in the First Iliad: neither do we meet with one in the three firft Books of the Paradife Regained. In the beginning of the FOURTH BOOK the poet introduces an Homerick cluster of fimilies; which seems to mark an intention of bestowing more poetical decoration on the conclufion of the Poem, than on the preceding parts of it. -They who talk of our Author's genius being in the decline when he wrote his fecond Poem, and who therefore turn from it, as from a dry profaick compofition, are, I will venture to say, no judges of poetry. With a fancy, fuch as Milton's, it must have been more difficult to forbear poetick decorations, than to furnish them; and a glaring profufion of ornament would, I conceive, have more decidedly betrayed the poeta fenefcens, than a want of it. The first book of the Paradife Loft abounds in fimilies, and is, in other refpects, as elevated and fublime as any in the whole poem. But here the poet's plan was totally different. Though it may be said of the Paradife Regained, as Longinus has said of the Odyssey, that it is the epilogue of the preceding poem, ftill the defign and conduct of it is as different, as that of the Georgicks from the Æneid. The Paradife Regained has fomething of the dida&ick character; it teaches not merely by the general moral, and by the character and conduct of its hero, but has also many pofitive precepts every where interfperfed. It is written for the moft part in a style admirably condensed, and with a studied referve of ornament: it is nevertheless illuminated with beauties of the moft captivating kind. Its leading feature throughout is that "excellence of compofition," which, as Lord Monboddo juftly obferves, fo eminently diftinguished the writings of the ancients; and in which, of all modern authors, Milton moft refembles them.

At the commencement of this Book the argument of the Poem is confiderably advanced. Satan appears hopeless of fuccefs, but ftill perfifting in his enterprise. The defperate folly, and vain pertinacity, of this conduct, are perfectly well exemplified and illuftrated by three appofite fimilies, each fucceffively rifing in beauty above the other. The bufinefs of the Temptation being thus refumed, the Tempter takes our Lord to the western fide of the mountain, and shows to him Italy; the fituation of which the poet marks with fingular accuracy, and, having traced the Tiber from its fource in the Apennines to Rome, he briefly enumerates

the moft confpicuous objects that may be fuppofed at firft to ftrike the eye on a diftant view of this celebrated city. Satan now be comes the speaker, and, in an admirably defcriptive speech, points out more particularly the magnificent publick and private buildings of ancient Rome, defcanting on the splendour and power of its state, which he particularly exemplifies in the fuperb pomp with which their provincial magiftrates proceed to their refpective governments; and in the numerous ambassadours that arrive from every quarter of the habitable globe, to folicit the protection of Rome and the emperour. These are two pictures of the moft highly finished kind: the numerous figures are in motion before us; we abfolutely fee

"Prætors, proconfuls, to their provinces
"Hafting, or on return, in robes of state,
"Lictors and rods, the enfigns of their power,
"Legions and cohorts, &c."

Having obferved that fuch a power as this of Rome must reafonably be preferred to that of the Parthians, which he had dif played in the preceding Book, and that there were no other powers worth our Lord's attention, the Tempter now begins to apply all this to his purpose: by a strongly drawn defcription of the vicious and deteftable character of Tiberius, he shows how eafy it would be to expel him, to take poffeffion of his throne, and to free the Roman people from that flavery in which they were then held. This he proffers to accomplish for our Lord, whom he incites to accept the offer not only from a principle of ambition, but as the best means of fecuring to himself his promised inheritance, the throne of David. Our Lord in reply fcarcely notices the arguments which Satan had been urging to him; and only takes occafion, from the description which had been given of the fplendour and magnificence of Rome, to arraign the fuperlatively extravagant luxury of the Romans, (poffibly not without a glance at the manners of our Court at that time,) and briefly to fum up thofe vices and misconducts then rapidly ad vancing to their height, which foon brought on the decline, and in the end effectuated the fall, of the Roman power. -The next object, which our Author had in view in his proposed display of Heathen excellence, was a fcene of a different, but no less in

toxicating, kind; Athens, in all its pride of literature and philo. fophy. But he seems to have been well aware that an immediate tranfition, from the view of Rome to that of Athens, must have diminished the effect of each. The intermediate space he has finely occupied. Our Lord, unmoved by the fplendid scene dis. played to captivate him, and having only been led by it to notice the vices and corruptions of the Heathen world, in the conclufion of his fpeech marks the vanity of all earthly power, by referring to his own future kingdom, as that which by fupernatural means fhould destroy all monarchies befides throughout the world."

