spirits do not seem to have been high, but they were singularly equable. His temper was serious, perhaps stern; but it was a temper which no sufferings could render sullen or fretful. Such it was when, on the eve of great events, he returned from his travels, in the prime of health and manly beauty, loaded with literary distinctions, and glowing with patriotic hopes: such it continued to be when, after having experienced every calamity which is incident to our nature, old, poor, sightless, and disgraced, he retired to his hovel to die!

4. His public conduct was such as was to be expected from a man of a spirit so high and an intellect so powerful. He lived at one of the most memorable ĕras in the history of mankind; at the very crisis of the great conflict between Oromasdes and Arimanès-liberty and despotism, reason and prejudice. That great battle was fought for no single generation, for no single land. The destinies of the human race were staked on the same cast with the freedom of the English people. Then were first proclaimed those mighty principles which have since worked their way into the depths of the American forests; which have roused Greece from the slavery and degradation of two thousand years; and which, from one end of Europe to the other, have kindled an unquenchable fire in the hearts of the oppressed, and loosed the knees of the oppressors with a strange and unwonted fear!

5. We must conclude. And yet we can scarcely tear ourselves away from the subject. The days immediately following the publication of this relic of Milton' appear to be peculiarly set apart and consecrated to his memory. And we shall scarcely be censured if, on this his festival, we be found lingering near his shrine, how worthless soever may be the offering which we bring to it. While this book lies on our table, we seem to be contemporaries of the great poet. We are transported a hundred and fifty years back. We can almost fancy that we are visiting him in his small lodging; that we see him sitting at the old organ beneath the faded green hangings; that we can catch the quick twinkle of his eyes rolling in vain to find the day; that

"A Treatise on Christian Doctrine, compiled from the Holy Scrip. tures alone."

we are reading in the lines of his noble countenance the proud and mournful history of his glory and his affliction! We image to ourselves the breathless silence in which we should listen to his slightest word; the passionate veneration with which we should kneel to kiss his hand, and weep upon it; the earnestness with which we should endeavor to console him, if, indeed, such a spirit could need consolation, for the neglect of an age unworthy of his talents and his virtues; the eagerness with which we should contest with his daughters, or with his Quaker friend, Elwood, the privilege of reading Homer to him, or of taking down the immortal accents which flowed from his lips.

6. These are, perhaps, foolish feelings. Yet we can not be ashamed of them; nor shall we be sorry if what we have written shall, in any degree, excite them in other minds. We are not much in the habit of idolizing either the living or the dead. And we think that there is no more certain indication of a weak and ill-regulated intellect than that propensity which, for want of a better name, we will venture to christen Boswellism.' But there are a few characters which have stood the closest scrutiny and the severest tests, which have been tried in the furnace and have proved pure; which have been weighed in the balance, and have not been found wanting; which have been declared sterling by the general consent of mankind, and which are visibly stamped with the image and superscription of the Most High.

7. These great men we trust that we know how to prize; and of these was Milton. The sight of his books, the sound of his name, are refreshing to us. His thoughts resemble those celestial fruits and flowers which the Virgin Martyr of Massinger sent down from the gardens of Paradise to the earth, distinguished from the productions of other soils, not only by their superior bloom and sweetness, but by their miraculous efficacy to invigorate and to heal. They are powerful, not only to delight, but to elevate and purify. Nor do we envy the man who

'See p. 300, note 2.- PHILIP MASSINGER, one of the very best of the old English dramatists, was born in 1584, and died in 1640. He wrote a great number of pieces, of which eighteen have been preserved. The "Virgin Martyr," the "Bondman," the "Fatal Dowry," "The City Madam," and A New Way to Pay Old Debts," are his best known

productions.

can study either the life or the writings of the great poet and patriot without aspiring to emulate, not indeed the sublime works with which his genius has enriched our literature, but the zeal with which he labored for the public good, the fortitude with which he endured every private calamity, the lofty disdain with which he looked down on temptation and dangers, the deadly hatred which he bore to bigots and tyrants, and the faith which he so sternly kept with his country and with his fame.

