love: and we must also recollect that Milton had lived but one short month with his wife, when this eternal aversion, this perpetuity of hatred, this radical discord of nature were declared.5l That this doctrine was received with neglect or ridicule is evident from a passage in Howell's Letters. There are, however, in all societies some to whom every paradox is acceptable, and who rejoice in believing themselves superior to the settled opinions of mankind. By them it was 51 See P. Knight's Civil Society, p. 55.' Let me not be supposed to mean a condemnation of marriage, from which I have derived all the blessings and benefits of civil society, but merely of its indissolubility. There are many causes which ought to justify divorce, as well as that of adultery on the part of the woman, and I think it probable, that if other causes were admitted, this would be less frequent. Divorce is, I believe, as often the object, as the consequenqe of adultery.' LIFE OF MILTON. xli greedily adopted, and they were named divorcers or Miltonists.52 The Presbyterian clergy, then holding their assembly in Westminster, were much offended, and procured the author to be summoned before the house of lords;'but the house,' says Wood,'whether approving the doctrine, or not favoring his accusers, did soon dismiss him.' The Lords probably considered the doctrines advanced as too wild and speculative to produce any practical mischief. Milton wished he had not written the work in English.' Vellem hoc tantem sermone vernaculo me non scripsisse, non enim in vernas lectores incidissem, quibus solemne est sua bona ignorare, aliorum mala irridere:' on this confession it is plain that the work was viewed as an apology and defence of himself. The golden reins of discipline and government in the church being now let loose, Milton proceeded to put in practice the doctrine which he had advocated, and seriously paid his addresses to a very accomplished and beautiful young lady, the daughter of Doctor Davis; 3 the lady, however, hesitated, and was not easily to be persuaded 52 A passage in the Electra of Sophocles, by C. W. at the Hague, 1649, 8vo, proves that Milton's doctrine on divorce was not unnoticed.'While like the froward Jliltonist We our nuptial knot untwist.' See also a passage in Echard, quoted by Todd, p. 56, and in Britain's Triumph, p. 15, by G. S. What, Milton, are you come to see the sight? v. Todd's Life, p. 54. And see also his eleventh and twelfth Sonnets, in themselves a sufficient proof of the detraction and ridicule attending his doctrine. 53 During the desertion of his wife, Milton frequented the society of the Lady Margaret Leigh, a person of distinction and accomplishment. To Lady Ranelagh the favourite sister of the illustrious Boyle, in his later years he was gratefully VOL. I. 5 xlii LIFE OF MILTON. into the lawfulness of the proposal; and it fortunately terminated by effecting a happy reconciliation with the offending and discarded wife. He went sometimes to visit a relation who lived in the lane of St. Martin's-le-grand; and at one of these visits he was surprised to see his wife come from an inner room, throw herself on her knees before him, and implore forgiveness. It is said that he was for some time inexorable; but partly, says his nephew,' his own generous nature, more inclinable to reconciliation than to perseverance in anger or revenge, and partly the strong intercession of friends on both sides, soon brought him to an act of oblivion, and a firm league of peace.' It was the forgiveness of a good and generous mind, for he behaved ever after to her with affection, and received all her family into his house,54 when their seat was seized by the rebels, and they were obliged, at a ruinous expense, to compound for their estate.55 Mr. Powell is said to have lost by the wars, above three, thousand pounds, and to have died above fifteen hundred pounds in debt, leaving a widow and nine children. The dowry of a thousand pounds, promised to Milton with his wife, remained unpaid at his death. On Mrs. Anne Powell's petition5 attached. He says of her to her son, who had been his pupil,'Nam et mihi omnium necessitudinum loco fuit.' 64 The family of the Powells continued to reside in Milton's house till after the death of his father in 1647. See Todd's Life, p. 88. 55 See the transcript of the original documents of Mr. Powell's compounding, in Todd's Life, (second ed.) p. 69, 70; and Milton's Petition, p. 81. 56 This passage may throw some additional light on the subject of the desertion of Milton by his wife. Aubrey says, she was a zealous royalist, and went without her husband's consent to her mother in the king's quarters. (Letter iii. p. 441). The truth then, as far as we can command it, seems LIFE OF MILTON. xliii to the commissioners for her thirds, the following observations were made.' Mr. Milton is a harsh and choleric man, and married Mr. Powell's daughter, who would be undone if any such course were taken against hin by Mrs. Powell. IIe having turned away his wife heretofore for a long space, upon some other occasion (var. a small occasion).' 57 Milton, it appears, having discharged the fine upon Mr. Powell's estate, had succeeded to the possession of it; and his mother-in-law, by petition, was anxious to recover her thirds, which she was afraid to press for by suit. In 1644, at the request of Hartlib, he published his'Tractate on Education,' and his'Areopagitica, or Speech for the Liberty of unlicensed Printing.'58 The plan developed in the former tract must, I am afraid, be considered as little less than a splendid dream; a noble outline of a to be, that she found her bridal home cheerless and dull; her husband's temper unsuitable to hers, and his opinions different; that disagreements arose and discontent on either side; and when the king and his army and court arrived in the neighbourhood of her father's house, she gladly availed herself of the opportunity of joining them, with her family. Their support secured her against the power of enforcing her return; and had the king's party been victorious, she probably would never have returned, nor acknowledged her marriage. The battle of Naseby, and the beauty of Miss Davis, brought her to her senses. One of Milton's antagonists (G. S. 1660) accuses him;'You throw aside your wife, because your waspish spirit could not agree with her qualities, and your crooked phantasy could not be brought to take delight in her.' 67 See Todd's Life, p. 90 (second ed.) 58 Sextus the Fourth, who died in 1484, was the first who placed the press under the control of a licenser. In 1649 Gilbert Mabbet resigned the office of licenser, and urged the reasoning of Milton's work as his defence. See Birch's Life, p. xxvi. and Hollis's Memoirs, p. 257, who calls him S. Mabbot, or rather Mabbold, for so he is called in Whitelock's Index. xliv LIFE OF MILTON. theory too magnificent to be realized. What is promised in the time allowed, could not possibly be performed. While Milton is projecting the mastery of every science, the attainment of so many languages, acquaintance with such various authors; is moving over the extensive circle of his studies, and piling up his structure of education even to its turrets and pinnacles; the humbler plan which experience has approved, is content with laying deep its foundations during the years of youth, in acquiring habits of accurate reasoning, in cultivating correct taste, and in learning those sound principles of philosophy which may hereafter be developed and directed into various channels. What Milton professes to complete in a few years, the old system is contented to commence; one is only planting the tree and fertilizing the soil, the other is already reposing under its shade, and feeding on its fruits. The Areopagitica is, on the whole, the finest production in prose from Milton's pen. For vigour and eloquence of style, unconquerable force of argument, majesty, and richness of language, it is not to be surpassed. Doctor Johnson considers the argument which it discusses to be of very difficult solution. I shall content myself with observing, that when a nation becomes sufficiently enlightened to demand the removal of these restrictions of the press, which have been imposed when governments were arbitrary, and the people ignorant; the correction of the evils attendant on its liberty must be found, not in the punishment of the offenders, but in the good sense and moral feeling of the community. It is in this way that virtue is stronger than vice, that truth triumphs over falsehood, and law is superior to LIFE OF MILTON. xlv offence. Johnson's observation that'if every sceptic in theology may teach his follies, there can be no religion,9 falls to the ground, when it is remembered that our religion was born amid disbelief and doubt, and has grown up and increased among every variety of heresy, and form of scepticism that the ingenuity of man could devise. Hume's famous argument that was to be the touchstone of truth, has only served to establish the force of testimony, and to confirm the credibility of miracles. In 1645 Milton collected his early poems, Latin and English, for the press; in which the Allegro60 and Penseroso appeared for the first time. Of the picturesque imagery, the musical versification, and the brilliant language of these poems, praise too high cannot be heard. They have all the pastoral beauties, and sweet descriptions of our elder poets, embellished, and heightened by a richer style, and a more refined combination. It has been more than once observed, that these poems, short as they are, have collected in one 59 The moderation and justice of Toland's sentiments on this subject may excite surprise (v. p. 79.)' The wishes of all good men are, that the national church being secured in her worship, and emoluments, may not be allowed to force others to her communion; and that all dissenters from it, being secured in their liberty of conscience, may not be permitted to meddle with the riches or power of the national church.' May a sentiment so philosophically just prove historically true! 60 Mr. Peck's manner of giving the titles of these poems is ludicrously quaint. He calls them'His Homo L'Allegro, or the letanls; and his Homo Ii Penseroso, or the cogitans.' v. New Memoirs, p. 26. Comus had been printed in 1637, and Lycidas in 1638. Before Cartwright's Poems, 1651, is a copy of verses by J. Leigh, enumerating the various Poets whose works had been published by Aiosely, but omitting the name of Milton. xlvi LIFE OF MILTON. splendid view all that can be said on their respective subjects. Moseley the publisher says, in his preface,' that the poems of Spenser, in these English ones are as nearly imitated, as sweetly excelled.' It is to this edition that the portrait by Marshall is prefixed, which so much displeased Milton; and which has transformed the youthful bard into a puritanical gentleman of fifty; it is the first published portrait of the Poet.* In 1647, as the relations of his wife had gradually left him, he removed into a smaller house in Holborn, which opened backward into Lincoln's Inn Fields, and continued the instruction of a few scholars, chiefly the sons of gentlemen his friends. That there ever was a design of making him an adjutant general in the army of Sir William Waller may be doubted; for Philips has expressed his belief doubtfully, and Waller was considered at that time the leader of the Presbyterians, between whom and our Poet no amity could now exist. His next publication, in 1648-9, was the Tenour of Kings and Magistrates.61 This was occasioned by the outcry of the Presbyterians against the death of Charles; whereas Milton proves that they who so much condemned deposing were the men themselves that deposed the king: and cannot, with all their shifting and relapsing, wash the guiltiness off their own hands. For they themselves, by their late doings have made * Salmasius considered this print as presenting not an unfavourable portrait of Milton. The pastoral view in the background is worthy of Ostade; but' neat handed Phyllis' is, methinks, a little too free. She should have recollected that in a dance'Junctaeque nymphis Gratice decentes.' 61 This tract first published February 1648-9, republished with additions in 1650. LIFE OF MILTON. xlvii it guiltiness, and turned their own warrantable actions into rebellion. He then pushes on his arguments against them till he shows that they not only deposed, but how much they did toward the killing the king.' Have they not levied wars against him, whether offensive or defensive (for defence in war equally offends, and most prudently beforehand) and given commission to slay when they knew his person could not be exempt from danger; and if chance or flight had not saved him, how often had they killed him, directing their artillery without blame or prohibition to the very place where they saw him stand. Have they not sequestered him, judged or unjudged, and converted his revenue to other uses, detaining from him, as a grand delinquent, all means of livelihood, so that from them long since he might have perished or starved. Have they not hunted or pursued him round the kingdom with sword and fire. Have they not besieged him, and to their power forbad him water and fire, save what they shot against him to the hazard of his life. Yet while the ththus assaulted and endangered it with hostile deeds, they swore in words to defend it, with his crown and dignity,' &c. But though Milton in his writings discussed these measures which he considered important to the public welfare, his life was strictly private, passed with his scholars, or among his studies; and his History of England was just commenced; when, without any solicitation, he was invited62 by the council of the state to be their secretary 62 See the original orders of council appointing a committee to invite him to accept the office, first printed in Todd's Life (second ed.) p. 107. He succeeded in this office Mr. Weckherleyn, whose only daughter was mother of Sir W. Trumball, the friend of Pope. xlviii LIFE OF MILTON. for foreign tongues. They had resolved to employ the Latin language in their correspondence with other nations: and no man more eminently skilled in the knowledge of it, than Milton, could at that time probably have been found. Bishop Newton wishes this example had been followed; but I must express my doubts whether diplomatic correspondence could be carried on through the medium of the Latin tongue, with the facility or the precision that would be now required. It surely is better that every nation should express itself in its own idioms, than to attempt to make an ancient language convey new varieties of opinion, and new modifications of thought. Modern languages are constantly borrowing from each other to supply those minute shades of meaning, and to express those refined and subtle ideas that have arisen in the progress of knowledge, and that have been brought from more advanced habits, and more complicated structures of society. To effect this with a language that has long been removed from use, is surely to encumber oneself with unnecessary difficulties, and to prefer the less commodious vehicle of reasoning. In 1649-50 it was ordered by the council, that Mr. Milton do prepare something in answer to the book of Salmasius, and when he hath done it bring it to the council. Previously, however, to this, he had written his answer63 to the Icon Basilike, it is supposed by a verbal command: for no written order of the council to that effect has been 63 Milton's Answer was printed in London in 1640, 4to. again in 1650. Of the Icon Basilike, forty-seven editions were circulated in England alone, and 48,500 copies sold. Toland says, Milton was rewarded by the parliament for his performance with the present of a thousand pounds. v. Life, p. 32. The real fact is not ascertained. LIFE OF MILTON. xlix found. The grievous charge of having, in conjunction with Bradshaw, interpolated the book of the king, with a prayer taken from Sidney's Arcadia, and then imputing the use of the prayer to the monarch, as a heavy crime, has been clearly and completely refuted. It appears that the private prayers of the king were delivered by him to Dr. Juxon, Bishop of London, immediately before his death, and on the scaffold, that they were added to some of the earlier impressions of the Icon; that the prayer was adopted by the king from the Arcadia, a book that he delighted to read,90 and that Juxon would not have been silent, had the prayer been inserted by the enemies of his lamented monarch, to calumniate his memory. We must now pass on to the celebrated controversy with Salmasius; Charles the Second employed that great scholar to write a Defence of his Monarchy, and to vindicate his father's memory; to stimulate his industry, it is said,9l a hundred Jacobuses were given to him. Since the death of the illustrious younger Scaliger, no scholar had acquired the reputation of Salmasius; not so much, as Johnson supposed, for his skill 90 The books which Charles delighted to read, and which show his knowledge and taste, are given in Sir Thomas Herbert's Memoirs, p. 61, viz. Andrews's Sermons, Hooker's Eccl. Polity, Hammond's Works, Sandys's Psalms, Herbert's Poems, Fairfax's Tasso, Harrington's Ariosto, Spenser's Fairy Queen, &c. The prayer from the Arcadia is a mere transcript, with the necessary alteration of a few words. 91 Wood asserts that Salmasius had no reward for his book. He says,' the king sent Dr. Morley, then at Leyden, to the apologist with his thanks, but not with a purse of gold, as John Milton the impudent liar reported.' Wood's Ath. Ox. ii. p. 770. 1 LIFE OF MILTON. in emendatory criticism, in which he was excelled by many of his contemporaries, as for his great knowledge of antiquity, the multiplicity of his attainments, and his immense research in ancient languages.9 His Commentary on Solinus, and his Treatise de Re Hellenistica are imperishable 92 Toland says,' What is worse than all the rest, Salmasius appeared on this occasion such an absolute stranger, and bungler in his own province, as to open a large field for Milton to divert himself with his barbarous phrases and solecisms,' p. 96. The fact is, Salmasius, with all his vast erudition, from a hasty impetuosity of mind, committed occasionally great mistakes. I have a work of his, in which he makes our Satiour born at Jerusalem.'Autant de livres de sa faqon, autant d'Impromptu,' (says Vigneuil Marville) mais il ne digdroit assez bien les matieres qu'il traitoit. Ce qu'il donnoit au public, il donnoit tout cru, avec dddain, et comme tout en colere. I1 sembloit jetter son Grec, son Latin, et toute sa science a la tete des gens. Grotius au contraire considhre tout, digere tout, l'ordonne, et la range sagement. I1 respecte et mdnage son lecteur. Son erudition est comme une grande fleuve qui se rdpand largement, fait du bien k tout le monde. Crescit cum amplitudine rerum, vis ingenii'-i. p. 9.'D'autres ne peuvent dcrire qu'a la hate, et ne sauroient repasser sur leurs ouvrages. M. de Saumaise etoit de ce caractere.' Gronovius (de Sestertiis, p. 46,) says of him,'Habebat hoc vir ille incomparabilis ut uberrimo ingenio nulla sufficeret manus, et ubi instituerat scribere, nec verum, nec verborum modum nosset. Sic factum esset, ut multa illi exciderent, que norat ipse melius, et rectius alio die tradiderat, tradebatque qume, si paululum attendisset animum, facile vitasset.' What the great Scaliger thought of Salmasius, then young, may be gathered from the beginning of one of his letters to him (Ep. c.cxlviii.)'nunquam ab Epistolis tuis discedo nisi doctior:'-a delightful character of Salmasius is given by the learned Huet, in his Commentar. de Rebus. ad Eum (Se) pertin. p. 125-130, who says,'Si quis certe animum ejus atque mores ex scriptis sstimare velit, arrogans fuisse videatur, contumax, sibique presidens; at in usu, et consuetudine viteo, nihil placidius nihil mitius, comis adhac, urbanus, et officii plenus, verum benignitati ejus ac quieti multum officiebat uxor imperiosa Anna Mercera,' and then he proceeds to give an account how Salmasius's wife insisted, when he was presented at the court of Christina, in dressing him in scarlet breeches and gloces, with a black cap LIFE OF MILTON. ii monuments of his fame. Grotius alone could compete with him; and if Grotius were at all inferior, which I know not, in the extent of his information, he far excelled Salrnasius in the correctness of his judgment, the distribution of his knowledge, and the more luminous arrangement of his erudition. Grotius was an enlightened philosopher, as well as a profound scholar; and the names of these two illustrious men were in commendation not often disjoined. Selden speaks of Grotius,'as the greatest, the chief of men,' and of Salmasius as' most admirable;' to whom he wished much more to be like than to be the most eminent person for riches and honour in the world; and white feather. Salmasius told him he was very ill with the gout the whole time he was in Sweden; that Christina used to come to his bed; and one morning found him reading'Libellum Subturpiculum,' which the affrighted professor hid under the bedclothes; but Christina searched for it and got it; and, being delighted with it, called in a young and beautiful lady of the name of' Sparra,' whom she made to read aloud the passages that pleased her: and while the girl blushed at her task, the Queen and her attendants were convulsed with laughter. Huet saw at Salmasius' house the girl' Pontia,' and says she was' satis elegans.' His account of the amour of Morus with this girl is not so unfavourable as Milton's; in fact, he made Morus sign a paper to marry her, but the passion and intemperance of Salmasius' wife rendered all interference unsuccessful. Morus was ill in Salmasius' house, and Pontia nursed him, which was the beginning of the acquaintance. An epitaph on Salmasius is given in V. Paravicini Sing. de Viris Erud. (1713) p. 201, in the bombastic style of the time. Ingens exigua jacet hac sub mole sepultus Assertor Regum, numinis atque pugil Finivit Spadae vitam Salmasius hospes Trajectum cineres ossaque triste tenet. Quod mortali fuit periit, pars altera coelis Reddita, fit major, doctior esse nequit. For Letters from Christina to Salmasius in the Ottoboni Palace at Rome, see Keysler's Travels, vol. iii. p. 147. lii LIFE OF MILTON. and Cardinal Richelieu declared, that Bignonius, Grotius, and Salmasius were the only persons of that age, whom he looked upon as arrived at the highest pitch of learning. Such was the antagonist whom Milton had been commanded to meet. The work which the exiled monarch required from the critic was probably somewhat beyond the circle of his studies; he wrote also on the unpopular side; and some among his friends neither admired the motive, nor anticipated the success of his undertaking.9 Hobbes says,'he 93 See Sarravii Epistolas. p. 224, his love and admiration of Salmasius evince qualities in that great man that commanded esteem.'De Salmasio quid dicam? Precipiti Octobri in amplexus ejus iri. Cum eo vivere ameni et obeam libenter, vis plura? Si per impossibile cuiquam mortalium erigantur unquam altaria, mihi, deu deus ille de omnigena doctrina, moribusque humanissimis tibi comperta narrare nihil attinet,' p. 32. See also his 51st Epistle to Al. More. In his 140th, speaking of the death of Grotius, he says,'Utri vestrum debeatur hujus suculi principatus literarius, decernet ventura mtas!' In the 198th Letter Sarravius first mentions the subject of Salmasius's defence, which he applauds.' Laudo animi tui generosum, propositum, quo nefandum scelus aperte damnare sustines.' Then he mentions that.ochart intended'eandem spartam ornare,' but had been dissuaded. In the 208th'de tuo pro infelici Rege apoligetico soleres facis, qui facis quod libet, et amicorum consilia spernis.' In the 214th he has seen his work'Omnino magnus est iste tuus labor, et istam materiam profunde meditatus es.' In the 216th he says,'Tuam defensionem quod spectat dolendum esset in ipsis nascendi primordiis interire.' In the 222nd he speaks of the fifth edition of Salmasius's work: in the 223d he complains that a copy had not been sent to Charles's widow.'Quamvis enim sit in re minime lauta, tamen potuisse solvere pretium tabellarii, qui illud attulisset.' The 228th is the letter so often quoted, beginning'Te ergo habemus reum fatentem.' Sarravius differed from him in his defence of Episcopacy. July 1648 he tells him'vos amis se plaignent que vous ne faites rien de ce dont ils vous prient, et que vos ennemis au contraire ont l'avantage de vous faire 6crire de ce qu'il leur plait:' from a careful perusal of the LIFE OF MILTON. liii is unable to decide whose language is best, or whose argument worst,' and certainly the question is too often lost sight of in discussing the niceties of verbal construction, or in personal altercation; nor is the argument disposed with the calm and comprehensive views of the statesman and philosopher. That Milton's fame, however, was widely and honourably extended by this performance, no doubt can be entertained, it was In Liberty's defence, a noble task, Of which all Europe rang from side to side; but that Salmasius suffered disgrace at the court of Christina; that he was dismissed with contempt, or considered as defeated with dishonour, rests upon no valid authority. Milton in his second defence expressly allowed, that the queen, attentive to the dignity of her station, let the stranger experience no diminution of her former kindness, or munificence. The health of that illustrious scholar had long been languishing under his unremitted labours. He was afflicted with gout if not with stone, and he went to seek relief from the mineral waters of Spa (which he was supposed to have drunk improperly), where correspondence connected with this subject, I am convinced that the effect, said to be produced by Milton's defence on Salmasius, and on his reputation, has been prodigiously overrated. Salmasius seems at that time to have been as much interested about other works which he had in hand, and especially about conducting safely and commodiously his journey to Sweden, and preserving his health in that cold climate. It must also be observed that whatever More's moral character was, he stood in high esteem and reputation in the learned world, and that Milton's attack therefore affected him deeply. See Tan. Fabri. Epistol. lxvi. lib. i. ed. 1674, p. 219. A full and impartial account of him may be read in Bavle's Diet. Art.' Morus.' Archd. Blackburne calls More the Atterbury, or rather the Dodd of his age, v. Mem. of Hollis, p. 522. liv LIFE OF MILTON. he died. The queen had offered him large appointments 94 to remain in Sweden, and greatly regretted his departure; but the coldness of the climate was injurious to him: and after his death, she wrote a letter full of concern for his loss, and respect for his memory; the.slander first thrown out in the Mercurius Politicus, and so frequently repeated, ought no longer to be believed. Salmasius went full of years, and honours to his grave. The purpose of Salmasius 95 was to support the doctrine of the divine rights of kings: to prove that the king is a person with whom the supreme power 94 He had a pension of 40,000 livres from Sweden. It will astonish some of my readers to know that Salmasius was a republican,' Placebat Salmasio libera respublica.' He was invited by the University of Oxford to settle there on very handsome terms:' and' says his biographer,' he would have gone' nisi aliquid ab eo petiissent, quamvis beatissima conditione, quod cum ad nationis utilitatem spectaret, non erat tamen ad genium ipsius;' but so far was Salmasius, as all Milton's biographers assert, from being a slavish admirer of kings or regal governments, that' Bataviam hac in parte prm Anglia preferebat quod majorem semper in respublicc quam in reyno libertatem esse judicaret.' v. Vit. Salmas. p. xvi. It was not solely on account of his superior learning that Salmasius was selected by the adherents of Charles, but that some of his previous writings on matters connected with the church and the sects, had produced much effect in England.' Dissertatio de episcopis et presbyteris multum juverat optime sentientes (in Britannia) in abrogando jure Episcoporum, quod multi ex proceribus, et viris primariis ultro cum gratiarum actione testati sunt:' and it appears that he was in the habit of being consulted on ecclesiastical affairs by the persons of rank and influence in England,' Consilium Salmasii stepius per deputationes implorarunt regni proceres.' 95 Dr. Symmons has allowed the skill and eloquence displayed in the work of Salmasius, vide Life, p. 356, and has shown how much Burke was indebted to it. In that strange rambling work, T. Hollis's Memoirs, there is an engraving by Cipriani, representing Milton's head on a terminus, on which is a medallion suspended inclosing the portrait of Salmasius; this was a print emblematical of Milton's victory, v. p. 383. LIFE OF MILTON. lv of the kingdom resides, and who is answerable to God alone. Milton asserted the undisputed sovereignty of the people. This he terms agreeable to the laws of God, and of nature. That by the laws of God, by those of nations, and by the municipal laws of our own country, a king of England may be brought to trial and to death; that the laws of God do in this exactly agree with the laws of nature: and that this is a settled maxim of the law of nature never to be shaken, that the senate and the people are superior to kings; and that if asked by what law, by what right or justice, the king was dethroned, the answer is, by that law which God and nature have created; that whatever things are for the universal good of the whole state, are for that reason lawful and just; and that a people obliged by an oath is discharged of that obligation, when a lawful prince becomes a tyrant, or gives himself over to sloth and voluptuousness. The rule ofjustice, the very law of nature dispenses with such a people's allegiance. That these doctrines have been always acknowledged by the common consent of mankind, he endeavours to prove from the history of ancient nations. Thus the kings of the Jews were subject to the very same laws as the people. He traces a similar belief through Egypt and Persia, through the Grecian history, and the annals of the Roman empire. He alleges the authority of the ancient Scriptures, the gospel, and the fathers. He then finds his doctrine supported by the usage and constitution of our government from the period of the British history, through the Saxon and Norman times, and traces the supreme power of the legislative assembly to the reign of Charles. Such is a faint outline of his argument; in this work he openly accuses Buckingham of lvi LIFE OF MILTON. having poisoned King James, and afterwards even makes a bolder assertion, that Charles was accessory to the crime. The first reply to Milton's Defensio Populi96 was published in 1651. Milton, who assisted his nephew Philips in the answer, was willing to consider it as the production of that distinguished prelate, Bramhall, whom he treats with the same coarseness of sarcasm, and violence of invective which had been employed against Salmasius, imputing to him the greatest excesses, and the practice of the most degrading vices. Bramhall97 had disowned the writing imputed to him, but the real author was not discovered till the industry of Mr. Todd brought the secret to light. He proves to be one John Rowland, and calls himself' Pastor Ecclesiae particularis.' In this tract the accusation of the death of James the First by poison is repeated. Next year appeared' Regii Sanguinis clamor ad coelum;' this work was written by Peter du Moulin, a Frenchman, afterwards Prebendary of Canterbury, but A. More, who had the care of the publication, was treated by Milton as the real author. The mistake was afterwards discovered, but Milton had exhausted his invective against More, and suffered Du Moulin to escape. Alexander More was a Scotchman by birth, settled in France, and was the son of the principal of the Protestant Col96 In the original editions of the Defensio Populi, and Defensio Secunda, the name of the author is printed Joannis MiltonI, i. e. Miltonii; he therefore differed from those who would render the English termination' on,' by'onus' in Latin. 97 See extract from Bishop Bramhall's Letter to his son, May, 1654.' That silly book, which he ascribes to me, was written by one John Rowland, who since hath replied upon him. I never read a word either of the first book or the reply in my life.' v. Todd's Life, p. 83. LIFE OF MILTON. lvii lege of Castres in Languedoc. He was a person of talent and learning, but more eminently distinguished as a brilliant though eccentric preacher. It was an unfortunate hour for him when he threw the shield of his name to protect Du Moulin's writings, for More's personal character was open to remark. He had, it appears, entered into a love-intrigue at Leyden, with an English girl, who is called Pontia, and who was waitingmaid to the wife of Salmasius.9 This occasioned much domestic dispute and jealousy in the house of the learned professor, and became the subject of raillery in the correspondence of the friends of Salmasius. It appears, also, that a similar adventure with a servant maid, of the name of Claudia Peletta, with whom More is accused of intriguing before and after her marriage, was the occasion of his leaving Geneva; and a third amour, with a young female domestic of the name of Tibaltiana, is also mentioned. Milton did not spare his enemy on the side where he was so much exposed; and More shrunk from the bitter storm of invec98 The wife of Salmasius was a great shrew, but she had a high opinion of her husband. I1 se laissoit dominer par une femme hautaine et chagrine, qui se vantoit d'avoir pour mar, mais non pour maitre'le plus savant de tous les nobles, et le plus noble de tous les savans.' V. Huetiena, p. x. The 88th Letter of Sarravius opens a curious domestic picture of Salmasius's family. He had, it appears, applied to Sarravius to procure him some maid-servants, and his friend fairly answers him.'Timeo ne itineris difficultates, cum uxors tuce moribus multas deterreant.' Salmasius was presented with the order of St. Michael by Louis XIII., hence Milton calls him'Eques.'-The biographers of Milton have taken their account of Salmasius chiefly from N. Heinsius, without keeping in mind that Heinsius was his bitter and implacable enemy. Not wishing to give offence, still I must say, that not one of those who have written on this controversy, seems to me to be really acquainted with the works or character of Salmasius. See also N. Heinsii Poem. Lat. 152, 165. VOL. I. 6 lviii LIFE OF MILTON. tive, sarcasm, and irony, that his indignant antagonist poured on all sides upon him.99 The' Second Defence' is one of the most interesting of Milton's writings. Johnson has quoted from it the eloquent eulogy on Cromwell: the character of Bradshaw is drawn with all the skill and power of Clarendon, and presents a noble portrait of the intrepid regicide; and the address to Fairfax has for ever exalted the character, and dignified the retirement of that illustrious soldier. I shall add Milton's commemoration of other names, not less celebrated in the history of that eventful time.'First you, Fleetwood, whom I have known to have been always the same in the humanity, gentleness, and benignity of your disposition, from the time you first entered on the profession of a soldier, to your obtainment of those military honours, the next only to the first, and whom the enemy has found of dauntless valour, but the mildest of conquerors; and you, Lambert, who, when a young man, at the head of a mere handful of men, checked the progress of the Duke of Hamilton, attended with the power and strength of the Scottish youth, and kept him at check; you, Desborrow, and you, Whalley, whom, whenever I heard or read of the fiercest battles of this war, I always expected and found among the thickest of the enemy; you, Overton, who have been connected with me for these many years, in a more than brotherly union, by similitude of studies, 99 In Sarravii Epistolsm are many addressed with respect and esteem to Al. More. He seems not to have been permanently injured by Milton's attack, and he would hardly be recognized as the same person in the party-statement of Milton, and the impartial life by Bayle. A copy of Latin verses by A. More, addressed to N. Heinsius, is in the Adoptivorum Carmina, p. 19. LIFE OF MILTON. lix and by the sweetness of your manners. In that memorable battle of Marston Moor, when our left wing was routed, the chief officers looking back in their flight beheld you keeping your ground with your infantry, and repelling the attacks of the enemy amid heaps of slain on both sides; and afterwards in the war in Scotland, no sooner were the shores of Fife occupied, under the auspices of Cromwell, with your troops, and the way opened beyond Stirling, than both the western and the northern Scots acknowledged you for the humanest of enemies, and the farthest Orcades for their civilizing conqueror. I will yet add some, whom, as distinguished for the robe and arts of peace, you have nominated as your counsellors, and who are known to me either by friendship or reputation. Whitlocke, Pickering, Strickland, Sydenham, and Sydney' (an illustrious name which I rejoice has steadily adhered to our side), Montague, Lawrence, both men of the first capacity, and polished by liberal studies, besides numberless other citizens, distinguished for their rare merits, some for their former senatorial exertions, others for their military services.' A splendid eulogium rewarded 1 SYDNEIO SACRUM. There is a time when gentlest-thoughts are ours, When like one long and Summer day of ease, We wear on month, and month, and as may please The chimings of the fancy, in our bowers Disport, or through the wood-paths, wild with flowers, Roam in the heart's glad pastime; whether the breeze Be heard at morn, or mid the noonday trees Repose, or night light up her starry towers. And there too is a time for other mood, When we must dwell among the walks of men, With eye of loftiest aspect, fortitude, And sternness on our front; and wearing then That mighty sword, which Sydney unsubdued Wore at his side, though in the tyrant's den. Benhall, 1831. J. M. lx LIFE OF MILTON. the virgin Queen of the north, the daughter of Adolphus, for the praise she was reported to have given to Milton's defence, and the magnanimity which led her to read and even to applaud what seemed written against her own right and dignity.2 Flushed with his victory, and proud of the great reputation which he had acquired, Milton opened his second defence with a triumphant anticipation of the sentence that would be passed on it:' He now,' he says,'feels himself not in the forum, or on the rostrum, surrounded by a single people only, whether Roman or Athenian, but as it were by listening Europe, confiding and passing judg. ment. He addresses himself to all sittings and assemblies, wherever are to be found men of the highest authority, wherever there are cities and nations. He imagines himself set out on his travels, that he beholds from on high tracts beyond the seas, and wide extended regions, that he beholds countenances strange and numberless, and all in feelings of mind, his closest friends and neighbours. Wherever there are natures free, ingenuous, magnanimous, either they are prudently concealed or openly professed. Some favour in silence, others give their suffrages in public. Some hasten to receive me with shouts of applause, others, in fine, vanquished by truth, surrender themselves captive. Encompassed by 21 would wish to remove the impression, if such exists, that Salmasius entered into this controversy as an advocate of the regal rights, from interested motives, without a conviction of the justice of his cause. The death, if not the dethronement of Charles, excited great horror and indignation in other nations; with what feelings Salmasius came to his task, may be judged by the language which N. Heinsius uses on this subject, see his Poemata, Eleg. Lib. ii. 4, p. 43, iii. 1, p. 64, 8, p. 79, x. p. 82. Sylv. Lib. iii. p. 192.'Amtiphata dignus Rege Britannus erat. LIFE OF MILTON. lxi such countless multitudes, it seems to me, that from the columns of Hercules, to the farthest borders of India, that, throughout this vast expanse, I am bringing back, bringing home to every nation liberty, so long driven out, so long an exile; and, as is recorded of Triptolemus of old, that I am importing fruits for the nations from my own city, but of a far pobler kind than those fruits of Ceres. That I am spreading abroad among the cities, the kingdoms, and nations, the restored culture of civility and freedom of life.' He had been reproached by his adversaries with his blindness; and his answer to the charge can be read by no. one without high admiration of the magnanimity of his mind, and the strength of his piety. To be blind, he says, is not miserable, but not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable indeed. He calls God to witness, the searcher of the inmost spirit, and of every thought, that he is unconscious of any thing, (though he has visited all the recesses of his heart) of any crime, the heinousness of which could have justly called down this calamity upon him above others. That he has written nothing which he was not persuaded at the time, and is still persuaded, was right and true and pleasing to God. And this, without being moved by ambition, by lucre, or by glory, but solely by a sense of duty, of grace, and of devotion to his, country. Then let the slanderers (he says) of the judgments of God cease their revilings. Let them desist from their dreamy forgeries concerning me. Let them know that I neither repine at, nor repent me of my lot: that I remain fixed, immovable in my opinion: that I neither believe, nor have found that God is angry: nay, that in things of lxii LIFE OF MILTON. the greatest moment, I have experienced, and acknowledge his mercy, and his paternal goodness towards me. That above all in regard of this calamity, I acquiesce in his divine will, for it is he himself who comforts and upholds my spirit, being evermore mindful of what he shall bestow upon me, than of what he shall deny me. Besides how many things are there which I should choose not to see? How many which I might be unwilling to see; and how few remaining things are there which I should desire to see. Neither am I concerned at being classed, though you think this a miserable thing, with the blind, with the afflicted, with the miserable, with the weak. Since there is a hope that, on this account, I have a nearer claim to the mercy and protection of the sovereign Father. There is a way, and the Apostle is my authority, through weakness to the greatest strength. May I be one of the weakest, provided only in my weakness, that immortal and better vigour be put forth with greater effect: provided only in my darkness the light of the divine countenance does but more brightly shine; for then I shall at once be the weakest and most mighty; shall be at once blind, and of the most piercing sight. Thus, through this infirmity should I be consummated, perfected. Thus, through this darkness should I be enrobed with light. And, in truth, we who are blind, are not the last regarded by the providence of God; who, as we are incapable to discern any thing but himself, beholds us with the greater clemency and benignity. Woe be to him who makes a mock of us. Woe be to him who injures us; he deserves to be devoted to the public curse. The divine law, the divine favour has made us not merely secure, but, as it were, sacred from the injuries of men; nor would LIFE OF MILTON. lxiii have seemed to have brought the darkness upon us, so much by inducing a dimness of the eyes, as by the overshadowing of heavenly wings. Besides, as I am not grown torpid by indolence, since my eyes have deserted me, but am still active, still ready to advance among the foremost to the most arduous struggles for liberty; I am not therefore deserted by men even of the first rank in the state. Thus, while I can derive consolation in my blindness both from God and man, let no one be troubled that I have lost my eyes in an honourable cause: and far be it from me to be troubled at it; far be it from me to possess so little spirit as not to be able without difficulty to despise the revilers of my blindness, or so little placability as not to be able with still less difficulty to forgive them.' The treatise, after a succession of passages of great eloquence and animation, ends with an earnest and solemn address to the people of England to prove themselves worthy of the victory they have gained, and the position they have secured. He warns them to derive their liberty not from arms, but from piety, justice, temperance; in fine, from real virtue, not to make war alone their virtue, or highest glory, or to neglect the arts of peace. To banish avarice, ambition, luxury, and all excess from their thoughts; such is the warfare of peace. Victories hard, it is true, but blameless, more glorious far than the warlike or the bloody.'As for myself,' he says (speaking with something of a prophetic sorrow),'to whatever state things may return, I have performed, and certainly with good will, I hope not in vain, the service which I thought would be of most use to the commonwealth. It is not before our doors alone that I have borne my arms in defence of liberty. I have wielded them in a field so wide 1xiv LIFE OF MILTON. that the justice and reason of those which are no vulgar deeds, shall be explained and vindicated alike to foreign natures and our own countrymen. If after achievements so magnanimous, ye barely fall from your duty, if ye are guilty of any thing unworthy of you, be assured, posterity will speak, and thus pronounce its judgment. The foundation was strongly laid. The beginning, nay, more than the beginning, was excellent, but it will be inquired, not without a disturbed emotion, who raised the superstructure, who completed the fabric? To undertakings so grand, to virtues so noble, it will be a subject of grief that perseverance was wanting. It will be seen that the harvest of glory was abundant; but that men were not to be found for the work. Yet that there was not wanting one who could give good counsel, who could exhort, encourage; who could adorn and celebrate in immortal praises the transcendent deeds, and those who performed them.' Another piece, in which he defends himself personally against S3ore, and repeats his accusations, is all which is necessary to notice in this remarkable controversy.3 Milton was now removed by an order of council from his lodgings at Whitehall,4 and took a garden house in Petty France, in Westminster, opening into St. James's Park: in this house he 3 In noticing Milton's mistake in the use of the word'Vapulandus,' Johnson has observed that Ker, and some one bebfre him had remarked it. This person was Vavassor. de Epig. cxxii. p. 144. See Crenii Animad. Philolog. 12mo, p. 77.'Illud mirum pariter et festivumn quod is quo loco et quibus plane verbis attribuit Salmasio solecismos, iisdem ipse solkecismum, aut solecismo flagitium non minus admittat.' 