Tremulous Sybil, make the future known,

And he who sacrifices, on the shrine

Hangs verse, both when he smites the threat'ning bull,
And when he spreads his reeking entrails wide

To scrutinize the Fates envelop'd there.

He anticipates it as one of the employments of glorified spirits in heaven.

We too, ourselves, what time we seek again
Our native skies, and one eternal Now*
Shall be the only measure of our being,
Crown'd all with gold, and chanting to the lyre
Harmonious verse, shall range the courts above,
And make the starry firmament resound.

The sympathy existing between the two kindred studies of poetry and music is described with happy effect.

Now say, what wonder is it, if a son

Of thine delight in verse, if so conjoin'd

In close affinity, we sympathize

In social arts, and kindred studies sweet?

Such distribution of himself to us

Was Phoebus' choice; thou hast thy gift, and I
Mine also, and between us we receive,

Father and son, the whole inspiring God.

The following effusion of filial feeling is as honourable to the discernment and liberality of the parent, as it is expressive of the gratitude of the

son.

Thou never bad'st me tread
The beaten path and broad, that leads right on

* The same expression is used by Cowley :

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past,
But an eternal Now does always last."

+ Milton's father was well skilled in music.

To opulence, nor did'st condemn thy son
To the insipid clamours of the bar,
To laws voluminous and ill observ'd;
But, wishing to enrich me more, to fill
My mind with treasure, led'st me far away
From city-din to deep retreats, to banks
And streams Aonian, and, with free consent,
Did'st place me happy at Apollo's side.
I speak not now, on more important themes
Intent, of common benefits, and such
As nature bids, but of thy larger gifts,
My father! who, when I had open'd once
The stores of Roman rhetoric, and learn'd
The full-ton'd language of the eloquent Greeks,
Whose lofty music grac'd the lips of Jove,
Thyself did'st counsel me to add the flow'rs,

That Gallia boasts, those too, with which the smooth

Italian his degen'rate speech adorns,

That witnesses his mixture with the Goth;

And Palestine's prophetic songs divine.

We delight in witnessing the exuberance of manly and generous feeling in a son towards a parent, entitled by kind offices to his gratitude, and therefore transcribe the following passage.

Go now,
and gather dross, ye sordid minds,
That covet it; what could my father more?
What more could Jove himself, unless he gave
His own abode, the heaven in which he reigns?
More eligible gifts than these were not
Apollo's to his son, had they been safe,
As they were insecure, who made the boy
The world's vice-luminary, bade him rule
The radiant chariot of the day, and bind
To his young brows his own all-dazzling wreath.
I therefore, although last and least my place
Among the learned, in the laurel grove

Will hold, and where the conqu'ror's ivy twines,
Henceforth exempt from the unletter'd throng
Profane, nor even to be seen by such.
Away then, sleepless Care, Complaint, away!
And Envy, with thy "jealous leer malign !"
Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth
Her venom'd tongue at me. Detested foes!
Ye all are impotent against my peace,
For I am privileg'd, and bear my breast

Safe, and too high for your viperean wound.

He thus beautifully concludes this affecting tribute of filial gratitude.

But thou, my father! since to render thanks
Equivalent, and to requite by deeds

Thy liberality, exceeds my power,

Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts,

And bear them treasur'd in a grateful mind!
Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth,
My voluntary numbers, if ye dare

To hope longevity, and to survive

Your master's funeral, not soon absorb'd
In the oblivious Lethæan gulf,

Shall to futurity perhaps convey

This theme, and by these praises of my
Improve the fathers of a distant age!

sire

We subjoin Hayley's remark on this poem, in Cowper's edition of Milton.

"These verses are founded on one of the most interesting subjects that language can display, the warmth and felicity of strong reciprocal kindness between a father and a son, not only united by the most sacred tie of nature, but still more endeared to each other by the happy cultivation of honour

VOL. V.

P

able and congenial arts. The sublime description of poetry, and the noble and graceful portrait, which the author here exhibits of his own mental character, may be said to render this splendid poem the prime jewel in a coronet of variegated gems."

We extract the following passages from the remarks and notes in Cowper's Milton, as exhibiting the manner in which he executed this portion of his labours.

BOOK I.

"There is a solemnity of sentiment, as well as majesty of numbers, in the exordium of this noble poem, which in the works of the ancients has no example.

"The sublimest of all subjects was reserved for Milton, and, bringing to the contemplation of that subject not only a genius equal to the best of theirs, but a heart also deeply impregnated with the divine truths which lay before him, it is no wonder that he has produced a composition, on the whole, superior to any that we have received from former ages. But he who addresses himself to the perusal of this work with a mind entirely unaccustomed to serious and spiritual contemplation, unacquainted with the word of God, or prejudiced against it, is ill-qualified to appreciate the value of a poem built upon it, or to taste its beauties. Milton is the poet of Christians: an infidel may have an ear for the harmony of his numbers, may be aware of the dignity of his expression, and in some degree of the sublimity of his conceptions; but the unaffected and masculine

piety, which was his true inspirer, and is the very soul of his poem, he will either not perceive, or it will offend him."

To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.

Line 177.

"In this we seem to hear a thunder suited both to the scene and the occasion, incomparably more awful than any ever heard on earth, and the thunder winged with lightning is highly poetical. It may be observed here, that the thunder of Milton is not hurled from the hand like Homer's, but discharged like an arrow. Thus in book vi. line 712, the Father, ordering forth the Son for the destruction of the rebel angels, says

As if, jealous for the honour of the true God, the poet disdained to arm him like the God of the heathen."*

He spake, and to confirm his words, &c. &c.

Line 663.

"This is another instance in which appears the advantage that Milton derives from the grandeur of his subject. What description could even he have given of a host of human warriors insulting their conqueror, at all comparable to this? First, their multitude is to be noticed. They are not thousands but millions; and they are millions, not

* Psalm vii. 12.