«History of England » « Samson Agonistes,» and « Paradise Regained. >> The History contains a very short space, beginning with the fabulous account of Geoffry of Monmouth, and ending with the Norman Invasion. The style is antique, and as he himself indicates doubts of the veracity of Geoffry's account, the only inducement to read it under those disadvantages must be, that it was written by Milton.

Our great author having attained his fixty-fixth year, and been long tormented with the gout, which prevailed over the enfeebled powers of nature, expired on the tenth of November, 1674, and was buried in the Chancel of St. Giles's Cripplegate. His funeral was attended by many persons of the first rank and abilities in the kingdom; and a small monument has beeu erected, not long since, to his memory, in Westminster-abbey. He left 1500 1. to his family, a proof that he did not die in indigent circumstances.

Milton is represented as highly agreeable in person. His stature did not exceed the middle size. His hair, which was of a light brown, parted at the fore-top, and hung down upon his shoulders, according to the picture he has given of Adam. He was vigorous and active, and excelled in the exercise of the sword, and particulary the bachsword, the use of which he recommends in his « Treatise on Education.>> He was abstemious in his diet, and disliked all strong liquors. In his youth he studied late; but in more advanced life he reversed his hours, resting from nine to four in the summer, and five in the winter. His amusement consisted in the conversation of his friends, and in music, in which he was a great proficient; and thus passed the latter and most tranquil part of his life, between the occupation of study, amusement, and social intercourse.

He was so much attached to republican principles, that, regardless of his fortune, in the civil wars, he lent his personal estate to the Parliament, which was never restored; and all the compensation he received, was the appointment to the office of Latin Secretary, with the trifling salary of two hundred pounds a year; and a gratification of a thousand pounds for his « Defence of the People. »

He was universally allowed to have been a man of

profound knowledge, and versed in all the languages, either learned or polite, ancient or modern, as he perfectly understood the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish. His skill in the Latin was so consummate, as to place him in the most eminent station, either as critic or writer; and his Italian poetry abundantly proves that he had studied that language, in particular, with the greatest assiduity. Of all the ancient authors, he was most delighted with Homer; a bard so congenial with himself, that, from frequent reading, he could repeat the greatest part of his works.

Of the English poets he preferred Spencer, Shakspeare, and Cowley; and to shew that the greatest of men have their prejudicies, we add, from the authority of Dr. Johnson, that his character of Dryden, who sometimes visited him, was, that he was a good rhymist, but no poet. This prejudice we suppose to have arisen from a difference in political principles.

His theological opinions, in the early part of life, were Calvinistical; but when his judgment became more ripened, and moderation superseded zeal, they tended towards Arminianism. In his theological writings he evinces the greatest disiike to Popery and Prelacy, considering the latter as an appendage to the former; but in the advanced part of life, he was not attached to any particular denomination, judging mankind not by their opinions, but their actions.

We shall state his political opinions as given by Dr. Johnson, in terms of equal point and significance.

<< His political notions,» says the Doctor, « were those of an acrimonious and surly republican, for which it is not known that he gave any better reason than that a popular government was the most frugal; for the trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary commonwealth. It is surely very shallow policy that supposes money to be the chief good; and even this, without considering that the support and expenses of a court is, for the most part, only a particular kind of traffic, for which money is circulated, without any national impoverishment.

<«< Milton's republicanism was, I am afraid, founded in an envious hatred of greatness, and a sullen desire of independ

ence; in petulance impatient of control, and in pride disdainful of superiority. He hated monarchs in the state, and prelates in the church; for he hated all whom he was required to obey. It is to be suspected, that his predominant desire was to destroy rather than to establish; and that he felt not so much the love of liberty, as repugnance to authority.

"It has been observed, that they who most loudly clamour for liberty, do not most liberally grant it. What we know of Milton's character in domestic relations is, that he was severe and arbitrary. His family consisted of women; and there appears in his books something like a Turkish contempt of females, as subordinate and inferior beings. He thought woman made only for obedience, and man only for rebellion. >>

Thus is Milton's political character pourtrayed by Dr. Johnson, who, in his remarks on our great author, evinces his own prejudice in favour of political opinions diametrically opposite, and appears to have been as great an enthusiast in the cause of monarchy and hierarchy, as Milton was in that of republicanism and ecclesiastical equality; from which we may infer, that nothing tends so powerfully to bias even the most enlightened mind, and warp the most correct judgment, as intemperate zeal for political or religious opinions, which have been the basis of the greatest evils that have annoyed human society.