4 Previously to his going to live in Scotland Yard, Whitehall, Milton lodged at one Thomson's, next door to the Bull Head Tavern, Charing Cross. See Birch's Life, p. xxxviii. In Scotland Yard his infant son died. LIFE OF MILTON. lxv continued till within a few weeks of the Restoration. In 1651 he was suffering under the approach of total blindness. He had lost the entire use of one eye: and his nephew, Edward Philips, was supposed to have greatly assisted him in the affairs of secretary. In 1652 his sight was totally gone.4 His enemies, as we have seen, considered his blindness as a judgment for writing against the king; and one of the prebendaries of Exeter reproached him, even from the pulpit, with the severe visitation. But he himself more truly accounted for the affliction by the wearisome labours and studious watchings wherein he spent, and almost tired out, a whole youth. His letter to his Athenian friend, Leonard Phileras, gives an account of the gradual approach of the disease; Philips says that Milton was always tampering with physic: to which he attributes the loss of his sight, as well as to his continual studies, and the headaches to which he had been subject from his youth. It is supposed that in 1653 Milton lost his first wife, who died in childbed, leaving him three daughters. He remained a widower for three years, when he was again united in marriage to a daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney. She also died within a year after her marriage, in the same manner; and in one of his sonnets he has paid an affectionate tribute to her memory. Soon 4 His eyesight was decaying about twenty years before his death. His father read without spectacles till eighty-four. His mother had very weak eyes, and used spectacles presently after she was thirty years old. Aubrey Lett. iii. p. 449. He lost the use of his left eye in 1651: and it is supposed, of the other, in 1654. See Todd's Life (1st ed.), p. 85, but the period of the complete affliction is not known with exactness. lxvi LIFE OF MILTON. after this event, he retired from his office of secretary 5 on an allowance for life, of one hundred and fifty pounds a year. His name does not again occur in the books of the council of state; his friend Andrew Marvell had been associated with him. As we are now arrived at the close of Milton's public life, it may be as well for a moment to look back, and recollect the system upon which he asserts his political career to have been conducted, and the end to which his writings were directed. He says, when the outcry against the bishops commenced, and the model of our reformed church was to its disadvantage compared to others, he saw that a way was opening for the establishment of real liberty. That he perceived there were three species of liberty essential to the happiness of social life-religious, domestic, and civil. To promote the first, he wrote his Treatise on Reformation, &c.; and as he saw that the magistrates were active in obtaining the third, he therefore turned his attention to the second, or domestic. This included three material questions, first, the conduct of the conjugal tie; secondly, the education of children; and, thirdly, the free 6 But see Mr. Todd's Life (ed. 2), p. 158, who says some official documents were written by him after 1655. The last payment of his salary was Oct. 22, 1659, when he was sequestered from the office. 6 "His familiar learned acquaintance were A. Marvell, Lawrence, Needham, Hartlib, Mr. Skinner, Dr. Paget, M. D. Mr. Skinner was his disciple.-His widow assures me that Mr. Hobbes was not one of his acquaintance. That her husband did not like him at all; but he would acknowledge him to be a man of great parts, and a learned man." Aubrey Lett. iii. 444. He had no intimacy with Cromwell, nor with those in power. He tells Heimbach that he cannot serve him, "Propter paucissimas familiaritates meas cum gratiosis." Ep. Fam. Dec. 18, 1657. LIFE OF MILTON. lxvii publication of the thoughts. These questions were severally considered by him in his Treatise on Divorce, his Tractate on Education, and his Areopagitica, or Liberty of unlicensed printing. With regard to civil affairs, he left them in the hands of the magistrates, till it became necessary to vindicate the right of lawfully dethroning, or destroying tyrants (without any immediate or personal application to Charles), against the doctrine of the presbyterian ministers. Such were the fruits of his private studies, which he had gratuitously presented to church and state, and for which he was recompensed by nothing but impunity. Though the actions themselves (he says) procured me peace of conscience, and the approbation of the good; while I exercised that freedom of discussion which I loved. Disencumbered of the duties of secretary, disgusted with the treachery of parties, and the failure of his fondest wishes, Milton at length retreated from the changes and turbulence of the times, and had now leisure to resume the great works which he had long destined for his future employment. He commenced a history of his native country, a dictionary of the Latin language,7 more copious and correct than that of Stephens; he framed a body of divinity out of the Bible; and, lastly, he sketched the first outlines of his immortal poem. For the subject of 7 These collections consisted of three large volumes in folio. They were much discomposed and deficient, but were used by the editors of the Camb. Dict. in 1693, 4to. See the Pref. to Ainsworth's Lat. Thesaurus. It was said that Philips was the last possessor of these collections. I have an extract from a bookseller's catalogue by me-Dictionary, Latin and English, compiled from the works of Stephens, Cooper, Littelton, a large MS. in three volumes, of Mr. John Milton, 15s. 4to. lxviii LIFE OF MILTON. his epic poem, says Johnson, after much deliberation, long choosing, and beginning late, he fixed upon Paradise Lost, a design so comprehensive, that it could be justified only by success. He had once meant to celebrate the exploits of K. Arthur, as he has hinted in his Verses, " but," says Toland, " this particular subject was reserved for the celebrated pen of Sir Richard Blackmore." Amidst the prosecution of these great and laborious designs, he found time during the year 1659 for some humbler occupations. He edited some manuscript treatises of Sir Walter Raleigh. He published the foreign correspondence of the English parliament and of Cromwell; he wrote (against the Presbyterians) his " Considerations to remove hirelings out of the Church;" and, alarmed at the prospect of a returning monarchy, he printed his " Ready and easy way to establish a free Commonwealth." What he speaks, he says, is the language of that which is not called amiss-" the good old cause." It appears, from a passage in this treatise, that commerce had much languished during the civil wars and usurpation; and that the trading community were all anxious for the return of a luxurious court, and the assistance of regal prodigality. When the restoration of the king proved all his wishes fruitless, Milton withdrew to a friend's house in Bartholomew Close. This temporary concealment seems to have been necessary to his safety, for a particular prosecution was directed against him. It is mentioned by his biographers that a mock 8 8 This circumstance was first related by T. Warton, on the authority of Tyers: see his ed. of Milton, p. 308, and by Cunningham in his Hist. of G. Britain. 1. p. 14. LIFE OF MILTON. lxix funeral was made for him, and that when matters were arranged, the careless and merry monarch laughed at the imposition. It was however ordered that his'Iconoclastes' and'Defensio pro Populo Anglicano' should be burned by the common hangman, and that the attorney general should proceed against them by irdictment, or otherwise. Of the proscribed books several copies on the 27th of August9 were committed to the flames. Within three days after this, the act of indemnity passed, and he was relieved from the necessity of further concealment. When subsequently he was in the custody of the serjeant at arms, it is supposed that his pardon was obtained by the intervention of some powerful friends.l0 Whether the story of Davenant's assistance is authentic, I am not able to say. The house on the 13th of December ordered his release: but how long he remained in custody is not known. Richardson says, that he lived in perpetual terror of being assassinated. It has been asserted, that Milton was offered the place of Latin secretary to the king, an offer that it is obvious, he could not in honour or conscience accept, and that on 9 In 1683 twenty-seven propositions from the writings of Milton, Hobbes, Buchanan, &c. were burnt at Oxford, as destructive to Church and State. This transaction is celebrated in Musae Anglicanae, called Decretum Oxoniense, vol. iii. p. 180. Si similis quicunque haec scripserit auctor, Fato succubuisset, eodemque arserit igne: In media videas flamma crepitante cremari Miltonlm, coelo terrisque inamabile nomen. 10 The most copious account of the circumstances attending Milton's pardon are in Richardson's Life, p. 86, &c. communicated by Pope; who is also the authority for the assertion that Milton was offered the place of Latin secretary to the king. lxx LIFE OF MILTON. his wife pressing his compliance, he said,'Thou art in the right, you as other women, would ride in your coach; for me, my aim is to live and die an honest man. In 1661 he published his'Accidence commenced Grammar,' bending his great and comprehensive mind to the construction of those humbler works which he considered of advantage to education. He lived for a short time in Holborn, near Red Lion Street, but soon removed to Jewin Street, by Aldersgate. In 1664, the year previous to the great sickness, he married his third wife, Elizabeth Minshull, of a genteel family in Cheshire, a relation of his particular friend Dr. Paget.l Mr. Todd considers it worthy of observation, that Milton chose his three wives out of the virgin state; while Sheffield duke of Buckingham selected his three from that of widowhood: but what inference the learned biographer would draw from their respective choices, is, from an entire ignorance on these subjects, to me unknown. Sheffield was probably looking out for a splendid jointure, and Milton for a gentle, virtuous, and attached companion. From some cause, of course too trifling to be known to us, probably from the numerous fluctuations of his fortune, Milton seems to have 11 The poet's widow died at Nantwich, in Cheshire, in 1727, having survived her husband fifty-two years; her funeral sermon, preached by the Rev. I. Kember, is published.'I remember,' says Dr. Newton,' to have heard from a gentleman who had seen his widow in Cheshire, that she had hair of this colour (golden tresses): it is more probable that he intended a compliment to his wife in the drawing of Eve, as he drew the portrait of Adam not without regard to his own person, of which he had no mean opinion.' v. P. L. iv. 305. the Aubrey MSS. say, she was a genteel person, a peaceful and agreeable humour. v. Vol. iii. p. 442. LIFE OF MILTON. lxxi been extremely unsettled in his choice of a residence. Soon after his marriage he lodged with Millington, the famous book auctioneer, a man of remarkable elocution, wit, sense, and modesty. Richardson says, that Millington was accustomed to lead his venerable inmate by the hand, when he walked the streets; the person who acquainted Richardson with this fact, had often met Milton abroad with his conductor and host. He again removed to a small house in Artillery Walk, leading to Bunhill-fields, which, Philips says, was his last stage in this world, but it was of many years' continuance, more perhaps than he had had in any other place besides. The plague had now begun to rage in London, and his young friend, Elwood the Quaker, found a shelter for him at Chalfontl2 in Buckinghamshire.'It was on a visit at this place, that after some common discourses, says Elwood, had passed between us, he called for a MS. of his, which, being brought, he delivered to me, bidding me take it home with me, and read it at my leisure: and when I had so done, return it to him with my judgment thereupon. When I came home, and set myself to read it, I found that it was that excellent Poem, which he entitled Paradise Lost.' From this account it appears that Paradise Lost was complete in 1665, and Aubrey represents it 12 See an engraving of this house in Dunster's edition of Paradise Regained, and an account in Todd's Life of Milton, p. 272. I possess a drawing of it made about five years since, by which it appears, that a small part of it has been taken down and altered. Elwood calls it a pretty box. Milton is supposed to have resided there from the summer of 1665, to the March or April of the following year. It appears that the plague reached even Chalfont, as may be seen by the Register in 1665. lxxii LIFE OF MILTON. as finished about three years after the king's restoration. Milton describes himself as long choosing and beginning late the subject of his Poem, and when that was selected, it was at first wrought into a dramatic form, like some of the ancient mysteries. There were two plans of the tragedy, both of which are preserved among the manuscripts in Trinity College, Cambridge; and which were printed, I believe, for the first time in Dr. Birch's Narrative of the Poet's Life.l3 Such were the early and imperfect rudiments of Paradise Lost; the slender materials which he possessed in the story, and the splendid superstruction which he raised upon it, may remind us of the passage, in which he has thrown over the simple language of the ancient prophets, a magnificent description of his own creation.4 Isaiah had said,'that Lucifer sate upon the mount of the congregation, on the sides of the north.' The key-note was struck on the chords of the Hebrew lyre, and Milton instantly built up a palace for the fallen angel, equal in brilliancy and splendour to the castles of Romance. He piled up its pinnacles from diamond quarries; and hewed its towers out of rocks of gold.'At length into the limits of the north They came, and Satan to his royal seat, High on a hill, far blazing, as a mount Rais'd on a mount, with pyramids and towers, From diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold. The palace of great Lucifer, so call That structure in the dialect of men Interpreted; which not long after he Affecting all equality with God, In imitation of that mount, whereon 13 See p. xlviii. of his Life. 14 See T. Warton's Milton, p. 238. LIFE OF MILTON. lxxiii Messiah was declared in sight of heaven, The mountain of the congregation call'd,' &c. How small the spark that could kindle into a poetical flame in Milton's mind! how quick the apprehension that seized the slightest hint! and how rich and fertile the genius to improve what it possessed! Callimachus had (Hymn. Del. 292) mentioned three Hyperborean nymphs, who sent fruits to Apollo in Delos. The word' Hyperborean' was sufficient. Instantly Milton converts them into British goddesses, and clothes them in a Pictish dress. Selden had mentioned that Apollo was worshipped in Britain; Milton on those hints joins them to the Druids:' Hinc quoties festo cingunt altaria cantu Delo in herbosa Graie de more puelkl Carminibus letis memorant CorinSida Loxo, Fatidicamque Upin, cum flavicoma Hecaerge Nuda Caledonio variatas pectora fuco.' v. ]Ianzsus, ver. 45. What extent of time was passed in the composition of this great work is not with exactness known. Mr. Capel Lofft thinks that Milton began this poem in his forty-eighth year,* and finished it in his fifty-seventh. Philips says that he had the perusal of it from the very beginning, for some years, in parcels of ten, twenty, or thirty verses at a time; and that his vein never happily flowed but from the autumnal equinox to the vernal, so that in all the years he was about the poem, he may be said to have spent about half his time * v. Preface to Lofft's Milton, p. xxviii. The Aubrey Letters (vol. iii. p. 447).'His verse began at the autumnal equinoctial, and ceased at the vernal, or thereabouts (I believe about May); and this was four or five years of his doing it. He began about two years before the king came in, and finished about three years after the king's restoration.' VOL. I. 7 lxxiv LIFE OF MILTON. therein. Toland imagines 15 that Philips was mistaken with regard to the time, since Milton declared in his Latin elegy that his poetic talent returned with the spring.'Fallor? an et nobis redeunt in carmina vires Ingeniumque mihi munere veris adest.' A friend of Milton's also informed Toland that 3Milton could never compose well but in the spring and autumn. He then poured out with great ease and fluency his unpremeditated verses. Dr. Johnson says, that there are no other internal notes of the time when the poem was written but the mention of the loss of his sight in the beginning of the third book, and of the return of the King in the introduction to the seventh. Some difficulty was experienced in obtaining a license; 1 and objections were made to particular passages, especially to the simile of the sun eclipsed in the first book. But it was at length granted, and he sold his copy to Samuel Simmons, April 27, 1667, for an immediate payment of five pounds, with a stipulation to receive five pounds more when thirteen hundred of the first edition should be sold. Again five pounds after the sale of the same number of the second edition, and another live pounds after the same sale of the third. None of the three editions were to be extended 15 Birch's Life, p. lvi. 16 Mr. Tomkins, chaplain to Archbishop Sheldon, was licenser. The office of licenser, abolished by Cromwell, was restored by act of parliament in 1662. The press was placed, with reference to its different productions, under the judges, the officers of state, and the archbishop of Canterbury. Poetry fell within the province of the latter. v. Symmons's Life, p. 521. Mr. C. Lofft says,' That no manuscript of the Paradise Lost has been discovered, except that of the first book copied for the press, with the imprimatur of the archbishop's chaplain, but where this is to be seen is not mentioned.' See Lofft's Pref. to Milton, p. i. and Newton's Pref. p. liv. LIFE OF MILTON. lxXV beyond fifteen hundred copies. The first edition was of the poem in ten books, in small quarto, which were advertised plainly and neatly bound, at the price of three shillings. The titles were varied in order to circulate the edition in 1667,17 1668, 1669. Of these there were no less than five. An advertisement and the arguments of the books were omitted in some copies, and inserted in others; and from variations in the text, it would appear that single pages were cancelled and reprinted. The sale gave him in two years a right to his second payment; for which the receipt was signed April 26, 1669. The second edition was not given till 1674, and was printed in small octavo, and the number of books was increased to twelve, by a division of the seventh and twelfth, with the introduction of a few connecting lines. He did not live 1s to receive the payment stipulated for this im17 See Introduction to Pickering's edition p.. xii. and Todd's Life (first ed.) p. 190, for an account of the variations in the poem and titles. Mr. Lofft observes that 1667 was a great year in the annals of our history; for not only was Paradise Lost published, but there was a' Statute passed for the employment of poor prisoners,' and a' great step made in the art of dressing wool,' p. xxiv. Of the effect of these different circumstances towards establishing the name and character which Britain holds among the nations, it is difficult to form an idea of any degree of proportionate extent; an adequate is impossible. It opens a vast arena in the boundless space of human perfectibility. v. Remarks by Tench Coxe. These clustering radiations of moral light may unite mankind to the intelligence of other systems unnumbered and unimagined;' which circumstance, if it come to pass, will open new markets for the wool trade, and be of great advantage to the publishers of Paradise Lost.-' Go thv ways, Capel, the flower and quintessence of all editors.' 18 For an account of the editions, see C. Lofft's Preface, p. xxxv. lxi. and Todd's Life, p. 189-217. The number of lines in Paradise Lost amount to 10,565. Dr. Symmons says that Milton lived to receive the whole fifteen pounds for which he had stipulated; but see Todd's Life (first ed.) lxxvi LIFE OF MILTON. pression. The third edition was published in 1678, and his widow agreed with Simmons the printer to receive eight pounds as her right, and gave him a general release, dated April 29, 1681. Simmons covenanted to transfer the right for twentyfive pounds to Brabazen Aylmer, a bookseller, and Aylmer sold to Jacob Tonson half of it, August 17, 1683, and the other half March 24, 1690, at a price considerably advanced. The sale, Johnson says, will justify the public: the call for books in Milton's age was not great. The nation had been satisfied from 1623 to 1664 with only two editions of the works of Shakespeare, which probably together did not make a thousand copies.l9 The sale of thirteen hundred copies in two years was an uncommon example of the prevalence of genius. Yet the demand did not immediately increase, for in eleven years only three thousand were sold: but the reputation and price of the copy still advanced;' till the revolution put an end to the secrecy of love, and Paradise Lost broke into open view with sufficient security of kind reception. Though the poem of Milton was above 20 the age p. 109. Concerning the plagiarisms of Callender (who published the first book of Milton, 1750) from the Commentary of Patrick Hume, 1695, see Blackwood's Mag. No. xxiv. p. 659. 19 Johnson, however, should have remembered that large impressions of Shakespeare's Plays were always attainable, in a separate and more commodious form, in 4to. 20 The poets, contemporary with Milton, were Waller, Suckling, Crashaw, Denham, Lovelace, Cowley, Brome, Sherborne, Fanshaw, Davenant, besides those of inferior note. " Never any poet left a greater reputation behind him, than Mr. Cowley, while Milton remained obscure, and known but to few, but your grace knows very well that the great reputation of Cowley did not continue half a century, and that Milton's is now on the pinnacle of the temple of fame." Dennis's Letters Familiar, &c. p. 207. LIFE OF MILTON. lxxvii on which it was bestowed (for such greatness of invention, such harmony of numbers, and such majesty of style had not then been seen united); yet admirers among men of learning and genius it undoubtedly had. Andrew IMarvell and Barrow, the physician,2' wrote some manly and spirited verses in its praise. Dryden's lines of commendation are known to all; 22 and praise in other books by authors of lower fame, has been discovered by the diligence of the commentators. In 1688,23 the handsome folio edition was published under the patronage of Lord Somers, and with the assistance of Atterbury24 and Dryden; in 1682, it was translated into Dutch, and into Latin in 1685, and ten years after, it appeared with a very curious and learned commentary by Patrick Hume. I shall here take the opportunity of men21 The following couplet in Marvell has wonderfully puzzled the commentators:'I too transported by the mode offend, And while I meant to praise thee, must commend.' See Lofft's Milton, p. xlvi. lii. where' most commend,''miscommend,''but commend,' are offered; whereas the sense is perfectly clear.' While I meant to praise thee, must commend; i. e. must, for the sake of the rhymne, use the word commend,' instead of' praise,' which is the word I should otherwise have used. Even Bentley, in a MS. note in my copy, has erased' must, and written' most.' 22 Dryden owned to Dennis,' that when he adapted his state of innocence from Milton, he knew not half the extent of Milton's excellence.' v. Dennis's Letters, floral and Critical, 1721, p. 75. 23 See Todd's Life, p. 198-202: there were five hundred and thirty subscribers. See a list of the most eminent of them in Lofft's Milton, p. xlix. 24 Atterbury said,' that he prepared the edition of Milton, usually called Lord Somers's-from a MS. note of his in an edition of Milton out of the library of Warburton.' v. Atterbury's Works, iv. p. 164. lxxviii LIFE OF MILTON. tioning the volumes published by Lauder,' Auctorum Miltono facem pralucentium;' and of remarking (after having perused the poems which they contain) that little doubt can be entertained, but that Milton was acquainted with the Adamus Exsul of Grotius, and probably with the poetry of Ramsay and Masenius. Those who are curious on the subject may compare the poems of Ramsay with the description of the creation in the seventh book, and the drama of Grotius with the temptation in the ninth; and, if familiar with the language of Milton, they will find some resemblances; but the charge of plagiarism was unjust, and indeed absurd. Milton's immense reading extended over the whole field of literature, and in every direction; and it required all his learning, collected by painful study during the best years of his life, long deposited in his memory, and remoulded by his genius, to build up his immortal poem. Where is there an extensive work of established reputation to be found, that is not evidently the result of long study, and assiduous labours? Let us consider that his materials were a few verses in Genesis, and that the rest is created by his own imagination, supplied' by industrious and select reading.' Thus the tributary stores from poets of every age and country were poured into his mind; and they were always returned with augmented beauty and lustre.25 We may say of him, as a Roman critic said of Virgil;'et 25 Natalis Donadsei Poema Heroicum de Bello Christi. Messanve, 1614. Ven. 1616. Hoc vidit procul dubio in Italia Miltonus, nihil ex poesi sumturus, at aliquid ex argumento, prsesertim libri secundi in poema magnum ubi loquitur Satanas, sequentium in alterum.' v. W. S. Landori Poemata, p. 199. There is a Latin translation of a Tragedy of Beza's, by T. Iacomotus, called'Abram from Morea, or LIFE OF MILTON. lxxix judicio transferendi et modo imitandi consecutus est, ut quod apud ilium legerimus alienum, aut illius esse malimus, aut melius hic quam ubi natum est, sonare miremur.' 26 An anecdote had long been current, which originally came from Richardson, that Sir John Denham came into the House of Commons with a sheet of Paradise Lost, wet from the press, in his hand, and being asked what it was, replied,' Part of the noblest poem that was ever written in any age or language.'27 Such is the facility with which anecdotes that amuse or surprise, pass current from mouth to mouth, that they need but a slender foundation to ensure belief. On examination, it was discovered that Denham was never in Parliament; and consequently the whole story is an ingenious fiction. I shall conclude my remarks on the publication of the poem, by mentioning that in an original edition, belonging to some gentleman who communicated the fact to the public, some rhyming lines were written apparently by a female hand, with these words at the conclusion, dictated by J. M. Mr. Todd Isaac Redeemed,' A. D. 1597, which Milton is supposed to have seen. v. Hollis's Memoirs, p. 528. 26 v. Macrobii Saturn. lib. vi. c. 1. 27 I possess a curious book, called a New Version of Paradise Lost, or Milton paraphrased, in which the measure and versification are corrected and harmonized, the obscurities elucidated, and the faults removed, by a gentleman of Oxford (Mr. Green), in 1706. It is one of the most ludicrously absurd books that I ever read. He says that he has introduced a novelty in this version, by bracing those lines that read best together, in imitation of the trillets in rhyme. His notes are not less curious than the text. My copy belonged to some person as eccentric as the author, as appears by his MSS. notes in the margin. He has had the book lettered-" Milton travestied surely." lxxx LIFE OF MILTON. withholds his decision as to their authenticity, chiefly on account of the rhyme; but Doctor Symmons, a less cautious critic, has no doubt of their being the production of Milton. The subject is'Daybreak,' and a short extract will be sufficient to enable the admirers of Milton to form their opinion.'Whose pale-faced Regent, Cynthia, paler grows, To see herself pursued by conquering foes, Yet daring stays behind to guard the rear Of her black armies, whither without fear They may retreat, till her alternate course Bring her about again with rallied force. Hark! how the Lion's terror loud proclaims The gladsome tidings of day's gentle beams, And, long kept silence, breaking, rudely wakes The feather'd train, which soon their concert makes,' &c.27 Three years after Paradise Lost was given to the world, Milton published the History of England,28 comprising the tale of Geoffrey of Monmouth, continued only as far as the Norman invasion. The first copies were mutilated by the licenser, who expunged all the passages that reflected on the conduct of the long parliament, and 27 See Todd's Life, first ed. p. 91, for some lines called Lavinia walking in a frosty morning, p. 104; for a sonnet written at Chalfont, which the critics are willing to attribute to Milton. The epigram in Fenton's collection must have come from a very different inkstand. (Extempore on a Faggot, p. 286.) 28 Milton, in his History of England, seems to have used Spenser's Chronicle of the British Kings, as a kind of clue to direct him through so dark and perplexed a subject. He plainly copies Spenser's order and disposition, whom he quotes; and almost transcribes from him the story of Lear, of much however as the difference between prose and verse will admit. Milton's history is an admirable comment on this part of Spenser, which is taken from the first part of Hardyng's Chronicle. v. Warton on Spenser, ii. p. 242. LIFE OF MIILTON. lxxxi of the new church government; Toland has egregiously misrepresented the facts connected with this suppression. He called it an exposure of the superstition, pride, and cunning of the Popish monks in the Saxon times, and stated that it was suppressed by the licensers, because they thought what was said of the monks was meant to apply to Charles the Second's bishops, though it related solely to the republican assembly of divines; but, as the Bishop of Salisbury29 observes, Toland' very ill digested such an account of the liberty and religion of his favourite republic. Milton gave a copy of these remarks to the Earl of Anglesea, which were published in 1661, with a preface, and have since been inserted in their proper place. The six books which Milton executed appeared in 1670. Of the passages then suppressed, but since 1738 always accompanying the History, it appears that some learned persons have doubted the authenticity.30 This work has received, as is well known, the praise of Warburton, who said' It is written with great simplicity, contrary to, his custom in his prose writings, and is the better for it. But he sometimes rises into a surprising grandeur in the sentiments and expressions, as at the conclusion of the second book; I never saw any thing equal to this, but the conclusion of Sir 29 See' Protestant Union,' by T. Burgess, Bishop of Salisbury, p. xlii. Richardson says' the castrated part was a sort of digression, and was expunged to avoid giving offence to a party quite subdued, and whose faults the government was then willing to have forgotten.' See Life, p. xlvi. Mr. Hollis's biographer (Archd. Blackburne) is as unwilling as Toland to admit this passage in its real sense; and most absurdly turns it against the Popish clergy. v. Mem. p. 494. 30 See Todd's Life of Milton, p. 210; and Dibdin's Library Companion, p. 201 (1824). lxxxii LIFE OF MILTON. Walter Raleigh's History of the World.'31 The third book opens with a comparison drawn between the unsettled state of the Britons, after the desertion of the Romans, and the condition of the country under Cromwell and the Presbyterian government. The parallel is forced into its place by the indignation of the writer; and severely has he chastised the hypocrisy, the selfishness, the rapacity, the ignorance of the leaders, and the injustice and weakness of the government. lie follows up his first blow at the' statists,' by an equally powerful attack on the unprincipled greediness and baseness of the Presbyterian clergy,' who execute their places like children of the devil, unfaithfully, unjustly, unmercifully, and, where not corruptly, stupidly.' The whole passage is written with eloquence,-facit indignatio versum. In one part, he evidently alludes to himself,-' They who were ever faithfullest to their cause, and freely aided them in person and with their substance, when they durst not compel either, slighted and bereaved after their just debts, by greedy sequestrations, were tossed up and down after miserable attendance from one committee to another, with petitions in their hands, yet either missed the obtaining of their suit, or though it were at length granted (more shame and reason ofttimes extorting from them at least a show of justice), yet, by their sequestrators and subcommittees abroad, men for the most part of insatiable bounds and noted disloyalty, these orders were commonly disobeyed,' &c. This is part of the passage that was suppressed by the licenser in 1670, and was first separately printed in 1681. In 1671, Milton published Paradise Regained 31 See Birch's Life, p. lxviii. LIFE OF MILTON. lxxxiii and Samson Agonistes.3 The former poem he showed to his friend Elwood.'This,' said he,'is owing to you, fQr you put it into my head, by the questions you put to me at Chalfont, which otherwise I had not thought of.' When it was accounted inferior to the Paradise Lost, Philips says,'he could not hear with patience any such thing when related to him.' It appears to me, that these poems are so dissimilar in their structure and purpose, that no comparison can be usefully or justly instituted between them. That the Paradise Lost excels in variety of invention, in splendour of imagery, in magnificent thoughts and delineations, and in grandeur and sublimity of description, no doubt can be entertained; but the latter poem is finished with equal care, and as perfect in another style; the reasoning clear, the argument close and weighty, the expression most select and chosen, the versification harmonious, differing in structure from that of the former poem, but admirably in unison with the subject. The language, as in the poetry of Lucretius, always moves closely with the argument, and waits attentively upon it; plain and simple, where plain sense and simple sentiments only were required; while there are not wanting passages that, rising into the greatest beauty, and adorned with the richest fancy, it would be difficult to surpass even in Paradise Lost. There is a severe and noble beauty in the structure and expression of the dialogue, that has always appeared to me to have imbibed the spirit of the Grecian stage, as felt in the most perfect and finished of its productions; where the boldest conceptions, and the most re32 Langbaine observes, that Dryden has transferred several thoughts from Samson Agonistes to his Aurengzebe. See Dram. Poets, p. 157. 376. lxxxiv LIFE OF MILTON. fined beauties, are all seen in strict harmony with the progressive developement of the plan, all contributing to the necessary uniformity of impression, and all obedient to the control of the poetic mind that created them. That the name of this poem should differ so widely from its argument, and that Paradise should be regained by the temptation in the wilderness alone, I do not know, except from the peculiarity of Milton's religious opinions, how satisfactorily to explain.3 It is supposed that it was written while he was at Chalfont, though not published till five years after. Of the Samson Agonistes it must be observed, that the plot is not skilfully arranged, and that many of the lyrical measures are totally destitute of any intelligible rhythm, but it niust ever be considered as one of the noblest dramas in our language. Its moral sentiment, its pathetic feeling, its noble and dignified thoughts, its wise and weighty maxims, its severe religious contemplations, clothed in rich and select language, and adorned with metaphor and figure, give a surprising elevation to the whole. Warburton considered it'as a perfect piece, and as an imitation of the ancients, having, as it were, a certain gloominess intermixed with the sublime (the subject not very different, the fall of two heroes by a woman) which shows more serenely in his Paradise Lost.' It is creditable to the taste and judgment of Pope that he did not adopt Atterbury's suggestion of reviewing and polishing this piece. Samson would have been twice shorn of 83 See Niceron Mdm. des Hommes Ill. tom. x. p. ii. p. 110. It was the doctrine of Peter Lombard, and the old divines, that the immediate consequence of Christ's victory over the temptation in the wilderness, was the diminution of the spiritual power, and the previously allowed dominion of Satan on the earth. LIFE OF MILTON. lxXXV his locks, and sunk into a modern son of Israel; and Pope would have failed on the same ground, where his Master Dryden had fallen before him. To that multiplicity of attainments, and extent of comprehension (says Johnson), that entitled this great author to our veneration, may be added a kind of humble dignity which did not disdain the meanest service in literature. The epic poet, the controvertist, the politician, having already descended to accommodate children with a book of rudiments, now, in the last year of his life, composed a book of logic for the instruction of students in philosophy; and published'Artis Logica plenior institutio ad Petri Rami Methodom Concinnata.' Of this book there was a second edition called for in the following year: it has never been translated, and is the only production of Milton, that I confess I have never had the leisure or the curiosity to read. In 1673 his'Treatise of true Religion, Heresie, Schism, Toleration, and what best means may be used against the growth of Popery,' was published. His principle of toleration is agreement in the sufficiency of scripture: and he extends it to all who profess to derive their opinions from the sacred writings. The Papists, appealing to other testimonies, are not to be tolerated; for though they plead conscience,'we have no warrant, he says, to regard conscience, which is not founded on scripture.' He considers a diligent perusal of the Bible as the best preservative against the error of the Popish church, and he warns men of all professions, the countryman, the tradesman, the lawyer, the physician, the statesman, not to excuse themselves by their much business from the studious reading of the Bible. The object of Milton in this treatise was to form a lxxxvi LIFE OF MILTON.'general Protestant union' against the church of Rome, which he calls the'common adversary,' not by any compromise of the peculiar tenets of the Protestant sects, but by a liberal, and comprehensive toleration grounded on the principle of making the Bible the rule of faith.'Error, he says, is not heresy,' and he determines nothing to be heresy, but a wilful alienation from, or addition to the scriptures. God, he says, will assuredly pardon all sincere inquiries after truth, though mistaken in some points of doctrine; and speaking of the founders, or reviewers of such opinions in past times, he adds, that God having made no man infallible, hath pardoned their involuntary errors. Such, in the closing evening of his life, were the last thoughts of a pious, a learned, and a powerful mind, on a question connected with the preservation of true religion; a century and a half has closed, since this work was written against the'worst of superstitions, and the heaviest of God's judgments, Popery,' and it has lately been republished by a most eminent and learned Prelate, to exhibit the solidity of its arguments, and to prove the unimpeachable piety of the author. In 1673, the same year in which the abovenamed treatise appeared, Milton reprinted his juvenile poems, with additions, and some few corrections, accompanied with the Tractate on Education. That his Latin poems were not received with greater applause by the foreign scholars, has always been matter of astonishment to me. If some mistakes in quantity shocked the learning of Salmasius, or offended the taste of Heinsius,34 34 T. Warton says that N. leinsius had no taste in poetry. I differ decidedly from this opinion, from an intimate acquaintance with his works. 1 affirm that there never was LIFE OF MILTON. lxxxvii we must recollect that they are but few and unimportant, while they are well compensated by a vigour of expression, a beautA of allusion, a fertility of imagery, and a truly poetical conception. Though Milton has formed his taste on the best models, and drawn his language from the purest sources, his poems are not faded transcripts, or slavish imitations.of the ancients.35 I know not where the scholars of the continent could have gone for more beautiful specimens of modern poetry than his First Elegy, and the Address to his Father; and has Lucretius himself ever clothed the bare and meagre form of metaphysical speculations in a robe of greater brilliancy, or adorned it with more dazzling jewels of poetry than in the following lines? who, that reads the argument, could have anticipated the change it underwent as it passed through the poet's mind. DE IDEA PLATONICA QUEMADMODUM ARISTOTELES INTELLEXIT. Dicite, sacrorum presides nemorum dee, Tuque, o noveni perbeata numinis Memoria mater, queque in immenso procul Antro recumbis otiosa iEternitas, Monumenta servans, et ratas leges Jovis, a commentator on the Latin poets of finer taste or happier skill. Bentley over and over again calls him'elegantissimus.'' Solertissimo ingenio-et critica et poetica laude nobilis.' Burman Pierson (that admirable scholar), Wakefield, and others, bear the strongest testimony to his taste and skill. De Puy says,'Heinsius delicatulas veneres, et lepores cum singulari virtute et doctrina conjunxit.' v. Puteani Vitam, p. 140, 4to. His Latin poems are elegant and correct, but very inferior to Milton's in fertility of invention, and poetical feeling 35 The poets of Great Britain who have excelled in the composition of Latin verse might be thus'arranged: Buchanan, Milton, T. May, Gray; and in the second order, Addison, V. Bourne, and Anstey. Cowley possessed a facility of versification, but his poetry is neither classical in its conception, nor correct in its execution. lxxxviii LIFE OF MILTON. Ccelique fastos, atque ephemeridas defm, Quis ille primus, cujus ex imagine Natura solers finxit humanum genus, Eternus, incorruptus, sequavus polo, * * * * * Seu sempiternus ille siderum comes Cmli pererrat ordines decemplicis, Citimumve terris incolit lunae globum; Sive inter animas corpus adituras sedens Obliviosas torpet ad Lethes aquas; Sive in remota forte terrarum plaga Incedit, ingens hominis archetypus gigas, Et iis tremendus erigit celsum caput, Atlante major portitore siderum. In 1674, the last year of his laborious and honourable life, he published his familiar letters in Latin; to which he added some clever and pleasing academical exercises; and his long and splendid list of contributions to literature ended with a translation of the Latin declaration of the Poles in favour of John the Third. Some doubts, however, have been entertained as to this translation having proceeded from the pen of Milton; but as they turn entirely on the internal evidence of the style, they can admit of no perfect solution.6 Milton had long been a sufferer by the gout, which had now, with the advance of age, greatly enfeebled his constitution. Considering that his life was about to close,37 he informed his brother 86 Milton left in MS. a brief History of Moscovia, and of the other less known countries, lying eastward of Russia as far as Cathay, printed in 1688. On his tract concerning the militia, 1642, 4to. unnoticed by the biographers, see Todd's Life, (first ed.) p. 127. In a collection of poems by C. Gildon, 1692, 12mo, p. 92, is Julii Mazarini Cardinalis epitaphium, auctore Joanne Milton. v. State Poems, i. 56. Mr. Godwin, in his Life of Philips, p. 190, has mentioned a poem attributed to Milton, in State Poems, 1697, in which is-' Noah be d-d.' 37' He would be very cheerful even in his goute fitts, and sing: He died of the goute struck in, the 9 or 10 November, 1674, as appears by his "Apothecaries' books."' Aubrey, Lett. iii. 449. LIFE OF MILTON. rxxxix Christopher that he wished to dictate to him the distribution of his property. He died by a quiet and silent expiration, on Sunday the 8th of November,38 at his house in Bunhill Fields, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. He was buried next his father in the chancel of St. Giles, Cripplegate, attended, as Toland informs us,'by all his learned and great friends in London, not without a friendly concourse of the vulgar.' The original stone laid upon the grave of Milton was removed not many years after his interment; and no memorial of the Poet's fame existed in the church in which he was buried,89 till by Mr. Whitbread's munificence, a marble bust, and tablet, recording the date of his birth and death were erected in the middle aisle. To the author of Paradise Lost a similar tribute of respect was paid in 1737, by Mr. Auditor Benson; and his monument, adorned with a bust, was placed at the expense of that gentleman in Westminster Abbey. Thus was Milton's wish, though late, fulfilled: Ille meos artus liventi morte solutos Curaret parva componi molliter urna. Forsitan et nostros ducat de marmore vultus.' Mansus, ver. 90. When the inscription, written by Atterbury, to the memory of John Philips, was exhibited to Dr. Spratt, then Dean of Westminster, he refused to admit it, because the Poet was said to be'soli Miltono secundus.' This anecdote was related to Johnson by Dr. Gregory. Such has been the 38 Johnson says, about the 10th of November, and Mr. Hayley on the 15th; but Mr. Todd has ascertained the exact date from a reference to the register of St. Giles's, Cripplegate. 89 On the disinterment of the supposed coffin and corpse of Milton in August, 1790, see the Pamphlet of P. Neve, Esq. and Todd's Life, p. 139. See also Appendix. VOL. I. 8 XO LIFE OF MILTON. change of opinion, he added, that I have seen erected in the church the statue of that man, whose name I once knew considered as a pollution of its walls. Milton, in his youth, is said to have been eminently handsome. He was called the Lady of his college.40 His complexion was fresh and fair.41 His hair, which was of a light brown, was parted in front, and hung down upon his shoulders. He was of a moderate stature, or rather below the middle size. His eyes were of a grayish colour; and when he was totally deprived of sight, he says that they did not betray the loss. His voice 40 Salmasius says' Tu quem olim Itali pro fcemina habuerunt.' Salmas. Resp. p. 23, in his Prolusiones Acad. p. 132, he says of himself,'A quibusdam audivi, nuper domina,' &c. 41 On the portraits of Milton consult Todd's Life (second ed.), p. 235-240; to which I add, that I once saw a portrait of Milton at Lord Braybrooke's, Audley-End, in the galley (with a beard); that I also saw one of him, when young, at Lord Townshend's at Rainham, but many years (such years!!) have passed, and I cannot recollect any particulars. Charles Lamb, Esq. possesses an original portrait, left by his brother, and accidently bought in London. Could a portrait of Milton be in worthier hands?