SACRED POETS. II.-MILTON. JOHN MILTON was born on the 9th of The experience, the trials, and the self-denying labours which those sixtysix years between his infant cradle and his narrow earth-bed of the grave witnessed in Milton, are certainly worthy of longer commemoration than the tomblike record we have set down. But we shall be able to speak of the poet's life with greater meaning and effect after such review of his Sacred Poetry as we intend to give. Although several have written in a high-toned style on the grandeur of our great epic poet, it is possible for any who rather seek instruction for themselves than try to make some new display of eloquence on this great subject, to be useful and instructive to others. And we are sure that the simple and severe, though dignified poet of the Paradise Lost would have sternly regarded many a lofty laudation of his works, in which, amid the profusion of flowers and the laying on of startling colours, one has to look wearily and in vain for the calm and noble features they desire to see. In the blindness of the first-mentioned poet; in the woe-stricken life, and greathearted exile of the second; and in the blindness and persecution that waited on Milton's later years, we contemplate with awe the wondrous power of isolation from many common enjoyments, and the fact that the perennial fountains of poetry, as well as the hopes of religion, have their upspringing beneath the thick and farspread shadows of a gigantic SORROW! In the Paradise Lost, Milton endeavours to imagine the various events that may have preceded the fall of man and his banishment from Eden. And so great is the force of his imagination, and the sense of power with which he grasps the most difficult of the mysteries that come in his way; and so uniformly is he guided, in the darkest and most distant of his flights, into great heights and depths of the universe, by some of the far-darting rays of that Word which is a lamp unto the feet and a light unto the path, that it would be very difficult to say in what respect his descriptions are deficient, or out of harmony with the truth of Revelation. It does not seem so superfluous a task as might be supposed, to invite our readers to consider some of the passages of Paradise Lost. Copies of that great work may be obtained for a price which pence instead of shillings would define; and we suppose there are few houses, where there is a love of reading, that have not at some time or other had a copy of Milton within them, if it be not a household book. We suspect, however, that very few read an epic poem from beginning to end. Have you read Milton through, kind reader? It must demand peculiar gifts and peculiar circumstances to make an epic poet; since, hitherto, the world has produced only three that are likely to last with itself. The three greatest nations of Europe, the Greeks, the Romans (if we may call Dante a Roman-we certainly think he was), and the Britons, have each produced one. Homer, Dante, and Milton, stand alone among the poets of the past; and as far as can be predicted of our own age, they will continue in their solitary greatness. The careful... Do it, then. Do not let a few diffiand continued thought demanded for works of so lofty a description is scarcely possible, even to genius, without the addition of circumstances which the most self-denying would not be disposed to choose for themselves. culties in the work itself hinder you from proceeding in your perusal. Take a page or two at a time, till you have done away your feeling of self-reproach for not having read the world's greatest epic poem. And we shall have you as a much more kindly and sympathetic reader of our brief papers on the poet than you could otherwise be. Though some of the lines have been That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, "Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flow'd That comes to all; but torture without end Fast by the oracle of God; I thence Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from thy Nor the deep tract of hell; say first, what cause In the remaining part of the First Book, the poet gives a picture of HELL-a name, the sound of which leaves an echo in the soul as if seven thunders had uttered their voices-a name which tells more than the poet can put into words, Still urges." The tossing of the fiery waves, and the glimmering of livid flames, pale and dreadful, are not the only features of the demon-prison. We read of "Dry land, if it were land that ever burn'd With solid, as the lake with liquid fire.” "Such resting found the sole Of unblest feet." The fiery prison has walls of ninefold thickness, and all egress is prevented by "gates of burning adamant barr'd over the condemned. In the words which Satan utters in the council of evil spirits called by him, there is no apparent knowledge of other features of the horrible region. These are discovered, however, after he sets out on his adventurous flight to gain, if possible, an outlet from his prison, and a view of the "new-created world." Then, four bands of demons "Bend Four ways their flying march, along the banks Far off from these a low and silent stream, Her watery labyrinth; whereof who drinks, Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms air Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire Thither by harpy-footed furies haled, At certain revolutions, all the damn'd Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair." He preserves a haughty superiority over all the evil spirits-even over the highest or worst of them. And perhaps this Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter satanic pride has led the readers of Mil change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce : From beds of raging fire to starve in ice In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things Milton's knowledge of Dante, as well as of the ancient poets of Greece and Rome, had an evident influence with him, in the dread imaginings of his first two books; but, for the most part, they are the expansion of passages in Holy Writ, some of which were uttered by the Saviour of men-the Conqueror of Sin, Satan, Death, and Hell. Enough has been said of the place of woe. The evil being who rules in it is wondrously described by the poet in a ton at times to think that a needless dignity is given to the character of the demon-king. However, as the poet early suggests "His form had not yet lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruin'd." "But his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched; and care Cruel as his eye was, he pitied the dismal state of his followers. When he tried to address them— "Thrice he essayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth; at last Words, interwove with sighs, found out their way." Next in order to Satan ranks Beelzebub, whom the Jews called "the Prince of the Devils." He is described as counselling, in the assembly of the outcast angels, the adoption of a plan which. Satan first devised. "With grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd Majestic, though in ruin." Moloch is termed the strongest and fiercest of the evil spirits that fought in