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bed. She knows nothing of her aunt Philips or Agar's defcendents, but believes that they are all extinct: as is likewise Sir Christopher Milton's family, the laft of which were two maiden sisters, Mrs. Mary and Mrs. Katharine Milton, who lived and died at Highgate: And the herself is the only furvivor of Milton's own family; unless there be some in the EastIndies, which she very much questions, for the used to hear from them sometimes, but has heard nothing now for several years: fo that in all probability Milton's whole family would be extinct with her *, and

he

* Mrs. Foster died at Islington, May 9. 1754, in the 66th year of her age; and by her death all Milton's family became extinct. She had lived many years in a low way, and was at last depressed with poverty and the infirmities of old age. It does not appear, that any of her grandfather's admirers took any notice of her till 1750; when, on the 5th of April that year, Comus, wrote by Milton, was reprefented at Drury-Lane theatre, with a new prologue spoken by Mr. Garrick, for her benefit, which produced her above 130 1.

"The prologue was printed both at London and Edinburgh for her benefit, and is as follows:

Ye patriot crouds, who burn for England's fame,
Ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at MILTON's name,
Whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes,
Shames the mean penfions of Auguftan times;
Immortal patrons of fucceeding days,
Attend this prelude of perpetual praise!
Let Wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage
With close Malevolence, or public Rage;
Let Study, worn with Virtue's fruitless lore,
Behold this theatre, and grieve no more.
This night, diftinguish'd by your smile, shall tell,
That never BRITON can in vain excel;
The flighted arts futurity shall trust,
And rifing ages hasten to be juft.

At length our mighty Bard's victorious lays
Fill the loud voice of univerfal praise;
And baffled Spite, with hopeless Anguish dumb,
Yields to Renown the centuries to come.
With ardent hatte, each candidate of fame
Ambitious catches at his tow'ring name:
Ele fees, and pitying fees, vain Wealth bestow
Thofe pageant honours which he fcoru'd below.
While crouds aloft the laureat buft behold,

Or trace his form on circulating gold;

Unknown,

he can live only in his writings: And, fuch is the caprice of fortune, this grand-daughter of a man, who will be an everlasting glory to the nation, has now for fome years with her husband kept a little chandler's or grocer's shop, for their subsistence, lately at the Lower Halloway in the road between High-gate and London, and at present in Cock lane, not far from Shore-ditch church. Another thing let me mention, that is equally to the honour of the present age. Though Milton received not above to 1. at two different payments for the copy of Paradise Loft, yet Mr. Hoyle, author of the Treatise on the Game of Whist, after having disposed of all the first impreflion, fold the copy to the bookseller, as I have been informed, for 200 guineas.

To this Life from Dr. Newton, we shall fubjoin an account of the manner in which Milton loft his fight, which he so pathetically laments in the beginning of book iii. of Paradise Loft, taken from his own letter to Leonard Philaras, envoy from the Duke of Parma to the French King, dated, Westminster, Sept. 28. 1654.

_ " I think 'tis about ten years, more or lefs, " fince I began to perceive, that my eye-fight grew " weak and dim, and at the same time my spleen and " bowels to be oppressed and troubled with flatus; " and in the morning, when I began to read, accord"ing to my custom, my eyes grew painful immedi

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ately, and to refuse reading, but were refreshed af

Unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay,
And Want hung threat'ning o'er her flow decay.
What though the shine with no MILTONIAN fire,
No fav'ring Mufe her morning-dreams inspire?
Yet fofter claims the melting heart engage;
Her youth laborious, and her blameless age :
Her's the mild merits of domestic life;
The patient suff'rer, and the faithful wife.
Thus grac'd with humble Virtue's native charms,
Her Grandfire leaves her in Britannia's arms,
Secure with peace, with competence, to dwell,
While tutelary nations guard her cell.
Yours is the charge, ye Fair, ye Wife, ye Brave!
"Tis yours to crown defert beyond the grave!

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ter a moderate exercise of the body. A certain Iris began to furround the light of the candle, if I look"ed at it; foon after which, on the left part of the "left eye, (for that was fome years fooner clouded,)

a mist arose, which hid every thing on that fide; " and looking forward, if I shut my right eye, ob"jects appeared smaller. My other eye also, for these " last three years, failing by degrees, some months "before all fight was abolished, things which I look"ed upon seemed to swim to the right and left.