-Consult also T. Warton's Milton, p. 331. As regards his portrait by W. Marshall, prefixed to his Poems (and which Salmasius did not dislike), he says, in his Defensio contra Morum,'Tu effigiem mihi dissimilimam praefixam Poematibus vidisti. Ego vero si impulsu et ambitione librarii, me imperito Sculptori, proptereh quod in urbe alius eo tempore belli non erat, in fabri scalpendum permisi, id me neglexisse potius eam rem arguebat, cujus tu mihi nimium cultum objicis.' v. Prose Works, v. p. 303; but Morus had drawn a different conclusion.'An deformitatem tibi vitio verterem, qui bellum etiam credidi maxime, postquam, tuis prcefixam Poematibus comptulam iconer illam vidi?' Salmasius reproaches him with the loss of his beauty.' Malo isto magnam partem tuae pulchritudinis deperiisse, pro eo ac debeo, doleo: nam in oculis maxime viget ac valet formnedecus, quid Itali nune dicerent, si te viderent cum ista tua faeda lippitudine.' Salmas. Resp. p. 15. I have heard that an original portrait of Milton (about thirty years of age) has been discovered by Mr. R. Lemon of the State Paper Office. LIFE OF MILTON. Xci and ear were musical. He was vigorous and active, delighting in the exercise of the sword. Of his figure in his declining days, the following sketch has been left by Richardson.-An ancient clergyman of Dorsetshire, Dr. Wright, found John Milton in a small chamber hung with rusty green, sitting in an elbow chair, and dressed neatly in black; pale, but not cadaverous; his hands and fingers gouty, and with chalk-stones. He used also to sit in a gray coarse cloth coat, at the door of his house near Bunhill Fields, in warm sunny weather, to enjoy the fresh air. And so, as well as in his room, he received the visits of people of distinguished parts, as well as quality.42 His domestic habits were those of a severe and temperate student. He drank little wine, and fed without any luxurious delicacy of choice. In his youth, he studied till midnight; but warned by the early decay of sight, and his disordered health, he afterwards changed his hours, and rested in bed43 from nine till four in summer, and five in the winter months. If at these hours he was not disposed to rise, he had a person by his bedside to read to him.4 When he had risen, he had a chapter in the Hebrew Bible read to him, and then studied till twelve. He then took some exercise for an hour in his garden, dined, 42 Richardson's Life of Milton, 1734, p. iv. 43 The bed on which Milton died was given by Mr. Hollis to Akenside the poet, who was delighted with the present. See Hollis's Memoirs, p. 112. 44 Milton had taught his two younger daughters to pronounce exactly the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, and French, without understanding the meaning of the languages. This at length became so irksome, that, on their expressing their uneasiness, they were sent out to learn embroidery, &c. Elwood, Ed. Philips, and Skinner read to him. He used to say, in his daughters' hearing that one tongue was enough for a woman. v. Philips' Life, p. 42. XCll LIFE OF MILTON. played on the organ, and either sang himself, or made his wife sing, who had a good voice, though not a musical ear. He then again studied till six; entertained his visitors 4 till eight; and supped upon olives, or some light thing,46 and after a pipe of tobacco, and a glass of water, went to bed. That Milton and his wife used to dine in the-kitchen, as appears in the affidavit of their maid-servant, Mary Fisher, I suppose might be owing to the homely and simple custom of the times among plain people, and cannot be adduced as a mark of poverty or meanness. He composed much in the night and morning, and dictated in the day, sitting obliquely in an elbow chair, with his leg thrown over the arm. Fortune, as Johnson observes, appears not to have had much of his care. He lost, by different casualties, about four thousand pounds: yet his wants were so few, and his habits of life so unexpensive, that he was never reduced to indigence. He sold his library before his death,4 and left his 45' He was visited by the learned, much more than he did desire.' v. Aubrey Lett. iii. p. 443.' Foreigners came much to see him, and admired him, and offered to him great preferments to come over to them; and the only inducement of several foreigners that came over, was to see 0. Protector and Mr, J. Milton: and would see the house and chamber where he was born. He was much more admired abroad than at home.' 46 It was when he was infirm and sick, that he addressed his wife, as Mary Fisher tells us she overheard,'Who having provided something for deceased's dinner which he very well liked, he spake to his said wife, these or the like words, as near as this deponent can remember. " God have mercy, Betty, I see thou wilt perform according to thy promise, in providing me such dishes as I think fit while I live; and when I die, thou knowest I have left thee all."' Milton had two servant-maids, Mary and Elizabeth Fisher. See his Will. His man-servant was B. Green. See Milton's Agreement in the Appendix. 47 He is said to have borrowed fifty pounds of Jonathan LIFE OF MILTON. XCiii widow about fifteen hundred pounds. Fenton says,'Though he abode in the heritage of oppressors, and the spoils of the country lay at his feet, neither his conscience, nor his honour could stoop to gather them.' It has been agreed by all, that he was of an equal and cheerful temper, and pleasing and instructive in conversation. His daughter said,' her father was delightful company, the life of the conversation; and that, on account of a flow of subject, and an unaffected cheerfulness and civility.' Richardson says,'that Milton had a gravity in his temper, not melancholy, or not till the latter part of his life; not sour, nor morose, or ill natured, but a certain serenity of mind, a mind not condescending to little things:' and Aubrey adds,' that he was satirical.' His literature was unquestionably immense; his adversaries admitted that he was the most able and acute scholar living. With the Hebrew, and its two dialects, he was well acquainted; in the Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish languages, he was eminently skilled. In Latin, his knowledge was such as to place him in the first rank of writers and critics. His Italian sonnets have been praised everi by Italians. He himself relates that his round of study and Hartop of Aldborough in Yorkshire, who died in 1791, at the age of 138. He returned the loan with honour, though not without much difficulty, as his circumstances were very low. Mr. Hartop would have declined receiving it, but the pride of the Poet was equal to his genius, and he sent the money with an angry letter, which was found among the curious possessions of the venerable old man.' See Easton's Human Longevity, p. 241. Toland says,'towards the latter part of his time he contracted his library, both because the heirs he left could not make a right use of it, and that he thought he might sell it more to their advantage than they could be able to do themselves.' v. Life, 142. Xciv LIFE OF MILTON. reading was ceaseless; and that his life had not been unexpensive in learning and voyaging about. The classical books, in which he most delighted, were Homer, whose two poems, Toland says, he could almost repeat without book, Ovid's * Metamorphoses, and Euripides; his copy of the latter poet, with some critical observations in the margin, is now, I believe, in the possession of Sir Henry Halford.t Lord Charlemont possessed his Lycophron, in which some critical remarks were made. As a further proof of the diligence and exactness with which he read books of not common occurrence, I shall mention, that I have seen a copy of the Sonnetti of Varchi that belonged to him, in which the most curious expressions, and the more poetical passages were underlined, and marked with extraordinary care. He is said to have read Plautus repeatedly, in order'to rail with more choice phrase at Salmasius.' Plato and Demosthenes are supposed to have been his favourite authors in Greek prose; and among the Roman historians, he has decreed to Sallust 48 the palm of superiority. His skill in Rabbinical literature, in which he has not been followed by his commentators, was unusually great. Of the English poets, it is said he set most value on Spenser, Shakespeare, and Cowley. * Deborah, his daughter, informed Dr. Ward, that' Isaiah, Homer, and Ovid, were works which they were often called to read to their father. In his Prolusiones, p. 81, he calls Ovidius poetarum elegantissimus.' t T. Warton has traced this book from its possessor, Bishop Hare, in 1740, to Mr. Cradock, who bequeathed it to Sir Henry Halford. See his Milton, p. 569. See some letters concerning it in Cradock's Memoirs, vol. iv. p. 137140. 48 See his Latin Letters (ed. 1674), p. 53. LIFE OF MILTON. XCV Spenser49 was apparently his favourite. Johnson seems surprised at his approbation of Cowley, a poet whose ideas of excellence are so different from his own; these are facts for which it is difficult to account; Scaliger preferred Statius to Virgil; and who would have supposed that Rubens could have said, if he were not Rubens, he would wish to be Poelemberg. That Milton read the works of those dramatic poets who were the contemporaries or successors of Shakespeare, is evident, from his having transplanted some of their beautiful expressions into his works: and he mentions in his Apology for Smectymnus, that he was much enamoured of romances in his youth. His character of Dryden was, that he was a good rhymist, but no poet; for we may well suppose that the charms of Dryden's poetry possessed few attractions for his mind, There was nothing in it lofty or imaginative enough for one, who had been used to delight in richer creations of fancy, to listen to wilder melodies, to gaze upon more magnificent visions, and to repose amid the bowers of paradise. In Dryden's pages of satire, and in his pictures of society, there were no visionary shadows, no gorgeous colors brought from fairy land, no harps or hallelujahs of adoring saints, no swellings of unearthly music, no purpureal gleams of passing wings, none of the glories of romance, and none of the terrors of the Apocalypse. The political opinions of Milton were those of 49'Milton acknowledged to me that Spenser was his original.' v. Dryden's Pref. to his Fables, p. xx. and Ded. to Juvenal, p. 126. Pearce says,'that he could point out to Bentley, "a hundred words (I believe) in Milton to be met with in no author before him."' v. p. 198. XCVi LIFE OF MILTON. a thorough republican, which Johnson thinks was founded on an envious hatred of greatness, and a sullen desire of independence. This conclusion is so uncharitable and unjust, that it must recoil with injury on him who made it. No one can read Milton's writings, or contemplate his life, without being persuaded that his first desire was the freedom, and through that, the happiness of his country. Other great and good men were republicans as well as Milton: and who amid the difficulties of those evil days, was to direct his line of conduct so clearly as to say, that no other. course could be pursued with innocence and safety? I am not called upon to express an opinion as to the justice of the cause which he espoused, but I am bound to vindicate his character from the charge of being influenced in his great patriotic exertions by any feelings but those of a good and elevated nature. MIen of most enlightened minds, of most inflexible virtue, of the most devoted attachment to their country, were seen opposed to each other in the senate and the field. There was a great and complicated question before them, the dangers and difficulties of which thickened as it advanced: good and brave men looked on it in different shades of sorrow or of hope, according to their tempers or habits of thought; and that which Milton contemplated as the bright dawning of a more glorious day, came lowering with such clouds and darkness, as to sink the virtuous heart of Falkland even to despair. Harrington 50 had observed,'that the troubles of the times were not to be attributed wholly to wilfulness or faction, neither to the misgovern50. See Burnet's Introd. to Milton's Prose Works, i. p. 9. LIFE OF MILTON. XCVii ment of the prince, nor the stubbornness of the people, but to a change in the balance of property, which since Henry the Seventh's time had been daily falling into the scale of the commons, from that of the king, and the lords;' thus, as a sensible and temperate writer observes, the opulence and independence of the commons tended to produce a popular government, and the introduction of mercenary armies to aggrandize the crown. Hence the contest between the king and the people, the one to extend his prerogative, the other to augment their privileges. The petition of rights collected the grievances of the nation into one view, and stated the acknowledged limits of the prerogative, and the undisputed rights of the people." Putting aside all favorite and partial views, and looking at the question with an equal indifference, it may be said, that all must have seen the necessity of amending the manner in which the government was conducted, what wonder if some objected even to the form? The dispute in fact, as Dr. Balguy observes, was a conflict between governors who ruled by will, not by law; and subjects who would not suffer the law itself to control their actions. Milton might have despaired (for he had no example at home before him) of seeing that limited and legal monarchy, which we never possessed till the reign of the Stuarts had passed away: and which for the first time erected the safety of the throne, on the secured liberty of the subject, and the inviolable sanctity of the laws. Periods like the one we are contemplating, occasionally recurring, and long and secretly prepared, produce, when they arrive, great ferment and desire of change in the minds of men: nor must we too severely Xcviii LIFE OF MILTON. blame those who, in the ardour of hope, aspire to a perfection that human institutions have never reached, and who, disgusted with the real abuses of the past, would turn to the imaginary advantages of the future. Milton wished for a republic, best securing, as he thought, the liberty and happiness of the people; great then was his indignation, when he saw the Presbyterian synod throw away surplice and cope, and yet put on all but the old episcopal robes; and the man of' little less than divine virtue,' the father of his country, the leader of her armies, the most glorious of her citizens, the founder and protector of her liberty; him who had despised the name of king for majesty, yet more majestic; * whom God manifestly favoured, that he was in all things his helper! when he saw this bold imperious usurper put off the Puritan's cloak, lay down his battered breastplate, and'stepping on the neck of crowned fortune,' take possession of the empty throne. He hated popery, as it was slavish, ignorant, antichristian, and idolatrous: deep therefore was his sorrow, when he spoke of the dissoluteness of a returning court, of a queen in most likelihood outlandish and a Papist, and a queen mother with their sumptuous court, and numerous train. In disappointment and disgust he turned away from sights like these, to contemplate the example of the United Provinces, which he calls a potent and flourishing republic! The biographers of Milton, when speaking of his family, have mentioned his brother Christopher, and his sister Anne. It appears, by a more diligent inquiry, that the names of two * Such are the expressions used relating to Cromwell, and the titles given to him by Milton, in the second defence, &c. LIFE OF MILTON. Xcix other sisters, Tabitha and Sarah, are mentioned in the baptismal register, and the death of Sarah only is recorded. Christopher was a royalist, and after his brother's death became a judge. In the rebellion he compounded for his estate, the fine levied upon him being two hundred pounds. He long resided at Ipswich, and in a neighbouring village, and was buried in the porch of St. Nicholas, in March, 1692. He was knighted by James the Second. Philips says of him that he was a person of a modest and quiet temper, preferring justice and virtue before all worldly pleasure and grandeur, but that in the beginning of the reign of James the Second, for his known integrity and ability in law, he was by some persons of quality recommended to the king, and at a call of serjeants received the coif, and the same day was sworn one of the Barons of the exchequer; and soon after made one of the judges of the Common Pleas: but his years and indisposition not well brooking the fatigue of public employment, he continued not long in either of these stations, but, having his'Quietus est,' retired to a country life, his study and devotion. This is the person whom Dr. Symmons calls an'old dotard.' Toland's account of him certainly is less favourable: he says, " that he was of a very superstitious nature, and a man of no parts or ability, and that James, wanting a set of judges that could declare his will to be superior to our legal constitution, appointed him one of the Barons of exchequer." His sister Anne was married first to a Mr. Philips, and after his death to a Mr. Agar; by her first husband she had two sons, Edward and John, whom Milton educated, who were persons of cleverness and learning, and both of whom were authors. Edward's af C LIFE OF MILTON. fection and respect for his uncle is displayed in every page of his biography. Milton had children only by his first wife; and three daughters, Anne, Mary, and Deborah were the fruits of his marriage.* Anne, though deformed, married, and died in childbed. Mary died single. Deborah, the youngest, married Abraham Clark, a weaver, in Spitalfields, and lived seventy-six years to August, 1727. This is the daughter of whom public mention is made. She could repeat the first lines of Homer, of the Metamorphoses, and some of Euripides, from having often heard them. To her Addison made a present, and queen Caroline sent her a purse of fifty guineas. She is reported to have been the favourite of her father; though, in consequence of a disagreement with her stepmother, three or four years before Milton's death, she left his house and went to reside with a lady named Merian in Ireland. On being shown a portrait which strongly resembled Milton, she exclaimed with transport,'Tis my father!'tis my dear father! When she was introduced to Addison, he said,' Madam, you need no other voucher, your face is a sufficient testimonial whose daughter you are.' 52 She appeared to be * Dr. Birch transcribed the registry of the birth of Milton's children from his own writing, in a blank leaf of his wife's Bible; his son John was born on Saturday, March 16, 1650. His three daughters each received ~100 as their fortune, from their stepmother Elizabeth, and the three receipts bearing their three signatures were sold among the books and manuscripts of James Boswell, Esq. in 1825. See also Mr. Todd's Life, (first ea.) p. 186, note. 51 It was when Faithorne's crayon-drawing was shown to her by Vertue the engraver, that she cried out, Oh Lord! that is the picture of my father! how came you by it?' and stroking down the hair of her forehead, she said,'just so my father wore his hair.' v. Todd's Milton, (second ed.) p. 237. 52 See Birch's Life, p. lxxvi.; and see a letter from Vertue LIFE OF MILTON. Ci a woman of good sense, and genteel behaviour, and to bear the inconveniences of a low fortune with decency and prudence. Milton says, in his will, that he spent the greatest part of his estate in providing for his children in his life time; I presume that he speaks of the expense of their education, and their maintenance on a separate establishment, while learning curious and ingenious sorts of manufacture,53 and embroidering in gold and silver. The story of their surreptitiously selling their father's books during his life, rests on the testimony of a maid-servant alone, whom the biographers are disinclined to believe: but that they were undutiful and unkind children, careless of him when blind, and deserting him in his age, we have unfortunately the authority of Milton himself.54 The last known survivor of the Poet's family was Elizabeth, the daughter of this Deborah Clark,55 who married Thomas Foster, a weaver, in Spitalfields. She kept a small chandler's shop near Shoreditch Church. In 1750, April 5th, the engraver, to Mr. Christian (Aug. 12, 1721), in Gent. Mag. May, 1831, p. 419. 53'Anne Milton is lame, but hath a trade, and can live by the same, which is the making of gold and silver lace, and which the deceased bred her up to.' Eliz. Fisher's Deposition. 54 See Todd's Life, p. 290. Philips's Life, p. lxvi. ed. Pickering. It appears that his daughters lived quite apart from their father the last four or five years of his life: and that he knew little about them, nor whether they frequented church or not. See Christopher Milton's Deposition, p. 274, ed. Todd. 55 Caleb Clark, her son, was parish clerk of Madras. His children were the last descendants of the Poet, but of them nothing farther is known. Dr. Birch narrates the conversation he held with Mrs. Foster, who told him that Milton's second wife did not die in childbed, as Philips and Toland assert, but about three months after, of a consumption. v. p. lxxvii. Cii LIFE OF MILTON. Comus was played for her benefit. The profits of the night were only a hundred and thirty pounds.56 Of this sum, says Johnson, twenty pounds were given by Tonson, a man who is to be praised as often as he is named; one hundred pounds were placed in the funds, the rest augmented their little stock, with which they removed to Islington. Johnson closes his Life of Milton by informing us that he had thie honour of contributing the Prologue to the play. Mrs. Foster died, aged 66, in the year 1754.57 It only now remains to give a short account of a Treatise of Theology, bearing the name of Milton, lately discovered. Toland, in his Life of Milton, had informed us that he compiled a sys. tem of divinity, but whether intended for public view, or collected merely for his own use, he could not determine; and Aubrey affords further particulars, by mentioning that Milton's Idea Theologiae was in manuscript in the hands of Mr. Skinner, a merchant's son in Mark Lane. Wood mentions Cyriack Skinner as the depositary of this work, which he calls'The Body of Divinity,' at that time, or at least lately in the hands of Milton's acquaintance Cyriack Skinner. It is well known that this treatise was discovered with 66 The above account by Dr. Johnson is not quite correct. The receipts of the house were ~147. 14s. 6d. from which ~80 were deducted for expenses. Such is the statement of Mr. Is. Reed. Some accounts of circumstances that led the public attention towards Milton's granddaughter may be seen in Hollis's Mem. p. 116. An advertisement of Johnson's first suggested some plan of relief. 7 On Thursday last, May 9, 1754, died at Islington, in the 66th year of her age, after a long and painful illness, which she sustained with christian fortitude and patience, Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, granddaughter of Milton. This paragraph from a contemporary newspaper, is preserved in the Memoirs-of T. Hollis, v. i. p. 114. LIFE OF MILTON. cmil the name of Milton attached to it, by Mr. Lemon, in the State Paper Office, a few years since. It appears, that Mr. Daniel Skinner commenced a correspondence with the celebrated Elzevir the printer at Amsterdam, on the subject of the State Letters, and the Theological Treatise of Milton. Skinner was at that time fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. Of the Letters, and of the first one hundred and ninety-six pages of the Treatise, he had been the copyist. He is supposed also to have been one of those whom Milton had daily about him to read to him. On inspection of the manuscript, Elzevir was alarmed at the freedom of the political and theological opinions advanced in it, and declined printing it. Skinner took away the manuscript, which had by this time attracted the attention of the government. Isaac Barrow, then master of Trin. Coil. sent a peremptory order to Skinner to repair immediately to college, and warned him against publishing any writing mischievous to the church and state. It is not known with exactness when Skinner returned to England, but he had an interview with Sir Joseph Williamson, secretary of state; and it is supposed that he delivered up the manuscripts to him. The remainder of the treatise is written in a female hand, the same which transcribed the sonnet, Methought I saw my late espoused saint, now among the manuscripts at Cambridge, and this scribe is supposed to have been his daughter Mary or Deborah. This part of the volume is interspersed with interlineations and corrections in a different and unknown hand. The whole treatise reposed on the shelves of the old State Paper Office in Whitehall till the year 1823, when Civ LIFE OF MILTON. Mr. Lemon, the Deputy Keeper, discovered it, loosely wrapped up in two or three sheets of printed paper, which proved to be the proof sheets of Elzevir's Horace. The State Letters were in the same parcel, and the whole was inclosed in a cover directed to Mr. Skinner, Merchant. The title of the work is'De Doctrina Christiana,58 ex sacris dumtaxat libris petita, disquisitionum libri duo posthumi;' but it is supposed to have been chosen after Milton's death, by those into whose possession the manuscript had passed. When it was discovered, it was placed in the hands of Dr. Sumner, then chaplain to his late majesty, by whom it was carefully edited; and who also gave to the public a very elegant and exact translation. Milton, it seems, was dissatisfied with the bodies of divinity that were published, obscured by school terms and metaphysical notions, and'he deemed it safest, and most advisable to compile for himself, by his own labour and study, some original treatise, which should be always at hand, derived solely from the word of God himself.' This work consists of two books, entitled'Of the Knowledge of God, and of the Service of God.' The first book is divided into thirty-three chapters, embracing mention of all the important doctrines of religious faith. The second book, consisting of seventeen chapters, includes a summary of the Duties of Man; and the work opens with a dignified and impressive salutation. " John Milton, to all 58 This treatise was written in Latin; he has expressed regret that his treatises on Divorce were not written in the same language; for Milton never courted public, or vulgar applause; his inscription on the tracts he gave to Trin. Coll. Dublin speaks his sentiments:'Paucis hujus modi lectoribus contentus.' LIFE OF MILTON. CV the churches of Christ, and to all who profess the Christian faith, throughout the world, peace, and the recognition of the truth, and eternal salvation in God the Father, and in our Lord Jesus Christ." This treatise has fully proved what had been partially and reluctantly suspected before, that Milton had, in his later years, adopted the opinions of Arianism;9 and a minute inspection of his other works has shown their agreement, in sentiment and expression with this lamented heresy. It is generally allowed that this treatise is barren of recondite learning,60 or ingenious disquisition; and that it abounds more in scholastic subtleties than might be expected from one who was constantly censuring them in others; but that it is written in a tone of calmness and moderation, without any polemical fierceness, or personal hostility. Milton had sunk his animosities in the sanctity and importance of his subject; he was now discussing matters of much higher moment than the downfall of a'luxurious hierarchy,' or the structure of particular churches. He was'teaching over the whole book of sanctity and virtue.' Milton, says one of his latest biographers, commenced his wanderings in religious belief, from Puritanism to Calvinism, from Calvinism to an 59 Is it not extraordinary that Dr. Symmons should assert that Milton's theological opinions were orthodox, and consistent with the creed of the church of England?'The peculiarity of Milton's religious opinions had reference to church government, and the externals of devotion.' v. Life, p. 589. Johnson asserts the same, but undoubtedly he had not read Milton's works with that scrutiny and care, which have enabled later editors to discover the truth. Mr. Todd's words are a repetition of Johnson's, which of course he will now recall. See Bishop of St. David's ed. of Milton on True Religion, p. 1. Trapp had asserted that P. L. was' ex omni parte orthodoxum,' or he would not have translated it. 60 See Todd's Life (second ed.), p. 307. VOL. I. 9 Cvi LIFE OF MILTON. esteem for Arminius, and finally from an accordance with the independents and anabaptists, to a dereliction of every denomination of Protestants, changes which were first detailed by Toland, and which, with the suspicion of his Arianism, have not escaped the notice of a French writer. " I1 ne faut pas etre surpris des principes errones de ce fougoux republicain en matiere de religion, puisqu'il fut de toutes les sectes, et qu'il finit par n'etre d'aucune. Dans ses poemes epiques il parle de Jesus Christ en veritable Arien.' 61 With regard to the eternal divinity of the Son, and the essential unity of the three divine persons of the Godhead, the learned editor of this volume has pointed out great and important contradictions even in Paradise Lost; and in Italy, it was on this ground, that under Benedict the Fourteenth, the poem was a book proscribed. The authenticity of this work has never, I believe, been questioned, but by the learned and venerable Bishop of Salisbury,62 who has been anxious to establish the evidence of Milton's orthodoxy; and consequently has found it necessary to deny the genuineness of a work that has spread into the widest Latitudinarian principles; but it has been maintained by Mr. Todd, according to 61 The Arian and Socinian are charged to dispute against the Trinity, yet they affirm to believe the Father, Son, and. Holy Ghost, according to Scripture and the Apostolic Creed; as for the terms of Trinity, Triunity, Coessentiality, Tripersonality, and the like, they reject them as scholastic notions, not to be found in Scripture.' v. Treatise of True Religion. v. Toland's Life, p 145. 62 See Protestant Union, a Treatise on True Religion, &c. by J. Milton, with a preface on Milton's religious principles, and unimpeachable sincerity, by Thomas Burgess, Bishop of Salisbury, 1826, 8vo. who considers that Milton, and the Latin writer de Doctrina Christiana are at variance on the subject of Popery. v. p. xxxv. LIFE OF MILTON. Cvii my opinion, with sound and forcible arguments; and to his work, conjointly with Dr. Sumner's preface, the reader is referred for information too copious to be transferred into the present narrative. It is well known, that in the latter part of his life, Milton frequented no place of public worship; and Bishop Newton has given various conjectures on the subject. It must, however, be remembered that he was old, blind, and infirm; that he was hostile to the Liturgy of the established church, and at the same time not attached to any particular sect; that he had decidedly and for ever separated from the Presbyterians; that he never frequented the churches of the Independents;3 and that his allowed liberty of belief hardly consisted with the tenets of any particular sect: but we are told that he never passed a day without private meditation and study of the Scriptures, and that some 4 parts of his family frequented the offices of public prayer. Knowing his religious opinions, and considering the great infirmities of his health, who could have expected more? Toland65 tells us,'that in his early days he 63 Toland says,'In his middle years he was best pleased with the Independents and Anabaptists, as allowing of more liberty than others, and coming nearest, in his opinion, to the primitive practice.' v. Life, p. 151. It is well known, that one of his biographers, Mr. Peck, considered him to be a' Quaker.' 64 See Richardson's Life, and Arch. Blackburne's Remarks on Johnson's Life of Milton, p. 111, and p. 160; and Mr. Boerhadem's Letter in Gent. Mag. October, 1779.'Ask each witnesse whether the parties ministrant (his daughters) were not, and are not great frequenters of the church and good livers.' v. Milton's Will, ed. Todd, p. 169. 65 See Life, p. 151. The measures of Archb. Laud, and the privations of his exiled friend and preceptor, T. Young, appear first to have alienated him from the discipline of the church; averse to the government of the church as then conducted, he became, successively, Puritan, Presbyterian, and Cviii LIFE OF MILTON. was a favourer of those Protestants, then opprobriously called by the name of Puritans. In his middle years he was best pleased with the Independents and Anabaptists, as allowing of more liberty than others, and coming nearest in his opinion to the primitive practice. But in the latter part of his life he was not a professed member of any particular sect, among Christians; he frequented none of their assemblies, nor made use of their peculiar rites in his family. Whether this proceeded from a dislike of their uncharitable and endless disputes, and that love of dominion, or inclination to persecution, which he said was a piece of popery, inseparable from all churches, or whether he thought one might be a good man without subscribing to any party, and that they had all in some things corrupted the institutions of Jesus Christ, I will by no means adventure to determine: for conjectures on such occasions are very uncertain, and I never met with any of his acquaintance who could be positive in assigning the true reasons of his conduct.' Of this treatise, it is by all acknowledged, that it is written with a calm and conscientious desire for truth, like that of a man who had forgotten or dismissed the favourite animosities of his youth, and who had retired within himself, in the dignity of age, to employ the unimpaired energies of his intellect on the most important and awful subject Independent; without relinquishing his religious principle, for those sects were all Trinitarian in doctrine. He thought them all intolerant of one another, and finally he left them all; and, after his blindness, ceased to communicate with any public congregations of Christians. (See Bishop Burgess's Protestant Union, p. xxiii.) But it appears that he did not think himself excluded from the blessing bestowed by God on the Churches. See Book I. c. xxix. LIFE OF MILTON. Cix of inquiry. The haughtiness of his temper, the fierceness of his scorn, the defiance of his man. ner, his severe and stoical pride, are no longer seen. He approaches the book of God with an humble and reverential feeling: and with such a disposition of piety, united to so powerful an intellect, and such immense stores of learning, who would not have expected to have seen the'star bright form' of truth appear from out the cloud; but wherever we look, the pride of man's heart is lowered, and the weakness of humanity displayed. With all his great qualifications for the removal of error, and the discovery of truth, he failed. His views appear too exalted, his creed too abstract and imaginative for general use. The religion which he sought was one that was not to be attached to any particular church, to be grounded on any settled articles of belief, to be adorned with any external ceremonies, or to be illustrated by any stated forms of prayer. It was to dwell alone in its holy meditations, cloistered from public gaze, and secluded within the humbler sanctury of the adoring heart. If the believer felt it to be his duty to attach himself to any particular church, that church was to be unconnected with the state. The ministers, if such were necessary, were to be unpensioned, perhaps unpaid by their congregations. The sacraments were to be administered, and the rites of burial and baptism performed, by private and laic hands. Instead of receiving instruction 66 See' Considerations on removing Hirelings,' ed. Burnet, i. 169; it were to be wished the ministers were all tradesmen, &c..... On the different opinions held by the Sectaries on the subject, on the support of their ministers. See Warton's Milton, p. 348; and Todd's Milton, vol. v. p. 483. CX LIFE OF MILTON. from the preacher, each individual, even the weakest, according to the measure of his gifts, might instruct and exhort his brethren. The opinions advanced in this work differ not only widely from those of the Church of England, but, I believe, from all the sectarian churches that exist. With regard to his theological tenets, the most remarkable are those which he avows on what is called the anthropopathy of God; attributing to'God, a Spirit,' human passions, and a human form.'If (he says) God habitually assigns to himself the members and forms of a man, why should we be afraid of attributing to him what he attributes to himself?' To which I presume the answer would be, that such expressions are used in the revelations of God's will, to make it intelligible to man; 7 that the form of the revelation is accommodated to the narrowness of man's understanding, and the limited circle of his knowledge; that it speaks to him through analogy, and that it is not designed to acquaint him absolutely with the nature of God. 67 In the Edinburgh Review, No. cvii. Sept. 1831. In a note in their review' of the State of Protestantism in Germany,' a passage is quoted from Jortin, " declaring that they who uphold the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity must be prepared to assert,' that Jesus Christ is his own Father and his own Son.' The consequence will be so, whether they like it, or whether they like it not."-Be the words of Jortin what they may, and without any reference to his authority, I must beg the reviewer to consider that the words Father and Son are used in an analogous and figurative sense: and that the'greatest caution is necessary not to connect with the terms Father and Son, when applied to the persons of the Holy Trinity, any ideas similar to those of human derivation.' Milton has guarded and qualified his language by the expression-' We do not say that God is in fashion like unto man in all his parts and members, but that (asfar as we are concerned to know) he is of that form which he attributes to himself in the sacred writings.' p. 18. LIFE OF MILTON. Cxi He denies the eternal filiation of the Son, his self-existence, his co-equality, and co-essentiality with the Father. He believes the Son existed in the beginning, and was the first of the whole creation, by whose delegated power all things were made in heaven and earth; begotten, not by natural necessity, but by the decree of the Father within the limits of time; endued with the divine nature and substance, but distinct from the Father, and inferior to him; one with the Father, in love and unanimity of will; and receiving every thing, in his filial as well as in his mediatorial character, from the Father's gift.68_ Thus his Arian heresies are divulged: but he fully acknowledges the satisfaction and atonement made by the death of Christ, for the sins of men. The Holy Ghost he considers as inferior to the Father and the Son. Matter, he says, is imperishable and eternal, because it not only is from God, but out of God,'Non solum a Deo, sed ex Deo.' Hence the body is immortal as the soul. His argument on the lawfulness of polygamy is singular indeed. What but the line which he adopted, of reasoning on the simple text and literal words of the Scriptures, could have prevented his acknowledging, that from a manner of life peculiar to the nations of the East, from the scantiness of population, from the safety and strength derived from the unison of large families, from the non-existence of civilized communities, from the patriarchal authority of the father of the family, and the acknowledged inferiority and dependence of the other members; from the advantage or necessity of increasing the numbers of mankind, permission was granted to'the gray fathers of the world," extending even to 68 See Doctor Sumner's Preface, p. xxxiv. CXii LIFE OF MILTON. a connexion between brothers and sisters; which in later ages, in higher civilization, in the sweeter charities of life, in purer morals, with more refined ideas, more tender sympathies, and under a holier and more spiritual religion, could not be entertained without sinfulness, nor established without degradation and disorder.69 That which was harmless in the Arabian deserts, or among Chaldean tents, could not be transplanted into the enlightened communities, the closer affinities, and the diversified relations of an advanced society. The divine laws were made suitable to the nature of humanity, which they were designed to amend; hence, in order to exalt it, they often bent to it; they stepped back, as it were, only to gain a stronger hold. But Milton should have remembered the early and imperious demands which God made for a purer and more personal religion through the voice of his prophets; and that the too easy divorces which the laws of Moses allowed to the Jews, were explained by our Saviour, as not forming a part of the perfect law, or holy will of God; but as an unwilling allowance'to the hardness of their hearts.'' The Pride of Reason t7 (it has been very judiciously observed), though disclaimed by Milton with remarkable, and probably with sincere earnestness, formed a principal ingredient in his character, and would have presented, under any circumstances, a formidable obstacle to the reception of the true faith.'-Caring nothing for institutions that were venerable, nor for opinions that 69 See Dr. Channing's remarks on this part of Milton's work, in his Remarks on the Character and Writings of Milton, p. 37. 70 v. Doctor Sumner's Preface, p. xxxv. LIFE OF MILTON. CXiL were sacred, he not only disdains to wear the opprobrious shackles of authority, but even the decent vestments of custom.7' Safe in his own inflexible integrity, in the great purity of his heart, and singleness of purpose, what his conscience dictates, his courage proclaims. Impetuous, fearless, and uncompromising, he pushes on his inquiries, till they end in a defence of the death of the monarch, and the substitution of a visionary republic, in politics; in a denial of the eternal existence of the Son, in theology; and in the defence of a plurality of wives, in morals. Yet it must be remembered, that he lived in an age when men were busy pulling down and building up; a fermentation was spreading over the surface, and dissolving the materials of society. Old faith was gone; old institutions were crumbling away. Long, splendid vistas of ideal perfection opened before men's eyes, dazzling their senses and confounding their judgments.72 Gray71 See T. Warton's Summary of Milton's Political Opinions, in Todd's Milton, vol. vi. p. 391.'In point of doctrine they are calculated to annihilate the very foundations of our civil and religious establishment, as it now subsists. They are subversive of our legislature and our species of government. In condemning tyranny, he strikes at the bare existence of kings; in combating superstition, he strikes at all public religion. These discourses hold forth a system of politics at present as unconstitutional, and almost as obsolete, as the nonsense of passive obedience; and in this view he might just as well think of republishing the pernicious theories of the kingly bigot James, as of the republican usurper Oliver Cromwell.' This might have been spared. Milton's political speculations are not applicable to our times; and, as it has been justly said, his theological opinions would have been different, had he survived to read the works of Waterland and Bull; so, we may say, his political theories would have been more wise and moderate, had he lived in the days of Somers and of Locke. 