The Fiend hereupon urged by the violence of his desperation to an indifcretion, which he had not before fhowed, endeavours to enhance the value of his offers by declaring that the only terms, on which he would bestow them, were thofe of our Lord's falling down and worshipping him. To this our Saviour answers in a fpeech of marked abhorrence blended with contempt. This draws from Satan a reply of as much art, and as finely written, as any in the Poem; in which he endeavours, by an artful juftification of himself, to repair the indifcretion of his blafphemous propofal, and to foften the effect of it on our Bleffed Lord, fo far at least as to be enabled to refume the process of his enterprise. The tranfition, ver. 212, to his new ground of temptation is peculiarly happy having given up all profpect of working upon our Lord by the incitements of ambition, he now compliments him on his predilection for wisdom, and his early display of fuperiour knowledge; and recommends it to him, for the purpofe of accomplishing his professed design of reforming and converting mankind, to cultivate the literature and philofophy for which the most polished part of the Heathen world, and Greece in particular, was fo emiThis leads to his View of Athens; which is given, with fingular effect, after the preceding dialogue, where the blafphemous rage of the Tempter, and the art with which he en deavours to recover it, ferve, by the variety of the fubject and the interesting nature of the circumftance, materially to relieve the preceding and ensuing descriptions. The Tempter, resuming his ufual plaufibility of language, now becomes the Hierophant of the fcene, which he defcribes, as he fhows it, with fo much accuracy, that we difcern every object diftinctly before us. The general view of Athens, with its moft celebrated buildings and

places of learned refort, is beautiful and original; and the defcription of its muficians, poets, orators, and philofophers, is given with the hand of a mafter, and with all the fond affection of an enthufiaft in Greek literature. Our Lord's reply is no lefs admirable; particularly where he difplays the fallacy of the Heathen philofophy, and points out the errours of its moft admired fects, with the greateft acuteness of argument, and at the fame time in a noble ftrain of poetry. His contrafting the poetry and policy. of the Hebrews with thofe of the Greeks, on the ground of what had been advanced by fome learned men in this refpect, is highly confiftent with the argument of this Poem; and is fo far from originating in that fanaticifm, with which fome of his ableft commentators have chofen to brand our Author, that it ferves duly to counterbalance his preceding eloge on heathen literature. The next speech of the Tempter, ver. 368, is one of those master, pieces of plain compofition, for which Milton is fo eminent: the fufferings of our Bleffed Lord are therein foretold with an ener getick brevity, that, on fuch fubjects, has an effect fuperiour to the most flowery and decorated language. The dialogue here ceases for a short time. The poet, in his own perfon, now describes, ver. 394, &c. our Lord's being conveyed by Satan back to the wilderness, the ftorm which the Tempter there raifes, the tre.. mendous night which our Lord paffes, and the beautiful morning by which it is fucceeded :—how exquifitely fublime and beautiful is all this!Yet this is the Poem, from which the ardent admirers of Milton's other works turn, as from a cold, uninterest, ing compofition, the produce of his dotage,-of a palfied hand, no longer able to hold the pencil of poetry!-The dialogue which enfues, is worthy of this Book, and carries on the subject in the best manner to its concluding Temptation. The laft fpeech of Satan is particularly deferving out notice. The Fiend, now "fwoln with rage" at the repeated failure of his attacks, breaks out into a language of grofs infult, profeffing to doubt whether our Lord, whom he had before frequently addressed as the Son of God, is in any way entitled to that appellation. From this wantonly blafphemous obloquy he ftill recovers himself, and offers, with his ufual art, a qualification of what he had laft said, and a juftification of his perfifting in further attempts on the Di. vine Perfon, by whom he had been fo conftantly foiled. These

are the masterly difcriminating touches, with which the poet has admirably drawn the character of the Tempter: The general colouring is that of plausible hypocrify, through which, when elicited by the fudden irritation of defeat, his diabolical malignity frequently flashes out, and difplays itself with fingular effect.We now come to the catastrophe of the Poem.The Tempter conveys our Bleffed Lord to the temple at Jerufalem; where the defeription of the holy city, and of the temple, is pleafingly drawn. Satan has now little to fay; he brings the question to a decifive point, in which any perfuafion of rhetorical language on his part can be of no avail; he therefore speaks in his own undif. guifed perfon and character, and his language accordingly is that of fcornful infult. The refult of the trial is given with the utmoft brevity; and its confequences are admirably painted. The defpair and fall of Satan, with its fucceffive illuftrations, ver. 562 to ver. 580, have all the boldness of Salvator Rofa; while the Angels fupporting our Lord, "as on a floating couch, through the blithe air," is a fweetly pleafing and highly finished picture from the pencil of Guido. The refreshment ministered to our Lord by the Angels is an intended and ftriking contrast to the luxurious banquet with which he had been tempted in the preceding part of the Poem. The Angelick Hymn, which concludes the Book, is at once poetical and fcriptural: We may juftly apply to it, and to this whole Poem, an obfervation respecting our Author, from the pen of one, whofe penetrating genius, fine tafte, and early acquaintance with the more ancient treasures of English poetry, eminently qualified him, had he lived, duly to have discharged that tafk, which has fallen into very inadequate hards. "To mix the waters of Jordan and Helicon in the fame cup," fays Mr. Headley, "was referved for the hand of Milton; and for him, and him only, to find the bays of Mount Olivet equally verdant with thofe of Parnaffus." Biographical Sketches, prefixed to Headley's Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry. Art. F. Quarles. DUNSTER.