in the hearts of the oppressed, and loosed the knees of the oppressors with a strange and unwonted fear! 5. We must conclude. And yet we can scarcely tear ourselves away from the subject. The days immediately following the publication of this relic of Milton' appear to be peculiarly set apart and consecrated to his memory. And we shall scarcely be censured if, on this his festival, we be found lingering near his shrine, how worthless soever may be the offering which we bring to it. While this book lies on our table, we seem to be contemporaries of the great poet. We are transported a hundred and fifty years back. We can almost fancy that we are visiting him in his small lodging; that we see him sitting at the old organ beneath the faded green hangings; that we can catch the quick twinkle of his eyes rolling in vain to find the day; that we are reading in the lines of his noble countenance the proud and mournful history of his glory and his affliction! 6. We image to ourselves the breathless silence in which we should listen to his slightest word; the passionate veneration with which we should kneel to kiss his hand, and weep upon it; the earnestness with which we should endeavor to console him, if, indeed, such a spirit could need consolation, for the neglect of an age unworthy of his talents and his virtues; the eagerness with which we should contest with his daughters, or with his Quaker friend, Elwood, the privilege of reading Homer to him, or of taking down the immortal accents which flowed from his lips. 7. These are, perhaps, foolish feelings. Yet we can not be ashamed of them; nor shall we be sorry if what we have written shall, in any degree, excite them in other minds. We are not much in the habit of idolizing either the living or the dead. And we think that there is no mōre certain indication of a weak and ill-regulated intellect than that propensity which, for want of a better name, we will venture to christen Boswellism.' But there are a few characters which have stood the closest scrutiny and the severest tests, which have been tried in the furnace and have proved pure; which have been weighed in the balance, and have not been found wanting; which have been declared sterling by the general consent of mankind, and which are visibly stamped with the image and superscription of the Most High. 1 Relic of Milton. A Treatise on the Christian Doctrine, compiled from the Holy Scriptures alone." 'Bŏs' well ism, see p. 210. 2 8. These great men we trust that we know how to prize; and of these was Milton. The sight of his books, the sound of his name, are refreshing to us. His thoughts resemble those celestial fruits and flowers which the Virgin Martyr of Massinger' sent down from the gardens of Paradise to the earth, distinguished from the productions of other soils, not only by their superior bloom and sweetness, but by their mărăcūloŭs efficacy to invigorate and to heal. They are powerful, not only to delight, but to elevate and purify. 9. Nor do we envy the man who can study either the life or the writings of the great poet and patriot without aspiring to emulate, not indeed the sublime works with which his genius has enriched our literature, but the zeal with which he labored for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptation and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and with his fame. 1 III. T. B. MACAULAY. 188. SATAN'S ENCOUNTER WITH DEATH. LACK it stood as night, BLA Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed 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, With horrid strides; hell trembled as he strode. Philip Massinger, one of the very best of the old English dramatists, was born in 1584, and died in 1640. He wrote a great number of pieces, of which eighteen have been preserved. The "Virgin Martyr,” the" Bondman," the "Fatal Dowry," The City Madam," and "A New Way to Pay Old Debts," are his best known productions. Thy miscreated front athwart my way To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith, till then Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons, 4. So spake the grisly terror: and in shape, 5. So speaking, and so threatening, grew ten-fold Each at the head No second stroke intend; and such a frown Each cast at the other, as when two black clouds, 1 Ophiuchus, (8f`i ukus), the Serpent-bearer; a cluster of fixed stars whose center is nearly over the equator, opposite to Orion. So frowned the mighty com'batants, that hell Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood; For never but once more was either like To meet so great a Foe: and now great deeds Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between. JOHN MILTON. JOHN MILTON, one of the greatest of all poets and scholars, was born in London on the 9th of December, 1608. His father, liberally educated and from a good family, having been disinherited for embracing Protestantism, became a scrivener, and acquired a competent fortune. The firmness and the sufferings of the father for conscience' sake were not lost upon the son, who became a stern, unbending champion of religious freedom. Milton was educated with great care. He studied ancient and modern languages, delighted in poetical reading, and cultivated the musical taste which he inherited from his father. At fifteen he was sent to St. Paul's School, London, and two years later to Christ's College, Cambridge, where he graduated in due course. He wrote several poems at an early age. His "Hymn on the Nativity," composed in his twenty-first year, is one of the noblest of his works, and perhaps the finest lyric in the English language. Leaving the university in 1632, he went to the house of his father, at Hutton in Buckinghamshire, where he lived five years, studying classical literature and writing poems. During this happy period of his life he wrote "L'Allegro," ," "Il Penseroso," "Arcades," "Lycidas," and "Comus." In 1638 the poet visited the Continent, where he remained fifteen months, principally in Italy and France. His study of the works of art during this period probably suggested some of his best poetical creations. On his return to England in 1639 he took up his residence in London. The next twenty years, during the Civil War, the Commonwealth, and the Protectorate, the poet's lyre was mute. A Republican in politics and an Independent in religion, during this stormy period he threw himself promptly and fearlessly into the vortex of the struggle, and, as a controversialist, enrolled his name among the noblest and most eloquent of the writers of old English prose. In 1643 Milton married Mary Powell, the daughter of a high cavalier of Oxfordshire. In 1649 he was appointed Foreign or Latin Secretary to the Council of State, and retained the same position during the Protectorate. For ten years his eyesight had been failing, when, in 1652, he became totally blind. About the same period his first wife died, but he married soon after. His second wife, Catharine Woodcock, died in 1656. The Restoration of 1660 consigned the poet, for the last fourteen years of his life, to an obscurity which gave him leisure to complete the mighty poetical task which was to secure him an immortality of literary fame. In 1664 he married his third wife, Elizabeth Minshul, of a good Cheshire family. In 1665 he completed "Paradise Lost," which was first published in 1667. In 1671 appeared the "Paradise Regained," to which was subjoined "Samson Agonistes." He died on the 8th of November, 1674. For a further description of Milton and his poetry, the reader is referred to the two exercises immediately preceding the above. IV. 189. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.' ITAL spark of heavenly flame, Quit, oh! quit this mortal frame! Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly! ALEXANDER POPE M SECTION XXXVIII. I. 190. MURDER OF KING DUNCAN. ACBETH. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.— I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible Expression, in the delivery of this exquisite little poem, the reader must bear in mind, requires the continued production of the feeble and failing tone of the dying man, while conveying the perfect, enthusiastic confidence of the hopeful Christian. 2 Mac beth', afterward king of Scotland, prompted by ambition, and urged on by his wife, resolves to murder the king, then his guest, and seize the crown. |