66 More's Philosophical Poems were printed at Cambridge, in 1647. In 1670, the Paradise Regained was licensed. The difference in their success, in this particular, therefore, was not in the age, but in the men, and marks the idiosyncrasy of genius. The preface to More's Poems contains a very pretty passage, which is moreover redolent of Christian faith and charity. After observing, "that he has added notes for the better understanding, not only of his poem, but of the principles of Plato's philosophy, in both which he would be so understood, as a representer of the wisdom of the Antients, rather than as a warranter of the same," he adds, “that contemplations concerning the dry essence of the Deity are very consuming and unsatisfactory. It is better," he says, to drink of the blood of the grape than bite the root of the vine, to smell of the rose than chew the stalk." Byron, in his Cain, has preferred the less pleasant employ; he has bitten at the root, and chewed the stalk. If Milton has not drank of the blood of the grape, he has at all events smelt the rose; and about his poem there is the odour of piety. For Klopstock, it was reserved to drink of the blood; to him it was given to identify him who came "with dyed garments from Bozrah," and he, up to the present time, has "trodden the wine-press alone;" for Cumberland's attempt* is not to be mentioned in comparison. Had the plan of Milton's poem been enlarged, had it taken in the Crucifixion,-it would have been undoubtedly a very different production from the German poet's. The severer genius of the British Muse would have had a beneficial influence on its execution. There would have been as much difference between them as between the plays of Schiller and Shakspeare. A similar distinction might be drawn between both. Milton and Klopstock had each drank abundantly of the blood of the grape, but the constitution of the former was the stronger,-him it elevated into sublimity, and supported in its loftiest regions, "breathing empyreal air;" the latter" reeled to and fro, like a drunken man," and continually gravitated. Klopstock's angels are creatures of sensation, Milton's are beings "all intellect." He has only one exception, where he makes Raphael blush. "Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue," upon Adam inquiring of the love of heavenly spirits— "How their love Express they, by looks only, or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch?" * Calvary. Milton has enlivened his geographical chart, by the introduction of the "warlike muster" of the Parthian king, who now, Satan says, "In Ctesiphon hath gathered all his hosts Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild This description is a complete camera obscura; every thing lives, is in motion,-light-armed troops and horses clad in mail,-riders, the flower and choice of many pro vinces : "How quick they wheeled, and flying behind them shot Of their pursuers and o'ercame by flight, The field all iron cast a gleaming brown." Clouds of foot,-cuirassiers all in steel chariots, and elephants indorsed with towers of archers,--labouring pioneers laying hills plain, felling woods, filling vallies, and overlaying "With bridges rivers proud as with a yoke; Satan artfully follows his temptation up, by urging, that "prediction still in all things and all men supposes means," and advises him to secure the possession of his foretold kingdom, by adopting the assistance of the Parthian, which he (Satan) hath it in his power to render him :— "Then Thou on the throne of David in full glory, From Egypt to Euphrates and beyond Shall reign, and Rome or Cæsar not need fear." War, the Saviour observes, (and it is a truth worth repeating,) is an argument of human weakness rather than of strength, and reminds Satan that he has but little cause to be anxious for his success; and, in conclusion, trusts all things to God's "due time and providence." "So spake Israel's true King." We cannot quit this book without referring to a passage in the earlier part of it, in which the Saviour is stated to have "inly racked" the Tempter, by alluding to the little real motive he could have for his success, since, he tells him, "My promotion will be thy destruction." Satan adduces his despair, and his desire to know the worst, as a sufficient answer to this question :— "For where no hope is left, is left no fear. I would be at the worst; worst is my port, The end I would attain, my final good." This is a feeling, the expression of which is wrung from him by the agony of the moment, and not merely assumed for the purpose of sophistry. Anguish compels the father of lies to speak the truth. Notwithstanding Milton manifests here a most delicate artifice, and it is this beauty on which we pause to expatiate. The artifice is in admirable keeping with the character. The very verity of the anguish is made by the Tempter an argument to cover his deception. Its expression, we conceive, is not