lxxx.-lxxxviii., in eights and sixes, made by Milton in 1648, or of the versions in various metres attempted in 1653? Simply, with all due respect to his memory as a consummate artist, that it is a pity he ever undertook to rival Sternhold and Hopkins, Rous, and Barton. He surpassed the framers of the "Bay Psalm Book," but he also furnished the single instance of his poetic life in which the Hebrew element of his genius was not balanced by the Greek. Of the few blank-verse translations scattered through the prose writings none seems noteworthy, although there is a touch of the true Milton in one of the versions from Geoffrey of Monmouth.

CHAPTER VIII

"PARADISE LOST'

We have already seen that Milton's masterpiece, begun in 1658, was probably completed by 1663, but not published on account of the Plague and Fire, until 1667. In view of the fact that its composition had to proceed by blocks of lines which would be retained in memory until some amanuensis or chance friendly visitor could jot them down, it cannot be said that slow progress was made, especially when it is remembered that Milton's genius seems to have been sluggish during the warmer seasons. If the presumption hold that books and maps had to be consulted by auxiliary eyes, the period of five years seems almost short; but it is not clear that even the erudition apparent in "Paradise Lost" or the traces of other authors to be discovered in it, might not have been imparted, without the interven

tion of books, by Milton's well-stored mind. It is indeed highly probable that much of the study that went to make the great epic was done from 1640 to 1642. There are extant four drafts of a drama upon "Paradise Lost" that date from this period, as well as a list of about a hundred subjects for epic or dramatic treatment with the theme of man's fall at their head. Thus we see that about eighteen years before he devoted himself to his masterpiece, Milton had given up the subject of King Arthur and had felt drawn to the larger topic, and we know from the splendid passage in "The Reason of Church Government" (1641) that he was engaged in study and select reading, and ordering his life chastely and nobly, that he might the better succeed in his great undertaking. There is even evidence that he had begun its composition, and that the lines in Book IV. (32-41), in which Satan apostrophizes the sun, date from about 1642. But Providence willed that the training given by study and reflection should be supplemented by that which can be obtained only from public affairs, and Milton had to become the

spokesman of Liberty and England before he could be permitted to accomplish, under most grievous personal disabilities and disturbing domestic circumstances, what is seemingly the most marvellous single literary performance since "The Divine Comedy."

The English public realized more speedily than is now generally believed, what an immense boon Milton had bestowed upon it. Dryden, then high in popular favor, paid his memorable tribute, and when Addison in the next century wrote his famous critiques, he rather fanned than kindled the flame of popular interest. People already knew that Milton was sublime, that he was the most erudite of poets, that somehow out of an unfamiliar measure he had evoked harmonies hitherto unsurpassed. They knew also that if Satan was not technically the hero of the poem, he was its most interesting personage, and they doubtless saw, as we do, in his indomitable pride, a reflection of the spirit of his nobly unfortunate creator. They must have felt also, as we do, that the imaginative power that kept Milton aloft in the very heaven of

heavens, that enabled him to explore the depths of hell and gave him support even in formless chaos, was something that had been absent from English poetry since the days of Shakspere. The pure charm of the scenes in Eden must likewise have seemed to them the revelation of another world of poetry than that to which they were accustomed. But are not these sensations ours? Indeed it is likely that not since "Paradise Lost" was published has there been any serious doubt about these points which are after all the only vital ones when the poem is considered as a work of art. / A sublime and unique style, a powerful imagination conducting marvellous personages through the most important actions conceivable by man, a charm commensurate with the grandeur displayed, — in short, unsurpassed nobility of conception and execution, these are features of "Paradise Lost" that no competent reader has ever failed to recognize. But our ancestors had an advantage over us in that considerations not germane to the poem as a work of art did not affect them as they do us, because Milton's theology and cosmog