66

gent. They that speak to children description: the dews of youthful assume a pretty lisping. Birds are fancy lie thickly upon it; and the caught by the counterfeit of their tendency of the whole is to abash own shrill notes. There is a magic vice and to excite to self-denial and in the Tongue, can charm the wild virtue. The greatest of Milton's man's motions. Eloquence is a bri-juvenile performances," says Dr. dle, wherewith the wise man rides Johnson, "is the Mask of Comus, the Monster of the World the Peo- in which may very plainly be discople.

Flet, si flore jubes gaudet, audere ceactus, Ette dante, capti index quam non habet iram." I grieve; that any thing so excellent as Divinity is, should fall into sluttish handling. Sure, though either interposures do eclipse her, yet this is a principal.

vered the dawn or twilight of 'Paradise Lost.' It exhibits his power of description and his vigour of sentiment employed in the praise and defence of virtue. A work more truly poetical is rarely found; allusions, images and descriptive epithets embellish almost every period with lavish decoration."

Milton has not in this performance devoted his masterly powers to confound the distinction between virtue and vice; he has not, as some others have done, poured forth the richness of his imagery only to enervate an I never yet knew a good tongue, beguile, nor has he, like them, that wanted ears to hear it. I will uttered a syren song, wooing meu honor her in her plain trimme, but to destruction and making them the I will wish to meet her in her grace- willing agents of their own undoing. ful jewels, not that thay give addition to her goodness, but that she is more persuasive in working on the soul it meets with. When I meet with worth which I cannot over love, I will endure that Art, which is a means to heighten liking. Confections that are cordial are not the worse but the better for being gilded.

O. F.

The poet here shews virtue lovely and immortal, the companion of angels and the servant of God, passing through the world, unseduced by its glitter, unmoved by its menace, and using earth only as a footstool by which she may mount to heaven. Vice, however, he has exhibited as a mean and grovelling thing, a fit associate for the unreasoning beasts of the field, deriving its courage from stupefaction, and its firmness from an inability to fly, spending its energies on useless and shameful enterTHE Drama of Comus particularly prizes, and finding itself in the end recommends itself to the attention of baffled and despised. It is a noble youth, both as being the production trophy to the honour of our great of a young man and as inculcating poet that, at an age when those lessons which are most befit- undue license of expression ting the earlier period of life. As a poem it claims and has received the admiration of the world: it is filled with gorgeous imagery and glowing

REMARKS ON MILTON'S "

COMUS."

sonie is

expected and forgiven, he came forth with a work which breathes the very spirit of purity, and in which he has introduced the alluring accents

of pleasure only to shew how vainly of the true servants of virtue that they are addressed to the ear of the spirit has condescended to leave temperance. And we think it might his native heaven. A more intimate awaken a blush on the cheek of the acquaintance with the world, but midnight reveller, could he on his above all with our own hearts return from some scene of licentious teaches us that it must not be mirth bring himself to contemplate among man's sinful and feeble the fine pictures of moral excellence race that we are to look for purity which are here given, could he call so exalted that it can claim heaven's up before his mind the image of our interference as a right; and we learn poet, in the very flower of his age at length, that if the aid of Omnipoand beauty, thus standing forth as a tence were to be extended only to preacher of self-denial, and as it those who deserved it, none of our were proudly bidding away from him lost creation could ever receive it the abashed tempter and his impo- all. The notion of human perfec tent seductions. tion is very reluctantly given up by We shall not stop to inquire whe- a youthful enthusiast. It is to be ther this Drama is adapted for scenic remembered, however, that the representation, whether the situations drama, both in its sentiment and are natural or the dialogue animated; style, is framed on the model of with these subjects we have here those of classical antiquity. nothing to do, we shall only attempt to point out some of its beauties, and make some reflections on the moral it conveys.