addressed wholly to the Saviour, but partly to him, and partly as an exclamation aside, not designed to be audible. Our meaning may be illustrated by the manner in which Mr. Young delivers the following lines in Othello's address to the "most potent, grave, and reverend signiors" of Venice: "She swore,-in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished Mr. Young does not address this passage directly to the Sagittary, but turns from them, and indulges in the sudden and tender recollection, conscious, yet ashamed, of being heard, but unable to restrain the overwhelming emotion. The heart's fountain is momently unsealed, and its sweet or bitter waters gush out, and will be visible. The passion in this passage of Milton, and that in the one forming the illustration, are opposite in their nature; but the mode of manifestation is the same. There is pleasure, also, in discovering resemblances in dissimilitudes. In the fourth book, Milton is indeed himself: it begins with infinite spirit; simile is added to simile, to illustrate the desperate importunity with which the repulsed and perplexed, yet ingenious, Tempter returns to the contest. He shews the Messiah Rome "The great and glorious Rome, queen of the earth ;" " and describes it with all his wonted eloquence. We have Indued with regal virtues as thou art, Mightst thou expel this monster from his throne, The Messiah has in view a kingdom superior to that of Rome: "When my season comes to sit On David's throne, it shall be like a tree The Tempter endeavours to hide his mortification under an assumed confidence, and impudently demands homage for the inestimable gifts which he has in his power to offer. After this, the dialogue rises into great sublimity; Satan affects to discover that " he is otherwise inclined than to a worldly crown, addicted more to contemplation and profound dispute," and recommends to him the study of heathen philo sophy, and extols the learning and knowledge of the Gentiles: he dilates, with exquisite gusto and eloquent delight, upon Athens, "the eye of Greece, mother of arts and eloquence, native to famous wits or hospitable," -on the name of Plato, and his who bred "Great Alexander to subdue the world." Homer, the lofty grave tragedians, teachers best of moral prudence, the famous orators,-Socrates,-the schools of Academics, the Peripatetic, the Epicurean, and the Stoic,are to him equally familiar, and subjects of lofty eulogy. The Saviour, in reply, well characterizes the different sects of philosophers, and asserts the superiority of the Hebrew over the Greek and Latin poetry, and the divinely-taught prophets over their orators." Satan disappears, and night arrives; the Saviour sleeps; the Tempter disturbs him with ugly dreams; he raises a tempest : "Ill wast thou shrouded then, Morning returns "Morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice grey; the birds Cheered up their choicest notes in bush and spray, Satan resumes his temptation, and descants upon the "dismal night;" but observes, "these flaws, though mortals fear them, are as wholesome as a sneeze to man's less universe." In this strain of gay impudence he continues the colloquy, and then transports the Saviour to the pinnacle of the temple. Milton places this temptation last, the Evangelist gives it precedence; but Milton's locality tends to dramatic effect in the dénouement. Satan tries the last test to prove the divinity of the Saviour; he commands him to cast himself down "Safely, if Son of God; For it is written, He will give command Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone. To whom thus Jesus. Also it is written, Tempt not THE LORD THY GOD: he said, and stood; The proofs of his divinity have been gradually accumulating, here they rise to a grand climax. The moral of the - poem is demonstrated, angels celebrate his victory, and the Saviour returns to his mother's house. All this is finely imagined, and exquisitely executed. We trust we have not been misapprehended in considering this poem as dramatic, rather than epic. The book of Job has been denominated an ancient drama. This poem is built upon somewhat the same model, and the structure is very similar. It possesses more action and less simplicity; and it can be no disparagement to say, that it is inferior to the inspired exemplar, in which there are strains of pathos and sublimity never elsewhere equalled. We wonder that this resemblance was not perceived; it might have tended to rescue this poem from the neglect into which it undeservedly fell. It was neglected because it bore no likeness to the Iliad, with which it was conjectured that it claimed relationship. But, surely, the Book of Job is as worthy of imitation as the Iliad. It is a standard of excellence in its own peculiar style and manner. Perhaps its model might be no inconvenient medium for an author of genius, who might wish to make essay of his epic or dramatic powers. It is much to be feared, |