Certain inveterate vapours seem to possess my fore" head and temples, which, after meat especially, " quite to evening generally urge and depress my

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eyes with a fleepy heaviness. Nor would I omit, " that, whilst there was as yet some remainder of " fight, I no fooner lay down in my bed, and turns "ed on my fide, but a copious light dazzled out of

my shut eyes: and, as my fight diminished, every day colours gradually more obfcure flashed out with vehemence; but now, that the lucid is in a manner wholly extinct, a direct blackness, or elfe spotted, and as it were woven with ash colour, is **used to pour itself in. Nevertheless, the constant and fettled darkness that is before me, as well by " night as by day, feems nearer to the whitish than the blackith; and the eye, rolling itself a little, "seems to admit I know not what little smallness of "light, as through a chink."

The following TRANSLATION and SONNET are taken from Toland's and Birch's accounts of Milton's Life.

The Verses to CHRISTINA Queen of SWEDEN, vol. ii. p. ult. translated.

PRIGHT martial Maid, Queen of the frozen zone,
The northern pole supports thy shining throne;

Behold what furrows Age and Steel can plow;
The helmet's weight oppress'd this wrinkled brow.

Thro'

Thro' Fate's untrodden paths I move, my hands
Still act my free-born people's bold commands:
Yet this stern fhade to you submits his frowns,
Nor are these looks always fevere to crowns.

TOLAND'S Life of Milton.

A SONNET, upon occasion of the Plague in London, faid to be written by Milton, and to have beenlately found on a glass-window at Chalfont, where he refided during the continuance of that dreadful calamity.

F

AIR mirror of foul times! whose fragile sheen Shall, as it blazeth, break; while Providence (Ay watching o'er his faints with eye unfeen,) Spreads the red rod of angry pestilence, To sweep the wicked and their counsels hence: Yea all to break the pride of lustful kings, Who Heaven's lore reject for brutish sense; As erst he scourg'd Jefsfides' fin of yore For the fair Hittite, when on seraph's wings He fent him war, or plague, or famine fore *.

BIRCH'S Life of Miltons

• If this fonnet was really wrote by Milton, he has blundered in representing the peftilence as a judgment upon David for his adul-tery with Bathsheba, whereas it was on account of his numbering the people.

In PARADISUM AMISSAM summi poetæ JOANNIS MILTONI.

Q

UI legis Amiffam Paradisum, grandia magni
Carmina Miltoni, quid nifi cuncta legis?

Res cunctas, & cunctarum primordia rerum,
Et fata, & fines continet iste liber.
Intima panduntur magni penetralia mundi,
Scribitur & toto quicquid in orbe latet:
Terræque, tractufque maris, cælumque profundum,
Sulphureumque Erebi, flammivomumque specus:
Quæque colunt terras, pontumque, & tartara cæca,
Quæque colunt fummi lucida regna poli:
Et quodcunque ullis conclufum eft finibus ufquam,
Et fine fine Chaos, & fine fine Deus:
Et fine fine magis, fi quid magis eft fine fine,
In Chrifto erga homines conciliatus amor.
Hæc qui fperaret quis crederet effe futura?

Et tamen hæc hodie terra Britanna legit.
O quantos in bella duces! quæ protulit arma,!
Quæ canit, & quanta prælia dira tuba!
Cæleltes acies! atque in certamine cœlum!
Et quæ cœleftes pugna deceret agros!
Quantus in æthereis tollit se Lucifer armis!
Atque ipfo graditur vix Michaele minor!
Quantis, & quam funeftis concurritur iris,
Dum ferus hic ftellas protegit, ille rapit!
Dum vulfos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent,
Et non mortali defuper igne pluunt:
Stat dubius cui se parti concedat Olympus,
Et metuit pugnæ non fupereffe fuæ.
At fimul in cælis Meffiæ infignia fulgent,
Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo,
Horrendumque rotæ strident, & fæva rotarum
Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus,
Et flammæ vibrant, & vera tonitrua rauco
Admiftis flammis infonuere polo :
Excidit attonitis mens omnis, & impetus omnis,
Et caffis dextris irrita tela cadunt;

Ad pænas fugiunt, & ceu foret Orcus afylum,
Infernis certant condere se tenebris.
Cedite Romani icriptores, cedite Graii,

Et quos fama recens vel celebravit anus.
Hæc quicunque leget tantum ceciniffe putabit
Maonidem ranas, Virgilium culices.

SAMUEL BARROW, M. D.

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