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in solacing me under the weight of my affliction, let no one lament my loss of sight in so honourable a cause.'

These matchless effusions of magnaminity and piety shall conclude with two sonnets composed in the same lofty strain :


Cyriac! this three years' day, these eyes, though clear,

To outward view, of blemish or of spot,

Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star throughout the year,
Or man or woman; yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?

The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied

In liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side;

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask,
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.


When I consider how my life is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He, returning, chide;

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ?"
I fondly ask; but patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: God doth not need

Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best

Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best; His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest :
They also serve who only stand and wait.

The precise time at which Milton's disease arrived at the crisis which deprived him of sight, is not recorded; but we know that it was two years after that event that he married Catharine, daughter of Captain Woodcock. This union appears to have been productive of unalloyed but short-lived happiness. Within a year of ber marriage, this lady gave birth to a daughter, and died in childbed, her infant child surviving her but a short time. Of this brief period of Milton's domestic history, we have no direct information; but every reader must be convinced of the depth of Milton's affection for his partner who peruses the following touching sonnet, inscribed

* Prose Works, vol. i. pp. 238, 239.


Methought I saw my late espousèd saint,

Brought to me, like Alcestis from the grave,

Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint:
Mine, as whom, wash'd from spot of childbed taint,

Purification in the old law did save,

And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in heaven without restraint:-

Came, vested all in white, pure as her mind :
Her face was veil'd, yet, to my fancied sight,

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined
So clear, as in no face with more delight;

But, O, as to embrace me she inclined,
I waked,-she fled, and day brought back my night!

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BEFORE the applause which had greeted Milton's “Defence of the People of England” had subsided, he was summoned by the Parliament to a second and similar exertion of his powers. The conspicuous defeat of Salmasius had deterred all men of similar pretensions to his, from assailing the British government, and defending the cause of the exiled house of Stuart. The latter party, therefore, availed them. selves of the maxim of Celsus—Fiat experimentum in corpore vili—and put forward an obscure French clergyman, of the name of Dumoulin, who, to escape from the avenging Nemesis of British freedom, affiliated his venal work on a still more insignificant person, one Alexander More. It was entitled “ Regii Sanguinis Clamor ad Cælum adversus Parricidas Anglicanos,” or “ The Cry of Royal Blood to Heaven against the English Parricides.” More was of Scotch extraction, but was settled in France, and, owing to this entire controversy having been conducted in the then universal language of Europe, is better known by the Latinized name of Morus. His character was deeply soiled with moral and domestic turpitude; and the publication which he issued was filled with calumnious fabrications against Milton—to which

we are indebted for much of what we possess of his scanty autobiography, and with political sophisms and historical mis-statements which afforded little more than sport to the wit and learning of the statesman.

The opening of the Second Defence is stately and eloquent to the last degree :-“A grateful recollection of the Divine goodness is the first of human obligations; and extraordinary favours demand more solemn and devout acknowledgments. With such acknowledgments I feel it my duty to begin this work. First, because I was born at a time when the virtue of my fellow-citizens, far exceeding that of their progenitors in greatness of soul and vigour of enterprise, having invoked Heaven to witness the justice of their cause, and been clearly governed by its directions, has succeeded in delivering the commonwealth from the most grievous tyranny, and religion from the most ignominious degradation. And next, because, when there suddenly arose many who, as is usual with the vulgar, basely calumniated the most illustrious achievements; and when one, eminent above the rest, inflated with literary pride and the zealous applauses of his partisans, had, in a scandalous publication, which was particularly levelled against me, nefariously undertaken to plead the cause of despotism, I, who was neither deemed unequal to so renowned an adversary nor to so great a subject, was particularly selected by the deliverers of our country, and by the general suffrage of the public, openly to vin. dicate the rights of the English nation, and consequently of liberty itself. Lastly, because in a matter of so much moment, and which excited such ardent expectations, I did not disappoint the hopes nor the opinions of my fellow-citizens ; while men of learning and eminence abroad honoured me with unmingled approbation ; while I obtained such a victory over my opponent, that, notwithstanding his unparalleled assurance, he was obliged to quit the field with his courage broken and his reputation lost; and for the three years which he lived afterwards, much as he menaced and furiously as he raved, he gave me no further trouble, except that he procured the paltry aid of some despicable hirelings, and suborned some of his silly and extravagant admirers to support him under the weight of the unexpected and recent disgrace which he had experienced. This will immediately appear. Such are the signal favours which I ascribe to the Divine beneficence, and which I thought it right devoutly to commemorate, not only that I might discharge a debt of gratitude, but particularly because they seem auspicious to the success of my present undertaking. For who is there who does not identify the honour of his country with his own? And what can conduce more to the beauty or glory of one's country, than the recovery, not only of its civil, but its religious liberty? And what nation or state ever obtained both by more successful or more valorous exertion? For fortitude is seen resplendent, not only in the field of battle and amid the clash of arms, but displays its energy under every difficulty and against every assailant. Those Greeks and Romans who are the objects of our admiration, employed hardly any other virtue in the extirpation of tyrants, than that love of liberty which made them prompt in seizing the sword, and gave them strength to use it. With facility they accomplished the undertaking, amid the general shout of praise and joy; nor did they engage in the attempt so much as an enterprise of perilous and doubtful issue, as in a contest the most glorious in which virtue could be signalized; which infallibly led to present recompense; which bound their brows with wreaths of laurel, and consigned their memories to immortal fame. For as yet tyrants were not beheld with a superstitious reverence; as yet they were not regarded with tenderness and complacency, as the vicegerents or deputies of Christ, as they have suddenly professed to be; as yet the vulgar, stupified by the subtle casuistry of the priest, had not degenerated into a state of barbarism, more gross than that which disgraces the most senseless natives of Hindostan. For these make mischievous demons,

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