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THE LIFE OF MILTON.

THE Family of Milton was defcended from the Proprietors of Milton near Thame in Oxfordshire, one of whom forfeited his estate in the times of York and Lancaster.

The Grandfather of the Poct, a zealous Papist, difinherited his fon John for having renounced the Religion of his Ancestors; who, in confequence, had recourfe for his fupport to the profeffion of a Scrivener, in which he was fo fuccefsful, that he was enabled to retire from business on a competent eftate. He married a Lady of the name of Cafton, of Welsh descent, by whom he had issue, John the Poet, Christopher bred to the law, (afterwards knighted and made a Judge by James II.), and Anne, married to Edward Phillips, who enjoyed a lucrative post in the Crown Office.

John Milton was born in London at his father's house in Bread Street, December 9th 1608. He was first inftructed by private tuition, under the care of Thomas Young a Clergyman, whose attention and capacity were celebrated by his pupil in an elegant Latin Elegy, written in his 12th year.

He was then fent to St. Paul's School, from whence, in his 16th year, he was removed to Christ's' College, Cambridge.

During his refidence in the University, he compofed most of his Latin Poems, in a stile exquifitely imitative of the best models of antiquity. Milton is faid to be the first Englishman who wrote Latin verfe with claffical elegance.

On leaving the University, after having taken out his degree of Master of Arts, in 1632, he returned to his father, then refiding at Horton in Buckinghamshire, where he pursued his studies with unparalJelled affiduity and fuccefs. They did not however fo entirely absorb his attention as not to afford him time to produce the Masque of Comus, a Work adorned with all the ornaments of diction; where allufions, images, and beautiful epithets, embellish every period with lavish decoration: For though it is Drama, too much in the Epic ftile to please on the stage, yet, in whatever light it is viewed, whether as a feries of Lines, a Masque, or a Poem, it can be confidered as inferior only to Paradise Loft.

His next production was Lycidas; a Poem no lefs beautiful of its kind than the last, being a Monody ca the death of his friend Edward King, fon of Sir John King, Secretary for Ireland, who was lost in his paffage to that country.

Milten having now remained with his father for about five years, on the death of his mother, obtained the liberty which he fo ardently defired, to travel. He left England in 1638, went first to Paris, where he vifited the celebrated Grotius, and from thence hafted into Italy, whofe language and literature he had studied with uncommon diligence. There he was received with marked attention by the learned and the great; for, notwithstanding the undiffembled openness of his political and religious opinions, he was introduced to a musical entertainment by Cardinal Barberini (afterwards Pope Urban the VIII.) in perfon, who waited for him at the door, and led him by the hand into the Assembly. From Rome he went to Naples, where he was received with no less respect by Manso, Marquis of Villa, who had been before the Patron of Taffo; after which, he visited the rest of Italy, careffed and honoured by every one confpicuous for high rank or distinguished abilities. Among the last was the great Galileo, whom he did not omit to visit, although at that time a prifoner in the Inquifition, for having taught the annual and diurnal motions of the earth.

After having spent two years in his travels, which were defigned to be extended to Sicily and Greece, on hearing of the troubles in his native country, he hafted home, judging it criminal to remain indifferent, or to indulge in amusements, while his countrymen were contending for their liberties.

On his return, he took a houfe in Alderfgate Street, where he fuperintended the education of his nephew by his fifter, and also received other young gentlemen to be boarded and inftructed.

In his 35th year, he married Mary the daughter of Richard Powel, Efq; but a feparation, or rather defertion on the wife's part, took place in a month after the ceremony. On her refafing to return, in defiance of repeated requifitions, Milton was fo provoked, that he was induced to publish several Treatifes on the doctrine of Divorce; and alfo to pay his addreffes to a young lady of great wit and beauty. A reconciliation was the confequence; for his wife, in an unexpected interview, throwing herself at his feet, implored and obtained forgivenefs. Impreffed with this event, he is faid to have conceived the pathetic scene in Paradife Loft, in which Eve addreffeth herself to Adam for pardon and peace. From this period to the reftoration, our Author was fo deeply engaged in the controverfies of the times, that he found no leifure for polite learning. The Allegro and Penferofo however appeared in a collection of Latin and English Poems published in 1645. Thefe delightful pieces are undoubtedly the two best descriptive poems that ever were written. Had he left no other monuments but Comus, Lycidas, and this matchlefs pair, yet would they alone be fufficient to render his name immortal. They were however little noticed on their publication, and remained for near a century difregarded, or at least scarcely known, while his Polemical Tracts, now only in their titles remembered, raade their Author's fortune, and spread his fame over Europe. Of thefe, the most celebrated is his Defenfio pro Populo Anglicano, in anfwer to Salmafius, Profeffor of Polite Learning at Leyden, who was employed by Charles II. when in exile, to write the Defenfio Regis. Milton's piece was fo fevere, and so much admired, that it is faid to have killed his antagonist with vexation. For this Tract, he was rewarded with a thousand pounds, a fum twenty times greater than he made by all his poetical works put together! and was alfo promoted to be Latin Secretary to the Protector. But for his intellectual acquifitions he paid dear; a gutta ferena for fome time affected his fight, and he now became totally blind. At this period too, he loft his wife in child-bed, who left him three daughters. He foon, however, married again, Catharine daughter of a Captain Woodcock; but the alfo died in child-bed, within a year after they were married.

