20 << Sanguine flow'r inscribed with wo."-The ancient poetical hyacinth, proved, I think, by Professor Martyn, in his Virgil's Georgics, to be the turk's-cap lily, the only flower on which characters like the Greek exclamation of wo, AI, AI, are to be found. The idea in Milton is from Moschus's Elegy on the Death of Bion : Νυν, ύακινθε, λαλει τα σα γράμματα, και πλεον αι αι Now more than ever say, O, hyacinth! Ai, ai; and babble of your written sorrows. 21 "Last came and last did go."—" This passage," says Hazlitt, "which alludes to the clerical character of Lycidas, has been found fault with, as combining the truths of the Christian religion with the fiction of the Heathen mythology. I conceive there is very little foundation for this objection, either in good reason or good taste. I will not go so far as to defend Camoens, who, in his Lusiad, makes Jupiter. send Mercury with a dream to propagate the Catholic religion; nor do I know that it is generally proper to introduce the two things in the same poem, though I see no objection to it here; but of this I am quite sure, that there is no inconsistency or natural repugnance between this poetical and religious faith in the same mind. To the understanding, the belief of the one is incompatible with that of the other, but, in the imagination, they not only may, but do constantly, co-exist. I will venture to go farther, and maintain that every classical scholar, however orthodox a Christian he may be, is an honest Heathen at heart. This requires explanation. Whoever, then, attaches a reality to any idea beyond the mere name, has, to a certain extent (though not an abstract), an habitual and practical belief in it. Now, to any one familiar with the names of the personages of the heathen mythology, they convey a positive identity beyond the mere name. We refer them to something out of ourselves. It is only by an effort of abstraction that we divest ourselves of the idea of their reality; all our involuntary prejudices are on their side. This is enough for the poet. They impose on the imagination by the attractions of beauty and grandeur. They come down to us in sculpture and in song. We have the same associations with them as if they had really been: for the belief of the fiction in ancient times has produced all the same effects as the reality could have done. It was a reality to the minds of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and through them it is reflected to us."-Lectures on the English Poets (Templeman's edition), p. 338. 22 How well could I have spar'd," &c.. "He here animadverts," says Warton, "to the endowments of the church, at the same time insinuating that they were shared by those only who sought the emoluments of the sacred office, to the exclusion of a learned and conscientious clergy." An old complaint! Meantime the church has continued mild and peaceful. An incalculable blessing! 23" Return, Alpheus," &c.-How much more sweet and Christian Paganism itself sounds, after those threats of religious violence! The "two-handed engine" is supposed to mean the axe preparing for poor, weak, violent Laud! Milton was now beginning to feel the sectarian influence of his father; one, unfortunately, of a sullen and unpoetical sort. 24" Honied showers."—There is an awkwardness of construction between this and the preceding line which hurts the beautiful idea of the flowers "sucking the honied showers," by seeming to attribute the suction to their "eyes." There might, indeed, be learned allowance for such an ellipsis; and we hardly know where to find the proper noun substantive or predicate for the verb, if it be not so; but the image is terribly spoilt by it. 25" Glowing violet."-Why "glowing?" The pansy (heart'sease) "freak'd with jet" is exquisite; equally true to letter and spirit. 28" The great Vision of the guarded Mount.”—This is the Archangel Michael, the guardian of seamen, sitting on the Mount off the coast of Cornwall known by his name, and looking towards the coast of Gallicia. It is rather surprising that Milton, with his angelical tendencies, did not take the opportunity of saying more of him. But the line is a grand one. COMUS THE SORCERER. THYRSIS tells the Brothers of a Lady, that their Sister has fallen into " the hands of the Sorcerer COMUús, dwelling in a wood. Within the navel of this hideous wood, By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison In their obscurèd haunts of inmost bowers; With ivy canopied, and interwove And stole upon the air, that even Silence Still to be so displac'd. I was all ear, And took in strains that might create a soul Lean on it safely; not a period Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats Of malice, or of sorcery, or that power Which erring men call chance, this I hold firm ; Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt,— And mix no more with goodness: when at last 27" The chewing flocks," &c.—"The supper of the sheep," says Warton, "is from a beautiful comparison in Spenser, As gentle shepherd, in sweet eventide When ruddy Phoebus gins to welk (decline) in west, Faerie Queene, i., s. 23. "Chewing flocks" is good, but not equal to "biting their hasty supper." It is hardly dramatical, too, in the speaker to stop to notice the sweetness and dewiness of the sheep's grass, while he had a story to tell, and one of agitating interest to his hearers. |