Terror is the last passion to be left upon the mind of the reader. Essay on Pope's Odyssey, part ii. p. 89.

The main objection which Dr. Bentley makes is, that this distich contradicts the poet's own scheme. To support this charge, he has referred us to half a dozen places of this twelfth book, where Adam and Eve are spoken of, as having joy, peace, and consolation, &c; and from thence he concludes, that this distich ought not to dismiss our first parents in anguish, and the reader in melancholy. But the joy, peace, and consolation spoken of in those passages are represented always as arising in our first parents from a view of some future good, chiefly of the Messiah. The thought of leaving Paradise (notwithstanding any other comfort that they had) was all along a sorrowful one to them. Upon this account Eve fell asleep wearied with sorrow and distress of heart, ver. 613. Both Adam and Eve lingered at their quitting Paradise, ver. 638, and they dropped some natural tears on that occasion, ver. 645. In this view the archangel, ver. 603, recommends to our first parents that they should live unanimous, though sad with cause for evils past. And for a plainer proof that the scheme of the poem was to dismiss them not without sorrow, the poet in xi. 117. puts these words into God's mouth, as his instruction to Michael,

So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace.

Pearce.

These two last verses have occasioned much trouble to the cri

tics, some being for rejecting, others for altering, and others again for transposing them: but the propriety of the two lines, and the design of the author, are fully explained and vindicated in the excellent note of Dr. Pearce. And certainly there is no more necessity that an epic poem should conclude happily, than there is that a tragedy should conclude unhappily. There are instances of several tragedies ending happily; and with as good reason an epic poem may terminate fortunately or unfortunately, as the nature of the subject requires: and the subject of Paradise Lost plainly requires something of a sorrowful parting, and was intended no doubt for terror as well as pity, to inspire us with the fear of God as well as with commiseration of man. All therefore that we shall add is, to desire the reader to observe the beauty of the numbers, the heavy dragging of the first line, which cannot be pronounced but slowly, and with several pauses,

They hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow, |

and then the quicker flow of the last verse with only the usual pause in the middle,

Through Eden took their solitary

way;

as if our parents had moved heavily at first, being loath to leave their delightful Paradise, and afterwards mended their pace, when they were at a little distance. At least this is the idea that the numbers convey : and as many volumes might be composed upon the structure of

Milton's verses, and the collocation of his words, as Erythræus and other critics have written upon Virgil. We have taken notice of several beauties of this kind in the course of these remarks, and particularly of the varying of the pauses, which is the life and soul of all versification in all languages. It is this chiefly which makes Virgil's verse better than Ovid's, and Milton's superior to any other English poet's: and it is for want of this chiefly that the French heroic verse has never, and can never, come up to the English. There is no variety of numbers, but the same pause is preserved exactly in the same place in every line for ten or ten thousand lines together: and such a perpetual repetition of the same pause, such an eternal sameness of verse, must make any poetry tedious, and either offend the ear of the reader, or lull him asleep: and this in the opinion of several French writers themselves. There can be no good poetry without music, and there can be no music without variety.

The number of books in Paradise Lost is equal to those of the Eneid. Our author in his first edition had divided his poem into ten books, but afterwards broke the seventh and the tenth each of them into two different books, by the help of some small additions. This second division was made with great judgment, as any one may see, who will be at the pains of examining it. It was not done for the sake of such a chimerical beauty as that of resembling Virgil in this par

ticular, but for the more just and regular disposition of this great work. Those who have read Bossuet, and many of the critics who have written since his time, will not pardon me if I do not find out the particular moral which is inculcated in Paradise Lost. Though I can by no means think, with the last mentioned French author, that an epic writer first of all pitches upon a certain moral, as the ground-work and foundation of his poem, and afterwards finds out a story to it: I am however of opinion, that no just heroic poem ever was or can be made, from whence one great moral may not be deduced. That which reigns in Milton, is the most universal and most useful that can be imagined; it is in short this, That obedience to the will of God makes men happy, and that disobedience makes them miserable. This is visibly the moral of the principal fable, which turns upon Adam and Eve, who continued in Paradise, while they kept the command that was given them, and were driven out of it as soon as they had transgressed. This is likewise the moral of the principal episode, which shows us how an innumerable multitude of angels fell from their state of bliss, and were cast into hell upon their disobedience. Besides this great moral, which may be looked upon as the soul of the fable, there are an infinity of under morals, which are to be drawn from the several parts of the poem, and which make this work more useful and instructive than any other poem in any language. Those who have cri