MACAULAY.1

192. HYMN OF OUR FIRST PARENTS.

THESE

HESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty! thine this universal frame,

Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous, then,
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens,
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works: yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven,
On earth join, all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end.

2. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn,

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge Him thy greater; sound His praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st
Moon, that now meet'st the Orient sun, now fliest
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their or that flies;
And ye five other wandering fires, that move

'See Biographical Sketch, p. 155.

In mystic dance, not without song, resound
His praise who out of darkness call'd up light.
3. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of Natures womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle multiform, and mix.

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honor to the world's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds the uncolor'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling, still advance His praise.

4. His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pincs,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune His praise;
Join voices, all ye living souls; ye birds,

That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,

Bear on your wings and in your notes His praise.

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk

The earth, and stately tread or lowly creep,

Witness if I be silent, morn or even,

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,

Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise. MILTON

JOHN MILTON, one of the greatest of all poets and scholars, was born in London on the 9th of December, 1608. His father, liberally educated and from a good family, having been disinherited for embracing Protestantism, became a scrivener, and acquired a competent fortune. The firmness and the sufferings of the father for conscience' sake were not lost upon the son, who became a stern, unbending champion of religious freedom. MILTON was educated with great care. He studied ancient and modern languages, delighted in poetical reading, and cultivated the musical taste which he inherited from his father. At fifteen he was sent to St. Paul's School, London, and two years later to Christ's College, Cambridge, where he graduated in due course. He wrote several poems at an ealy age. His" Hymn on the Nativity," composed in his twenty-first year, is one of the noblest of his works, and perhaps the finest lyric in the English language. Leaving the university in 1632, he went to the house of his father, at Hutton in Buckinghamshire, where he lived five years, studying classical literature and writing poems. During this happy period of his life he wrote “ L'Alle

gro," "Il Penseroso," "Arcades," "Lycidas," and "Comus." In 1638 the poet visited the Continent, where he remained fifteen mouths, principally in Italy and France. His study of the works of art during this period probably suggested some of his best poetical creations. On his return to England in 1639 he took up his residence in London. The next twenty years, during the Civil War, the Commonwealth, and the Protectorate, the poet's lyre was mute. A Republican in politics and an Independent in religion, during this stormy period he threw himself promptly and fearlessly into the vortex of the struggle, and, as a controversialist, enrolled his name among the noblest and most eloquent of the writers of old English prose. In 1643 MILTON married MARY POWELL, the daughter of a high cavalier of Oxfordshire. In 1649 he was appointed Foreign or Latin Secretary to the Council of State, and retained the same position during the Protectorate. For ten years his eyesight had been failing, when, in 1652, he became totally blind. About the same period his first wife died, but he married soon after. His second wife, CATHARINE WOODCOCK, died in 1656. The Restoration of 1660 consigned the poet, for the last fourteen years of his life, to an obscurity which gave himn leisure to complete the mighty poetical task which was to secure him an immortality of literary fame. In 1664 he married his bird wife, ELIZABETH MINSHUL, of a good Cheshire family. In 1665 he completed "Paradise Lost," which was first published in 1667. In 1671 appeared the "Paradise Regained," to which was subjoined "Samson Agonistes." He died on the 8th of November, 1674. For a further description of MILTON and his poetry, the reader is referred to the two exercises immediately preceding the above.

193. THE PHRENSY OF ORRA.

Hartman. Is she well?

Theobald. Her body is.

Hart. And not her mind? Oh, direst wreck of all!
That noble mind!-But 'tis some passing seizure
Some powerful movement of a transient nature;
It is not madness!

Theo. 'Tis Heaven's infliction: let us call it so;
Give it no other name.

Eleanora. Nay, do not thus despair; when she beholds us, She'll know her friends, and, by our kindly soothing,

Be gradually restored

Alice. Let me go to her.

Theo. Nay, forbear, I pray thee;

I will myself with thee, my worthy Hartman,

Go in and lead her forth.

Orra. Come back, come back! the fierce and fiery light!
Theo. Shrink not, dear love! it is the light of day.

Orra. Have cocks crow'd yet?

Theo. Yes; twice I've heard already