On the Restoration, he was obliged to quit his houfe, together with his employment, and to fecrete himself in an obfcure abode in Bartholomew Clofe. His friends had fome difficulty to prevent him from being excepted in the act of oblivion; to lull refearch, and to gain time, they used the expedient of a mock funeral. By the act of oblivion he was at length freed from danger; his Polemical writings only were burnt by the hands of the common hangman.

From Bartholomew Close he removed to Jewrio Street, and married a third wife, Elizabeth Minftur, of a gentleman's family in Cheshire.

He was now in his 52d year, blind, infirm, and poor; for he lost his paternal property by the civil wars, and his acquired by the Restoration. But neither his infirmities, nor the viciffitudes of Fortune, could deprefs the vigour of his mind, or prevent him from executing a defign he had long conceived, of writing an Heroic Poem.

The great work of Paradife Loft was finished in 1665, at Chalfont in Bucks, where the Author had taken refuge from the plague, and published in 1667, when he returned to London. He fold the copy to Samuel Simmons for Five Pounds in hand, Five Pounds more when 1300 fhould be fold, and the fame fum on the publication of the fecond and third Editions, for each edition. Of this agreement Milton received in all Fifteen Pounds; and his widow afterwards fold her claims for Eight.

Such was the first reception of a Work that conftitutes the glory and boast of English Literature ;— a Work that, notwithstanding the severity of criticism, may be ranked among the nobleft efforts of human genius; for though in variety of character and choice of fubject, it may yield to fome, yet in grandeur and fublimity it is confeffedly fuperior to all. The meafure of this Divine Poem is blank verfe; between which and rhyme there are endless difputes for pre-eminence: but furely the effential qualities of Poetry can no more depend on either, than thofe of a man on the fashion of his clothes. Doctor Johnson, who could not endure blank verfe, yet confeffes, that " He could not prevail on himself to wish that Milton had been a rhymer."

Paradife Loft, however, is not without faults; perfection in this life is unattainable. The at tempt of the Author to give language and fentiments to the Deity, is where he feems to have mo

Lailed in the execution: But in fuch an attempt, what mortal could have fucceeded? Other excep tions it has alfo endured in paffing the fiery ordeal of Dr. Johnfon's criticism, who feems to have extended his abfurd diflike of the man to his writings. Yet every reader capable of relishing true Poetry will agree with him in concluding, "That this Work is not the greatest of Heroic Poems, only because it is not the first."

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Three years after the publication of Paradise Loft, the author published Sampfon Agonistes, a Tragedy, in the pureft ftile of the Greek Drama, and Paradife Regained, which he is faid to have preferred to his great work, but in which preference he remains alone.

Paradife Regained hath suffered much in the comparison; it is obfcured by the fplendour of Paradife Loft, as the luftre of the morning ftar is abforbed in the meridian blaze; but had any other than Milton been the author, it would have claimed and received univerfal praife.

Our great author, now quite worn out with the gout, paid the debt of nature on the 10th of November 1674, in his 66th year, at his houfe in Bunhill-Fields, and was buried in St. Giles's, Cripplegate; his funeral was fplendidly and numerously attended. He left 1500l. to his family; a proof, withstanding his great loffes, that he never was in indigence.

A fmall monument, with his buft, has been erected, not long fince, to his memory, in Westminster Abbey.

Milton, in ftature, did not exceed the middle fize, but was formed with perfect fymmetry, and was, moreover, in his youth, eminently beautiful; of which many pertraits yet to be seen, as well as the following epigram of the Marquis of Villa, are inconteftible proofs:

Ut mens, forma, decor, facies, mos, fi Pietas fic;

Non Anglus, verum hercle Angelus ipfe fores.

Which (omitting the exception of his religion) may be thus rendered:

So perfect thou, in mind, in form and face;

Thou'rt not of English, but Angelic race.

Of his habits-he was abftemious in his diet, and naturally disliked all ftrong liquors: In his youth he ftudied late, but afterwards reverfed his hours. His amufements confifted in the converfation of his friends, and in mufic, in which he was a proficient. After he became blind, he was affifted in his ftudies by his daughters, whom he taught to read Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, without their underftanding any of them; and for transcribing, he employed any cafual acquaintance.