72 See the Areopagitica, p. 317, ed. Burnet.' Behold now Cxiv LIFE OF MILTON. headed men, men growing old in the business of life, and in the pursuit of practical wisdom, yielded to the syren influence. It pervaded the senate, the city, and the camp. What wonder then if the Poet, the visionary by his profession, the dreaming theorist, the man dwelling in ideal worlds and abstract notions, should be led astray? Such are some of the singular opinions advanced in this curious and late-discovered document of Milton's faith.3 They serve to show us that its author is everywhere the same; the same severe and uncompromising investigator of truth, the same fearless and independent judge of its reality; in the honesty of his opinions uninfluenced, in the sanctity of his morals unblemished, in the fervour of his piety unquestioned. But there was both in his political and religious opinions, a visionary attempt at perfection, a grasping after the ideal and the abstract, a lofty aspiration after the most exalted means, that, while they supplied his imagination as a poet, in its boldest and most extended flights, unqualified him for the more cautious and practical character of the theologian and the statesman. In Mlilton was united for the first and perhaps for the last this vast city, &c. There be pens and heads there sitting by their studious lamps; musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith to present, as with their homage and fealty, the approaching reformation; others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force of reason and convincement,' &c. 73 It has been more than once remarked, that little mention is made of Milton by his contemporaries. His name does not occur in the pages of Clarendon. Thurloe speaks of him only as a blind old man, who wrote Latin letters. Sir W. Temple does not name him, and R. Baxter passes over him in silence. Whitelocke mentions him only once, and that casually. LIFE OF MILTON. CXV time, the imagination of the Poet and the belief of the Puritan: of materials so opposite was his exalted character composed; yet both were perhaps equally necessary for the erection of the costly fabric of his fame. Had he not been a poet, he would not have been distinguished above other men of like'persuasion with himself; men of vigorous minds and unquestioned integrity, the Vanes, the Sydneys, the Fleetwoods of the age. As a scholar, perhaps he would have still stood eminently distinguished and alone; but Harrington excelled him in political wisdom, and Hall and other prelates in theological learning. Had he not been imbued with the austere feelings, the solemn and severe religion of the Puritans, we should indeed still have possessed from his genius creations of surpassing beauty; but they would have been altogether of a different kind. We should have had the enchantments of Comus, the sounds of revelry, and Circe's cup; but we should have wanted the songs of a higher mood, the voice of woe, the sorrows and the pride of the Hebrew captive. We should not have been carried back, as it were by vision, into the dark and austere learning of the Sanhedrim, and had the teraphim, and the ephod, pall and mitre, and "the old Flamen's vestry" brought before our eyes. We should still have possessed the noblest Epic of modern days, but its argument would not have been the talk of angels, the sullen despair, or the haughty resolves of rebellious spirits, the contrition of fallen man, or the decrees of eternal wisdom. We should have had tales of chivalrous emprize,'of gentle knights that pricked along the plain,' the cruelty of inexorable beauty, and the achievements of unconquerable love. Its CXVi LIFE OF MILTON. scenes would not have been laid in the bowers of paradise, or by the' thunderous throne' of heaven, nor where the wings of the cherubim fan the mercy-seat; but amid royal halls, in the palaces of magicians, and islands of enchantment. Instead of the serpent, with hairy mane, and eye of carbuncle, gliding among the myrtle thickets of Eden, we should have jousts and tournaments, the streaming of gonfalons, the glitter of dancing plumes, the wailing of barbaric trumpets, and the sound of silver clarions: battles fiercer than that of Fontarabia, and fields more gorgeous than that of the cloth of gold. What crowds of pilgrims and of palmers should we not have beheld journeying to and fro with shell, and staff of ivory, filling the port of Joppa with their gallies? What youthful warriors, the flowers of British chivalry, should we not have seen caparisoned, and in quest of the holy Sangreal? The world of reality, and the world of vision, would have been equally exhausted to supply the materials. The odors would have been wafted from the "weeping woods" of Araby: the dazzling mirrors would have been of solid diamond: and the flowers would have been amaranths, from the Land of Faery. Every warrior would have been clothed in pyropus and in adamant. We should have watched in battle not the celestial sword of Michael, but the enchanted Caliburn; we should have had not the sorrows of Eve, and the fall of Adam, but the loves of Angelica, or the exploits of Arthur. cxvii ADDENDA. P. ix. Life. MIilton confines himself to praise of the fellows, but he. makes not the slightest mention of the Master, Doctor Bainbridye, who is recorded to have been a most rigid disciplinarian, and that on those very points which Iilton particularly disliked. He admits that his disposition could not brook the threats of a rigorous master, by whom it is most reasonable to suppose he meant Dr. Bainbridge, the head of his college. Walker's Lit. Anecdotes, p. 202. P. xi. Gaddius (de Scriptoribus non Ecclesiasticis) mentions that I. Scaliger read the two poems of Homer in twentyone days; and the remainder of the Greek poets in four months. P. xix.' That the manner and genius of that place (Paris) being not agreeable to his mind, he soon left it.' Wood's Fast. Ox. vol. ii. 1635, col. 481. P. xx. Leo Holsten, who received Milton kindly at Rome, had resided some time in England, making researches in the libraries. He maintained a friendly correspondence with N. Heinsius, to whom he had shown much civility when Heinsius was at Rome; I read through the collection of Holsten's letters, with the hope of finding some addressed to Milton, but in vain; Milton did not maintain a correspondence with the scholars on the continent. P. xxii. I have heard it confidently related that for his said resolutions, which out of policy and for his own safety might have been then shared, the English priests at Rome were highly disgusted, and it was questioned whether the Jesuits, his countrymen there, did not design to do him mischief. Wood's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 481. P. xxvii. Took a larger house, where the earl of Barrimore sent, by his aunt the lady Ranelagh, Sir Thomas Gardiner of Essex, to be there with others (besides his nephew) under his tuition, but whether it were that the tempers of our gentry would not bear the strictness of his discipline, or for what other reasons I cannot tell, he continued that course but a while. Tobod's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 483. P. xxxv. Wherefore though he sent divers pressing invitations, yet he could not prevail with her to come back, till about four years after, when the garrison of Oxford was surrendered (the nighness of her father's house to which having CXV1ll ADDENDA. for the most part of the mean time hindered any communications between them); she of her own accord returned, and submitted to him, pleading that her mother had been the chief promoter of her forwardness. Wood's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 481. P. xlviii. Bishop Gauden addressed three Letters, Jan. 25, Feb. 20, March 6, 1661, to Lord Clarendon, in which he lays claim for services in the royal cause; in one of his letters he says,' Nor do I doubt but I shall, by yr Lordship's favor, find the fruits as to something extraordinary, since the service was see; not as to what was known to the world under my name, in order to vindicate the crowne and the church. But what goes under the late blessed king's name, the Etewv, or protracture of hys majesty in his solitudes and sufferings. This work and figure was wholly and only my invention, making and designe; in order to vindicate the King's wisdome, honor, and piety. My wife indeed was conscious to it, and had an hand in Disquising the Letters of that Copy which Isent to the King in the Isle of Wight. By favour of the late Marquise of Hertford,' &c. In answer to which, Lord Clarendon writes, March 13, 1661.' I do assure you I am more afflicted with you, and for you, than I can expresse; and the more sensibly, that it is the only charge of that kind is laid upon me, which in truth I do not think I do deserve. The particular which you often renewed, I do confesse was imparted to me under secrecy, and of which Idid not take myself to be at liberty to take notice; and truly when it ceases to be a secret, I know nobody will be gladd of it but Mr. MIilton; I have very often wished I had never been trusted with it.' Edinb. Rev. vol. xliv. art. 1. P. liv. It was the usual practice of Marchmont Nedham, a great crony of Milton, to abuse Salmasius in his public Mercury, called Politicus (as Milton had done before him in his Defensio), by saying, among other things, that Christiana, Queen of Sweden, had cashiered him her favour, by understanding that he was a pernicious parasite and promoter of tyranny. Woods Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 484. P. lxv. Mrs. Katharine Milton, wife to John Milton, Esq. was buried in St. Margaret's Church, in Westminster, Feb. 10, 1657. Reg. Book. Milton then lived in a new house in Petty France. when Mr. Harvey, son of Dr. Harvey, of Petty France, Westminster, told me, Nov. 14, 1770, that old Mr. Lownde assured him, that when Mr. Milton buried his wife, he had the coffin shut down with twelve several locks, that had twelve several keys, and that he gave the keys to twelve several friends, and desired the coffin might not be opened till they all met together. Kennet. Wood's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 486. P. lxvi. The late Reverend Mr. Thomas Bradbury, an eminent dissenting minister, used to say, that Jer. White, who had been chaplain to O. Cromwell, and whom he personally knew, had often told him that Milton was allowed by the ADDENDA. CXix Parliament a weekly table for the entertainment of foreign ministers and persons of learning, such especially as came from Protestant states, which allowance was also continued by Cromwell. Hollis's Note, see Newton's Life, p. lvi. P. lxxvi. There has not one great poet appeared in France since the beginning of Cardinal Richelieu's ministry, but he has been protected and encouraged, and his merit as fast as it could spread has been generally acknowledged. I wish I could as truly affirm the same thing of England. The great qualities of Milton were not generally known among his countrymen till the Paradise Lost had been published more than thirty years; but when that admirable poet was among the Italians, the greatness of his genius was known to them in the very bloom of his youth, even thirty years before that incomparable poem was written. Dennis's Letters, p. 78. More people comprehend the excellency of Homer, and Virgil, and Milton, than the beauties of Martial and Cowley, though perhaps there are not ten persons living who know all the merit of Virgil; and Milton's Paradise Lost had been printed forty years before it was known to the greatest part of England that there barely was sucn a book. Dennis's Letters, p. 173. P. lxxvii. Nor can I believe that several who pretend to be passionate admirers of Milton would treat him if living in any other manner, for the following reasons. Because they are so fond of nothing as of that soft and effeminate rhyme which makes the very reverse of the harmony, and of the manly and powerful and noble enthusiasm of Milton. Because the generality of poets and wits his contemporaries did not esteem him, though they were by no means inferior in understanding to his pretended living admirers. Willmott, Earl of Rochester, never so much as mentioned him in his Imitation of the Tenth Satire of the First Book of Horace. When he came to imitate that passage,'IForte epos acer ut nemo Varius ducit,' instead of Milton he names Waller; and when that noble peer was some years afterwards asked by Dr. Burnet, since Bishop of Salisbury, for which of the modern poets he had most esteem, he answered without the least hesitation, for Boileau among the French, and Cowley among the English poets. Mr. Rymer, in his First Book of Criticism, treated the Paradise Lost with contempt, and the generality of the readers of poetry, for twenty years after it was published, knew no more of that exalted poem than if it had been written in Arabic. Mr. Dryden, in his Preface before the State of Innocence, appears to have been the first, those gentlemen excepted whose verses are before Milton's poem, who discovered in so public a manner an extraordinary opinion of Milton's extraordinary merit. And yet Mr. Dryden at that time knew not half the extent of his excellence, as CXX ADDENDA. more than twenty years afterwards he confessed to me, as is pretty plain from his writing the State of Innocence; for Mr. Dryden in that poem, which is founded on the Paradise Lost, falls so infinitely short of those wonderful qualities, by which Milton has distinguished that noble poem from all other poems, that one of these two things must be granted; either that Mr. Dryden knew not the extent of Milton's great qualities, or that he designed to be a foil to him. But they who knew Mr. Dryden know very well that he was not of a temper to design to be a foil to any one. Dennis's Letters, p. 76. P. lxxxii. For my part I have no notion, that a suffering Hero can be proper for epic poetry. Milton could make but very little even of a suffering God, who makes quite another impression with his lightning and his thunder in Paradise Lost, than with his meekness and his stoicism in Paradise Regained. That great spirit which heroic poetry requires, flows from great passions, and from great actions. If the suffering Hero remains insensible, the generality of readers will not be much concerned for one who is so little concerned for myself. Dennis's Letters, p. 11. P. xcii. The estate which his father left him was but indifferent; yet by his frugality he made it serve him and his. Out of his secretary's salary he had saved two thousand pounds, which being lodged in the excise, and that bank failing at his majesty's restoration, he utterly lost that sum. By the great fire which happened in London in the beginning of September, 1666, he had a house in Bread Street burnt, which was all the real estate he had then left. Wood's Ath. Ox. vol. ii. col. 486. To what does Fielding allude when he says,'It is to be hoped heedless people will be more cautious what they burn, or use to other vile purposes, especially when they consider the fate which had like to have befallen the divine Milton.' v. Journ. to the Next World, p. 331. APPENDIX.'2Mr. Milton's Agreement with Air. Symons for Paradise Lost, dated 27th April, 1667.''These Presents made the 27th day of Aprill 1667 between John Milton, gent. of the one part, and Samuel Symons, printer, of the other part, wittness That the said John Milton in consideration of five pounds to him now paid by the said Samuel Sym5ns, and other the consideracons herein mentioned, hath given, granted and assigned, and by these pits doth give, grant and assign unto the said Samll Sym6ns, his executors, and assignees, All that Booke, Copy, or Manuscript of a Poem intituled Paradise Lost, or by whatsoever other title or name the same is or shall be called or distinguished, now lately licensed to be printed, together with the full benefitt, profit, and advantage thereof, or whch shall or may arise thereby. And the said John Milton for him, his exrs and admr, doth covenant wth the said Saml Symons, his exrs and asss that he and they shall at all times hereafter have, hold and enjoy the same and all impressions thereof accordingly, without the lett or hindrance of him the said John Milton, his exrs or asss, or any person or persons by his or their consent or privity. And that he the said John Milton, his exrs or admrs or any other by his or their meanes or consent, shall not print or cause to be printed, or sell, dispose or publish the said book or manuscript, or any other book or manuscript of the same tenor or subject, without the consent of the said Saml Symons, his exrs or asss: In concideracon whereof the said Samel Symons for him, his exrs and admrs doth covenant with the said John Milton, his exrs, and asss well and truly to pay unto the said John Milton, his exrs, and admrs the sum of five pounds of lawfull english money at the end of the first Impression, which the said baml Symons, his exrs, or ass shall make and publish of the said copy or manuscript, which impression shall be accounted to be ended when thirteen hundred books of the said whole copy or manuscript imprinted, shall be sold and retailed off to particular reading customers. And shall also pay other five pounds, unto the VOL. I. 10 Cxxii APPENDIX. said John Milton, or his asss at the end of the second impression to be accounted as aforesaid, And five pounds more at the end of the third impression, to be in like manner accounted. And that the said three first impressions shall not exceed fifteen hundred books or volumes of the said whole copy or manuscript, a peice. And further, that he the said Samuel Symons, ahd his exrs, admrs, and asss shall be ready to make oath before a Master in Chancery concerning his or their knowledge and belief of or concerning the truth of the disposing and selling the said books by retail, as aforesaid, whereby the said Mr. Milton is too be entitled to his said money from time to time, upon every reasonable request in that behalf, or in default thereof shall pay the said five pounds agreed to be paid upon every impression, as aforesaid, as if the same were due, and for and in lieu thereof. In witness whereof, the said parties have to this writing indented, interchangeably sett their hands and seales the day and yeare first above written. JOHN MILTON. (Seal). Sealed and delivered in John Fisher. the presence of us, Benjamin Greene, servt to Mr. the presence of us, ]^ ^ ^Milton. April 26, 1669. Reed then of Samuel Simmons five pounds, being the Second five pounds to be paid-mentioned in the Covenant. I say reed by me, JOHN MILTON. Witness, Edmund Upton. I do hereby acknowledge to have received of Samuel Symonds Cittizen and Statoner of London, the Sum of Eight pounds: which is in full payment for all my right, title, or interest, which I have or ever had in the Coppy of a Poem Intitled Paradise Lost in Twelve Bookes in 8voBy John Milton, Gent. my late husband. Wittness my hand this 21st day of December 1680. ELIZABETH MILTON. Wittness, William Yopp, Ann Yopp. Know all men by these pssents that I Elizabeth Milton of London Widdow, late wife of John Milton of London Gent: deceased-have remissed released and for ever quitt claimed And by these pssents doe remise release & for ever quitt APPENDIX. cxxiii clayme unto Samuel Symonds of London, Printer-his heirs Excutrs and Administrators All and all manner of Accofi and Accois Cause and Causes of Accofi Suites Bills Bonds writinges obligatorie Debts dues duties Accompts Summe and Sumes of money Judgments Executions Extents Quarrells either in Law or Equity Controversies and demandsAnd all & every other matter cause and thing whatsoever which against the said Samuel Symonds-I ever had and which I my heires Executers or Administrators shall or may have clayme & challenge or demand for or by reason or means of any matters cause or thing whatsoever from the beginning of the World unto the day of these pssents. In witness whereof I have hereunto sett my hand and seale the twenty-ninth-day of April in the thirty third Year of the Reigne of our Sovereign Lord Charles by the grace of God of England Scotland ffrance and Ireland King defender of the ffaith & Anno Dni. 1681. ELIZABETH MILTON. Signed and delivered in the pssence of Jos. Leigh Wm Wilkins. Alterations by Milton from the first edition in ten Books, for the second edition twelve. Book viii. V. 1. The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear, So charming left his voice, that he a while Thought him still speaking; still stood fix'd to hear: Then, as new wak'd, thus gratefully reply'd.' The latter part of the verse was taken from the line in the first edition-'To whom thus Adam gratefully reply'd.' Book xii. V. 1.'As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed: so here th' arch-angel paus'd, Betwixt the world destroy'd, and world restor'd; If Adam ought perhaps might interpose: Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes.' Some few additions were also made to the Poem, the notice of which will interest the critical reader. CXxiv APPENDIX. Book v. V. 637.'They eat, they drink, and with refection sweet Are fill'd, before th' all-bounteous king,' &c. were thus enlarged in the second edition:'They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality, and joy, (secure Of surfeit, where full measure only bounds Excess) before th' all-bounteous king,' &c. Book xi. V. 484, after'Intestine stone, and ulcer, cholic-pangs,' these three verses were added:'Daemoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy; Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence.' And ver. 551, of the same book (which was originally thus: Of rendring up. Michael to him reply'd) received this addition:'Of rendring up, and patiently attend My dissolution. Michael reply'd.' LETTERS. No. i. ii. Greek letters of C. Deodati to Milton, formerly in the possession of Toland, now in the British Museum, additional MS. No. 5017, f. 71, (see Toland's Life of Milton, p. 23.) No. iii. an Italian letter to Milton, from Florence, without the name of the author affixed. Carlo Dati was the principal correspondent of Milton: and I should have supposed that he had been the writer of this letter; but that he is represented as a nobleman of large fortune, and in this letter the writer speaks of his being appointed to the professorship of Belles Lettres in the academy of Florence, on the death of Doni. If not from Carlo Dati, I should presume it must be from Bonnattei, his other Florentine correspondent. Since writing the above, I have discovered that Carlo Dati succeeded Doni in the professorship. lie therefore is the writer. Doni died Dec. 1647, aged fifty-three, he left C. Dati the APPENDIX. CXXV office of publishing his works. Heinsius says,'DATIVM, amicissimum mihi juvenem Donius impense diligebat.' C. Dati died in Jan. 1675, aged fifty-six. Dati took the name in the Acad. della Crusca of'Smarrito. He wrote the Lives of the Antient Painters, 4to. 1667, and other small works. See Salvino Salvino in Fast. Consularibus, p. 536, and Bandini Comm. de vita Donii, p. xci. very interesting mention of C. Dati occurs repeatedly in the Epistles of N. Heinsius. Bayle says he was very civil and officious to all learned travellers who went to Florence. Chimentelli thus speaks of him,'Clarissimus et amicissimus Car. Datius, nostrar flos illibatus urbis, suadaeque Etruscae medulla, quam omni literarum paratu quotidie auget, atque illustrat.' Nic. Heinsius has dedicated a book of his Elegies to Carlo Dati, in which he mentions his acquaintance with Gaddi, Coltellini, Doni, Frescobaldi and other of Milton's friends. Carlo Dati received him with the same hospitality, which he had showed to Milton. He also mentions his reception by Chimentelli at Pisa. No. iv. Letter from Peter Heimbach. To this letter, an answer by Milton is found among his Epistles, p. 65. There is an address to Cromwell in Latin written by Heimbach, printed in London, 1656. This letter was sent after an interval of nine years in their correspondence; and was an affectionate inquiry concerning Milton's safety, during the plague of the preceding year. No. v. Letter from'Leo ab Aizema,' informing Milton he had printed a Dutch translation of his Book on Divorce. See Milton's Answer, p. 42, Feb. 1654. Leo ab Aizema, was a gentleman of Friesland, born at Doccum, 1600. He printed some Latin poems, and Historia Pacis a faederat: Belgis ab An. 1621. He was the resident for the Hans Towns, at the Hague, and was a clever, friendly, and liberal man. See Saxii Onom. Lit. Vol. iv. p. 216. No. I. 0O6a6orTOr MiTwwVl evpcp&tvec6ai. (Condoling with him on the bad weather, and anticipating a meeting on the return of the fine.)'H {ev vrapovaa Karraa Taatc TOV uepof dOKEie 0OovepuTrpov dtaKceZvO-at, 7rpbo a i etllf -rpult deav6yoevot ieIeLeOa, Xeuia& ovfaa, Kal rTapacoaatigv] 6do 67) ohZaf js pag, a2j' fflos( TrOOV1 7rpo)v in Marg. CXXVi APPENDIX. rTv ErTL1v[LC) rT^ rC acvv6laLT7c;w), CadO' irOb irtnlvfia 67r Ev6dav, Kai ya 7avrv, Kal r6cvra Xpvca egl rOv avplov oveLpsrTrEV, Kca fpOvov 6Ov avreVT eaOa, tva Z6vyov 6tL oc66iov, Kat'sreratlEvjtive)v vo(xljceOa 4i alrubj2ov, 6t Trovro oDv'fl3ov6o#nLv,rpbf ae ypaEetv, 7TOV'rpoKac6,Zaltai Kaol &vaJapaVVelv Xptv, 6lc6ag {t1 irpbog repa UCTra voVv 7rpoci;,y &iwirnrcaf TftlaoFoVg, Kal 6vviraOl&ta, tl T r'b xap6vye. "A2Ua 6v p9iepae 6) ciue, Katl'JFueve Tir 665avrt cvvaolvov, IKat tvaulvjt/ave 61iEatlV T7r VMX7f OpTaCrTlKcV, Kav l Cbat6porpav r- r KaarjtepLvdg. Kal yap C'aavplov ecarat 7ravTa KaCdg, Kal 6 aitp, Kai 6 i2of, cKal 6o rTraog, cKal 6dv6pa Kal 6pvilO ta, Ka' 7C, Ka vOpo-TOr ~oprT6ovatv 7ltCv, Cvvye2aOovGtv, Kat aoCXopEvaovat, rb 67) izV~e al7rSc E~XeX(o)' FO6vov OV ErTOLFO YivOV,' KICirleE5oplaaidatl, ~ Kal aKlTogC'TrO6ovrlt i7'T ~ltV.'AvrTOIraTOf 6 of 32e 2 po7jv ayaogo MeviZaoc. WEjoao. No. II. 0eodorog MtIIT7VL yaptev. (Describes the pleasantness of his situation, and of the season, and exhorts Milton to relax from his studies, and take recreation. This letter was probably sent from Cheshire to Milton at Horton, or in London; it must have been written about May.)'OV&Ov EXro EYKXtcV rj vVv 6LayoyO7 FLo, ETorCg rodTOVV EVg, OTl arTpiCaKOFal -VXf Tivog yevvaiag 26yov atretv, cKal dtd6vat dTlJTara Evr7g, TOt7V Tot K~Oe)a2,V 7roT0o9' r 6' d (aa U^'oova Travra VTair(pXEt evrTaVa Eva9'p' Ti yap av irT eir'ot, Odr6rav 7jiaTra atapa, rTO7ro KaXCLT TOL (vi~roi, Kal f)dvotC KOiCol(vrTg, Kal ppVovreT, nrC i7ravrTi ac2L60 &y v aKcaviCl, V aXZlo Tr OpvtOtov d6acf, Kato /vvplGuolf Tcg bOTllrtiTal, TepiTrarot TrotKa)rUTarot, Trp6rar oVT~ Ev6dE7g. OVrT KaTaKOpog, V2rvot a'6pv301o; L E dl' iV Tiva iracpov roTrp ar trenrat6aLvoyVzvOV, Kal F~eIV7il~evoV iTC TOV7roitC, EKTCG)iV, TOV rT v Ilepadv paLt~wof cV6atLoviarEpog av yevoilrv Ot' oT L Ta T i LE T rTEf iV 7TOg Uv-puTwvolfg paylaoL, rpbo o 6 li ~rplrOT7Togf. ZV 6) v avyatiac, rt KaTarbpov~et rTov T7rf dV6ae~f OPg UpjLa; rT Kaprepegf 7rrpo6aaiarGTU pOl3tXiot, aKaol oyl6iolt ravvVXlov, iravvjfap 7rpoapcv6Oj~VOf; y', yiXa, Xpd Tr ve~6Tri7, cKal Tailg paol, Kal T7avov 4 vayvaowv rTg Caovdv6a, Kai Targ avac~Cf, Kal 2 Vide Hem. II. B. 408. 3 ~KTro7jv-so in MS. 4 aeg, erased in text. APPENDIX. Cxxvii baaCTvag rdTv 7ir0at aooSCv avdro t KaTrarptfi6tvof TE(-o.'Ey3 ue tviv aTraltv (X2otC irrV ov Cvo irapxov, rv rorVT T- tIEzpov ir6ovu eidevat KpElTOV, iKa 6dotc) Etavr), Kal eLtu..'EPffSa, cKat 7raie, dQa'' ov KaTra Eapdava7ra2ov rbv ov (a6otC. Note.-These two Greek letters are printed in exact conformity with the original MIS. No. III. Ilmo Sig. e Pron Osso. Fino'anno passato risposi alla cortesissima ed elegantissima lettera di V. S. Illma affettuosamente ringraziandola della memoria che per sua grazia si compiace tenere della mia osservanza. Scrissi, come fo adesso in Toscano, sapendo che la mia lingua e a lei si cara, e familiare che nella sua bocca non apparisce straniera. Ho di poi ricevuto due copie delle sue eruditissime poesie delle quali non mi poteva arrivare donativo piui caro, perche quantunque piccolo, racchiude in se valore infinito per esser una gemma del tesoro del Signor Giov. Miltoni. E come disse Theocrito; Gran pregio ha picciol dono, e merta onore Cio che vien da gl' amici. Le rendo adunque quelle grazie che maggiori per me si possono e prego il Cielo che mi dia fortuna di poterle dimostrare la mia devozione verso il suo merito. Non asconderb alla benevolenza di V. S. Illma, alcune nuove che son certo, le saranno gratissime. II Serenissimo Granduca mio Signore s' e compiaciuto conferirmi la catedra, e lettura delle lettere umane dell' Academia fiorentina vacata per la morte dell' Eruditissimo Signor Gio.'Doni gentilhuomo Fiorentino., Questa e carica onorevolissima, e sempre esercitata da gentilhuomini e literati di questa Patria, come gia dal Poliziano, da' 1 due Vettori, e due 2Adriani lumi delle Lettere. La passata Settimana, per la morte del Serenissimo Principe Lorenzo di Toscana, Zio del Granduca Regnante, feci 1' orazione funerale; come ella sia publicata, sark mia cura invia ne copia a V. S. Illma. Ho alle mani diverse opere, quali a Dio pia1 Petrus, and, I believe, Franciscus Victorius. See the Life of the latter by Bandini. 2 The two Adriani were Marcello, and his son Giambattista, both professors of literature at Florence, and both Secretaries of State. The father died in 1521, the son in 1570. Giambattista wrote the Storia de suoi Tempi, a work highly praised by De Thou. Cxxviii APPENDIX. cendo tirerb avanti per fame quello giudicheranno meglio i mie' dotti e amorevoli amici. I1 Signor Valerio Chimentelli 6 stato eletto da S. Altezza per Professore delle lettere Greche in Pisa, con grande espettazione del suo valore. I Signori Frescobaldi, Coltellini, Francini, Galilei,2 et altri infiniti unitamente le inviano affettuosi saluti, ed io, come pii d'ogn' altro obbligato, con ricordarle il desiderio de' suoi comandi mi ratifico per sempre vivere. Di V. S. Illma. Firenze, 4 xbre 1648. Extra.-All' Illmo Signor e Pron Osso. Ii Sigr. Giovanni Miltoni, Londra. No. IV. Viro supra laudem Jafio Miltonio suo salutem p. d. Petrus Heim bachius. Si citius constitisset nobis, te, Jane Miltoni, vir omni ex parte summe, mortalium coetui interesse adhuc, citius quoque Londinum reversus, nostrum amicissimum animum testatus fuissem. Ferebant enim te nostris nugis exemptum, patrio coelo redonatum esse, terrisque sublimiorem quavis nostra despicere. Ad hoc regnum, ut non datur aditus, sic calamum meum satis ad tui similes scripturientem hactenus cohibere, ac reprimere debui. Ego certe qui non tam virtutes ipsas quam virtutum diversarum conjugium in te admirabar, cum alia multa in te suspicio, tum quod gravitatis quam proe se fert dignissima viro facies, cum serenissima humanitate, charitatis cum prudentia, pietatis cum politica, politicse cum immensa eruditione, sed, addo, generosi, nec minime timidi spiritus, etiam ubi juniores animos 3 laberentur, cum solicito pacis amore, raram omnino, et praeter fas saeculi mixturam feceris. Hine Deum veneror, tibi ut omnia ex voto, et animi sententia rursum eveniant, sed uno excepto. Nam tu quidem 4 saturus annis, plenus honoribus, iis etiam quos recusasti nihil ultra exoptas quam quietis praemium, ac justitiae coro2 The great Galileo died at Arcetri, 9 Jan. 1642, aged seventy-eight; he is said to have been born at Pisa, the very day that M. Angelo died at Rome. The Galilei mentioned above was'Vincenzo,' his natural son. There is strong evidence that he was the first to apply the pendule to the clock. He seems to have done so in 1649, while Huygens' invention was of later date. 3 Animi. 4 Satur. APPENDIX. CXxix nam, tuumque idem, quod olim Simeonis videtur votum. Demitte, Domine, nune servum tuum in pace. Ast nostrum longe ad hoc alienissimum est, nempe ut D. T. 0. M. te diutissime interesse rebus nostris literariis, ac prreesse patiatur. Sic vale, doctissime Miltoni, longum et feliciter cum omnibus tuis, plurimum a nobis salutatus. Dabam postridie nonas Junii vulgaris iErYS Christians clo. loc. lxvi. Clivopoli ubi Electorali solio, vivimus ac consiliis. Iterum vale, et nos quod facis adamare persevera, ac quam primum jucundissimo omnium responso bea. No. V. S. P. Partim quia Morus in suo Scripto quedam tibi aspersit ex libro tuo de divortiis Anglico, vir nobilis et cl: partim quia multi curose quesiverunt de argumentis quibus opinionem adstruis tuam: dedi cuidam tractulum illum totum in Hollandicum sermonem vertendum: cum desiderio, ut quanto ocius imprimatur. Nescius autem an quicquam in eo correctum vel additum velis; non potui quin hoc verbo te admoneam et de animo tuo, ut me certiorem facias, rogem. Vale, et Salve a Haga die Tui Observantiss. 29 Jan. 1654-5., Leo Aizema. Extra.-Nob. C1. viro Dno Joh. Miltono Consilio Status i Secretis Londini. EXTRACT OF THE PASSAGES IN THE CORRESPONDENCE OF NIC. HEINSIUS AND ISAAC VOSSIUS, WHERE MILTON IS MENTIONED. (v. Burmanni Syllogen, vol. iii.) P. 217. Jussus ille (Is. Vossius) Miltonianum scriptum, simul ac allatum in aulam esset, Salmasio sistere, quod invitus credo, fecerit. Qua fronte exceptum sit, vellem simul monuisset amicissimus Wullenius, qui ejus rei certiorem me fecit. P. 259. Salmasius post acceptum n]iltoni scriptum, fremit ac frendet, auctoremque ejus se cum toto parlamento perdi CXXX APPENDIX. turum palam minatur. Sed illos primos impetus sufflaminabit credo, non nihil, respondendi molestia ac labor. P. 267. Salmasius in Miltono defricando totus est, quem a me subornatum instigatumque palam prsdicat, magnumque mihi ac patri malum hoc nomine minatur in apologia quam parat, nobis tribus simul insultaturus. Mira profecto est hsec hominis insania, quam impune tamen non fecit. Vidi freneticam ejus epistolam, qua existimationi nostrae, dira qumvis portendit. P. 270. Scribonii largi (i. e. Salmasii) atrox contra rempublicam Anglicanam scriptum, prelo Holmiensi jam commissum ferunt. Miser iste Senecio prorsus delirat ac insanit. Misit duas in hanc urbem nuper epistolas, rabiei sycophanticae non inanes, quibus omne se virus in me conversurum minatur, quod Miltoni scriptum probari a me intelligat. Ego vero, et dixi, et dicam porro, malam a Miltono causam tam bene actam, quam regis infelicissimi causam pessime egit Scribonius. Hanc meam libertatem si ferre non potest, rumpatur. Adulatoris a me partes, non est, quod exigat. Cum nescire non debeat quam me servilis obsequii clientem hactenus non sit expertus. Hoc etiam maligne et Salmasiane quod regibus non minus ac _Miltonum me infensum fingit, cum publice jam bis testatus sum, quid de parricidio Anglicano senserim. Inter regicidas, si locum mihi dat, ut omni procul dubio daturus, videbis brevi pro meritis ornatum et depexum. Nihil neque senectuti ejus, neque valetudini adverse parcam. Ita illum excipiam, ut parentem meum ille jamdudum excepit, pejus etiam, si potero. P. 271. Salmasii in Jfiltonum invectivae jam eduntur. Graswinchelius noster etiam regum causam suscepit defendendam contra eundem Miltonum. P. 276. Ludimagistrum vocat Scribonius passim Milonum, qui tamen et nobili loco natus, ut ferunt, qui hominem norunt, et in re lauta constitutus, variis peregrinationibus, assiduisque studiis privatus aetatem, quam quadraginta annis grandiorem vix numerat, exegisse narratur. Donec a consilio status Anglici ad scribse provinciam in isto collegio suscipiendam invitatus est. Virum esse miti, comique ingenio aiunt, quique illam non habuisse se causam profitetur, Scribonium acerbe insectandi, quam quod ille et viros e maximis celeberrimisque multis nihil benignius exceperit, et quod in universam Anglorum gentem, convitiis atrocissimis injurius valde fuerit. Si quis Anglorum versibus illis meis, quos tu nosti, aliquid reponeret, numquid ridiculus tibi viderer si illum a Scribonio instigatum asseverarem? P. 286. Miltoni liber Londini auctior, et augusta forma iteratur, ingens rumorum materia discessus eodem tempore Trov dueva (Salmasii) Freinshemi, Boecleri, Moncheronis, exhaustas arcas alii, alii gentis ferunt invidiam. P. 303. Prodiit et'Clamor regii sanguinis,' sine auctoris APPENDIX. CXxxi nomine, quem tamen intelligo facile esse Morum qui etsi vult videri se cause id dedisse, satis prodit, se potius id dedisse patrono hospiti, ut Miltono frigidam suffunderet in antecessum, dum alter mare, aut lacum criminum undique conductum parat. P. 305. 2Ethiops (A. Morus) Sociennus ejus triumphum egit, ut audio, in amici sui sedibus de subactis BritannisGazettae certe Londiniensis fabellam narrant lepidissimam: palmam ear prsereptam sibi dolet Alastor (Salmasius) quare simultates cum Ethiope nunc strenuas exercet, siquid famae creditur. P. 307.'Clamorem regii sanguinis' ab Anglo scriptum nescio quo, sed a Moro editum intellexeram. Morum tamen parricide pro auctore ejus libri habent, ac egregie in Gazettis, ut vocant, Londinensibus defricarunt, tanquam confessa sit ab illo, Alastoris (Salmasii) pedisequa addito hoc epigrammate Galli exconcubitu gravidam te, Bontia, Mori Quis bene moratam, morigeramque neget? Agnoscis in illo Ouweiani acuminis ineptias, quod Ulitius herus mecum communicavit, Alastoris (Salmasii) scriptum contra Anglos avide expecto; de meo enim tergo, quin illic comitia sint habenda nullus dubito. Sic promisit certe, cum Miltonum a me amatum persuaderi sibi passus sit. P. 323. Magnus ille Pan (Salmasius) qui secundam Vossii ex Suecia fugam minabatur, mihi quoque mala multa, ac ipsi dominae exitiuin, nisi nos a se abigerit, ut ex Moro intelligebas nuper, nunc ad plures abiit. Alii Spadse, alii Aquisgrani in balneo mortuum ferunt. Trajecti ad Mosam sepultum certe constat. Nimirum qui armis tantopere delectabatur, inter arma sepeliri voluit. Hunc casum accidisse mihi non valde lugubrem fateor, non quod miros hominis edentulos timerem, sed quod tranquillitatem animi unice amem, quam ille mihi propriam ac perpetuam haud quaquam reliquisset. Erat etiam ea aetate, ut nihil solidi aut eruditi ab eo amplius sperari posset. P. 595. Liber Miltoni heri huc est allatus. Exemplar meum petiit a me regina. Ipse non nisi cursim dum perlustravi. Nihil tale ab Anglo expectaram, et certe nisi me fallit animus, placuit quoque, uno tantum excepto, incomparabili nostrae Dominse. Dicit tamen Salmasius se perditurum auctorem cum toto parlamento. P. 596. Miloni apologiam pro parlamento suo, priori accepimus hebdomade. Legit istud scriptum incomparabilis nostra domina, et, nisi fallor, valde ei placuit. Certe et ingenium istius viri, et scribendi genus, multis praesentibus collaudavit. Salmasius jam sese ad respondendum accingit quamvis necdum a diuturno morbo convaluerit, ira tamen satis ei suppeditabit roboris et armorum. CXXxii APPENDIX. P. 600. Virulentum Miltoni librum jamdudum ad vos perlatum confido, ejus editiones quinque jam hic vidimus. Belgicam etiam versionem, Gallicam nunc adornari ferunt. P. 603. Ex Miltoniano libro unicum tantum exemplar Holmiam perlatum miror, cum tria uno eodemque tempore, fuisse missa sciam. Est hic liber in omnium hic manibus ob argumenti nobiiitatem, et jam quatuor, praeter Anglicanam, editiones vidimus, unam in quarta ut vocant forma Goudae editum, tres in duodecima, quarum primam L. Elzevirius, secundam J. Jansenius, tertiam Trajentensis nescio quis edidit, quinta in octava formae editis. Haga sub prcelo sudat ut monet Elzevirius. Belgicam versionem video etiam circumferri, Gallicam expectari ferunt. Miltonus ille quis sit non satis constat. Vidi qui adfirmarint, infimo loco natum: eruditum tamen, et plebiorum factione ad maximam dignitatem promotum. L. Elzevirius adfirmat, certo sibi constare hominem esse et nobili loco natum, et opulentum, a reipublicae muniis negotiisque omnibus remotum, ac sibi in rure suo viventem. Refutavit Anglico sermone Iconem Basilicam, qui liber inter Parlamentarios maximo est in pretio. Poemata etiam Latina edidit, sed qua in manus meas hactenus non pervenerunt. Si certiora cognovero, faciam ut ex me intelligas. P. 605. Valde quoque gratum erit, si porro significaveris, quis et qualis sit iste Miltonus, Iconoclastem si habeas, rogo ut transmittas. P. 606. Salmasius situs est in meditatione operis contra Miltonum. Lepidum est, quod de Graswinchelio narras, male mulctabitur, si Miltonum adtigerit. P. 601. Gronovii adversam valetudinem egre admodum fero. At vero plus aegrotat Graswinchelius, si cum Anglo isto Molosso, Miltono dico, sese commiserit.-Ipse (Salmasius) totus nunc est in confutando Scripto Miltoni, cui totidem reddit convitia nec patietur, ut a minore, vel hac in parte saperetur. P. 621. Graswinchelio interdictum esse, ne pergat in Miltono confutando, egre fert Salmasius. Verum idem ex animo gaudet librum Miltoni, Lutetie publice a carnifice esse combustum. Non opus, ut meum de hoc scripto interponam judicium, interim hoc scio, fatum esse bonorum fere librorum, ut hoc modo vel pereant vel periclitentur. Homines plerumque propter scelera et pravitatem manus carnificum subeunt, libri vero virtutis et preestantise ergo. Soli fatuorum labores tales non metuunt casus. Sed sane frustra sunt, qui se hoc modo exstirpare posse existimant Miltoni et aliorum Scripta, cum potius flammis istis, mirum quantum clarescant et illustrentur. Qua autem de Miltoni conditione, ad me scribis, illa convenire puto cum iis, quae tibi ante hebdomades aliquot significavi. P. 643. De motibus Anglicanis certiora procul dubio ex APPENDIX. cxxxiii illo intelligere possis. Ego quippe raro in publicum prodeo, et non me multum immisceo publicis rumoribus. iiltonum caecum esse factum, jam tibi significavi, addunt alii etiam mortuum. P. 647. De Ethiope (Moro) et Angl (Pontia famula Salmasii) lepida sunt et festiva qua reponis. Sed nunc negant ea vera esse, et sparsa esse ab Malevolis quibusdam. Sane constant mihi Anglam istam omnes Ethiopi (Moro), reddidisse amatorias suas. Inter ipsum et Salmasium lis forte orietur (quenam inter tales possit esse diuturna Concordia), propter librum hic excusum, cui titulus " Clamor Sanguinis Regii in Ccelum." Scriptus ille videtur a quovis Anonymo Anglo transmissus vero Salmasio, divulgatus vero ab Ethiope (Moro). Propter sexaginta exemplaria, quae permisit typographus, inter ipsos est contentio. P. 649. De'Moro' vero quue scribis, quam sunt ea lepida, quam venusta. Auctor sane ei sim, ut nummum det cum hac inscriptione, "Subacta Britannia" verum vide quam inratus sit iste heros erga Ethiopem, cujus tamen clavre istam debet victoriam, quoniam is non cupit eam uxorem ducere, acerrime nunc illum persequitur. Mihi sane JEthiops multo rectius facturus fuisse videtur, si ex Ovidii tui priecepto a Domina incipisset. Minor quidem voluptas ista fuissit, sed longe majorem inivisset gratiam, divulgata est passim hac fabella etiam in gazettis publicis Londinensibus addita etiam Epigrammata. P. 651. De Salmasio nihil omnino habeo, quod tibi significem. Credo enim etiamnum cum solito suo malo conflictari. Rettulit tamen non nemo, eum nunc meliuscule valere. Lis ipsi est cum Moro. Cupit enim ut is Anglicanam suam in uxorem ducat, quod alter recusat. Verum isti duo boni amantes, qui nuper tam suaviter et amice oscula jungebant, valde nunc sibi invicem sunt infensi. Ante quatriduum siquidem, cum forte Maurus huic nostrae occurreret in vasta ista area, quae aedibus Salmasii adjacet, statim illa capillitium ejus invasit, pluribusque adfecit verberibus. Neque eo contenta, etiam fuste in illum stevire conabatur, nisi bonus ille socius in horreum confugisset, super struicem quandam, jactuque se vindicasset caespitum. Huic spectaculo son defuit ingens spectatorunm numerus, qui ex vicinia passim eo confluxerant, vides quam omnes in iis aedibus sunt yvvaKoKcpaTovysvot, facile hinc possis conjicere, falsos fuisse rumores qui de Subacta Britannia' passim fuere sparsi, cum illa potius Maurum subegerit, vel, si verus sit rumor, adparet non satis fuisse subactam. P. 662. Salmasius totus est in responso ad Miltonum. Cceptus est jam excudi, qui mole non erit minor priori. Miltonum passim Catamitum vocat, aitque cum in Italia vilissimum fuisse scortum, et passim nummis nates prostituisse, examinat quoque passim Carmina ejus Latina, Dissidium Cxxxiv APPENDIX. vero quod exercet cum Moro, indies crescit, presertim postquam in jus vocavit Anglicam, infensus quoque est alio nomine, nempe quod ipsum Morus Cornigerum vocarit. P. 669. Miltonum mortuum credideram, sic certe nunciaras, sed prmestat in vivis illum esse, ut Sycophantse cum Sycophantis committantur. Poemata ejus mihi ostendit Holstenius, nihiil ila ad elegantiam apologice. Inprosodiam peccavit Jfrequenter. Magnus igitur Salmasianoe crisi campus hic est assertus, sed qua fronte alienos iste versus notabit, cujus musis nihil est cacatius? quod ait adversarium (Miltonum) nates Italis vendidisse, mira est calumnia. Utinam ejus malsa tam tutae fuissent a pugnis uxoriis, quam posticum MAiltoni os a sicariis Hetruscis! Imo invisus est Italis Anglus iste, inter quos multo vixit tempore, ob mores nimium severos, cum et de religione liberte disputaret, ac multa in Pontificem Romanum acerbe effutiret, quavis occasione. COMPLIMENTARY VERSES. IN PARADISUM AMISSAM SUMMI POET.E JOHANNIS MILTONJ. QuI legis Amissam Paradisum, grandia magni Carmina Miltoni, quid nisi cunclta legis? Res cunctas, et cunctarum primordia rerum, Et fata, et fines continet iste liber. Intima panduntur magni penetralia mundi; Scribitur et toto quicquid in orbe latet; Terreque, tractusque maris, coelumque profundum Sulphureumque Eribi flammivomumque specus; Quseque colunt terras, portumque et Tartara cseca, Quseque colunt summi lucida regna poli; Et quodcunque ullis conclusum est finibus usquam, Et sine fine Chaos, et sine fine Deus; Et sine fine magis, si quid magis est sine fine, In Christo erga homines conciliatus amor. Htec qui speraret quis crederet esse futurum? Et tamen hsec hodie terra Britanna legit. O quantos in bella duces! quse protulit arma! Quse canit, et quanta, prselia dira tuba. Ccelestes acies! atque in certamine coelum! Et quse coelestes pugna deceret agros! Quantus in setheriis tollit se Lucifer armis, Atque ipso graditur vix Michaele minor! Quantis, et quam funestis concurritur iris Dum ferns hie stellas protegit, ille rapit! Dum vulsos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent, Et non mortali desuper igne pluunt: Stat dubius cui se parti concedat Olympus, Et metuit pugnae non superesse sue, At simul in coelis Messime insignia fulgent, Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo, Horrendumque rotae strident, et saeva rotarum Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus, Et flammae vibrant, et vera tonitrua rauco Admistis flammis insonuere Polo, Excidit attonitis mens omnis, et impetus omnis Et cassis dextris irrita tella cadunt. Ad pcenas fugiunt, et ceu foret Orcus asylum Infernis certant condere se tenebris. Cedite Romani scriptores, cedite Graii Et quos fama recens vel celebravit anus. Haec quicunque leget tantum cecinisse putabit Moeonidem ranas, Virgilium culices. SAMUEL BARROW, M.D. ON PARADISE LOST. WHEN I beheld the poet blind, yet bold, In slender book his vast design unfold, Messiah crown'd, God's reconcil'd decree, Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree, Heaven, hell, earth, chaos, all; the argument Held me awhile misdoubting his intent, That he would ruine (for I saw him strong) The sacred truths to Fable and old song: (So Sampson grop'd the temple's posts in spite) The world o'erwhelming to revenge his sight. Yet as I read, soon growing less severe, I lik'd his project, the success did fear; Through that wide field how he his way should find O'er which lame faith leads understanding blind; Lest he perplex'd the things he would explain, And what was easy he should render vain. Or if a work so infinite he spann'd, Jealous I was that some less skilful hand (Such as disquiet always what is well, And by ill imitating would excel) Might hence presume the whole creation's day To change in scenes, and show it in a play. Pardon me, mighty poet, nor despise My causeless, yet not impious, surmise. But I am now convinc'd, and none will dare Within thy labours to pretend a share. Thou hast not miss'd one thought that could be fit, And all that was improper dost omit: So that no room is here for writers left, But to detect their ignorance or theft. That majesty which through thy work doth reign Draws the devout, deterring the profane. And things divine thou treat'st of in such state As them preserves, and thee, inviolate. At once delight and horror on us seize, Thou sing'st with so much gravity and ease, And above human flight dost soar aloft With plume so strong, so equal, and so soft. The bird nam'd from that paradise you sing So never flags, but always keeps on wing. Where could'st thou words of such a compass find? Whence furnish such a vast expanse of mind? Just heaven thee like Tiresias to requite Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight. Well mightest thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure; While the town-bayes writes all the while and spells, And like a pack-horse tires without his bells: Their fancies like our bushy points appear, The poets tag them, we for fashion wear. I too, transported by the mode, offend, And while I meant to praise thee must commend.1 Thy verse created like thy theme sublime, In number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme. ANDREW MARVEL. 