But the sublime genius and profound erudition of this great man are now universally admired by all parties: the politician is lost in the poet; and enlightened men, of every persuasion, acknowledge him to have been an honour to his country in particular, and an ornament to mankind in general. Much respect was paid to his descendants after his decease. Mr. Addison, when Secretary of State, made one of his daughters a handsome present; recommended her to the notice of Queen Caroline, consort of Georges II. and promised her a comfortable establishment, but died soon after.

In 1750 Comus was performed for the benefit of the same daughter, who was patronized in the undertaking by Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol, a prelate whose learning and

humanity did honour to his profession; and Dr. Johnson, liberally divesting himself of his prejudices, wrote a prologue on the occasion; which, at the conclusion of the life of our immortal bord, the Doctor aknowledges he had the honour of contributing. His words are, « This was the greatest benefaction that « Paradise Lost » ever procured the author's descendants; and to this, he, who has now attempted to relate his life, had the honour of contributing a prologue. »>

The writers of the life of Milton have in general declined entering into a critical examination of his works, contenting themselves with subscribing to the universal opinion of his excellence in the sublime, and that he stands without competition as an English epic poet, his « Paradise Lost » being infinitely superior to any production of the kind ever attempted in our language. Mr. Addison has written some excellent notes on « Paradise Lost; » but Dr. Johnson has left us copious animadversions on his works in general, which, as they indicate a profound judgment, though occasionally tinctured with his usual asperity, will form the basis of our remarks.

This great critic commences his examination of Milton's poetical works with his juvenile productions, to which he ascribes general, though not equal merit. He adverts to what he calls preludes to our author's future labours, written in Italian, Latin, and English. With respect to the Italian, he professes himself incompetent to speak as a critic, observing only, that he had heard them commented on by a man well qualified to decide their merits. The Latin pieces, he says, are lusciously elegant; but the delight which they afford is rather by the imitation of ancient writers, by the purity of the diction, and the harmony of the numbers, than by any power of invention or vigour of sentiment. This remark we conceive to be dictated by prejudice, if a judgment may be formed from his more eminent productions, which evince such superior strength and originality of genius. He adds, that the Latin pieces are not of equal value, as the Elegies excel the Odes; and observes, in conformity to his political maxims, that some of the Exercises on Gunpowder Treason might have been spared. The English poems, he says, though

they make no promise of « Paradise Lost, » have this evidence of genius, that they have a cast original and unborrowed; but he adds, their peculiarity is not excellence. << If they differ from others, » he says, « they differ for the worse: for they are too much distinguished by repulsive harshness: the combination of words are new, but they are not pleasing; the rhymes and epithets seem to be labouriously sought, and violently applied.» It appears, however, from his manuscripts, preserved at Cambridge, that, in the early part of life, he wrote with much care; and had been indefatigably assiduous in the cultivation of his mind.

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The Doctor passes no eulogium on Milton's little pieces, which he conceives to be deficient in neatness and elegance, observing, that the author never learned the art of doing little things with grace; that he overlooked the milder excellence of suavity and softness he calls him a lion that had no skill in dandling the kid. He considers the monody of Lycidas as exceptionable in many iustances, and is of cpinion that the approbation bestowed upon it is the effect of partiality to the author, rather than the intrinsic merit of the poem. «Such,» he says, « is the power of reputation justly acquired, that its blaze drives away the eye from nice examination. >>

Of the two pieces « L'Allegro » and « 11 Penseroso, » he thus remarks, with equal candour and justice : « I believe opinion is uniform; every man that reads them, reads them with pleasure. »

The Doctor then enters into a minute criticism on these two pieces, and evinces such extraordinary abilities for this very arduous department of literature, that we shall recapitulate his remarks for the amusement of our poetical readers.

<< The author's design,» he says, « is not what Theobald has remarked, merely to shew how objects derive their colours from the mind, by representing the operations of the same things upon the gay and melancholy temper, or upon the same man, as he is differently disposed, but rather how, among the successive variety of appearances, every disposition of mind takes hold on those by which it may be gratified.

« The cheerful man hears the lark in the morning; the pensive man hears the nightingale in the evening. The cheer