His literature was great; he was a perfect mafter of Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish; of the English Poets, he preferred Spencer, Shakespeare and Cowley. His political principles were republican, and his theological opinions tended to Arminianifin. His deportment was erect, (pen, affable; his converfation eafy, cheerful, and inftructive; his wit, on all occafions, at command, facetious, grave, or fatirical, as the fubject required; his judgment just and penetrating; his apprehenfion quick; his memory tenacious of what he read; his reading only not fo extenfive as his genius, for that was univerfal. With fo many accomplishments, not to have faults and misfortunes to be laid in the balance, with the fame and felicity of writing Paradife Loft, would have been too great 2 portion for humanity.

IN

PARADISUM AMISSAM

SUMMI POETE

JOHANNIS

Qui legis Aniffam Paradifum, grandia magni
Carmina Miltoni, quid nifi cuncta legis?
Res cunctas, et cunctarum primordia rerum,
E: fata, et fines continet ifte liber.
Intima panduntur magni penetralia mundi,
Scribitur et toto quicquid in orbe latet:
Terraque, tractufque maris, calamque profundum,
Sulphureumque Erebi, flammivomufque fpecus:
Quaque colunt terras, potumque et Tartara cæca,
Quæque colunt fummi lucida regna poli:
Et quodcunque ullis conclufum eft finibus ufquam,
Et fine fine Chaos, et fine fine Deus:
Et Ene 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!
Que canit, et quanta prælia dira tuba'
Cœleftes acies! atque in certamine cœlum!
Et quæ cœleftes pugna deceret agros!
Quantus in æthercis tollit fe Lucifer armis !
Atque ipfo graditur vix Michaele minor!

MILTONI.

Quantis, et quam funeftis concurritur iris,
Dum ferus hic ftellas protegit, ille rapit!
Dum vulfos montes feu tela reciproca torquent,
Et non mortali defuper igne pluunt :
Stat dubius cui fe parti concedat Olympus,
Et metuit pugnæ non fupereffe fuæ.
At fimul in cœlis Meffiæ infignia fulgent,
Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo,
Horendumque rota strident, et fæva rotarum
Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus,
Et flammæ vibrant, et vera tonitura rauco
Admiftis flammis infonuere polo :
Excidit attonitis mens omnis, et impetus omnis,
Et caffis dextris irrita tela cadunt;

Ad pœnas fugiunt, et ceu foret Orcus afylum,
Infernis certant condere fe tenebris.

Cedite Romani fcriptores, cedite Graii,

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

SAMUEL BARROW. M. D.

ON PARADISE LOST.

WHEN I beheld the poet blind, yet bold,
In flender book his vaft defign unfold,
Meffiah crown'd, God's reconcil'd decree,
Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree,
Heav'n, hell, earth, chaos, all; the argument
Held me a while mifdoubting his intent,
That he would ruin (for I faw him strong)
The facred truths to fable and old fong;
(So Sanpfon grop'd the temple's posts in spite)
The world o'erwhelming to revenge his fight.
Yet as I read, ftill growing lefs fevere,
I lik'd his project, the fuccefs did fear,
Through that wide field how he his way fhould
find,

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O'er which lame faith leads understanding blind;
Left he perplex'd the things he would explain,
And what was eafy he should render vain.
Or if a work fo infinite he fpann'd,
Jealous I was, that fome lefs fkilful hand
(Such as difquiet always what is well,
And by ill imitating would excel)
Might hence prefume the whole creation's day
To change in scenes, and fhew it in a play.
Pardon me, mighty poet! nor despise
My caufelefs, yet not impious, furmise.
But I am now convinc'd, and none will dare
Within thy labours to pretend a fhare.

Thou haft not mifs'd one thought that could be fit
And all that was improper doft omit;

So that no room is here for writers left,
But to detect their ignorance or theft.

That majefty which through thy work doth reign,
Draws the devout, deterring the profane :
And things divine thou treat'st of in fuch state
As them preferves, and thee, inviolate.
At once delight and horror on us seize,
Thou fing'ft with fo much gravity and ease;
And above human flight does foar aloft;
With plume fo ftrong, fo equal, and so soft;
The bird nam'd from that paradife you fing
So never flags, but always keeps on wing.

Where couldst thou words of fuch a compafs find? Whence furnish fuch a vast expanfe of mind? Juft heaven thee, like Tirefias, to requite, Rewards with prophefy thy lofs of fight.

Well might'st thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rhyme, of thy own fense secure; While the Town-Bays writes all the while and fpells,

And like a pack-horse tires without his bells:
There fancies, like our bushy points, appear,
The poets tag them, we for fashion wear.
I too, tranfported by the mode, commend,
And while I meant to praise thee, must offend.
Thy verfe, created, like thy theme, fublime,
In number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme.

ANDREW MARVEL

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