1 See note in Life, p. lxxvii. VOL. I. 11 "THE VERSE." "THE measure is English Heroic Verse without Rime, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin; Rime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter; grac't indeed since by the use of some famous modern Poets, carried away by Custom, but much to thir own vexation, hindrance, and constraint, to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse, then else they would have exprest them. Not without cause, therefore, some both Italian and Spanish Poets of prime note, have rejected Rime both in longer and shorter Works; as have also, long since, our best English Tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious eares, triveal and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt Numbers, fit quantity of Syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoyded by the learned Ancients both in Poetry and all good Oratory. This neglect then of Rime, so little is to be taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteem'd an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recover'd to Heroic Poem fiom the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing." PARADISE LOST IN TWELVE BOOKS. PARADISE LOST. BOOK I. THE ARGUMENT. THIS first book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was placed. Then touches the prime cause of his fall, the serpent, or rather Satan in the serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was by the command of God driven out of heaven with all his crew into the great deep. Which action passed over, the Poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his Angels now fallen into hell, described here, not in the centre, for heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed, but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos: Here Satan with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded; they rise; their numbers, array of battel, their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining heaven, but tells them lastly of a.new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy or report in heaven: for that Angels were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandaemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the deep: the infernal Peers there sit in council. 2 PARADISE LOST. OF Man's first disobedience and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us and regain the blissful seat, 5 Sing heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning how the heavens and earth Rose out of Chaos; or if Sion hill o1 Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd Fast by the oracle of God; I thence' Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues 15 Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. And chiefly thou, 0 Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thbu know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread 20 Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; 16 v. Ariosto Orl. Fur. c. i. st. 2. Orlando Innam. di Boiardo, rifac. da Berni, lib. ii. c. xxx. st. 1.' Cor' avvien, che ne in prosa e detta, o in rima Cosa, che non sia stata detta prima.' Bowle, Pearce. 19 Instruct] Theoc. Id. xxii. 116. eirre eaQE. ac yap olacia. Newton. BOOK I. 3 That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, 23 And justify the ways of God to men. Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view, Nor the deep tract of hell; say first, what cause Mov'd our grand parents in that happy state, Favour'd of heav'n so highly, to fall off 30 From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world besides? Who first seduc'd them to that foul revolt? Th' infernal serpent; he it was, whose guile, Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceiv'd 35 The mother of mankind, what time his pride Had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers, He trusted to have equall'd the Most High, 40 If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim Against the throne and monarchy of God Rais'd impious war in heav'n and battel proud, With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power Hurl'd headlong flaming fiom th' ethereal sky, 45 With hideous ruin and combustion, down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space that measures day and night 33 Whol v. Horn. I. i. 8. Hume. 48 adamantine] v. Spenser.'Together link'd in adanmantine chains.' See Todd's Note. 4 PARADISE LOST. To mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf, Confounded though immortal: but his doom Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain 55 Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes, That witness'd huge affliction and dismay, Mix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate. At once, as far as angels ken, he views The dismal situation waste and wild; Go A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flam'd; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 65 And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsum'd. Such place eternal justice had prepar'd:. For those rebellious; here their prison ordain'd In utter darkness, and their portion set As far remov'd from God and light of heaven, As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole. O how unlike the place from whence they fell! 75 63 darkness visible] v. Senecse Ep. 57. de Crypt, Neapol.'Nihil illis faucibus obscurius; que nobis priestant, ut non per tenebras videamus, sed ut ipsas.' Bentl. IMS. 66 hope] Compare Jer. Taylor's Contemplations, p. 211, and see Todd's Note, p. 18. BOOK I. 5 There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, He soon discerns, and welt'ring by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd 80 Beelzebub: To whom th' arch-enemy, And thence in heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence, thus began. If thou beest he-But 0 how fall'n! how chang'd From him, who in the happy realms of light, s5 Cloath'd with transcendent brightness, didst outshine Myriads, though bright! If he, whom mutualleague, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprize, Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd 90 In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest From what heiht fall'n, so much the stronger prov'd He with his thunder; and till then who knew The force of those dire arms? yet not for those, Nor what the potent victor in his rage 85 Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, Though chang'd in outward lustre, that fix'd mind And high disdain from sense of injur'd merit, That with the Mightiest rais'd me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along io 85 Isaiah, xiv. 12. Virg. _En. ii. 274.'Hei'mihi! qualis erat! quantum mutatus ab illo!' Newton. 98 high] Spens. F. Queen. b. i. c. i. s. 19.' grief, and high disdain.' 6 PARADISE LOST. Innumerable force of spirits arm'd, That durst dislike his reign; and, me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd In dubious battel on the plains of heav'n, And shook his throne. What though the field be All is not lost; th' unconquerable will, [lost? And study of revenge, immortal hate And courage never to submit or yield, And what is else not to be overcome; That glory never shall his wrath or might no Extort from me: to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power, Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire, that were low indeed, That were an ignominy and shame beneath 115 This downfal; since by fate the strength of gods And this empyreal substance cannot fail; Since through experience of this great event, In arms not worse, in foresight much advanc'd, We may with more successful hope resolve 120 To wage by force or guile eternal war, Irreconcileable to our grand foe, Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heav'n. So spake th' apostate angel, though in pain, 125 Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair: And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. 0 Prince, 0 chief of many throned Powers, That led th' imbattell'd seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds 130 BOOK 1. 7 Fearless, endanger'd heaven's perpetual King, And put to proof his high supremacy; Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate, Too well I see and rue the dire event, That with sad overthrow and foul defeat 135 Hath lost us heav'n, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as gods and heavenly essences Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigour soon returns, 140 Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery. But what if he our conqueror, whom I now Of force believe almighty, since no less [ours, Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, Strongly to suffer and support our pains, That we may so suffice his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service, as his thralls 131perpetual] Consult Newton's note on the word'perpetual.' 139 mind and spirit] So Satan in the Adamus Exsul of Grotius, p. 32, ed. Lauder. I Abstulit sortem Deus Quam potuit, animis pristinum mansit decus, Et cor, profunda providum sapientia; Sunt reliqua nobis regna, sunt vires sum, Multa et potestas'140 Invincible] v. JEschyli Prometheus, ver. 1060. - ~E: re KieXamvov Taprapov (pdnv tpi.lete 6idear Toviov, &cvua7ry areppaig 6ivatl. 8 PARADISE LOST. By right of war, whate'er his business be, 150 Here in the heart of hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy deep: What can it then avail, though yet we feel Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being To undergo eternal punishment? 155 Whereto with speedy words th' arch-fiend reply'd. Fall'n cherub, to be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do ought good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight; 160 As being the contrary to his high will, Whom we resist. If then his providence Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labour must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil; 165 Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost counsels from their destin'd aim. But see! the angry victor hath recall'd His ministers of vengeance and pursuit 170 Back to the gates of heav'n: the sulphurous hail, Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipice Of heaven receiv'd us falling, and the thunder, Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, 175 Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now 158 Daing or suffering]'Quodvis pati, quidvis facere.' Plauti Miles. v. 9. See Pricrsum ad Apulei Apolog. p. 165. BOOK I. 9 To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn Or satiate fury yield it from our foe. Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, so80 The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful? thither let us tend From off the tossing of these fiery waves; There rest, if any rest can harbour there, 185 And, reassembling our afflicted powers, Consult how we may henceforth most offend Our enemy; our own loss how repair; How overcome this dire calamity; What reinforcement we may gain from hope; 190 If not, what resolution from despair. Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate, With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blaz'd; his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large, is9 Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briareiis, or Typhon, whom the den By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast 177 To bellow] See Henry More's Poems, p. 314.' The hoarse bellowing of the thunder.' 181 void] Dante Inf. c. v. 28.'Luogo d'ogni luce muto.' Todd. 200 sea-beast]'iEquoreo similem per litora monstro.' Val. Flacc. iv. 700. 10 PARADISE LOST. Leviathan, which GOD of all his works Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream: Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, 205 With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays: So stretch'd out huge in length the arch-fiend lay, Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence 210 Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will 205 Deemingsome island] At Sir William Drury's house in Hawstead in Suffolk (built in regn. Elizab.), is a closet with painted pannels of the age of James I. One (no. 36.) is a ship that has anchored on a whale which is in motion. The motto,'nusquam tuta fides.' See Cullum's Hist. of Hawstead, p. 164, where is an engraving of it. 205 island] Thus Dionysii Perieg. 598. ciu6t 6'e 7ravTK7Trea -Svef Xovatv, tpvOpaiov fpoTi r6OVTOV, OWpeClv ~Tj'tlaroLtCv EolKc6ra. And so in the Orlando Innam. of Boiardo, rifac. da Berni, lib. ii. canto xiii. stan. 60.' Ii dosso sol mostrava ch' maggiore Ch' undici passi, ed anche piu d'altezza, E veramente, a chi la guarda, pare Un' isoletta nel mezzo del mare.' Compare also Avieni Disc. Orbis, p. 784-5, and Pia Hilaria, p. 92.' Basil affirms that whales are equal to the greatest mountains, and their backs, when they show above the water, like to islands.' v. Brerewood on Languages, p. 133. 208 Invests] v. Stat. Theb. lib. v. 51.' tellurem proximus umbra, Vestit Athos.'~ BOOK I. 11 And high permission of all-ruling heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs; That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 215 Evil to others, and enrag'd might see How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shewn On man by him seduc'd; but on himself Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance pour'd. 2.0 Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature; on each hand the flames Driv'n backward slope their pointing spires, and In billows leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. [roll'd Then with expanded wings he steers his flight 225 Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With solid, as the lake with liquid, fire; And such appear'd in hue, as when the force 230 Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side Of thund'ring 2Etna, whose combustible And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, 235 And leave a singed bottom, all involv'd With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole Of unbless'd feet. Him follow'd his next mate, 232 Pelorus] See Dante, Paradiso, c. 8. ver. 68.' Tra Pachino e Peloro sopra'1 golfo, Che riceve da Euro maggior briga.' 12 PARADISE LOST. Both glorying to have scap'd the Stygian flood, As gods, and by their own recover'd strength, 240 Not by the sufferance of supernal power. Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, Said then the lost arch-angel, this the seat That we must change for heaven, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? be it so, since he, 245 Who now is Sov'reign, can dispose and bid What shall be right: farthest from him is best, Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors; hail 250 Infernal world; and thou profoundest hell Receive thy new possessor; one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. 25 What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? here at least We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: 260 Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: 240 recover'd strength] Revigorate, resumed, recovering, reviving, self-raised, self recovered. Bentl. Conj. IMSS. 241 suferance] Compare Horn. Od. iv. 503. 4i A' eK'7Tie e&CV vyetlv eiya alrjzua -Oa2cancs. BOOK I. 13 Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' associates and copartners of our loss, 265 Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion; or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in heaven, or what more lost in hell? 270 So Satan spake, and him Beilzebub Thus answer'd: Leader of those armies bright, Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft 275 In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battel when it rag'd, in all assaults Their surest signal, they will soon resume New courage and revive, though now they lie Grov'ling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, 280 As we erewhile, astounded and amaz'd, No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious highth. lie scarce had ceas'd, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 283 Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 263 Better] See _Eschyli Prometheus, ver. 976. KpEldaov yap oizya Tr,6e aarpeetv 7rTpa,'H Tarpa fivvai Zrlvl Mr9arv iyye2ov. VOL. 1. 12 14 PARADISE LOST. Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At ev'ning, from the top of Fesole Or in Valdarno, tosdescry new lands, 290 Rivers or mountains.in their spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps 295 Over the burning marle, not like those steps On heaven's azure, and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. Nathless he so indur'd, till on the beach Of that inflamed sea he stood, and call'd S30 288 optic glass] See Henry More's Poems (Inf. of Worlds): st. 91.' But that experiment of the optick glasse,' and Davenant's Gondibert, p. 188.'Or reach with optick tubes the ragged moon.' 293 mast] See Lucilii Sat. lib. xv. 1. p. 132.' ~- porro huic majus bacillum Quam malus navi in corbita maximus ulla.' And Ovid Metam. xiii. 783. Cui postquam pinus, baculi que proebuit usum, Ante pedes posita est, antennis apta ferendis.' Cowley's Davideis, lib. iii. ver. 47. His spear the trunk was of a lofty tree, Which nature meant some tall ship's mast to be.' Keysler's Travels, ii. 117.' They shew here the mast of a ship, which the common people believe to be the lance of Rolando the great.' Pope probably mistook the sense, when, in Hom. I1. xiii. 494, he says,'Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral.' Mr. Dyce refers to Quintus Smyrneus, lib. v. ver. 118. BOOK I. 15 His legions, angel forms, who lay entrans'd, Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High overarch'd imbow'r; or scatter'd sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd 305 Hath vex'd the Red-sea coast, whose waves o'erBusiris and his Memphian chivalry, [threw While with perfidious hatred they pursu'd The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcases 310 And broken chariot wheels: so thick bestrown Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep Of hell resounded: Princes, Potentates, 315 Warriors, the flow'r of heaven, once yours, now lost, If such astonishment as this can seize Eternal spirits; or have ye chos'n this place After the toil of battel to repose Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find 320 To slumber here, as in the vales of heaven? Or in this abject posture have ye sworn To adore the conqueror? who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood With scatter'd arms and ensigns, till anon 325 His swift pursuers from heaven gates discern Th' advantage, and descending tread us down Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen! 330 16 PARADISE LOST. They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. Nor did they not perceive the evil plight 33 In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel; Yet to their General's voice they soon obey'd, Innumerable. As when the potent rod Of Amram's Son, in Egypt's evil day, Wav'd round the coast up call'd a pitchy cloud 340 Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile: So numberless were those bad angels seen Hovering on wing under the cope of hell, 345'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires; Till, as a signal giv'n, th' uplifted spear Of their great Sultan waving to direct Their course, in even balance down they light On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain; 35n A multitude like which the populous north Pour'd never from her frozen loins, to pass Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons Came like a deluge on the south, and spread Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands. 365 840 pitchy cloud]' No pitchy storm wrapt up in swelling clouds.' See Sandy's C67rist's Passion, p. 57. 853 Danaw] so Donne (Progr. of the Soul, st. ii.) p. 228.' At Tagus, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danow dine.' BOOK I. 17 Forthwith from ev'ry squadron and each band The heads and leaders thither haste, where stood Their great commander; God-like shapes and Excelling human, princely dignities, [forms And powers, that erst in heaven sat on thrones; Though of their names in heavenly records now Be no memorial, blotted out and raz'd By their rebellion from the books of life. -Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 3s4 Got them new names; till wand'ring o'er the earth Through God's high sufferance for the trial of man, By falsities and lies the greatest part Of mankind they corrupted to forsake God their creator, and th' invisible Glory of him that made them to transform 370 Oft to the image of a brute, adorn'd With gay religions full of pomp and gold, And devils to adore for deities: Then were they known to men by various names, And various idols through the heathen world. 375 Say, 3use, their names then known, who first, who last, Rous'd from the slumber on that fiery couch At their great emp'ror's call, as next in worth, Came singly where he stood on the bare strand, 868 mdnkind] so accented on the first syllable in Heywood's Hierarchie, p. 11.' Tell me, 0 thou of Mainkind most accurst.' 376 who first] Horn. II. v. 703. evja riva lTrpTOV, riva 6' i'OTaTro. Todd. 18 PARADISE LOST. While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof? 380 The chief were those, who, from. the pit of hell Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix Their seats long after next the seat of God, Their altars by his altar, gods ador'd Among the nations round, and durst abide 385 Jehovah thund'ring out of Sion, thron'd Between the cherubim; yea, often plac'd Within his sanctuary itself their shrines, Abominations; and with cursed things His holy rites and solemn feasts profan'd, 390 And with their darkness durst affront his light. First Moloch, horrid king, besmear'd with blood Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears, Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud Their children's cries unheard, that past through fire To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 396 Worship'd in Rabba and her wat'ry plain, In Argob, and in Basan, to the stream Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart 400 Of Solomon he led by fraud to build His temple right against the temple of God, On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence And black Gehenna call'd, the type of hell. 405 Next Chemos, th' obscene dread of Moab's sons, From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild Of southmost Abarim; in Hesebon And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond BOOK I. 19 The flow'ry dale of Sibma clad with vines, 410 And Eleale, to th' Asphaltic pool: Peor his other name, when he entic'd Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarg'd 415 Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate; Till good Josiah drove them thence to hell. With these came they, who, from the bord'ring flood Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts 420 Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male, These feminine: for spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both; so soft And uncompounded is their essence pure; 425 Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they choose, Dilated or condens'd, bright or obscure, Can execute their airy purposes, 430 And works of love or enmity fulfil. For those the race of Israel oft forsook Their living strength, and unfrequented left His righteous altar, bowing lowly down To bestial gods; for which their heads as low 435 Bow'd down in battel, sunk before the spear Of despicable foes. With these in troop 419 bord'ring] v. Gen. xv. 18. Old Euphrates: v. Gen. ii. 14. Newton. 20 PARADISE LOST. Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians call'd Astarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns; To whose bright image nightly by the moon 440 Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs; In Sion also not unsung, where stood Her temple on th' offensive mountain, built By that uxorious king, whose heart though large, Beguil'd by fair idolatresses, fell 445 To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind, Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties all a summer's day, While smooth Adonis from his native rock 450 Ran purple to the sea, suppos'd with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale Infected Sion's daughters with like heat, Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch 448 The Syrian damsels] Compare Bioiis Idyll. i. 22.'Acaiptov 3o&o)a 76OClV, icat 7raia KaZevca. 449 amorous ditties] dolorous ditties. Bentl. MIS. 451.Ranputrple] Ov. Metam. xii. 111. Purpureus populari cuede Caicus FluxitSee Maundrell's Travels, p. 34. We had the fortune to see what may be supposed to be the occasion of that opinion which Lucian relates concerning this river (Adonis, called by the Turks, Ibrahim Bassa,) viz. that this stream, at certain seasons of the year, especially about the feast of Adonis, is of a bloody colour, which the Heathens looked upon as proceeding from a kind of sympathy in the river, for the death of Adonis. Something like this, we saw, actually came to pass, for the water was stained to a surprising redness, and BOOK I. 21 Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led 455 His eyes survey'd the dark idolatries Of alienated Judah. Next came one Who mourn'd in earnest, when the captive ark Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt off In his own temple, on the grunsel edge, 460 Where he fell flat, and sham'd his worshippers: Dagon his name; sea monster, upward man And downward fish: yet had his temple high Rear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coast Of Palestine, in Gath, and Ascalon, 465 And Accaron, and Gaza's frontier bounds. Him follow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seat Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. IIe also against the house of GOD was bold: 470 A leper once he lost, and gain'd a king, Ahaz his sottish conqueror, whom he drew GOD'S altar to disparage, and displace For one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn as we observed in travelling, had discoloured the sea a great way into a reddish hue, occasioned doubtless by a sort of minium, or red earth, washed into the river by the violence of the rain, and not by any stain from Adonis' blood.' See also Milton's answer to Eikon Bas. p. 410:'Let them who now mourn for him as for Tammuz.' 460 grunseledge] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. viii. st. 136.'In Dagon's Temple down the idol fell, Quite broke his godship on the stronger sell.' And Quarles' Emblems, p. 302,' and groundsild every floor.' Lisle has also used this word in his Transl. of Du Bartas, p. 96,'to lay the grunsill-plot.' 22 PARADISE LOST. His odious off'rings, and adore the gods 475 Whom he had vanquish'd. After these appear'd A crew, who under names of old renown, Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train, With monstrous shapes and sorceries abus'd Fanatic -Egypt and her priests, to seek 480 Their wand'ring gods disguis'd in brutish forms, Rather than human. Nor did Israel'scape Th' infection, when their borrow'd gold compos'd The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan, 485 Lik'ning his Maker to the grazed ox, Jehovah, who in one night, when he pass'd From EIgypt marching, equal'd with one stroke Both her first-born and all her bleating gods. Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd 490 Fell not from heaven, or more gross to love Vice for itself: to him no temple stood Or altar smok'd; yet who more oft than he In temples and at altars, when the priest Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fill'd 495 With lust and violence the house of GOD? In courts and palaces he also reigns, And in luxurious cities, where the noise Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers, And injury, and outrage: and when night 500 489 bleating] v. Exod. xii. 12. Numb. xxxiii. 3, 4. and Virg. Eln. viii. 698.' Omnigenumque deum monstra, et latrator Anubis.' Newton. BOOK I. 23 Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. Witness the street of Sodom, and that night In Gibeah, when the hospitable door Expos'd a matron t6 avoid worse rape. 505 These were the prime in order and in might; The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd, Th' Ionian gods, of Javan's issue, held Gods, yet confess'd later than heaven and earth, Their boasted parents. Titan, heaven's first-born, With his enormous brood and birthright seiz'd By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove, His own and Rhea's son, like measure found; So Jove usurping reign'd: these first in Crete And Ida known; thence on the snowy top 515 Of cold Olympus rul'd the middle air, Their highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff, Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds Of Doric land; or who with Saturn old Fled over Adria to th' Hesperian fields 520 And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. All these and more came flocking; but with looks Down-cast and damp, yet such wherein appear'd Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost 55 In loss itself; which on his count'nance cast 615 snowy] v. Hom. II. i. 420. xviii. 615. OVZVulTrov vLt6evTog. Newton. 24 PARADISE LOST. Like doubtful hue: but he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth not substance, gently rais'd Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears. 530 Then straight commands, that at the warlike sound Of trumpets loud and clarions be uprear'd His mighty standard: that proud honour claim'd Azazel as his right, a cherub tall; Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfilrl'd 535 Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc'd, Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind, With gems and golden lustre rich imblaz'd, Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds: 510 At which the universal host up sent A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. All in a moment through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise into the air 545 With orient colours waving: with them rose A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable: anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood. 550 550 Dorian vood] See Val. Maxilmus, Lib. ii. c. 6. ~ 2.'Ejusdem (Spartane) civitatis exercitus non ante ad dimicandum descendere solebant, quam tibiae concentu, et anapaesti pedis modulo cohortationis calorem animo traxissent vegeto et crebro ictus sono.' And Cic Tusc. Quaest. ii. 16. Spartiatarum, quorum procedit more ad tibiam, nec adhibetur ulla sine Anapmstis pedibus hortatio.' BOOK I. 25 Of flutes and soft recorders; such as rais'd To highth of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle; and instead of rage Deliberate valor breath'd, firm, and unmov'd With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; 5s Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain, From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, Breathing united force, with fixed thought, 5s0 Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil; and now Advanc'd in view they stand, a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield, 555 Awaiting what command their mighty chief Had to impose: he through the armed files Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse The whole battalion views; their order due, Their visages and stature as of gods; 570 Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hard'ning in his strength Glories; for never, since created man, Met such imbodied force, as nam'd with these 551 soft recorders] See Giles Fletcher, Eclg. 1.'And while the sad Recorder sweetly plains.' 567 armed files] read' ranked.' See book vi. 840.' Then down their idle weapons drop.' How then could they have them here?-Bentl. MS. 26 PARADISE LOST. Could merit more than that small infantry 575 Warr'd on by cranes; though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were join'd That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mix'd with auxiliar gods; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son, 580 Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptis'd or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, 585 When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia. Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd Their dread commander: he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, 590 Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost 575 small infantry] See Basilides Athensi, ix. 43. Who calls the Pigmies ftlKpov' avdpag: oi loKpol, 5(T7eiv, avdpe~ otl rai yepavoLtg 6a7Tro2eFovreT. See also Juliani Anticens. Epigr. iii. etg rLva tIKp6v, ed. Brunck, vol. iii.. 9. A'lar7t IIvyoaiuv 7)6oV7a 1 yEpavoc. and Ovid. Fast. vi. 176.'Nec, que Pygmmo sanguine gaudet, avem.' Consult Millin's Monum. Inedit. i. 171, and Boissonade to Philostrat. p. 529. Also Plin. Nat. Hist. vii.'Pygmaei, quos a gruibus infestari Homerus quoque prodidit.' (Horn. Il. iii. v. 7.) 591 Stood like a tower] See Statii Theb. iii. 356. - Bello me, credite, bello, Ceu turrim validam — See also II Purgatorio of Dante, v. 14.' Sta come torre ferma;' BOOK I. 27 All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than arch-angel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd: as when the sun new-ris'n Looks through the horizontal misty air, 595 Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs: darken'd so, yet shone Above them all th' arch-angel: but his face GOO Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion to behold 605 The fellows of his crime, the followers rather, Far other once beheld in bliss, condemn'd For ever now to have their lot in pain; it is also used in the Orlando Innamorato. Mr. Dyce refers to Q. Smyrnmus, lib. iii. ver. 63. 594 as when the sun] See Dante, 11 Purg. c. xxx. ver. 25. E la faccia del Sol nascere ombrata. Si che, per temperanza di vapori L' occhio lo sostenea lunga fiata.' 598 fear of change] See Theb. Statii. i. ver. 708.' Mutent quns Sceptra Cometne.' Val. Flacc. Arg. lib. vi. ver. 608.'fatales ad regna injusta Cometse.' And Crashaw's Steps to the Temple, p. 59.'Staring Comets, that look kingdoms dead.' See his Tutor A. Gill's Poems, p. 5. OMeiCg KOLjTfTjg &Oartg OV KcCOV Q0pet. 28 PARADISE LOST. Millions of spirits for his fault amerc'd Of heaven, and from eternal splendors flung 610 For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd: as when heaven's fire Hath scath'd the forest oaks or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath. Hie now prepar'd 615 To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half inclose him round With all his peers: attention held them mute. Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth; at last 620 Words interwove with sighs found out their way. 0 myriads of immortal spirits, 0 powers Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that strife Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire, As this place testifies, and this dire change s25 Hateful to utter: but what power of mind, Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth 609 amerc'd] See Quarles' Divine Poems, p. 18.'T' avoid the Ninevites do I amerce Myself'610 flung] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. xx. st. 144.'And sigh'd and sobb'd to think whence he was fling.' 614 their stately growth] See Young's Night Thoughts, N. 5.'As when some stately growth of oak or pine.' 620 Tears] Compare Xenoph. Anabas. 1. iii. 2.' vvuyayev EKKlcoiav T ir dV roiv arparTrtdvV, Kal TrpiUov [tEV e6(Kpve i'TOXv Xp6vov Eardf, oi 6e opd)vr~7f EOiuvzaiov Kai eaaMTWV, tdra CzeE T6~a.' BOOK I. 29 Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd, How such united force of gods, how such As stood like these, could ever know repulse? 630 For who can yet believe, though after loss, That all these puissant legions, whose exile Iath emptied heaven, shall fail to reascend Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat? For me, be witness all the host of heaven, 633 If counsels different or danger shunn'd By me have lost our hopes: but he, who reigns Monarch in heaven, till then as one secure Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, Consent, or custom, and his regal state 640 Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd, Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. Henceforth, his might we know, and know our own, So as not either to provoke, or dread New war, provok'd; our better part remains 645 To work in close design, by fraud or guile, What force effected not; that he no less At length from us may find, who overcomes By force, hath overcome but half his foe. Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife 650 There went a fame in heaven, that he ere long Intended to create, and therein plant A generation, whom his choice regard Should favour equal to the sons of heaven: Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps 653 642 tempted] Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 827.' She dared, and did attempt to tempt me too.' Todd. VOL. I. 13 30 PARADISE LOST. Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere; For this infernal pit shall never hold Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts Full counsel must mature: peace is despair'd; 660 For who can think submission? war then, war Open or understood, must be resolv'd. He spake: and to confirm his words outflew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty cherubim; the sudden blaze 665 Far round illumin'd hell: highly they rag'd Against the highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven. There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top 670 Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire Shone with a glossy scurf, undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore, The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed, A numerous brigad hasten'd; as when bands 675 Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe arm'd, Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on, 669 vault of heaven] Doctor Pearce approves Bentley's conjecture,' walls of heaven,' and says the emendation is good. But I must differ from the opinions of both critics, and consider that this reading would much impair the beauty of the passage.'Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war. Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven,' which collected and reverberated the clash of the shields. BOOK 1. 31 Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From heaven; for ev'n in heaven his looks and thoughts 680 Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd In vision beatific. By him first Men also and by his suggestion taught 685 Ransack'd the center, and with impious hands Rifled the bowels of their mother earth For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew Open'd into the hill a spacious wound, And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire 690 That riches grow in hell: that soil may best Deserve the precious bane. And here let those Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring tell Of Babel and the works of Memphian kings, Learn how their greatest monuments of fame 695 In strength and art are easily outdone By spirits reprobate, and in an hour What in an age they with incessant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd, 700 That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluic'd from the lake, a second multitude With wond'rous art founded the massy ore, 687 Rifed] v. Ovid Met. i. 138. -' Itum est in viscera terra, Quasque recondiderat, Stygiisque admoverat umbris, Effodiunter opes.' lume. 32 PARADISE LOST. Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross. A third as soon had form'd within the ground 705 A various mould, and from the boiling cells By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook: As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. Anon out of the earth a fabric huge 710 Rose, like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With golden architrave; nor did there want 715 Cornice or freeze with bossy sculptures grav'n; The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, Nor great Alcairo such magnificence Equall'd in all their glories, to inshrine Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat 72c Their kings, when }Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile Stood fixt her stately highth, and straight the doors, Op'ning their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth 725 And level pavement: from the arched roof, Pendant by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 706 A various mould]' capacious mould.' Bentl. MS. 711 Rose]'Did like a shooting exhalation glide.' See Marlowe's Hero and Leander, p. 81. 714 Doric pillars] There findest thou some stately Doric frame.' See Hall's Satires, ed. Singer, p. 133. BOOK I. 33 With Naptha and Asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude 730 Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise, And some the architect: his hand was known In heaven by many a tower'd structure high, Where scepter'd angels held their residence, And sat as princes; whom the supreme King 735 Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. Nor was his name unheard or unador'd In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land Men call'd him Mulciber; and how he fell 740 From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements; from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day; and with the setting sun Dropt from the Zenith like a falling star, 745 On Lemnos th' aEgean isle; thus they relate, Erring; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now To have built in heaven high tow'rs; nor did he scape By all his engines, but was headlong sent 750 With his industrious crew to build in hell. 742 crystal battlements] See Beaumont's Psyche, cxx. 110.' Much higher than the proudest battlement of the old heavens.' See Don Quixote, vol. 3. p. 156, (trans. Shelton, 12mo. 1731.)' I saw a princely and sumptuous palace, whose walls and battlements seemed to be made of transparent crystal;' and Miltoni Sylv. p. 323 (ed. Todd, ver. 63.)' ventum est Olympi, et regiam crystallinam.' 34 PARADISE LOST. Mean while the winged haralds by command Of sov'reign power, with awful ceremony And trumpets' sound, throughout the host proclaim A solemn council forthwith to be held 755 At Pandaemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers: their summons call'd From every band and squared regiment By place or choice the worthiest; they anon With hundreds and with thousands trooping came Attended: all access was throng'd, the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall, Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair Defi'd the best of Panim chivalry 765 To mortal combat or career with lance, Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air, Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees In spring time, when the sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flower Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubb'd with balm, expatiate, and confer 752 Haralds] Par. Lost, 1st ed, Steevens' Shakesp. (Pericles) ed. 1793, vol. xiii. p. 489. 769 Taurus] v. Virg. Georg. i. 217. Candidus auratis aperit cum cornibus annum Taurus.' Hume. 774 expatiate] i. e. walk abroad. v. Virg. En. iv. 62, Cic. Orat. iii.'Ut palsestrice spatiari.' Todd. BOOK I. 35 Their state affairs: So thick the aery crowd 775 Swarm'd and were straiten'd; till, the signal giv'n, Behold a wonder! they, but now who seem'd In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless, like that Pygmean race 780 Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest side, Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while over head the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth 785 Wheels her pale course; they, on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms Reduc'd their shapes immense, and were at large, 790 Though without number still, amidst the hall Of that infernal court. But far within, And in their own dimensions like themselves, The great seraphic lords and cherubim In close recess and secret conclave sat, 795 A thousand demi-gods on golden seats, Frequent and full. After short silence then And summons read, the great consult began. 784 dreams] See Ap. Rhod. Arg. iv. 1479. Virg. En. vi. 453. Todd. 785 arbitress] v. Hor. Ep. v. 49. -' Non infideles arbitrce Nox et Diana.' Heylin. 36 PARADISE LOST. BOOK II. THE ARGUMENT. THE consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven: some advise it, others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created: their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search: Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to hell gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them, by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven: with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought. HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand 1 High] Compare with this the opening of the se'cond book of Ovid's Metam.' Regia solis erat,' &c. 2 Ormus] See View of Ormus, in Buckingham's Travels in Assyria, p. 428, 4to. BOOK II. 37 Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd 5 To that bad eminence; and, from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with heaven, and by success untaught His proud imaginations thus display'd. lo Powers and Dominions, Deities of heaven, For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigor, though oppress'd and fall'n, I give not heaven for lost: from this descent Celestial virtues rising will appear 15 More glorious and more dread, than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me though just right and the fix'd laws of heaven Did first create your leader, next free choice, With what besides, in council or in fight, 20 Hath been achiev'd of merit; yet this loss, Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe unenvied throne, Yielded with full consent. The happier state In heaven, which follows dignity, might draw 25 Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share 4 Barbaric] Lucret. lib. ii. 500.'Barbarice vestes.' Euripid. Iph. Aul. 73. de Paride: XpveO Tre MuZi'rpoc, pappup) 2't6ljarlt. and Virg..En. ii. 504. 38 PARADISE LOST. Of endless pain? Where there is then no good 30 For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in hell Precedence, none, whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then 35 To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity Could have. assur'd us; and by what best way, 40 Whether of open war or covert guile, We now debate; who can advise, may speak. He ceas'd; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair: 45 His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength, and rather than be less Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost 38 oar just inheritance] See Crashaw's Steps to the Temple, p. 64. (1646.)'And for the never fading.fields of light, My fair inheritance, he confines me here:' and Beaumont's Psyche, c. i. st. 24.'Was't not enough against the righteous law Of primogeniture to throw us down, From that bright home which all the world does know Was by confest inheritvnce our own.' 40 best way] Compare Spenser's F. Queen, vii. vi. 21. and ii. xi. 7. Todd. BOOK II. 39 Went all his fear: of God, or hell, or worse, He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake: My sentence is for open war: of wiles, 51 M1ore unexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now: For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms and longing wait 55 The signal to ascend, sit ling'ring here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? no, let us rather choose, 60 Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er heaven's high tow'rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear 65 Infernal thunder, and for lightning see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself 54 sit contriving] See Milton's Prose Works, vol. ii. 380, iii. 24.' But to sit contriving.' 