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he spent fifteen months in foreign travel, chiefly ir Italy and France. On his return, he embarked with great zeal in the political struggle between the royalists and the republicans. On the triumph of the latter in 1649, he was appointed Latin Secretary to the Council of State. This was the Secretaryship for Foreign Affairs-diplomatic negotiations at that time being conducted almost entirely in Latin. His eyesight, which had been failing for the last ten years, was finally entirely lost, and he became totally blind in 1652. At the Restoration soon after, Milton was included in an act of amnesty. Paradise Lost was commenced in 1658 and finished in 1665,
and consequently was composed entirely in the dark. He sold the copy-right for 201.! The latest of his poems were Paradise Regained, and Samson Agonistes, written in 1671. The great poet died in 1674. He was married three times. His first marriage was a rash and illassorted one, and is remarkable as having been the cause, by the temporary separation between him and his wife, of his extraordinary and certainly erroneous treatises on the subject of divorce.
The following series of extracts is from Paradise Lost. Milton in the First Book describes the situation of the fallen angels in the lower regions, after their disastrous overthrow. The Second Book opens
with the debate among their leaders in regard to their future plans. Three only of the speeches are given.
DEBATE IN PANDEMONIUM.
High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised To that bad eminence: and from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with heaven; and, by success untaught, His proud imaginations thus displayed:
* Powers and dominions, deities of heaven; For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen, I give not heaven for lost. From this descent Celestial virtues rising, will appear More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me though just right, and the fixed laws of heaven, Did first create your leader: next, free choice, With what besides, in council or in fight, Hath been achieved of merit; yet this loss, Thus far at least recovered, hath much more Established in a safe unenvied throne, Yielded with full consent. The happier state In heaven, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim, Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king,
“ My sentence is for open war: of wiles, More unexpert, I boast not; them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-piace Accept this dark, opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? No, let us rather choose, Armed with hell flames and fury, all at once, O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder; and, for lightning, see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself Mixed with Tartarean sulphur, and strange rire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not sti'], That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then; The event is feared; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction; if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroyed: what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the torturing hour, Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus, We should be quite abolished, and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incense
His utmost ire? which, to the highth enraged,
He ended frowning, and his look denounced
" I should be much for open war, O peers,