heaven, and "Now fiercer by despair : His trust was with the Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength; and rather than be less Cared not to be at all: with that care lost Went all his fear of God, or hell, or worse, He recked not." Belial is represented as graceful, pleas- | of buildings; nor do they meet in darking, and dignified in manner; but false ness under its fretted golden roof. and hollow in reality. appear The better reason, to perplex and dash "Than whom a spirit more lewd Mammon is described as "The least erected spirit that fell From heaven; for even in heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downwards bent, admiring more In the throng of evil spirits, he advises the propriety of not accepting pardon, even if grace were published to all. Loathing, and envy, and hate of goodness appear to dictate his words. He urges the demons to seek their own good from themselves, and from their own resources live to themselves. He calls attention to the hidden lustre, gems, and gold, of the accursed region; and seeks to dismiss all thoughts of war. Other demons are mentioned by Milton; but those now named are the speakers in the council that precedes Satan's departure in search of the earth and its inhabitants. They finally resolved on this plan; and Satan proudly volunteers to carry it out, preventing any other from offering himself. "Many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naptha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky." "What in an age, and with incessant toil and hands innumerable," the human race can scarce perform," is easily outdone by "spirits reprobate and in an hour." Music and ceremonial: "ten thousand banners," "a forest huge of spears, " "thronging helms," "serried shields in thick array, of depth immessurable," are elsewhere mentioned. The key to their unity of will and effort is given by Satan in the opening of the second book. He says there is no object in being greatest, because the greatest share of endless pain falls to such, in hell. But the logic seems to be partly false, as Satan's ought to be. Milton, however, makes this supposed unity (of the reality of which, except as against what is good, one might have reasonable doubts,) a reason for rebuking men. "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, 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.” When Satan leaves them, the infernal hosts are described as betaking themselves to various employments and amusements. Racing on the ground or in the air and on the wing, chariot races, mimic fights, tournaments, are some of the pursuits indulged in. "Others, with vast Typhoan rage more fell, Rend up both rocks and hills and ride the air In whirlwind: hell scarce holds the wild uproar." "Others more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sang "Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, Strange power is regarded by the poet as being still possessed by the rebel Of providence, foreknowledge, will and fate, angels. Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute; They rear the most gorgeously grand And found no end in wandering mazes lost,” In describing the flight of Satan to the gates of hell, the poet, by means apparently simple, but, at the same time, most significant of his genius, throws into projection the vast infernal realms in their length, breadth, and depth. And then, "At last appear Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof, And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass, Three iron, three of adamantine rock Satan, in his flight, finds the gates of hell guarded by Sin and Death. And here Milton introduces one of the most horrible of allegories, perhaps, that ever were imagined. We have long considered the origin of it as contained in James i. 14, 15. But how eagle-winged was the sweep of Milton's imagination, when, from the Saviour's expressions, "the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone," "everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels,"" where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched," and from those of the apostle James, he could gather power to pierce into the depths of the universe, and depict the tremendous scenery of the First and Second Books of Paradise Lost! J. L. B. (To be Continued.) THE WAY OF SALVATION. "I once saw a lad," says an American writer, "on the roof of a very high building, where several men were at work. He was gazing about with apparent unconcern, when suddenly his foot slipped, and he fell. In falling he caught by a rope, and hung suspended in mid-air, where he could neither get up nor down, and where it was evident he could sustain himself but a short time. He perfectly knew his situation, and expected that in a few minutes he must drop, and be dashed to pieces. "At this fearful moment, a kind and powerful man rushed out of the house, and standing beneath him with extended arms, called out, 'Let go the rope, and I will receive you. I can do it. Let go the rope, and I promise that you shall escape unhurt.' "The boy hesitated a while, but at length quitted his hold, and dropped easily and safely into the arms of his deliverer." Here, my reader, is a simple illustration of the way of salvation. Let us meditate on it. The Lord grant we may do so to our profit. Think of the lad's danger-it is a representation of your own. As a sinner under the judgment of a holy God against sin-you are exposed to everlasting destruction. Your situation, then, is fearful and appalling in the extreme. But are you, like the lad, sensible of your danger? Are you deeply conscious that, if left to yourself, you must eternally perish-you must be for ever excluded from God's presence? : Again think of the helplessness and the hopelessness of the lad's case. He could do nothing to save himself; he could neither get back to the place from which he fell, nor extricate himself from his perilous situation, and descend in safety to the ground; and if no one had come to his rescue, he must have perished there also, is an illustration of your own case. You neither can go back to innocence, nor can you make any atonement for your sins. Could you, from this moment, be holy as an angel, that would make no satisfaction to the demands of Divine justice for your past transgressions, inasmuch as you owe to God all that you can do; and future obedience can no more make atonement for past sins, than the payment for goods you may in future purchase, will clear off old debts, But now look at the means by which the youth was saved. He was saved by the interposition of another: so, my reader, if you be ever saved, you must be saved entirely by the interposition of another, even by Christ. The result, also, of a sinner's faith in Christ is illustrated by the case stated. There stood the boy's deliverer, saying to him, "Drop into my arms. I will receive you I can." The youth hesitated; he had not confidence in the proffered aid: he had not faith in his friend: but at length, changing his mind, he trusted in him-he believed his assurance, and consequently he quitted his hold of the rope, and dropped into the arms of his saviour. So, my friend, the Lord Jesus |