67 Black fire] See Eschyli Prometheus, ver. 930. "0 6 c Kepavvov Kpiltaov evpjaet 026ya Bpovr7jC' v'7eppiaX2ovra cKaprepv KTV7rOV. and see Statii Theb. iv. 133.' furiarum. lampade nigra.' Silv. i. iv. 64.'fulminis atri.' Lucan Ph. ii. 301.'ignes atros.''I talk of flames, and yet I call hell dark; Flames I confess they are, but black.' See M. Stevenson's Poems (1654), p. 113, (A Guesse at Hell.) 40 PARADISE LOST. Mixt with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps 70 The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend 75 Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursu'd us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight 80 We sunk thus low? th' ascent is easy then; Th' event is fear'd; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction, if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroy'd: What can be worse 8s Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 90 Inexorable, and the torturing hour Call us to penance? more destroy'd than thus 69 strange fire] See Nonni Dionysiaca, lib. xliv. ver. 153. El 6s Kee 7TrtpaCatIO Kica ESTEpOlO KEpavvov, yvoa7rat, olov X(Xo Xiov6to ae2ag' ovpaviov yip 0epForTpovg arLtvOipa aitoV 2aXESv cvriwTrov 7rtp. 89 exercise] Vex, trouble: v. Virg. Georg. iv. 453.' Non te nullius exercent numinis ire.' Newton. BOOK II. 41 We should be quite abolish'd and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the highth enrag'd, 95 Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential; happier far, Than miserable to have eternal being. Or, if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst ioo On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. 105 He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Desperate revenge and battel dangerous To less than gods. On th' other side up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane; A fairer person lost not heaven; he seem'd 11o For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropp'd mannafand could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels y for his thoughts were low; 11 To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 13 worse] Val. Flacc. Arg. lib. iii. ver. 645. -' Rursum instimulat, ducitque faventes Magnanimus Calydone satus; potioribus ille Deteriora fovens, semperque inversa tueri Durus.' 14 better] rb o iyov yTOvv TT) KpeirrTTo TOtev. Bentley. 42 PARADISE LOST. Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began. I should be much for open war, 0 Peers, As not behind inhate, if what was urg'd, 120 Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success; When he, who most excels in fact of arms, In what he counsels and in what excels 125 Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge? the tow'rs of heaven are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access 130 Impregnable; oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all hell should rise, 135 With blackest insurrection to confound Heaven's purest light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted; and th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel 140 Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope 131 bordering deep] See Wither's Campo Musae, p. 25.' And to possess the bordering hills.' 142 our hope] Shakesp. K. Hen. VI. act ii. scene iii.' Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair.' Malone. BOOK II. 43 Is flat despair: we must exasperate Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us, that must be our cure, 145 To be no more: sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, 150 Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? how he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, 155 Belike through impotence or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war;-We are decreed, io Reserv'd, and destin'd to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse?-Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What, when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck 16s With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this hell then seem'd A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse. What if the breath that kindled those grim fires 170 Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage, 44 PARADISE LOT. And plunge us in the flames? or from above Should intermitted vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us? what, if all Her stores were open'd and this firmament 175 Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd 180 Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of racking whirlwind; or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd, 185 Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye Views all things at one view? He from heaven's highth 190 All these our motions vain sees and derides; Not more almighty to resist our might, Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heaven, 174 His] Consult Bentley, and Newton's Notes on the application of the Relative.' Red right hand' is the' rubente dextera' of Hor. Od. I. ii. 2. 181 Each on his rock] " Ilium exspirantem,' &c. Bentl. MIS. 185 Unrespited] Consult the notes of Mr. Thyer, and Mr. Todd on this line. BOOK II. 45 Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to suffer here 195 Chains and these torments? better these than worse By my advice; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, The victor's will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust 200 That so ordains: this was at first resolv'd, If we were wise, against so great a foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those, who at the spear are bold And vent'rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear 205 What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of their conqueror: this is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our supreme foe in time may much remit 210 His anger, and perhaps thus far remov'd Not mind us not offending, satisfy'd With what is punish'd: whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. Our purer essence then will overcome 215 Their noxious vapor, or enur'd not feel; Or chang'd at length, and to the place conform'd In temper and in nature, will receive Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain; This horror will grow mild, this darkness light: 220 220 The commentators have not observed that this and the following line rhyme together:'This horror will grow mild, this darkness light: Besides what hope the never-ending flight,' &c. VOL. I. 14 46 PARADISE LOST. Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe. 225 Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reason's garb Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake. Either to disinthrone the King of heaven We war, if war be best, or to regain 230 Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife: The former vain to hoe argues as vain The latter: for what place can be for us 235 Within heaven's bound, unless heaven's Lord suWe overpower? suppose he should relent [preme And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive.40 Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forc'd halleluiahs; while he lordly sits Our envy'd Sov'reign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, 245 Our servile offerings? This must be our task In heaven, this our delight; how wearisome 224 For happy] Compare Theognis, ver. 509. "Hv6e Ttg eipora T v Et6v fltv, 56e oi ei'elv'Qn ev eiv, tXa'7Tr- aerC g yao er7S 6e, A/L evi. BOOK II. 47 Eternity so spent in worship paid To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave oltain'd 250 Unacceptable, though in heaven, our state Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring 255 Hard liberty before the easy yoke Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, We can create; and in what place so e'er 260 Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain Through labour and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? how oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth heaven's all-ruling Sire Choose to reside, his glory unobscur'd, 265 And with the majesty of darkness round Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Must'ring their rage, and heaven resembles hell? As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? this desart soil 270 Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise 254 Live] See Hor. Ep. i. xviii. 107. U't mihi vivam Quod superest asvi.' Newton. 255 Hard liberty] See Eschyli Prom. Vinct. ver. 974. Todl. 48 PARADISE LOST. Magnificence; and what can heaven shew more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires 275 As soft as now severe, our temper chang'd Into their temper; which must needs remove The sensible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may 280 Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are and where, dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise. He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd Th' assembly, as when hollow rocks retain 285 The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull Sea-faring men o'er watch'd, whose bark by chance Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay After the tempest: such applause was heard 290 As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd, Advising peace: for such another field They dreaded worse than hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michael Wrought still within them; and no less desire 295 To found this nether empire, which might rise, By policy and long process of time, 287 cadence lull] See Claudiani Rufin. i. 70.' Ceu murmurat alti Impacata quies pelagi, cum flamine fracto Durat adhuc sevitque tumor, dubiumque per aestum Lassa recedentes fluitant vestigia venti.' Newton. BOOK II. 49 In emulation opposite to heaven. Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom, Satan except, none higher sat, with grave 300 Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state: deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood, 305 With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of heaven, Ethereal Virtues; or these titles now 311 Must we renounce, and changing style be call'd Princes of hell? for so the popular vote Inclines, here to continue, and build up here A growing empire; doubtless; while we dream, 315 And know not that the King of heaven hath doom'd This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt From heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain o20 In strictest bondage, though thus far remov'd, Under th' inevitable curb, reserv'd His captive multitude: for he, be sure, In highth or depth, still first and last will reign 302 pillar] Shakesp. Hen. VI. Part ii. act i.' Brave peers of England, pillars of the State.' Newton. 313 popular vote]'Vogue. Voice.' Bentl. MS. con. 50 PARADISE LOST. Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part 325 By our revolt, but over hell extend His empire, and with iron scepter rule Us here, as with his golden those in heaven. What sit we then projecting peace and war? War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with loss 330 Irreparable; terms of peace yet none Vouchsaf'd or sought; for what peace will be giv'n To us enslav'd, but custody severe, And stripes, and arbitrary punishment Inflicted? and what peace can we return, 335 But to our power hostility and hate, Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though slow, Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel? 340 Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need With dangerous expedition to invade Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault, or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find Some easier enterprize? There is a place, 345 If antient and prophetic fame in heaven Err not, another world, the happy seat Of some new race call'd Man, about this time To be created like to us, though less In power and excellence, but favour'd more s50 Of him who rules above; so was his will Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath That shook heaven's whole circumference, conThither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn [firm'd. BOOK II. 51 What creatures there inhabit, of what mould, 355 Or substance, how endu'd, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtilty. Though heaven be shut, And heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure In his own strength, this place may lie expos'd, 360 The utmost border of his kingdom, left To their defence who hold it: here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achiev'd By sudden onset, either with hell fire To waste his whole creation, or possess 305 All as our own, and drive as we were driven The puny habitants; or if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works. This would surpass 370 Common revenge, and interrupt his joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance; when his darling sons, Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, 375 Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires.-Thus Beelzebub Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devis'd By Satan, and in part propos'd; for whence, 3s0 But from the author of all ill, could spring So deep a malice, to confound the race Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell expos'd] Compare ver. 410, and consult Newton's note. 52 PARADISE LOST. To mingle and involve, done all to spite The great Creator? but their spite still serves sss His glory to augment. The bold design Pleas'd highly those infernal states, and joy Sparkl'd in all their eyes; with full assent They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews. Well have ye judg'd, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and, like to what ye are, 391 Great things resolv'd; which from the lowest deep Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate, Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view [arms Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring And opportune excursion we may chance 396 Re-enter heaven: or else in some mild zone Dwell, not unvisited of heaven's fair light, Secure, and at the brightning orient beam Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air 400 To heal the scar of these corrosive fires [send Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we In search of this new world? whom shall we find Sufficient? who shall tempt with wand'ring feet The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 405 And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings, Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 406 palpable] The adjective' obscure' used for a substantive, as 409,' the vast abrupt.' Newton. * 409 arrive] Shakesp. Hen. VI. Part iii. act v.' those powers that the queen Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast.' BOOK II. 53 The happy isle? what strength, what art can then Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 411 Through the strict senteries and stations thick Of angels watching round? here he had need All circumspection, and we now no less Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send 415 The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. This said, he sat; and expectation held His look suspense, awaiting who appear'd To second, or oppose, or undertake The perilous attempt: but all sat mute, 420 Pondering the danger with deep thoughts 4and each In others' count'nance read his own dismay) Astonish'd; none among the choice and prime Of those heaven-warring champions could be found So hardy, as to proffer or accept 415 Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last Satan, whom now transcendent glory rais'd Above his fellows, with monarchal pride, Conscious of highest worth, unmov'd thus spake. O Progeny of heaven, empyreal Thrones, 430 With reason hath deep silence and demur Seiz'd us, though undismay'd: long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light; 410 isle] The earth hanging in the sea of air. Cic. de Nat. Deor. ii. 66.'Magnam quandam insulam, quam nos orbem terrce vocamtis.' Newton. 432 long] Dante Inf. c. xxxiv. 95, describes the ascent from hell.'La via e lunga, e'1 cammino e malvagio.' 54 PARADISE LOST. Our prison strong; this huge convex of fire, Outrageous to devour, immures us round 435 Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant Barr'd over us prohibit all egress. These pass'd, if any pass, the void profound Of unessential night receives him next Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being 440 Threatens him, plung'd in that abortive gulf. If thence he scape into whatever world, Or unknown region, what remains him less Than unknown dangers and as hard escape? But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, 445 And this imperial sov'reignty, adorn'd With splendour, arm'd with power, if aught propos'd And judg'd of public moment, in the shape Of difficulty or danger, could deter Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume 450 These royalties, and not refuse to reign, Refusing to accept as great a share Of hazard as of honour, due alike To him who reigns, and so much to him due Of hazard more, as he above the rest 455 High honour'd sits? Go, therefore, mighty Powers, Terror of heaven, though fall'n, intend at home, While here shall be our home, what best may ease The present misery, and render hell 436 Ninefold]' Et novies Styx interfusa coercet.' Bentl. MS. 457 intend]'Intende animum.' See Steevens' note on Shakesp. Timon of Athens, act ii. scene ii. BOOK II. 55 More tolerable; if there be cure or charm 460 To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain Of this ill mansion. Intermit no watch Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek Deliverance for us all: this enterprize 465 None shall partake with me. Thus saying rose The monarch, and prevented all reply; Prudent, lest from his resolution rais'd Others among the chief might offer now, Certain to be refus'd, what erst they fear'd; 470 And so refus'd might in opinion stand His rivals, winning cheap the high repute, Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they Dreaded not more th' adventure, than his voice Forbidding; and at once with him they rose: 475 Their rising all at once was as the sound Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend With awful reverence prone; and as a god Extol him equal to the highest in heaven: Nor fail'd they to express how much they prais'd, 480 That for the general safety he despis'd His own; for neither do the spirits damn'd Lose all their virtue, lest bad men should boast Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites,'Or close ambition varnish'd o'er with zeal. 485 Thus they their doubtful consultations dark Ended, rejoicing in their matchless chief: As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds 56 PARADISE LOST. Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread Heaven's cheerful face, the low'ring element 490 Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow, or show'r; If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 495 O shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational, though under hope Of heavenly grace; and God proclaiming peace, Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife 500 Among themselves, and levy cruel wars, Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: As if, which might induce us to accord, Man had not hellish foes enow besides, That day and night for his destruction wait. 505 The Stygian council thus dissolv'd; and forth In order came the grand infernal peers; Midst came their mighty paramount, and seem'd Alone th' antagonist of heaven, nor less Than hell's dread emperor, with pomp supreme 510 And God-like imitated state: him round A globe of fiery seraphim inclos'd 489 sleeps] Hom. II. v. 524. -odp' ebdvar (Ievog Bopeoao. Newton. 490 cheerful] Spens. F. Q. ii. xii. 34.' And heaven's cheerfulface enveloped. Thyer. 512 globe] Virg. ZEn. x. 373. Qua globus ille virum densissimus urget. Newton. BOOK II. 57 With bright imblazonry and horrent arms. Then of their session ended they bid cry With trumpets regal sound the great result: 515 Toward the four winds four speedy cherubim Put to their mouths the sounding alchymy, By haralds voice explain'd: the hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell With deaf'ning shout return'd them loud acclaim. Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat rais'd 521 By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers Disband, and wand'ring each his several way Pursues, as inclination or sad choice Leads him perplex'd, where he may likeliest find 525 Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain The irksome hours, till his great chief return. Part, on the plain or in the air sublime, Upon the wing or in swift race contend, As at the Olympian games, or Pythian fields: 530 Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal With rapid wheels, or fronted brigads form. 513 horrent] Virg. AEn. i.' Horrentia Martis arma,' and AEn. x. 178.' Horrentibus hastis.' 528 Part, on the plain] Compare Ovid. Metam. iv. 445, and Fastl. vi. 327. Hi temere errabant in opacne vallibus Idse: Pars jacet et molli gramine membra levat. Hi ludunt, hos somnus habet; pars brachia nectit, Et viridem celeri ter pede pulsat humum.' 531 curb]' How got they steeds and harps?' v. 548. Bentl. MS. 632 rapid]' rapid even before the race.' Benti. MS. 58 PARADISE LOST. As when to warn proud cities war appears Wag'd in the troubled sky, and armies rush To battel in the clouds, before each van 535 Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms From either end of heaven the welkin burns. Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air 540 In whirlwind: hell scarce holds the wild uproar. As when Alcides from CEchalia crown'd With conquest felt th' envenom'd robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of CEta threw 545 Into th' Euboic sea. Others more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battel; and complain that fate 550 Free virtue should inthral to force or chance Their song was. partial; but the harmony, What could it less when spirits immortal sing? Suspended hell, and took with ravishment The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet, For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense, Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, 557 In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high 557 others apart] Compare Horat. Od. ii. 13. 23.' Sedesque discretas piorum.' 558 elevate] Compare Ovidii Metam. xii. 157. Non illos Citharse, non illos carmina vocum, BOOK II. 59 Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute; 5o6 And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost. Of good and evil much they argued then, Of happiness and final misery, Passion and apathy, and glory and shame, Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy; 5~5 Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm Pain for a while or anguish, and excite Fallacious hope, or arm th' obdured breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel. Another part in squadrons and gross bands, 570 On bold adventure to discover wide That dismal world, if any clime perhaps, Might yield them easier habitation, bend Four ways their flying march, along the banks Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge 575 Into the burning lake their baleful streams; Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate; Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep; Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegeton, 580 Longave multifori delectat tibia buxi: Sed noctem sermone trahunt; virtusque loquendi Materia est.' 566 pleasing sorcery] See Marino's Si. of the Innocents, I, 4, 8. (1675).'And with a pleasing tyranny had there Shed his Lethean water on their sight.' 669 triple] Hor. Od. i. iii. 9.' Illi robur, et e(s triplex Circa pectus erat. Hume. 60 PARADISE LOST. Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe the river of oblivion, rolls Her wat'ry labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, 583 Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure, and pain. Beyond this flood a frozen continent Lies, dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms Of whirlwind and dire hail; which on firm land Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 590 Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice; A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog Betwixt Damiata and mount Casius old, Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire. 595 Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd At certain revolutions all the damn'd Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, From beds of raging fire to starve in ice 600 Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round, Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire. They ferry over this Lethean sound Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, 605 And wish and struggle, as they pass to reach The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose 589 dire hail] Hor. Od. i. ii. 1.'dirae grandinis.' Newton. 595 Burns] Virg. Georg. i. 93.'Boreae penetrabile frigus adurat.' Newton. BOOK II. 61 In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, All in one moment, and so near the brink: But fate withstands, and to oppose th' attempt 610 Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards The ford, and of itself the water flies All taste of living wight, as once it fled The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on In confus'd march forlorn, th' advent'rous bands, With shudd'ring horror pale, and eyes agast, View'd first their lamentable lot, and found No rest: through many a dark and dreary vale They pass'd, and many a region dolorous, 619. O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, [death, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of A universe of death, which God by curse Created evil, for evil only good, Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, 625 Abominable, inutterable, and worse 620 Alp] in the singular number; so in Dionysius Perieg. See Schnieder's note to Orphei Argon. p. 193.'ATztof apXP, singulari numero, est in Dion. Perieg. ut in Metrodori Epigr. (Anal. ii. 481.) Alpem Juvenalis nominat. (Sat. x. 152.) 621 Rocks]' Rocks, shelves, gulfs, quicksands, hundred, hundred horrors.' See Middleton's World tost at Tennis, p. 26. 623 evil] _Esch. Eumen. ver. 71. KaKiCV d'EaTrt KyeliovT.625 all monstrous] See Heywood's Hierarchie, p. 437, lib. 7.' So that all births which out of order come Are monstrous and prodigious.' VOL. I. 15 62 PARADISE LOST. Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd, Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire. Meanwhile the adversary of GOD and man, Satan, with thoughts inflam'd of highest design,,630 Puts on swift wings, and toward the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight; sometimes He scours the right-hand coast, sometimes the left; Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars Up to the fiery concave towering high. G35 As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood,G40 Through the wide 2Ethiopian to the Cape Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole; so seem'd Far off theflying fiend. At last appear Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof; And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were Three iron, three of adamantine rock, [brass, Impenetrable, impal'd with circling fire, 647 Yet unconsum'd. Before the gates there sat 639 Of Ternate] See Fanshawe's Lusiad, p. 219, c. x. 84, 132. (1655).' Tidore see! Ternate! whence are rolled (Holding black night a torch) thick plumes of flame.' 640 trading] treading. Bentl. MS. 642 nightly] rightly. BentL. MS. 645 thrice threefold] Samson Agon. ver. 1122.'And seven times folded shield.' Clypei septemplicis.' Bentl. MS. BOOK II. 63 On either side a formidable shape; The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair, 650 But ended foul in many a scaly fold, Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd With mortal sting: about her middle round A cry of hell-hounds never ceasing bark'd With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung 655 A hideous peel: yet, when they list, would creep, If aught disturb'd their noise, into her womb, And kennel there; yet there still bark'd and howl'd Within unseen. Far less abhorr'd than these Vex'd Scylla bathing in the sea that parts c60 Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore: Nor uglier follow the Night-hag, when call'd In secret riding through the air she comes, Lur'd with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon 665 Eclipses at their charms. The other shape, If shape it might be call'd, that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, 653 mortal sting] Spens. F. Q. ver. i. i. 15.' pointed with mortal sting.' Bentl. MS. 654 A cry]'And that some troop of cruel hellish curs Encircle them about.' v. Phillis of Scyros. p. 104. (1655). 660 Vexd]' Dulichios vexasse rates.' Bentl. MIS. 665 labouring moon] See Ovid. Metam. iv. 333. and Stat. Theb. ver. 687.' Siderum labores.' v. Plin. N. Hist. lib. ii. c. x. p. 162, ed. Brotier. Casimir Sarb. Lyr. ii. v.'Soli et lune labores.' 64 PARADISE LOST. For each seem'd either; black it stood as night, 670 Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The monster moving onward came as fast, 675 With horrid strides; hell trembled as he strode. Th' undaunted fiend what this might be admir'd; Admir'd, not fear'd; GOD and his SON except, Created thing naught valued he, nor shunn'd; And with disdainful look thus first began. 680 Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front athwart my way To yonder gates? through them I mean to pass, That be assur'd without leave ask'd of thee. 683 Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heaven. To whom the goblin full of wrath replied, Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he, 672 And shook]' His dart anon out of the corpse he took, And in his hand, a dreadful sight to see, With great triumph eftsones the same he shook.' See Sackille's Int. to Mirror for Mag. p. 266, ed. 1610. 676 hell]'And made hell gates to shiver with the might.' Sackville's Introd. p. 265. 679 Created] See Wakefield's Lucretius, lib. i. 117, and Sylva Critica, v. p. 74, where this phrase is illustrated. 683 miscreated] Spens. F. Q. i. ii. 3.' miscreated fair.' ii. vii. 42.' miscreated mould.' Bentl. BOOK II. 65 Who first broke peace in heaven and faith, till then Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 691 Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons Conjur'd against the Highest; for which both thou And they, outcast from GOD, are here condemn'd To waste eternal days in woe and pain? 695 And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heaven, Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 700 Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue Thy ling'ring, or with one stroke of this dart Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before. So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape, So speaking and so threat'ning, grew tenfold 705 More dreadful and deform: on th' other side Incens'd with indignation Satan stood Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd, That fires the length of Ophiucus huge In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair 710 692 Drew]' He boldly drew millions of souls.' See Beaumont's Psyche, c. xv. st. 296. 693 Conjur'd] Virg. Geo. i. 280.' Et conjuratos coelum rescindere fratres.' Hume. 708 comet ] See Virg. ZEn. x. 272. Tasso G. L. i. vii. 52. Newton. 700 Ophiucus] See Sir F. Bacon's Astronomy.'And such comets have more than once appeared in our time; first in Cassiopeia, and again in Ophiuchus.' 710 horrid hair] See Plin. N. Hist. lib. ii. c. 22. " Co 66 PARADISE LOST. Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head Level'd his deadly aim; their fatal hands No second stroke intend, and such a frown Each cast at th' other, as when two black clouds, With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on 715 Over the Caspian; then stand front to front Hov'ring a space, till winds the signal blow To join their dark encounter in mid air: So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell Grew darker at their frown, so match'd they stood; For never but once more was either like To meet so great a foe: and now great deeds Had been atchiev'd, whereof all hell had rung, Had not the snaky sorceress that sat Fast by hell-gate, and kept the fatal key, 725 Ris'n, and with hideous outcry rush'd between. O father, what intends thy hand, she cry'd, Against thy only son? What fury, O son, metas horrentes crine sanguineo.' See Nonni Dionys. xvii. 6. Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 14.'Then with long bloody hair, a blazing star Threatens the world with famine, plague, and war, To princes death, to kingdoms many crosses.' 711 Shakes] Mr. Dyce refers to Lucan. Phars. vi. 468. Humentes late nebulas, nimbosque solutis Excussere comis.' 714 two black clouds] Boiardo's Orlando Innamorato, b. i. c. 16. st. 10. Thyer. 715 artillery] See Gayton's Chartse Scripte, p. 20; (1645).'The magazine of heaven here. Artillerie Which oft in dreadful thunderings rend the skie.' BOOK II. 67 Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart Against thy father's head? and know'st for whom; For him who sits above, and laughs the while At thee ordain'd his drudge, to execute Whate'er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids; His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both. She spake, and at her words the hellish pest 735 Forbore; then these to her Satan return'd: So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange Thou interposest, that my sudden hand Prevented spares to tell thee yet by deeds What it intends; till first I know of thee, 740 What thing thou art, thus double-form'd, and why, In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st Me father, and that fantasm call'st my son: I know thee not, nor ever saw till now Sight more detestable than him and thee. 745 T' whom thus the portress of hell-gate reply'd. Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem Now in thine eye so foul, once deem'd so fair In heaven? when at th' assembly, and in sight Of all the seraphim with thee combin'd 750 In bold conspiracy against heaven's King, All on a sudden miserable pain Surpriz'd thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast Threw forth, till on the left side op'ning wide, 755 746 theportress] P. Fletcher's Locusts, ed. 1627, p. 34.' The Porter to th' infernall gate is Sin.' Todd. 68 PARADISE LOST. Likest to thee in shape and count'nance bright, Then shining heav'nly fair, a goddess arm'd, Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seiz'd All th' host of heaven; back they recoil'd afraid At first, and call'd me Sin, and for a sign 760 Portentous held me: but familiar grown, I pleas'd, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing Becam'st enamour'd, and such joy thou took'st 765 With me in secret, that my womb conceiv'd A growing burthen. Mean while war arose, And fields were fought in heaven; wherein remain'd For whrat could else? to our almighty foe Clear victory, to our part loss and rout 770 Through all the empyrean: down they fell Driv'n headlong from the hitch of heaven, down Into this deep, and in the general fall I also: at which time this powerful key Into my hand was giv'n, with charge to keep 775 These gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my op'ning. Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb, Pregnant by thee and now excessive grown, Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. 780 At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, Tore through my entrails, that with fear and.pain Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew Transform'd: but he my inbred enemy 785 BOOK II. 69 Forth issu'd, brandishing his fatal dart Made to destroy: I fled, and cry'd out DEATH; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded DEATI. I fled, but he pursu'd, though more, it seems, 790 Inflam'd with lust than rage, and swifter far, Me overtook his mother all dismay'd, And, in embraces forcible and foul Ingend'ring with me, of that rape begot These yelling monsters that with ceaseless cry 795 Surround me, as thou saw'st, hourly conceiv'd And hourly born, with sorrow infinite To me; for when they list, into the womb That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw My bowels, their repast; then bursting forth 800 Afresh with conscious terrors vex me round, That rest or intermission none I find. Before mine eyes in opposition sits Grim Death my son and foe, who sets them on, And me his parent would full soon devour 805 For want of other prey, but that he knows His end with mine involv'd; and knows that I Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, Whenever that shall be; so Fate pronounc'd. But thou, O father, I forewarn thee, shun 810 His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope To be invulnerable in those bright arms, 787 lMade to destroy] See James i. 13. Bentl. MS. 794 rape begot] See Amadis de Gaul, vol. iii. lib. iii. c. 10. p. 183, ed. Southey. 70 PARADISE LOST. Though temper'd heavenly; for that mortal dint.Save he who reigns above, none can resist. She finish'd, and the subtle fiend his lore s81 Soon learn'd, now milder, and thus answer'd smooth. Dear daughter, since thou claim'st me for thy sire, And my fair son here show'st me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in heaven, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change 820 Befall'n us, unforeseen, unthought of, know I come no enemy, but to set free From out this dark and dismal house of pain, Both him and thee, and all the heav'nly host Of spirits that, in our just pretenses arm'd, 8s5 Fell with us from on high: from them I go This uncouth errand sole, and one for all Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread Th' unfounded deep, and through the void immense To search with wandering quest a place foretold 830 Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now Created, vast and round, a place of bliss In the purlieus of heaven, and therein plac'd A race of upstart creatures, to supply Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov'd, Lest heaven surcharg'd with potent multitude Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught Than this more secret, now design'd, I haste To know, and, this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where thou and Death Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen 841 BOOK II. 71 Wing silently the buxom air, imbalm'd 842 With odours; there ye shall be fed and fill'd Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey. He ceas'd, for both seem'd highly pleas'd, and Grinn'd horrible a gastly smile, to hear [Death His famine should be fill'd, and blest his maw Destin'd to that good hour: no less rejoic'd His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire: The key of this infernal pit by due 850 And by command of heaven's all-powerful King, I keep, by him forbidden to unlock These adamantine gates; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart, Fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might. 8ss But what owe I to his commands above, Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, To sit in hateful office, here confin'd, Inhabitant of heaven and heavenly-born, 860 Here, in perpetual agony and pain, With terrors and with clamours compass'd round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed? Thou art my father, thou my author, thou My being gav'st me; whom should I obey 865 But thee? whom follow? thou wilt bring me soon 842 buxom air] Spenser, F. Q. i. xi. 37.'And therewith scourge the buxom air so sore.' Newton. 846 Grinn'd horrible] Imitated, Mr. Carey thinks, from Dante, Inf. v.;' Stavvi Minos orribilmente e ringhia. 72 PARADISE LOST. To that new world of light and bliss, among The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems Thy daughter and thy darling, without end. 870 Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; And, towards the gate rolling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew, Which but herself not all the Stygian powers 875 Could once have mov'd; then in the keyhole turns Th' intricate wards, and every bolt and bar Of massy iron or solid rock with ease Unfastens: on a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound 880 Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut Excell'd her power; the gates wide open stood, That with extended wings a banner'd host 885 Under spread ensigns marching might pass through With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. 868 live at ease] From Homer, Oeot rela IJaovTg. Bentley. 879 open fly]'Don Bellianis, part ii. chap. 19. Open flew the brazen folding doors, grating harsh thunder on their turning hinges.' Swift. 889 smoke] See Dante I1 Purg. c. xxiv.'E giammai non si videro in fornace Vetri, o metalli si lucenti e rossi, Corn' io vidi un, che dicea-' BOOK II. 73 Before their eyes in sudden view appear 890 The secrets of the hoary deep/a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, [highth, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and And time and place are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of nature, hold 895 Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand: For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry, and to battel bring Their embryon atoms; they around the flag 900 Of each his faction, in their several clans, Light-arm'd or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the sands Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil, Levy'd to side with warring winds, and poise 905 Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere, He rules a moment; Chaos umpire sits, And by decision more imbroils the fray By which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss, 910 The womb of nature and perhaps her grave, Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mix'd Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless th' almighty Maker them ordain 915 His dark materials to create more worlds. Into this wild abyss the wary fiend Stood on the brink of hell, and look'd a while, 898 For hot] Ovid. Met. i. 19. Newton. 74 PARADISE LOST. Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith He had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'd 920 With noises loud and ruinous, to compare Great things with small, than when Bellona storms, With all her battering engines bent to rase Some capital city; or less than if this frame Of heaven were falling, and these elements 925 In mutiny had from her axle torn The stedfast earth. At last his sail-broad vannes He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground; thence many a league As in a cloudy chair ascending rides 930 Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets A vast vacuity: all unawares Flutt'ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour Down had been falling, had not by ill chance 935 The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud Instinct with fire and nitre hurried him As many miles aloft: that fury stay'd, Quench'd in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, Nor good dry land: nigh founder'd on her fares, 927 sail-broad] See Maximi Tyrii Diss. vol. i. p. 214, ed. Reiske. rewviaaL r~g Trrep~ya~ Cacrep ioria. And Lucret. vi. 743.' Pennarum vela remittunt.' Or consult Wakefield's note. See Milton's Prose Works, i. 148: ed. Symmons. 936 rebuff] Compare Statii Theb. vii. 35.'Atque ilium Arctome labentem cardine ports Tempestas sterna plage, pruetentaque ccelo Agmina nimborum, primique Aquilonis hiatus In diversa ferunt.' BOOK II. 75 Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail. As when a gryfon through the wilderness With winged course o'er hill or moory dale Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth 943 Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd The guarded gold: so eagerly the fiend [rare, O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. At length a universal hubbub wild Of stunning sounds and voices all confus'd, Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear With loudest vehemence: thither he plies, Undaunted to meet there whatever power 955 Or spirit of the nethermost abyss Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 942 oar] Beaumont's Psyche, c. xvi. st. 224.'Spreading their wings like oars.' Marino's S1. of the Inn. p. 49. With wings like feather'd oars.' And Dante, II. Purg. c. ii. Si che remo non vuol, ne altro velo.' C. xii. 4. 945 Arimaspian] Eschyli Prometheus, ver. 810. See Pomp. Mela; lib. ii. c. 1. Solini Polyh. xv. 22. Prisciani Pervig. ver. 700. Plauti Aulularia, act iv. sc. 8. i. p. 142. Plin. N. Hist. lib. iv. c. 26. See Bulwer's Artif. Changeling, p. 102. 949 With head] See Sidon. Apollinar. c. ii. 171. Antholog. Lat. ed. Burm. vol. 1, p. 403, Ep. cciii. for this manner of speech:'Pastor, Arator, Eques, pavi, colui, superavi, Capras, rus, hostes, fronde, ligone, manu.' 76 PARADISE LOST. Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies, Bordering on light; when straight behold the, throne Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread 930 Wide on the wasteful Deep: with him enthron'd Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his reign; and by them stood Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon; Rumor next, and Chance, 95s And Tumult, and Confusion, all imbroil'd, And Discord with a thousand various mouths. T' whom Satan turning boldly, thus.-Ye Powers, And Spirits of this nethermost abyss, Chaos and antient Night, I come no spy, 970 With purpose to explore or to disturb The secrets of your realm; but by constraint Wand'ring this darksome desart, as my way Lies through your spacious empire up to light, Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek 975 What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds Confine with heaven; or if some other place, From your dominion won, th' ethereal King Possesses lately, thither to arrive I travel this profound; direct my course; 980 Directed, no mean recompence it brings To your behoof, if I that region lost, All usurpation thence expell'd, reduce To her original darkness and your sway, Which is my present journey, and once more 985 Erect the standard there of antient Night; BOOK II. 77 Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge. Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old, With fault'ring speech and visage incompos'd, Answer'd. I know thee, stranger, who thou art, 99o That mighty leading angel, who of late [thrown. Made head against heaven's King, though overI saw and heard; for such a numerous host Fled not in silence through the frighted deep, With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, 995 Confusion worse confounded; and heaven-gates Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here Keep residence; if all I can will serve, That little which is left so to defend, looo Encroach'd on still thro' your intestine broils Weak'ning the scepter of old Night: first hell, Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath; Now lately heaven and earth, another world, Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain 1005 To that side heaven from whence your legions fell: If that way be your walk, you have not far; So much the nearer danger: go and speed; Havock, and spoil, and ruin are my gain. He ceas'd; and Satan stay'd not to reply, lolo But glad that now his sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renew'd Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, 1013 a pyramid of fre] Drayton in. his David and Goliah. 