ticised on the Odyssey, the Iliad, and Æneid, have taken a great deal of pains to fix the number of months and days contained in the action of each of those poems. If any one thinks it worth his while to examine this particular in Milton, he will find that from Adam's first appearance in the fourth book, to his expulsion from Paradise in the twelfth, the author reckons ten days. As for that part of the action which is described in the three first books, as it does not pass within the regions of nature, I have before observed that it is not subject to any calculations of time. I have now finished my observations on a work, which does an honour to the English nation. I have taken a general view of it under these four heads, the fable, the characters, the sentiments, and the language, and made each of them the subject of a particular paper. I have in the next place spoken of the censures which our author may incur under each of these heads, which I have confined to two papers, though I might have enlarged the number, if I had been disposed to dwell on so ungrateful a subject. I believe however that the severest reader will not find any little fault in heroic poetry, which this author has fallen into, that does not come under one of those heads, among which I have distributed his several blemishes. After having thus treated at large of Paradise Lost, I could not think it sufficient to have celebrated this poem in the whole, without descending to particulars. I have therefore bestowed a paper upon each book, and endeavoured not

only to prove that the poem is beautiful in general, but to point out its particular beauties, and to determine wherein they consist. I have endeavoured to show how some passages are beautiful by being sublime, others by being soft, others by being natural; which of them are recommended by the passion, which by the moral, which by the sentiment, and which by the expression. I have likewise endeavoured to show how the genius of the poet shines by a happy invention, a distant allusion, or a judicious imitation; how he has copied or improved Homer or Virgil, and raised his own imaginations by the use which he has made of several poetical passages in Scripture. I might have inserted also several passages of Tasso, which our author has imitated; but as I do not look upon Tasso to be a sufficient voucher, I would not perplex my reader with such quotations, as might do more honour to the Italian than the English poet. In short, I have endeavoured to particularize those innumerable kinds of beauty, which it would be tedious to recapitulate, but which are essential to poetry, and which may be met with in the works of this great author. Had I thought at my first engaging in this design, that it would have led me to so great a length, I believe I should never have entered upon it; but the kind reception which it has met with among those whose judgments I have a value for, as well as the uncommon demands which my bookseller tells me have been made for these particular discourses, give

me no reason to repent of the pains I have been at in com. posing them. Addison.

And thus have we finished our collections and remarks on this divine poem. The reader probably may have observed, that these two last books fall short of the sublimity and majesty of the rest: and so likewise do the two last books of the Iliad, and for the same reason, because the subject is of a different kind from that of the - foregoing ones. The subject of these two last books of the Paradise Lost is history rather than poetry. However, we may still discover the same great genius, and there are intermixed as many ornaments and graces of poetry, as the nature of the subject, and the author's fidelity and strict attachment to the truth of Scripture history, and the reduction of so many and such various events into so nar

row a compass, would admit. It is the same ocean, but not at its highest tide; it is now ebbing and retreating. It is the same sun, but not in its full blaze of meridian glory; it now shines with a gentler ray as it is setting. Throughout the whole, the author appears to have been a most critical reader, and a most passionate admirer, of holy Scripture. He is indebted to Scripture infinitely more than to Homer and Virgil, and all other books whatever. Not only his principal fable, but all his episodes are founded upon Scripture. The Scripture hath not only furnished him with the noblest hints, raised his thoughts, and fired his imagination, but hath also very much enriched his language, given a certain solemnity and majesty to his diction, and supplied him with many of his choicest happiest expressions.