MILTON. IN one of his polemical treatises, Milton promises himself to undertake some work, he yet knows not what, that may be of use and honour to his country. He hopes, that "by labour and intense study, joined to a strong propensity of nature, he may be able to leave something so written, to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let die. This," says he, "is not to be obtained but by devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases. To this must be added industrious and select reading, steady observation, and insight into all seemly and generous acts and affairs." The PARADISE LOST, a work which sets its author above all modern Epic writers, and on a complete equality with the highest names of poetic antiquity, a work which "aftertimes" have not, and surely never will "let die," was the product of this fervent piety and industrious learning, as well as the "propensity of nature" to which he alludes. Milton, like Virgil, though perhaps not in the same degree, is the poet of art; he had undoubtedly a great portion of intrinsic natural genius, but his sublimest passages are wrought up, and the dignity of his whole poem supported, chiefly by that judicious choice of words, and that skill in classical decoration and allusion, which spring from a cultivated mind, and a memory well furnished with all the treasures of literature. The Paradise Lost is also deeply imbued with an enthusiastic spirit of religion, that lends a fervour and a glow to its imagery and language, of the highest kind: the author seems to have prayed, and with effect, in the words of a later writer: O Thou my voice inspire, Who touch'd Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire! Words, indeed, evidently taken from Milton's own expressions above-quoted. Our poet is thus a practical example of these three things: first, that to be intensely studious, is no proof (as young people are apt to imagine) of dulness, but almost always a mark of a superior mind; second, that piety, like a leaven, raises and exalts every thing with which it is intermixed; third, that learning and literary labour are repaid tenfold by the advantages they bring, the strength and elegance they bestow on the understanding, the reputation they procure, and the pleasure they impart,-not to speak of the rank and emolument which await him who makes a prudent use of them. Who would not devote his hours as Milton did, to attain such never-fading glory? And although this may be attainable by few, a proportion of it may always be secured by industry and appli cation similar to that which he recommends in the subjoined letter, if the smallest talent be manifested by the student; if there be none, civil if not intellectual rank, prosperity in life if not fame after death, are, by the same means, rendered his certain reward. The letter we are about to propose, though containing some strictures upon education which the improved state of our colleges and public schools have perhaps rendered inapplicable, and some precepts not exactly adapted to the state of modern society,-is yet an admirable specimen of our author's wisdom and good sense. It includes many hints which might yet be serviceable, and its style is a model, if not of accurate grammatical English, of vigorous and expressive simplicity, the best attribute of language. After a few preliminary observations with which it is needless to trouble the youthful reader, he begins thus: |