1630.'He look't like to a piramid onfire.' Todd. VOL. I. 16 78 PARADISE LOST. Into the wild expanse, and through the shock Of fighting elements, on all sides round 1015 Environ'd, wins his way; harder beset And more endanger'd, than when Argo pass'd Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks: Or when Ulysses on the larboard shun'd Charybdis, and by th' other whirlpool steer'd. 1020 So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he; But he once past, soon after when man fell, Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain Following his track, such was the will of Heaven, Pav'd after him a broad and beaten way 1026 Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf Tamely endur'd a bridge of wond'rous length, From hell continu'd, reaching th' utmost orb Of this frail world; by which the spirits perverse With easy intercourse pass to and fro To tempt or punish mortals, except whom God and good angels guard by special grace. But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of heaven 1035 Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn: here Nature first begins Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire As from her outmost works, a broken foe, With tumult less and with less hostile din, 1040 That Satan with less toil and now with ease Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, And like a weather-beaten vessel holds BOOK II. 79 Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling air, 1045 Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off th' empyreal heaven, extended wide In circuit, undetermin'd square or round, With opal towers and battlements adorn'd Of living saphire, once his native seat; 1o50 And fast by, hanging in a golden chain This pendant world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accurs'd, and in a cursed hour, he hies. 1055 1052 This pendant world] Verbatim from Shakespeare's Mleas.for Mleas. act iii. scene i. 1054 mischievous]'Thither full fraught, with hope of wished success.' Bentl. MIS. 80 PARADISE LOST. BOOK III. THE ARGUMENT. GOD sitting on his throne sees Satan flying towards this world, then newly created; shows him to the Son, who sat at his right hand; foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind; clears his own justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created Man free, and able enough to have withstood his tempter; yet declares his purpose of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders praises to his Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose towards Man: but God again declares, that grace cannot be extended towards Man without the satisfaction of divine justice; Man hath offended the majesty of God by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore with all his progeny devoted to death must die, unless some one can be found sufficient to answer for his offence, and undergo his punishment. The Son of God freely offers himself a ransom for Man; the Father accepts him, ordains his incarnation, pronounces his exaltation above all names in heaven and earth; commands all the Angels to adore him; they obey, and, hymning to their harps in full choir, celebrate the Father and the Son. Mean while Satan alights upon the bare convex of this world's outermost orb; where wandering he first finds a place, since called the Limbo of Vanity; what persons and things fly up thither; thence comeo the gate of heaven, described ascending by stairs, and the waters above the firmament that flow about it: his passage thence to the orb of the sun; he finds there Uriel the regent of that orb; but first changes himself into the shape of a meaner angel; and pretending a zealous desire to behold the new creation, and Man whom God had placed here, inquires of him the place of his habitation, and is directed; alights first on mount Niphates. BOOK III. 81 HAIL holy light! offspring of heav'n first-born; Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam May I express thee unblam'd? since GOD is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 5 Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of GOD, as with a mantle, didst invest o0 The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escap'd the Stygian pool, though long detain'd In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight 15 Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes, than to th' Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down 8 God is light] See Wakef. Lucret. 1. p. 320.'Per emphasin Deus ssepissime Sol audit. Ov. Met. xv. 192.'Ipse Dei clypeus, terra cum tollitur ima, Mane rubet' adeas notata nobis ad Virg. Georg. i. 6.' 8 fountain] See Lucret. 5. 282,'largus item liquidi fons luminis.' 17 other notes] See Bembo Sonnetti, p. 26,' con altre voce.' Dante II Parad. c. xxv. 7,'Con altra voce omia, con altra vello Ritornero Poeta.' 82 PARADISE LOST. The dark descent, and up to reascend, 20 Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sov'reign vital lamp; but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, 25 Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, 30 That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit; nor sometimes forget Those other two equal'd with me in fate, So were I equal'd with them in renown, Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides, 35 And Tiresias and Phineus prophets old. Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note: thus with the year 40 Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, 25 quench'd] drench'd. BentL. MS. 25 orbs] Val. Flace. iv. 235.' Sanguineosque rotat orbes.' See Burman's Note. 30 flowery brooks] flowing, silver, crystal, purling. Bentl. MS. 85 Thamyris] Stat. Theb. iv. 183.' Mutos Thamyris damnatus in annos." BOOK III. 83 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark 45 Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of nature's works to me expung'd and ras'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 50 So much the rather thou celestial Light Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight. _' Now had the Almighty Father from above, From the pure empyrean where he sits High thron'd above all highth, bent down his eye, His own works and their works at once to view. About him all the sanctities of heaven 60 Stood thick as stars, and from his sight receiv'd Beatitude past utterance; on his right The radiant image of his glory sat, His only Son: on earth he first beheld Our.two first parents, yet the only two 65 Of mankind, in the happy garden plac'd, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrival'd love, 490f] Pearce proposes to read'All nature's works,' and Newton agrees with him, putting a stop after' blank,' but I do not understand the force of their objection to the established text. 84 PARADISE LOST. In blissful solitude: he then survey'd Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there 70 Coasting the wall of heaven on this side night In the dun air sublime, and ready now To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet On the bare outside of this world, that seem'd Firm land imbosom'd without firmament, 75 Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. Him GOD beholding from his prospect high, Wherein past, present, future, he beholds, Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake. Only begotten Son, seest thou what rage 80 Transports our adversary, whom no bounds Prescrib'd, no bars of hell, nor all the chains Heap'd on him there, nor yet the main abyss Wide interrupt, can hold, so bent he seems On desperate revenge, that shall redound 85 Upon his own rebellious head? And now Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way Not far off heaven, in the precincts of light, Directly towards the new created world, And man there plac'd, with purpose to assay o9 If him by force he can destroy, or worse, By some false guile pervert; and shall pervert; For man will hearken to his glozing lies, And easily transgress the sole command, Sole pledge of his obedience: so will fall 93 glozing lies] See Beaumont's Psyche, c. v. 37.' With humble lies, and oaths of glozings drest.' See also B. ix. 549,'so gloz'd the tempter.' BOOK III. 85 He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault? Whose but his own? ingrate, he had of me All he could have: I made him just and right, Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. Such I created all th' ethereal Powers 100 And Spirits, both them who stood and them who fail'd: Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. Not free, what proof could they have giv'n sincere Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love, Where only, what they needs must do, appear'd, 105 Not what they would? what praise could they reWhat pleasure I from such obedience paid, [ceive? When will and reason, reason also is choice, Useless and vain, of freedom both despoil'd, Made passive both, had serv'd necessity, no Not me? They therefore, as to right belong'd, So were created, nor can justly accuse Their Maker, or their making, or their fate; As if predestination over-rul'd Their will, dispos'd by absolute decree 115 Or high foreknowledge: they themselves decreed Their own revolt, not I: if I foreknew, Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, Which had no less prov'd certain unforeknown. So without least impulse or shadow of fate, 120 Or aught by me immutably foreseen, They trespass, authors to themselves in all, 108'When God gave him reason he gave him freedom to choose; for reason is but choosing.' Milton's Areopagitica. 86 PARADISE LOST. Both what they judge and what they choose; for so I form'd them free, and free they must remain, Till they enthrall themselves; I else must change Their nature, and revoke the high decree, 126 Unchangeable, eternal, which ordain'd Their freedom; they themselves ordain'd their fall. The first sort by their own suggestion fell, Self-tempted, self-deprav'd: man falls deceiv'd 130 By the other first: man therefore shall find grace, The other none: in mercy and justice both, Through heaven and earth, so shall my glory excel; But mercy first and last shall brightest shine. Thus while GOD spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd All heaven, and in the blessed spirits elect 136 Sense of new joy ineffable diffus'd. Beyond compare the Son of GOD was seen Most glorious, in him all his Father shone Substantially express'd, and in his face 140 Divine compassion visibly appear'd, Love without end, and without measure grace; Which uttering thus he to his Father spake. O Father, gracious was that word which clos'd Thy sov'reign sentence, that man should find grace; For which both heaven and earth shall high extol Thy praises, with th' innumerable sound Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne Encompass'd shall resound thee ever blest. For should man finally be lost, should man 150 139 Father] P. Fletcher. P. Isl. c. xii. st. 81.'Full of his father shines his glorious face.' Todd. BOOK III. 87 Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest son, Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though join'd With his own folly? that be from thee far, That far be from thee, Father, who art judge Of all things made, and judgest only right. 155 Or shall the adversary thus obtain His end, and frustrate thine? shall he fulfil His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught, Or proud return though to his heavier doom, Yet with revenge accomplish'd, and to hell 160 Draw after him the whole race of mankind, By him corrupted? or wilt thou thyself Abolish thy creation, and unmake, For.him, what for thy glory thou has made? So should thy goodness and thy greatness both 165 Be question'd and blasphem'd without defence. To whom the great Creator thus replied. O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, Son of my bosom, Son who art alone My word, my wisdom, and effectual might, 170 All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all As-my eternal purpose hath decreed: Man shall not quite be lost, but sav'd who will, Yet not of will in him, but grace in me Freely vouchsaf'd: once more I will renew 175 153 that] Newton observes that this is from Genesis, xviii. 25.' That be far from thee,' &c. 169 Son]' My Son, my only stay, My hand, my honor, and my might.' See Golding's Ovid, p. 62. 88 PARADISE LOST. His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthrall'd By sin to foul exorbitant desires: Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand On even ground against his mortal foe, By me upheld, that he may know how frail iso His fall'n condition is, and to me owe All his deliv'rance, and to none but me. Some I have chosen of peculiar grace Elect above the rest; so is my will: The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warn'd 185 Their sinful state, and to appease betimes Th' incensed Deity, while offer'd grace Invites; for I will clear their senses dark, What may suffice, and soften stony hearts To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. 190 To prayer, repentance, and obedience due, Though but endeavour'd with sincere intent, Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. And I will place within them as a guide My umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear, s19 Light after light well us'd they shall attain, And to the end persisting safe arrive. This my long sufferance and my day of grace They who neglect and scorn shall never taste; But hard be harden'd, blind be blinded more, 200 That they may stumble on, and deeper fall; And none but such from mercy I exclude. 176 lapsed]'lapsas acuit mentes,' v. Sil. Ital. x. 606. 189 stony] Ezek. xxxvi. 26.'I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh.' Gillies. BOOK III. 89 But yet all is not done; man disobeying Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins Against the high supremacy of heaven, 205 Affecting Godhead, and so losing all, To expiate his treason hath naught left, But to destruction sacred and devote, He with his whole posterity must die, Die he or justice must; unless for him 210 Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. [love? Say heavenly Powers, where shall we find such Which of ye will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save? 215 Dwells in all heaven charity so dear? He ask'd, but all the heavenly choir stood mute, And silence was in heaven: on man's behalf Patron or intercessor none appear'd, Much less that durst upon his own head draw 220 The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudg'd to death and hell By doom severe, had not the Son of GOD, In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, 225 His dearest mediation thus renew'd. Father, thy word is pass'd, man shall find grace; And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, The speediest of thy winged messengers, To visit all thy creatures, and to all 230 Comes unprevented, unimplor'd, unsought? 208 sacred]' sacrate.' Bentl. MS. 90 PARADISE LOST. Happy for man, so coming; he her aid Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost; Atonement for himself or offering meet, Indebted and undone, hath none to bring. 235 Behold me then, me for him, life for life, I offer, on me let thine anger fall; Account me man; I for his sake will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee Freely put off, and for him lastly die 240 Well pleas'd; on me let Death wreak all his rage; Under his gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquish'd; thou hast giv'n me to possess Life in myself for ever, by thee I live, Though now to Death I yield, and am his due All that of me can die; yet that debt paid, 246 Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul For ever with corruption there to dwell: But I shall rise victorious, and subdue 250 _My vanquisher, spoil'd of his vaunted spoil; Death his death's wound shall then receive, and Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarm'd. [stoop I through the ample air in triumph high Shall lead hell captive maugre hell, and show 255 The powers of darkness bound. Thou, at the sight 236 me] The frequent repetition of'me' is like Virgil, En. ix. 427.'Me, me, adsum qui feci in me convertite ferrum.' Newton. 255 maugre hell]'Such Life that maugre Hell he lives.' Sir T. Hawkins' Horace, (1638) p. 72.' Maugre thy fury,' v. BOOK III. 91 Pleas'd, out of heaven shalt look down and smile, While by thee rais'd I ruin all my foes, Death last, and with his carcase glut the grave: Then with the multitude of my redeem'd 260 Shall enter heaven long absent, and return, Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud Of anger shall remain, but peace assur'd And reconcilement: wrath shall be no more Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire. 265 His words here ended, but his meek aspect Silent yet spake, and breath'd immortal love To mortal men, above which only shone Filial obedience: as a sacrifice Glad to be offer'd, he attends the will 270 Of his great Father. Admiration seiz'd All heaven, what this might mean and whither tend Wond'ring; but soon th' Almighty thus reply'd: O thou in heaven and earth the only peace Found out for mankind under wrath, 0 thou 275 My soul complacence! well thou know'st how dear To me are all my works, nor man the least, Marino's S1. of the Inn. p. 58.' Maugre thine enemies' hate.' Gayton's Ch. Script. p. 3. 4to. 267 immortal love] See Luceret. v. 122.'Immortalia mortali sermone notantes.' Aristot. de Rhetor. ii. 17. 2. iav&Trov OpyTv Mif bVXaTTEr, rVbTOf Gv. 277 least] Shakespeare's Lear, act i. scene 1.' Now our joy, Although the last, not least.' and Jul. Caes. act iii. scene 1.'Though last, not least, in love.' Newton. 92 PARADISE LOST. Though last created, that for him I spare Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, By losing thee awhile, the whole race lost. 280 Thou therefore whom thou only can'st redeem Their nature also to thy nature join; And be thy self man among men on earth, Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed, By wondrous birth: be thou in Adam's room 285 The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. As in him perish all men, so in thee, As from a second root, shall be restor'd, As many as are restor'd, without thee none. His crime makes guilty all his sons; thy merit 290 Imputed shall absolve them who renounce Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds, And live in thee transplanted, and from thee Receive new life. So man, as is most just, Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die; 295 And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hate, Giving to death, and dying to redeem, So dearly to redeem what hellish hate 300 So easily destroy'd, and still destroys In those who, when they may, accept not grace. Nor shalt thou by descending to assume Man's nature lessen or degrade thine own. Because thou hast, though thron'd in highest bliss 801 destroys] The fall is spoken of as a thing past, but as perhaps present to the divine mind, so ver. 151 and 181. Pearce. BOOK III. 93 Equal to GOD, and equally enjoying 306 God-like fruition, quitted all to save A world from utter loss, and hast been found By merit more than birthrigh Son of GOD, Found worthiest to be so by being good, 310 Far more than great or high; because in thee Love hath abounded more than glory abounds; Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt With thee thy manhood also to this throne; Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign 315 Both GOD and Man, Son both of GOD and Man, Anointed universal king; all power I give thee, reign for ever, and assume Thy merits; under thee as head supreme Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions,I reduce: All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide 30 In heaven, or earth, or under earth in hell; When thou attended gloriously from heaven Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send The summoning archangels to proclaim 3'5 Thy dread tribunal: forthwith from all winds The living, and forthwith the cited dead Of all past ages, to the general doom 806 Equal] Newton says,' this is an instance of Milton's orthodoxy;' how could he have overlooked the lines that follow?' By merit more than birthright Son of God.' 325 archangels] Archangel; v. Thessal. iv. 6. St. Matt. xxiv. 31. Bentl. MS.'The Archangel Michael is the only Archangel of whom we know any thing from holy Writ.' Horsley's Sermons, p. 583, 8vo. VOL. I. 17 94 PARADISE LOST. Shall hasten, such a peal shall rouse their sleep. Then, all thy saints assembled, thou shalt judge Bad men and angels; they arraign'd shall sink Beneath thy sentence; hell, her numbers full, Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Mean while The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring New heaven and earth, wherein the just shall dwell, And after all their tribulations long 33 See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth: Then thou thy regal scepter shalt lay by, For regal scepter then no more shall need, 340 GOD shall be all in all. But all ye Gods Adore him, who to compass all this dies, Adore the Son, and honour him as me. No sooner had th' Almighty ceas'd, but all The multitude of angels with a shout, 345 Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd Th' eternal regions. Lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold, Immortal amarant, a flower which once In paradise fast by the Tree of Life 337 golden] Virg. Eclog. iv. 9.' Toto surget gens aurea mundo.' flume. 345 angels] On the construction of this sentence, see Pearce's and Monboddo's note. BOOK III. 95 Began to bloom, but soon for man's offence 355 To heaven remov'd, where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream; With these that never fade the spirits elect 360 Bind their resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams; Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, Impurpled with celestial roses smil'd. Then crown'd again their golden harps they took, Harps ever tun'd, that glitterirg by their side 366 Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony they introduce Their sacred song, and waken raptures high; No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 370 Melodious part, such concord is in heaven. Thee, Father, first they sung, Omnipotent, Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, Eternal King; thee author of all being, Fountain of light, thyself invisible 375 Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt'st Thron'd inaccessible, but when thou shad'st The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud 359 flowers] fields, plains, gems. BentL MS. 359 amber] Callim. St. Ceres, 29, Ud2'rpivov V&op; and Virg. En. iii. 522. Newton. 363 Impurpled]' Tutto di Rose imporporato il cielo.' JMarino Ad. c. iv. st. 291. Thyer. 96 PARADISE LOST. Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine, Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear; 380 Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. Thee next they sang of all creation first, Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, In whose conspicuous count'nance, without cloud MIade visible, the Almighty Father shines, 385 Whom else no creature can behold: on thee Impress'd th' effulgence of his glory abides; Transfus'd on thee his ample Spirit rests. He heaven of heavews and all the powers therein 390 By thee created, and by thee threw down Th' aspiring dominations. Thou that day Thy father's dreadful thunder didst not spare, Nor stop thy flaming chariot wheels, that shook Heav'n's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 395 Thou drov'st of warring angels disarray'd. Back from pursuit thy powers with loud acclaim Thee only extoll'd, Son of thy Father's might, To execute fierce vengeance on his foes: Not so on man; him thro' their malice fall'n, 400 Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom 380 Dark]' Caligine e lassie d'ombre lucenti In cui s' involve Re ch' il ciel governa; Quivi iddio pose en fulgide tenebre E'n profondo silenzio, alte latebre.' Tasso Gier. Lib. See Black's Life, ii. 489. 394 shook] v. Fairfax's Tasso, ii. 91.' Againe to shake Heav'n's everlasting frame.' Todd. BOOK III. 97 So strictly; but much more to pity incline. No sooner did thy dear and only Son Perceive thee purpos'd not to doom frail man So strictly, but much more to pity inclin'd, 405 He to appease thy wrath, and end the strife Of mercy and justice in thy face discern'd, Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat Second to thee, offer'd himself to die For man's offence. 0 unexampled love, 410 Love no where to be found less than Divine! Hail Son of GoD, Saviour of men, thy name Shall be the copious matter of my song Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin. 415 Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere, Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent, Mean while upon the firm opacous globe Of this round world, whose first convex divides The luminous inferior orbs, inclos'd 420 From Chaos and th' inroad of Darkness old, Satan alighted walks: a globe far off It seem'd, now seems a boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd, and ever-threat'ning storms 425 Of Chaos blust'ring round, inclement sky; Save on that side which from the wall of heaven 406 He]'Thain' or'but' is understood before'He,' to complete the sense. Newton. 412 Iail] Virg. 2En. viii. 301.' Salve, vera Jovis proles, decus addite divis.' Newton. 98 PARADISE LOST. Though distant far some small reflection gains Of glimmering air, less vex'd with tempest loud: Here walk'd the fiend at large in spacious field. 430 As when a vulture on Imaus bred, Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, Dislodging from a region scarce of prey To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams; 436 But in his way lights on the barren plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails and wind their cany waggons light: So on this windy sea of land the fiend 440 Walk'd up and down alone, bent on his prey; Alone, for other creature in this place Living or lifeless to be found was none, None yet, but store hereafter from the earth Up hither like aerial vapours flew 445 Of all things transitory and vain, when sin With vanity had fill'd the works of men: Both all things vain, and all who in vain things Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame, Or happiness in this or th' other life; 450 All who have their reward on earth, the fruits Of painful superstition and blind zeal, Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find Fit retribution, empty as their deeds: All th' unaccomplish'd works of nature's hand, 455 438 Chineses] See Hudibras, iii. 1. 707.' For though Chineses go to bed. BOOK III. 99 Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd, Dissolv'd on earth, fleet hither, and in vain, Till final dissolution, wander here, Not in the neighb'ring moon, as some have dream'd; Those argent fields more likely habitants, 460 Translated saints, or middle spirits hold Betwixt th' angelical and human kind: Hither of ill-join'd sons and daughters born First from the ancient world those giants came With many a vain exploit, though then renown'd: The builders next of Babel on the plain Of Sennaar, and still with vain design New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build: Others came single; he who to be deem'd A God leap'd fondly into JEtna flames, 470 Empedocles, and he who to enjoy Plato's Elysium leap'd into the sea, Cleombrotus, and many more too long, 459 moon] He means Ariosto Or. Fur. c. xxxiv. st. 70. Newton. 473 too long] Bentley thinks that a line is here omitted; and Dr. Pearce agrees with him: but it does not appear to me necessary. I would read the verse' Cleombrotus, and many more (too long:) still I think the passage would read better thus transposed: Cleombrotus and many more, too long.' Here Pilgrims roam that stray'd so far to seek................. Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis'd: Embryos, and idiots, eremites and friars, White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.' 100 PARADISE LOST. Embryoes and idiots, eremits and friars, White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. 475 Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seek In Golgotha him dead, who lives in heaven; And they who to be sure of paradise Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis'd 480 They pass the planets seven, and pass the fix'd, And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs The trepidation talk'd, and that first mov'd: And now Saint Peter at heaven's wicket seems To wait them with his keys, and now at foot 485 Of heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when, lo! A violent cross wind from either coast Blows them transverse ten thousand leagues awry Into the devious air: then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost 490 And flutter'd into rags; then reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds: all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly o'er the backside of the world far off, Into a limbo large and broad, since call'd 495 The Paradise of fools, to few unknown Long after, now unpeopled, and untrod. All this dark globe the fiend found as he pass'd, And long he wander'd, till at last a gleam 475 White] Carmelites, Dominicans, and Franciscans. So Ariosto Orl. Fur. xiv. 68.'Frati, bianchi, neri, e bigi.' Ad. xliii. st. 175. Todd. 493 sport] Virg. En. vi. 75.' Ludibria ventis.' Hume. BOOK III. 101 Of dawning light turn'd thitherward in haste 500 His travel'd steps; far distant he descries, Ascending by degrees magnificent Up to the wall of heaven, a structure high, At top whereof, but far more rich appear'd The work as of a kingly palace gate, 505 With frontispiece of diamond and gold Imbellish'd; thick with sparkling orient gems The portal shone, inimitable on earth By model or by shading pencil drawn. The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 510 Angels ascending and descending, bands Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled To Padan-Aram in the field of Luz, Dreaming by night under the open sky, And waking cried, This is the gate of heaven. 515 Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood There always, but drawn up to heaven sometimes Viewless, and underneath a bright sea flow'd Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon Who after came from earth sailing arriv'd, 520 Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake, Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. The stairs were then let down, whether to dare The fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss: 525 Direct against which open'd from beneath, 507 orient] Petrarch Trionfo della morte, ii.'Di gemme orientali incoronata.' Todd. 102 PARADISE LOST. Just o'er the blissful seat of paradise, A passage down to th' earth, a passage wide, Wider by far than that of after-times Over mount Sion, and though that were large 530 Over the Promis'd Land to God so dear, By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, On high behests his angels to and fro Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard, From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood, 5.5 To Beersaba, where the Holy Land Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore: So wide the op'ning seem'd, where bounds were set To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. Satan from hence now on the lower stair, 540 That scal'd by steps of gold to heaven-gate, Looks down with wonder at the sudden view IOf all this world at once. As when a scout Through dark and desart ways with peril gone All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn 545 Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, Which to his eye discovers unaware The goodly prospect of some foreign land First-seen, or some renown'd metropolis, With glistening spires and pinnacles adorn'd 55s Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams: Such wonder seiz'd, though after heaven seen, The spirit malign; but much more envy seiz'd 646 clinbing] Drayton's Barons Warres, c. ii. st. 14.'There riseth up an easie climbing hill.' Todd. BOOK III. 103 At sight of all this world beheld so fair. Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood So high above the circling canopy 55 Of night's extended shade, from eastern point Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears Andromeda far off Atlantic seas Beyond th' horizon: then from pole to pole s60 He views in breadth, and without longer pause Down right into the world's first region throws His flight precipitant, and winds with ease Through the pure marble air his oblique way Amongst innumerable stars, that shone 565 Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds, Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles, Like those Hesperian gardens fam'd of old, Fortunate fields, and groves, and flow'ry vales, Thrice happy isles; but who dwelt happy there 571 He stay'd not to enquire: above them all The golden sun in splendor likest heaven Allur'd his eye: thither his course he bends Through the calm firmament; but up or down, By center or eccentric, hard to tell, 575 Or longitude, where the great luminary, 654 At sight] Quod tandem spectaculum fore putamus, cum totam terrain contueri licebit? Cic. Tusc. Disp. i. 19. 564 marble air]' Strikes thro' the marble skies.' See Marino's Si. of the Innocents, p. 75. Transl. 564 oblique] Drayton uses this word with the accent on the first syllable. Polyllb. Song xvi. Then in his 6blique course, the lusty straggling street.' Todd. 104 PARADISE LOST. Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, That from his lordly eye keep distance due, Dispenses light from far; they as they move Their starry dance in numbers that compute 580 Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp Turn swift their various motions, or are turn'd By his magnetic beam, that gently warms The universe, and to each inward part With gentle penetration, though unseen, 385 Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep; So wond'rously was set his station bright. There lands the fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb Through his glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. 590 The place he found beyond expression bright, Compar'd with aught on earth, metal or stone; Not all parts like, but all alike inform'd With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire; If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear; s59 If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides Inagin'd rather oft than elsewhere seen, 592 metal] In the first editions'medal.' 597 to] Doctor Pearce had an ingenious friend who proposed to read' Rubie, or Topaz, two o' th' twelve that shone.' How would the Doctor profess to pronounce his line? Fenton reads' or the twelve that shone.' BOOK III. 105 That stone, or like to that which here below 600 Philosophers in vain so long have sought, In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatil Hermes, and call up unbound In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drain'd through a limbec to his native form. 605 What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch Th' arch-chimic sun so far from us remote Produces with terrestrial humor mix'd 610 Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious and effect so rare? Here matter new to gaze the devil met Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands, For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, 615 But all sun-shine; as when his beams at noon Culminate from th' ZEquator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the air, No where so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray 620 To objects distant far, whereby he soon Saw within ken a glorious angel stand, The same whom John saw also in the sun: His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid; 605 limbec] See Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 85.'Fire that in limbec of pure thoughts divine Doth purge our thoughts.' 622 ken] See Greene's "Never too late."'I might see in my ken.' Todd. 106 PARADISE LOST. Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar 625 Circl'd his head, nor less his locks behind Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings Lay waving round; on some great charge employ'd He seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep. Glad was the spirit impure, as now in hope 630 To find who might direct his wand'ring flight To paradise the happy seat of man, His journey's end, and our beginning woe. But first he casts to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: 635 And now a stripling cherub he appears, Not of the prime, yet such as in his face Youth smil'd celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffus'd, so well he feign'd: Under a coronet his flowing hair 640 In curls on either cheek play'd; wings he wore Of many a colour'd plume sprinkled with gold; His habit fit for speed succinct, and held Before his decent steps a silver watd. He drew not nigh unheard, the angel bright, 645 E'er he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd, Admonish'd by his ear, and straight was known Th' arch-angel Uriel, one of the seven Who in GOD'S presence nearest to his throne Stand ready at command, and are his eyes 650 642 many a colour'd]' Versicoloribus alis.' Virgilii Catalecta, vi. 9. 643 succinct] Orl. Fur. c. xvii. st. 52.'In arbito succinto era Marfisa.' Todd. BOOK III. 107 That run through all the heavens, or down to th'earth Bear his swift errands, over moist and dry, O'er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts. Uriel, for thou of those seven spirits that stand In sight of GoD's high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont his great authentic will 656 Interpreter through highest heaven to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend; And here art likeliest by supreme decree Like honour to obtain, and as his eye 660 To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and kiow All these his wondrous works, but chiefly man, His chief delight and favour, him for whom All these his works so wondrous he ordain'd, 663 Hath brought me from the choirs of cherubim Alone thus wand'ring. Brightest seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath man His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none, But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell; 670 That I may find him, and, with secret gaze Or open admiration, him behold, On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd; That both in him and all things, as is meet, 675 The universal Maker we may praise; Who justly hath driv'n out his rebel foes To deepest hell, and to repair that loss 678 that] Tickell reads'their loss,' and is followed by Fenton and Bentley. Todd. 108 PARADISE LOST. Created this new happy race of men To serve him better: wise are all his ways. 680 So spake the false dissembler unperceiv'd; For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to GOD alone, By his permissive will, through heaven and earth: And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems; which now for once beguil'd Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held 690 The sharpest sighted spirit of all in heaven: Who to the fraudulent imposter foul In his uprightness answer thus return'd. Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know The works of GOD, thereby to glorify 695 The great Work-master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise The more it seems excess, that led thee hither From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps oo Contented with report hear only in heaven: For wonderful indeed are all his works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all Had in remembrance always with delight: But what created mind can comprehend 705 Their number or the wisdom infinite That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? I saw, when at his word the formless mass, BOOK III. 109 This world's material mould, came to a heap: Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar 710 Stood rul'd, stood vast infinitude confin'd; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. Swift to their several quarters hasted then The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire, 713 And this ethereal quintessence of heaven Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move; Each had his place appointed, each his course, 720 The rest in circuit walls this universe. Look downward on that globe whose hither side With light from hence, though but reflected, shines; That place is earth the seat of man, that light His day, which else as th' other hemisphere 725 Night would invade, but there the neighbouring So call that opposite fair star, her aid [moon, Timely interposes, and her monthly round Still ending, still renewing, through mid heav'n, With borrow'd light her countenance triform 730 Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' earth, And in her pale dominion checks the night. That spot to which I point is paradise, Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower: Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires. 735 710 heard]' Jussa Dei exsequitur Tellus. A. Ramsric, P. Sacr. ed. Lauder, i. p. 4. 716 this]' the' in Fenton's and Bentley's ed. Newtoa. VOL. I. 18 110 PARADISE LOST. Thus said, he turn'd, and Satan bowing low, As to superior spirits is wont in heaven, Where honour due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath, Down from th' ecliptic, sped with hop'd success, 740 Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel, Nor stay'd, till on Niphates' top he lights. 111 PARADISE LOST. BOOK IV. THE ARGUMENT. SATAN now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against GOD and man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described, overleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant on the Tree of life, as the highest in the garden to look about him. The garden described; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the Tree of knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them awhile to know further of their state by some other means. Mean while Uriel descending on a sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of paradise, that some evil spirit had escaped the deep, and past at noon by his sphere in the shape of a good angel down to paradise, discovered afterwards by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel drawing forth his bands of nightwatch to walk the round of paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, prepares resistance, but hindered by a sign from heaven flies out of paradise. 112 PARADISE LOST. O FOR that warning voice, which he who saw Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be reveng'd on men, Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now, 5 While time was, our first parents had been warn'd The coming of their secret foe, and scap'd, Haply so scap'd his mortal snare; for now Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down, The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind, io To wrehk on innocent frail man his loss Of that first battle, and his flight to hell: Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold, Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast, Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth is Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, And like a devilish engine back recoils 17 devilish]' Those devilish engines fierie fierce.' Russell's Battles of Leipsic, 1634, 4to. Spenser's F. Qu. 1. 7. xiii.'As when that devilish iron engine, wrought in deepest hell.' 17 recoils] see Hamlet, act iii. scene iv.' For'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar.' And Ausonii Epigram, lxxii.' Auctorem ut feriant tela retorta suum.' and Beaumont's Fair Maid of the Inn, act ii.' Twas he Gave heat unto the injury, which returned Like a petard ill lighted, into the bosom Of him gave fire to't.' BOOK IV. 113 Upon himself; horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him, for within him hell He brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place:'now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be, 25 Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixes sad; Sometimes towards heaven and the full-blazing sun, Which now sat high in his meridian tower: so Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began. 0 thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, 35 But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, 40 Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless King. Ah, wherefore! he deserv'd no such return 21 norfrom hell] v. Fairfax's Tasso, c. xii. st. 77.' Swift from myself I run, myself I fear, Yet still my hell within myself I bear.' Todd. so tozoer] Virg. Culex, ver. 41.'Igneus aethereas jam sol penetrarat in arces. Richardson. 114 PARADISE LOST. From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. 45 What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdein'd subjection, and thought one step higher 50 Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd, And understood not that a grateful mind 55 By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd; what burden then? O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd 60 Ambition! Yet why not? some other power As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. 6s Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, 50 sdein'd] Drayton's Moses birth, B. I.' Which though it sdaind the pleasdnesse to confesse.' and Fairfax's Tasso, ver. xx. 128.' He sdeignful eies.' Todd. 53 stillpaying]' Still paying, ne'er discharged.' v. Benlowe's Theophila, p. 29. BOOK IV. 115 But heaven's free love dealt equally to all? Be then his love accurs'd, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe: 70 Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite' wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; 75 And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? so None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 85 Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan; While they adore me on the throne of hell, With diadem and sceptre high advanc'd 90 The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds. But say I could repent, and could obtain By act of grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void; 97 116 PARADISE LOST. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep; Which would but lead me to a worse relapse 100 And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as far From granting he, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead 105 Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind, created, and for him this world. So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least 110 Divided empire with heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As man ere long and this new world shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envy, and despair, 115 Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld: For heav'nly minds from such distempers foul Are ever clear. Whereof he soon arwg Each pertubation smooth'd with outward calm, 120 Artiicer of fraud; and was the first That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge. Yet not enough had practis'd to deceive Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursu'd him down 15 The way he went, and on th' Assyrian mount BOOK IV. 117 Saw him disfigur'd, more than could befall Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen. 130 So on he fares, and to the border comes Of Eden, where delicious paradise, Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound, the champsrin'head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access deny'd; and over head up grew Insmperable highth of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend 140 Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops The verdurous wall of paradise up sprung; Which to our general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighbouring round. 145 And higher than that wall a circling row Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue 138 shade]'shaft;' Bentl. MS. and again ver. 141,'Shaft above shaft.' 141 woody theatre] v. Senecse Troades, ver. 1127. Erecta medium vallis includens locum, Crescit theatri more.' Virg. iEu. v. 288. and Solini Polyhist. c. xxxviii. v. Lycophr. Cassandra, ver. 600. E9aTrpoLOp0o KeXiTel. 118 PARADISE LOST. Appear'd with gay enamel'd colours mixt: On which the sun more glad impress'd his beams, 150 Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, When God hath showr'dthe earth; so lovely seem'd That landscape: and of pure now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 155 All sadness but despair: now gentle gales Fanning their odoriferous wings dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 60o Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore 151 in] Hume, Bentley, and Warton would read' on fair evening cloud.' 162 Sabean odours] See Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. xii. c. 42. 19.' Magnique Alexandri classibus Arabiam odore primum nuntiatam in altum.' Compare a passage in Ovington's Voyage to Surat, p. 55 (1696).' We were pleased with the prospect of this island, because we had been long strangers to such a sight; and it gratified us with the fragrant smells which were wafted from the shore, from whence, at three leagues distance, we scented the odours of flowers and fresh herbs; and what is very observable, when after a tedious stretch at sea, we have deemed ourselves to be near land by our observation and course, our smell in dark and misty weather has outdone the acuteness of our sight, and we have discovered land by the fresh smells, before we discovered it with our eyes. See also Davenport's' City Night-cap,' act v.' The Indian winds That blow off from the coast, and cheer the sailor With the sweet savour of their spices, want The delight that flows in thee.' BOOK IV. 119 Of Arabie the blest, with such delay [league Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many a Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles: So entertain'd those odorous sweets the fiend Who came their bane, though with them better pleas'd Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume, That drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouse Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent 170 From Media post to IEgypt, there fast bound. Now to th' ascent of that steep savage hill Satan had journied on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth 175 Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex'd All path of man or beast that past that way. One gate there only was, and that look'd east On th' other side: which when th' arch-felon saw, Due entrance he disdain'd, and in contempt 180 At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf, Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, 186 Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold: Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cash Of some rich burger, whose substantial doors, 183 wolf' Keen as the Evening wolf.' Benlowe's Theophila, p. 44. 120 PARADISE LOST. Cross-barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault, 190 In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles: So clomb this first grand thief into GOD'S fold; So since into his church lewd hirelings climb. Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, The middle tree and highest there that grew, 195 Sat like a cormorant; yet not true life Thereby regain'd, but sat devising death To them who liv'd; nor on the virtue thought Of that life-giving plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd had been the pledge Of immortality. So little knows 201 Any, but GOD alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use. Beneath him with new wonder now he views, 205 To all delight of human sense expos'd, In narrow roomnature's whole wealth, yea more, A heaven on earth: for blissful paradise Of GOD the garden was, by him in the east Of Eden planted; Eden stretch'd her line 210 From Auran eastward to the royal tow'rs Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, Or where the sons of Eden long before 190 Cross-barr'd]~'Cross-barr'd and double lockt.' Ileywood's Hierarchie, p. 510, folio, (1635). 191 In at the window] v. Spenser's Fairy Queen, lib. i. c. 3. ver. 17.' He was to weet a stout and sturdy thief, Then he by cunning slights in at the window crept.' BOOK IV. 121 Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil His far more pleasant garden God ordain'd; 213 Out of the fertile ground he caus'd to grow All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold, and next to Life 220 Our death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through Eden went a river large, Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggy hill Pass'd underneath ingulf'd; for God had thrown That mountain as his garden mould, high rais'd Upon the rapid current, which, through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst up drawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Water'd the garden; thence united fell 230 Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears; And now divided into four main streams Runs diverse, wand'ring many a famous realm And country, whereof here needs no account; 235 But rather to tell how, if art could tell, How from that saphire fount the crisped brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, 237 crisped brooks]'Tremuloque alarum remige crispat Fluctusque fluviosque maris.' A. Ramscei Poem. Sacr. ed. Lauder, i. p. 8. 38 orient pearl] See Sir D. Lindsay, ed. Chalmers, ii. 327.'Lyke orient perils.' 122 PARADISE LOST. With mazy error under pendant shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed 240 Flow'rs worthy of paradise, which not nice art In beds and curious knots, but nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierc'd shade s45 Imbrown'd the noontide bowers. Thus was this A happy rural seat of various view: [place Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, Others whose fruit burnish'd with golden rind Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true, 250 If true, here only, and of delicious taste. Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks Grazing the tender herb, were interpos'd) Or palmy hillock, or the flow'ry lap Of some irriguous valley spread her store; 255 Flow'rs of all hue, and without thorn the rose. And Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, i. 5.' He kissed the last of many doubled kisses, this orient pearl.' Orient pearl was esteemed the most valuable. See Don Quixote (Shelton's Transl. vol. iv. p. 64.)'She wept not tears, but seed pearl, or morning dew: and he thought higher, that they were like oriental pearls.' 244 smote] Val. Flace. I. 496.'Percussaque sole scuta.' Orl. Fur. c. viii. st. xx.'Percote il sol ardente il vicin colle.' And Psalm (Old Transl.) cxxi. 6.' The sun shall not smite thee by day.' Todd. 250 fables] Apples. Bentl.. S. 255 irriguous] Hor. Sat. ii. 4. 16.'Irriguo nihil est elutius horto.' Hume. BOOK IV. 123 Another side, umbrageous gots and caves Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant: mean while murmuring waters fall 260 Down the slope hills, dispers'd, or in a lake, That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 265 The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on th' eternal spring. Not that fair field Of inna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower, by gloonly Dis 270 Was gather'd, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove Of Daphne by OroAtes and th' inspir'd Castlian spring might with this paradise Of Eden strive; nor that Nyseian isle 275 262 fringed] See Carew's Poems, p. 204. Silver floods, From your channels fring'd with flowers.' And p. 119.' With various trees we fringe the waters' brink.' 264 apply] Spens. F. Q. iii. 1. 40. Sweet birds thereto applide Their dainty layes' &c. Bowle. 269 Proserpine] With the same accent in F. Queen, 1. ii. 2.'And sad Prosdrpine's wrath.' Newton. 273 Daphne] See Wernsdorf. Poet. Minor. vol. vii. p. 1105. v. Capitolini vitam M. Antonini Philos. c. viii. p. 44, ed. Putman. 124 PARADISE LOST. Girt with the river Titon, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles A-mmon call and Lybian Jove, Hid Amalthea and her florid son Young Bacchus from his stepdame Rhea's eye: Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, 2so Mount Amara, though this by some suppos'd True paradise, under the Ethiop line By Nilus head, enclos'd with shining rock, A whole day's journey high, but wide remote From this Assyrian garden, where the fiend 285 Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living creatures new to sight and strange. Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honour clad In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all, 290 And worthy seem'd: for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd; Whence true authority in men: though both 295 Not equal, as their sex not equal, seem'd; For contemplation he and valour form'd, For softness she and sweet attractive grace; He for God only, she for God in him. 281 Amara] See Bancroft's Epigrams (1639), 4to. p. 35 (200).' Of the Ethiopian mountain Amara,' and Stradling's Divine Poems (1625), p. 27.'The famous hill Amara to this clime Is but a muddie moore of dirt and slime.' 299 He] See St. Paul, 1. Corinth. xi. 7.' He is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of the man. BOOK IV. 125 His fair large front and eye sublime declar'd 300 Absolute rule; and hyacinthin locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clust'ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad: She as a veil down to the slender waist Her unadorned golden tresses wore 303 Disshevel'd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, 310 For the man is not of the woman, but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman, but the woman for the man.' This passage seems to justify the old reading,'God in him,' and rejects Bentley and Pearce's alteration,'God and him.' 301 hyacinthin] See Dionysii Geograph. ver. 1112. Theocriti Idyll. xviii. 2. Longi Pastor. lib. iv. c. 13, and the note in Dyce's ed. of Collins,'Like vexrnal hyacinths of sullen hue,' p. 180. To which add Nonni Dionysiaca, xvi. ver. 81.'AOpaa 6d''Tadivi9ov ldov Kvav6opoa xai7T7v. 804 as a veil] Carew's Poem's, p. 143.' Whose soft hair, Fann'd with, the breath of gentle air, O'erspreads her shoulders like a tent, And is her veil and ornament.' Spenser's F. Queen, iv. 113.'Which doft, her golden looks that were unbound Still in a knot unto her heeles down traced, And like a silken veil in compasse round About her backe, and all her bodie wound.' 307 As the vine] See Merrick's Tryphiodorus, ver. 108.'His flowing train depends with artful twine, Like the long tendrils of the curling vine.' VOL. I. 19 126 PARADISE LOST. And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceal'd; Then was not guilty shame; dishonest shame Of nature's works, honour dishonourable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind 315 With shews instead, mere shews of seeming pure, And banish'd from man's life his happiest life, Simplicity and spotless innocence! So pass'd they naked on, nor shunn'd the sight Of God or angel, for they thought no ill: 320 So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair That ever since in love's embraces met, Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade, that on a green 325 Stood whisp'ring soft, by a fresh fountain side They sat them down; and after no more toil Of their sweet gard'ning labour than suffic'd To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite 330 More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell, Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs 815 ye] Should we not read' you?' For what is he speaking to besides Shame? Newton. 323 goodliest] On this idiom, borrowed from the Greek, refer to Vigerus de Idiotismis, p. 68, and Thucyd. lib. i. c. 50. NavetaXia y7p avrT7'ER7ate 7rpbo "EXqvaE veSv 7rrT et iEyiaTrr 67 Trdv irpo eavTr) yeyivrTat. v. Herman ad Euripid. Med. ed. Elmsley, p. 67. 332 compliant boughs] Compare the Sarcotis of Masenius, lib. i. p. 94, ed. Barbou: BOOK IV. 127 Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline On the soft downy bank damask'd with flowers. The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind, 335 Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems Fair couple, link'd in happy nuptial league Alone as they. About them frisking play'd 340 All beasts of th' earth, since wild, and of all chase In wood or wilderness, forest or den; Sporting the lion ramp'd, and in his paw Dandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, Gambol'd before them; th' unwieldly elephant 345 To make them mirth us'd all his might, and wreath'd His lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly Insinuating wove with Gordian twine His braided train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass 350 Couch'd, and now fill'd with pasture gazing sat, Or bedward ruminating: for the sun Declin'd was hasting now with prone career To th' ocean isles, and in th' ascending scale Of heav'n the stars that usher evening rose: 355'Hic mensae genialis opes, et dapsilis arbos Fructibus inflexos, foecundo palmite, ramos Curvat ad obsequium, prsebetque alimenta petenti.' 834 damask'd] P. Flefcher. P. Isl. c. xii. 1.'Upon the flowrie banks Where various flowers damaske the fragrant seat.' Todd. 337 gentle] Spens. F. Qu. iii. 8. 14.' He gan make gentle purpose to his dame.' Thyer. 128 PARADISE LOST. When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length fail'd speech recover'd sad. O hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold, Into our room of bliss thus high advanc'd Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, 360 Not spirits, yet to heavenly spirits bright Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them divine resemblance, and such grace The hand that form'd them on their shape hath pour'd! 365 Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy: Happy, but for so happy ill secur'd 370 Long to continue; and this high seat your heaven Ill fenc'd for heaven to keep out such a foe As now is enter'd: yet no purpos'd foe To you, whom I could pity thus forlorn, Though I unpitied. League with you I seek, 375 And mutual amity, so strait, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth: my dwelling haply may not please, 358 0 hel] Compare the speech of Antitheus, in the Sarcotis, at the sight of the happiness of Sarcothea, lib. i. p. 94.'Viderat Antitheus niveam per gramina nympham Errantem, et facilis captantem gaudia ruris, Pascentemque animum jucundae munere vitae. Vidit, et indoluit tantorum herede bonorum,' &c. BOOK IV. 129 Like this fair paradise, your sense; yet such Accept your Maker's work; he gave it me. 380 Which I as freely give: hell shall unfold To entertain you two, her widest gates, And send forth all her kings: there will be room, Not like these narrow limits, to receive Your numerous offspring; if no better place, 385 Thank him who puts me loath ta this revenge On you, who wrong me not) for him who wrong'd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I do, yet public reason just, Honour and empire with revenge enlarg'd, 390 By conquering this new world, compels me now To do, what else, though damn'd, I should abhor. So spake the fiend, and with necessity, The tyrant's plea, excus'd his devilish deeds. Then from his lofty stand on that high tree 395 Down he alights amoug the sportful herd Of those fourfooted kinds, himself now one, Now other, as their shape serv'd best his end Nearer to view his prey, and unespy'd 399 To mark what of their state he more might learn By word or action mark'd: about them round A lion now he stalks with fiery glare, Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spy'd In some purlieu two gentle fawns at play, Straight couches close, then rising changes oft 405 His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground, Whence rushing he might surest seize them both Grip'd in each paw: when Adam first of men, 130 PARADISE LOST. To first of women Eve thus moving speech, Turn'd him all ear to hear new utterance flow. Sole partner and sole part of all these joys, Dearer thy self than all, needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample world, Be infinitely good, and of his good As liSeral and free as infinite, 415 That rais'd us from the dust and plac'd us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can perform Aught whereof he hath need, he who requires From us no other service than to keep 420 This one, this easy charge, of all the trees In paradise that bear delicious fruit So various, not to taste that only Tree Of Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life; So near grows death to life; whate'er death is, Some dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou know'st G8d hath pronounc'd it death to taste that tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signs of power and rule Conferr'd upon us, and dominion giv'n 430 Over all other creatures that possess Earth, air, and sea. Then let us not think hard One easy prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights: 435 But let us ever praise him and extol His bounty, following our delightful task [ers; To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowWhich were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet. BOOK IV. 131 To whom thus Eve reply'd. O thou, for whom And from whom I was form'd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my guide And head, what thou hast said is just and right: For we to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy 445 So far the happier lot, enjoying thee Preeminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thyself canst no where find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awak'd, and found my self repos'd 450 Under a shade on flow'rs, much wond'ring where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issu'd from a cave, and spread Into a liquid plain, then stood unmov'd, 455 Pure as th' expanse of heaven; I thither went With unexperienc'd thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky. As I bent down to'look, just opposite 460 A shape within the wat'ry gleam appear'd Bending to look on me: I started back, 451 on] The second ed. reads'of flowers,' but Tickell, Fenton, Bentley, and Newton, read and after the first edition. 459 lake] Compare Ov. Met. iii. 457. Newton. 461 A shape] Compare the Sarcotis of Masenius, lib. iii. p. 130, ed. Barbou, describing Sarcothea:' stetit obvia fonti Virgo, novasque freto miratur crescere silvas. Ipsa etiam proprins spectans ab imagine formas Luditur, et niveum veneratur in ore decorem, etc.' 132 PARADISE LOST. It started back; but pleas'd I soon return'd, Pleas'd it return'd as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love: there I had fix'd 4o5 Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warn'd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself; With thee it came and goes: but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow stays 470 Thy coming, and thy soft embraces; he Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd Mother of human race. What could I do, 475 But follow straight, invisibly thus led? Till I espy'd thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a platane; yet, methought, less fair, Less winning soft, less amiably mild, 479 Than that smooth wat'ry image; back I turn'd, Thou following cry'dst aloud, Return, fair Eve, Whom fly'st thou? whom thou fly'st, of him thou art, His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart, Substantial life, to have thee by my side 485 Henceforth an individual solace dear: Part of my soul, I seek thee, and thee claim, 3My other half. With that thy gentle hand Seiz'd mine; I yielded, and from that time see 479 Under aplatane] See Grotii Adamus Exsul. p. 36. Adamus, platani sappositus come.' Tickell and Fenton read a'plantan.' BOOK IV. 133 How beauty is excell'd by manly grace 490 And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general mother, and, with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd On our first father; half her swelling breast 495 Naked met his under the flowing gold Ofher loose tresses hid: he, in delight Both of her beauty and submissive charms, Smil'd with superior love, as Jupiter On Juno smiles, when he impt ns the clouds 500 That shed May flowers, and press'd her matron lip With kisses pure: aside the devil turn'd For envy, yet with jealous leer malign Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus pliin'd. Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 505 The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to hell am thrust, WVhere neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, 510 Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines. 500 impregns See Dante 1 Purgat. c. xxiv.'L'aura di Maggio muovesi, et olezza Tutta impregnata dall' erba, e da' fiori.' 501 matron] Meeting. Bentl. M1~S. 504 Ey'd them askance] See Dante Inferno, c. vi.' Gli diritti occhi torse allora in biechi.' 509 Where] Bentley would read,' Where's' for' Where is,' but Pearce observes that Milton often leaves out'is,' as B. viii. 621. 134 PARADISE LOST. Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From their own mouths: all is not theirs it seems; One fatal tree there stands of Knowledge call'd Forbidden them to taste: knowledge forbidden: Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? can it be sin to know? Can it be death? and do they only stand By ignorance? is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? 520 O fair foundation laid, whereon to build Their ruin! hence I will excite their minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with design To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt Equal with gods; aspiring to be such, They taste and die: what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This garden, and no corner leave unspy'd; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet 530 Some wandering spirit of heaven, by fountain side, Or in thick shade retir'd from him to draw Whatfurther would be learn'd. Live while ye may, Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. 535 So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his roam. 630 A chance] This line, I think, should be thus read: A chance - but chance may lead where I may meet. BOOK IV. 135 Mean while in utmost longitude, where heaven With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun 540 Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern gate of paradise Level'd his ev'ning rays; it was a rock Of alablaster, pil'd up to the clouds, Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent 545 Accessible from earth, one entrance high; The rest was craggy cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climb. Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel sat, Chief of the angelic guards, awaiting night; 550 About him exercis'd heroic games Th' unarmed youth of heaven; but nigh at hand Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears, Hung high with diamond flaming and with gold. Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even 555 On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fir'd Impress the air, and show the mariner From what point of his compass to beware Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste. 560 542 eastern]'The sun setting shined on the eastern gate;'tis well it was higher than all the rest of Paradise.' Bentl. MS. 544 alablaster] Thus spelt in both Milton's own editions. 554 with diamond] See Prose Works, 1. 232. (Apol. for Smectymnus.)'Their zeal, whose substance is ethereal, arming in complete diamond.' 556 as a shooting] See Dante II Paradiso, c. xv. 16.' E pare stella, che tramuti loco.' 136 PARADISE LOST. Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place No evil thing approach or enter in: This day at highth of noon came to my sphere A spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know 555 More of the Almighty's works, and chiefly man God's latest image: I describ'd his way Bent all on speed, and mark'd his aery gait: But in the mount that lies from Eden north, Where he first lighted, soon discern'd his looks 570 Alien from heaven, with passions foul obscur'd: Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade Lost sight of him; one of the banish'd crew, I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep to raise New troubles; him thy care must be to find. 575 To whom the winged warrior thus return'd: Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight, Amid the sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st, See far and wide: in at this gate none pass The vigilance here plac'd, but such as come 5so Well known from heaven; and since meridian hour No creature thence. If spirit of other sort, 561 to the] It has been proposed to read these lines with the insertion of a parenthesis:'Gabriel (to thee thy course by lot hath given Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place No evil thing approach or enter in) This day at highth of noon,' &c. 567 describ'd] Some read' descry'd.' Newton. 576 winged] See Marino's S1. of the Innocents, p. 33. (Transl.)'Shining troops of winged armies ride.' BOOK IV. 137 So minded, have o'erleap'd these earthy bounds On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal bar. 585 But if within the circuit of these walks In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promis'd he, and Uriel to his charge Return'd on that bright beam, whose point now rais'd Bore him slope downward to the sun, now fall'n Beneath th' Azores; whether the prime orb, 592 Incredible how swift, had thither roll'd Diurnal, or this less volubil earth, By shorter flight to th' east, had left him there, 595 Arraying with reflected purple and gold The clouds that on his western throne attend. Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompany'd; for beast and bird, 600 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the firmament 592 whether]'whither.' Milton's own ed. 594 volubil' volubil,' with the second syllable long, as in the Latin volubilis; when it is short, Milton writes it' voluble.' Newton. 599 livery] Fletch. P. Isl. vi. st. 54.'The world late clothed in night's black livery.' Todd. 600 Silence] See this personification in Beaumont's Psyche, c. vi. st. 174.'Silence for porter stood.' c. xix. st. 160.' Whilst Silence sate upon his lips.' 602 all but] Not all. Owls. Bubones. Bentl. MS. 138 PARADISE LOST. With living saphirs; Hesperus that led 605 The starry host rode brightest, till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen unvail'd her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve: Fair consort, th' hour Of night and all things now retir'd to rest 611 Mind us of like repose, since GOD hath set Labour and rest, as day and night, to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eyelids: other creatures all day long Rove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest: Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of heaven on all his ways; 620 While other animals unactive range, And of their doings GOD takes no account. To-morrow ere fresh morning streak the east With first approach of light we must be ris'n, And at our pleasant labour, to reform 65 Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green, Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth: Those blossoms also and those dropping gums, 630 That lie bestrown unsightly and unsmooth, 627 walk] In the first ed.' walks.' Newton. manuring] This is to be understood as in the French manceuvre, or working with hands. Richardson. BOOK IV. 139 Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease: Mean while, as nature wills, night bids us rest. To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorn'd. My author and disposer, what'thou bidd'st 635 Unargu'd I obey, so GOD ordains; GOD is thy law, thou mine; to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, All seasons and their change, all please alike: 640 Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth 645 After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train: But neither breath of morn when she ascends 650 With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 655 Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general ancestor reply'd. Daughter of GOD and man, accomplish'd Eve, 660 140 PARADISE LOST. Those have their course to finish, round the earth, By morrow ev'ning, and from land to land In order, though to nations yet unborn, Minist'ring light prepar'd, they set and rise; Lest total darkness should by night regain 665 Her old possession, and extinguish life In nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heat Of various influence foment and warm, Temper or nourish or in part shed down 670 Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow On earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection from the sun's more potent ray. These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, 674 Shine not in vain; nor think, though men were none, That heaven would want spectators, GOD want praise: Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night: how often from the steep 680 Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator? oft in bands 661 Those] "These" is Tonson's and Newton's alteration. Milton's reading is' Those.' 677 walk the earth] The same expression occurs in P. L. vii. 477.' Creep the ground.' Cicero de Finibus, ii. c. 34.' Maria ambulavisset.' See Wakef. Lucret. ii. v. 206. BOOK IV. 141 While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds 686 In full harmonic number join'd, their songs Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. Thus talking hand in hand alone they pass'd On to their blissful bower; it was a place 690 Chosen by the sov'reign Planter, when he fram'd All things to man's delightful use; the roof Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side 695 Acanthus and each odorous bushy shrub Fenc'd up the verdant wall, each beauteous flow'r, Iris all hues, roses, and jessamin Rear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and wrought Mosaic; under foot the violet, 700 Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay Broider'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone Of costliest emblem: other creature here, Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none; Such was their awe of man. In shadier bower 705 More sacred and sequester'd, though but feign'd, Pan or Sylvanus never slept; nor nymph, 688 Divide] Sil. Ital. vii. 154. Cum buccina noctemn Divideret.' Richardson. 703 emblem] Inlay.'Arte pavimenti, atque emblemati vermiculato.' Bentley. 705 shadier] shadie, 2nd ed. VOL. I. 20 142 PARADISE LOST. Nor Faunus haunted. Here in close recess With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed, 710 And heavenly choirs the Hymenman sung, What day the genial angel to our sire Brought her in naked beauty more adorn'd, More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endow'd with all their gifts, and 0 too like 715 In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes she ensnar'd Mankind with her fair looks, to be aveng'd On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood, Both turn'd, and under open sky ador'd The GOD that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, And starry pole. Thou also mad'st the night, Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day, 725 Which we in our appointed work employ'd Have finish'd, happy in our mutual help And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place For us too large, where thy abundance wants 730 Partakers, and uncrop'd falls to the ground. But thou hast promis'd from us two a race To fill the earth, who shall with us extol 719 authenticfire]' Or him who stole from Jove narthecal fire.' Bentl. MS. 723 moon] Virg. lEn. vi. 725.' Lucentemque globum lunge.' Hume. BOOK IV. 14S Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. 735 This said unanimous, and other rites Observing none, but adoration pure Which GOD likes best, into their inmost bower Handed they went; and, eas'd the putting off These troublesome disguises which we wear, 740 Straight side by side were laid; nor turn'd, I ween, Adam from his fair spouse; nor Eve the rites Mysterious of connubial love refus'd: Whatever hypocrites austerely talk Of purity, and place, and innocence, 745 Defaming as impure what GOD declares Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all, Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain 3ut our destroyer, foe to GOD and man? Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source 750 Of human offspring, sole propriety In paradise of all things common else! By thee adulterous lust was driv'n from men Among the bestial herds to range; by thee 750 Hail wedded love] Mr. Dyce compares Middleton:' Reverend and honourable matrimony, Mother of lawfull sweeter, unshamed mornings, Dangerlesse pleasures; thou that mak'st the bed Both pleasant, and legitimately fruitful: without thee, All the whole world were soyled bastardy: Thou art the onely and the greatest forme, That put'st a difference between our desires And the disordered appetites of beastes.' The Phoenix, 1607. Sig. D. 4. 144 PARADISE LOST. Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure, 755 Relations dear, and all the charities Of father, son, and brother, first were known.Far be it, that I should write thee sin or blame, Or think thee unbefitting holiest place, Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, 760 Whose bed is undefil'd and chaste pronounc'd, Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs us'd. Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smile 765 Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd, Casual fruition; nor in court amours, Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball, Or serenate, which the starv'd lover sings To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. 770 These, lull'd by nightingales, embracing slept, And on their naked limbs the flow'ry roof Shower'd roses, which the morn repair'd. Sleep on, Blest pair, and! yet happiest if ye seek No happier state, and know to know no more. 775 Now had night measur'd with her shadowy cone Half way up hill this vast sublunar vault, And from their ivory port the cherubim Forth issuing at th' accustom'd hour stood arm'd To their night watches in warlike parade, 780 When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake. Uzziel, half these draw off, and coast the south 778 vory] Ov. Met. iv. 185.' Lemnius extemplo valvas patefecit eburnas. Newton. BOOK IV. 145 With strictest watch; these other wheel the north; Our circuit meets full west. As flame they part, Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. 785 From these two strong and subtle spirits he call'd That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge. Ithuriel and Zephon, with winged speed Search through this garden, leave unsearch'd no nook; But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge, 790 Now laid perhaps asleep secure of harm. This evening from the sun's decline arriv'd, Who tells of some infernal spirit seen Hitherward bent, who could have thought? escap'd The bars of hell, on errand bad no doubt: 795 Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought: him there they found, Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve; 80o Assaying by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy, and with them forge Illusions as he list, phantasms, and dreams; Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint Th' animal spirits that from pure blood arise so5 Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise 785 shield]'Declinare ad hastam, vel. ad scutum.' Li:y. huone. 802 orgass] v. Mer. W. of. Wind. A. v. S. v.' Raise up the organs of her fantasy.' Todd. 146 PARADISE LOST. At least distemper'd, discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires Blown up with high conceits ingend'ring pride. Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear 810 Touch'd lightly; for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness: up he starts Discover'd and surpris'd. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid 815 Fit for the tun, some magazine to store Against a rumor'd war, the smutty grain With sudden blaze diffus'd inflames the air: So started up in his own shape the fiend. Back stepp'd those two fair angels, half amaz'd 820 So sudden to behold the grisly king; Yet thus, unmov'd with fear, accost him soon. Which of those rebel spirits adjudg'd to hell Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison? and transform'd, Why sat'st thou like an enemy in wait, s82 Here watching at the head of these that sleep? Know ye not then, said Satan fill'd with scorn, Know ye not me? ye knew me once no mate For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar; Not to know me argues yourselves unknown, sso The lowest of your throng; or if ye know, Why ask ye, and superfluous begin Your message, like to end as much in vain? 829 sitting]' Nor shall he hope to sit where Nero soars.' See Tragedy of C. T. Nero, p. 13 (1607). 830 Not to know]'Nobilem ignorari, est inter ignobiles censeri.' v. J. C. Scaligeri Vitam. p. 5. 4to. BOOK IV. 147 To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn. Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same 835 Or undiminish'd brightness, to be known As when thou stood'st in heaven upright and pure; That glory then, when thou no more wast good, Departed from thee, and thou' resemblest now Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. ~ 840 But come, for thou, besure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm. So spake the cherub, and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace 845 Invincible: abash'd the devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely, saw, and pin'd His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impair'd; yet seem'd 850 Undaunted. If I must contend, said he, Best with the best, the sender not the sent, Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold, Will save us trial what the least can do 655 Single against thee wicked, and thence weak. 835 same] The commentators think that a difficulty of construction exists in this passage, and Bentley would alter it. It seems to me to be plain.' Think not thy brightness undiminished, or thy shape to be known the same as,' &c. 848 pin'd] Pers. Sat. iii. 38.' Virtutem videant, intabescantque relicta.' Lume. 148 PARADISE LOST. The fiend reply'd not, overcome with rage; But like a proud steed rein'd went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: to strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quell'd 6so His heart, not else dismay'd. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron join'd, Awaiting next command. To whom their chief Gabriel from the front thus call'd aloud. so5 O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade, And with them comes a third of regal port, But faded splendor wan; who by his gait 870 And fierce demeanour seems the prince of hell, Nor likely to part hence without contest: Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours. He scarce had ended, when those two approach'd, And brief related whom they brought, where found, How busied, in what form and posture couch'd. To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake. Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescrib'd To thy transgressions, and disturb'd the charge Of others, who approve not to transgress 8s0 By thy example, but have power and right 859 Champing] See Esch. Prom. Vinct. 1008. 6da5ctv 6 (Toar6Uv or) VEO0vyrj II5oC, l6a'7 Kca 7rpor ivag lr zi7l. Thyer. BOOK IV. 149 To question thy bold entrance on this place, Employ'd, it seems, to violate sleep, and those Whose dwelling GOD hath planted here in bliss? To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow. 885 Gabriel, thou hadst in heaven th' esteem of wise, And such I held thee; but this question ask'd Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain? Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, Though thither doom'd? thou wouldst thyself, no And boldly venture to whatever place [doubt, Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change Torment with ease, and soonest recompense Dole with delight, which in this place I sought: To thee no reason, who know'st only good, 895 But evil hast not try'd: and wilt object His will who bound us? let him surer bar His iron gates, if he intends our stay In that dark durance: thus much what was ask'd. The rest is true; they found me where they say; But that implies not violence or harm. Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel mov'd, Disdainfully half smiling, thus reply'd. O loss of one in heaven to judge of wise, Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew, 905 And now returns him from his prison scap'd, Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither 894 Dole] Hamlet. A. i. S. ii.'Weighing delight with dole.' Todd. 150 PARADISE LOST. Unlicens'd from his bounds in hell prescrib'd: So wise he judges it to fly from pain 910 However, and to scape his punishment. So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrath, Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to hell, Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 915 Can equal anger infinite provok'd. But wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee Came not all hell broke loose? is pain to them Less pain, less to be fled, or thou than they Less hardy to endure? courageous chief, 920 The first in flight from pain, hadst thou alledg'd To thy deserted host this cause of flight, Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. To which the fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern. Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, 925 Insulting angel, well thou know'st I stood Thy fiercest, when in battel to thy aid The blasting vollied thunder made all speed, And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. But still thy words at random, as before, 930 Argue thy inexperience what behooves From hard assays and ill successes past A faithful leader, not to hazard all Through ways of danger by himself untry'd. I therefore, I alone first undertook 935 To wing the desolate abyss, and spy 928 The]'Thy,' second ed. BOOK IV. 151 This new created world, whereof in hell Fame is not silent, here in hope to find Better abode, and my afflicted Powers To settle here on earth, or in mid air; 910 Though for possession put to try once more What thou and thy gay legions dare against; Whose easier business were to serve their Lord High up in heaven, with songs to hymn his throne, And practis'd distances to cringe, not fight. 945 To whom the warrior angel soon reply'd. To say and straight unsay, pretending first Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, Argues no leader, but a liar trac'd, Satan, and couldst thou faithful add? 0 name, 950 O sacred name of -ithfuhress profan'd! Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? Army of fiends, fit body to fit head: Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, Your military obedience, to dissolve 955 Allegiance to th' acknowledg'd Power supreme? And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd Heaven's awful Monarch? wherefore but in hope To dispossess him, and thy self to reign? 961 But mark what I arreed thee now, avaunt; Fly thither whence thou fledst: if from this hour 945 And]' With' is understood. Pearce. 962 arreed] See Lisle's Dubartas, p. 173.' Arreed in books of heaven the summe.' 152 PARADISE LOST. Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chaii'd, 95 And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn The facil gates of hell too slightly barr'd. So threaten'd he: but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage reply'd. Then when I am thy captive talk of chains, 970 Proud limitary cherub; but ere then Far heavier load thy self expect to feel From my prevailing arm; though heaven's King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Us'd to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels 975 In progress through the road of heaven star-pav'd. While thus he spake, th' angelic squadron bright Turn'd fiery red, sharp'ning in mooned horns Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported spears, as thick as when a field 980 Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful plowman doubting stands, Lest on the threshing floor his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On th' other side Satan alarm'd, 985 Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriff or Atlas unremoved: His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest 966 And seal] See Northmore's note to Tryphiodorus, p. 88. 976 Star-pav'd] Ashmore's Epigrams, 4to. p. 33.' The casements large of Heaven have open set, And from their star-pav'dfloors have sent me down.' Todd. BOOK IV. 153 Sat horror plum'd; nor wanted in his grasp What seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful Might have ensu'd, nor only paradise [deeds In this commotion, but the starry cope Of heaven perhaps, or all the elements At least had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn With violence of this conflict, had not soon 995 Th' Eternal to prevent such horrid fray Hung forth in heaven his golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign, Wherein all things created first he weigh'd, The pendulous round earth with balanc'd air loo0 In counterpoise; now ponders all events, Battels, and realms: in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight; The latter quick up flew and kick'd the beam: Which Gabriel spying thus bespake the fiend. 1005 Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st Neither our own but giv'n; what folly then [mine: To boast what arms can do, since thine no more Than heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled now To trample thee as mire? for proof look up, lolo And read thy lot in yon celestial sign, [weak, Where thou art weigh'd, and shown how light, how If thou resist. The fiend look'd up, and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night. 1008 Thine]'Thine' and'mine' refer to strength, ver. 1006, not to arms. Newton.