The spirit's prologue opens in a very dignified manner:

"Before the starry threshold of Jove's court
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes

Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd
In regions mild of calm and serene air,
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot,

The Spirit having declared the purpose of his errand, which was to protect "the favored of high Jove” from the sensual allurements of Comus, the Deceiver himself is introduced. The song of Comus is it incites to pleasure it does so in sprightly and musical; and though such general terms that its invitations"excite no distinct images of corrupt enjoyment, and take no dan

Which men call Earth, and with low-gerous hold on the fancy." It emu

thoughted care

Confin'd and pester'd in this pinfold here,
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being,
Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives,
After this mortal change, to her true ser-

vants,
Amongst the enthron'd Gods on sainted

lates the sweetness of Anacreon,
but then the sweetness is innoxious.
It briefly mentions the ordinary
objects of pleasure:

Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,
Midnight shout and revelry,
Tipsy dance and jollity.

Braid your locks with rosy twine,
Dropping odours, dropping twine.”

And then the poet becomes prodigal of his own luxuriant painting, and nature puts on new loveliness beneath the touches of his hand:

«The sounds and seas, with all their finny

drove,

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;

And on the tawny sands and shelves,
Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves;
By dimpled brook, and fountain-brim,

The wood-nymphs, deck'd with daisies trim,
Their merry wakes and pastimes keep."

"Was I deceived, &c. The repetition," says Dr. Wharton, "arising from the conviction and confidence of an unaccusing conscience, is inimitably beautiful. When all

How fine is his representation of succour seems to be lost, heaven the dawn!

"Ere the blabbing eastern 'scout, The nice morn, on the Indian steep From her cabin'd loophole peep."

The lady herself is then introduced, shrinking with maidenly timidity from the sound of riot which has met her ears, but emboldened by her anxiety to find her brothers. There are many brilliant passages in her speech:

"The gray hooded even,

Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed,
Rose from the hindmost wheel of Phoebus

wain."

"The stars

That nature hung in heav'n, and fill'd their
lamps

With everlasting oil, to give due light
To the mis-led and lonely traveller."

unexpectedly presents the silver lining of a sable cloud to the virtuous." Here follows the song which rings in the ear like music:

"Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, &c."

Comus enters, and commences an address of graceful flattery:

Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
"Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould
Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
And with these raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence.

How sweetly did they Aoat upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven-down
Of darkness till it smiled!"' &c.

Is there any thing, even in Milton himself more exquisitely beautiful than these last four lines? Dr. Channing has quoted the passage as illustrative of Milton's extreme sen

She trembles as her memory be-sibility and tenderness. comes thronged with a thousand fantasies:

"Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows
dire,

And airy tongues, that syllable men's names
On sands, and shores, and desert wilder-

nesses.

But the consciousness of virtue restores her courage, and she boldly relies on the support of heaven:

"I now believe

The dialogue which follows is formed in imitation of those in the Greek drama, where a single verse is allotted to each speaker, a peculiarity which sounds somewhat harsh in the ears of the English reader. We have then some more of the ing of the lady's brothers, he says: brilliant politeness of Comus: speak

"Their port was more than human, as they stood:

I took it for a faery vision

That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all Of some gay creatures of the elements,
things ill

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
Would send a glistering guardian, if need

were,

To keep my life and honour unassail'd
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err, there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove."

That in the colours of the rainbow live,
And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-
struck,

And as I past I worshipt; if those you seek,
It were a journey like the path to heaven,
To help you find them."

The lady, at length, having uttered a pious ejaculation to Providence, enters beneath the roof of Comus.

The brothers then appear. One sister's danger from Comus.

In the

of them, trembling at the uncertain speech of Thyrsis occurs the exquifate of his sister, indulges in melan- site and well-known passage: choly forebodings:

"O that hapless virgin, &c." The advice of the other brother is wholesome, and may be useful to those who are the victims of a morbid temperament:

'Peace, brother: be not over exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:
For grant they be so; while they rest un-
known,

What need a man forestall his date of grief,

And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,
How bitter is such self-delusion!"

He then proceeds further to extol the dignity and strength of virtue:

"Virtue could see to do what virtue would

By her own radiant light, though sun and

moon

We afterwards have a speech from the second brother in praise of chastity; in the course of which our author adduces the pagan fables to set forth the superiority of this virtue ; and then, adopting the sentiments and language of Plato,* he goes on to shew how by sin the soul is imbruted and changed, and how the splendid adornments in which God had enwrapped it fall off beneath the touch of vice.

'At last a soft and solemn-breathing sounds Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfume, And stole upon the air, that even silence Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might

Deny her nature, and be never more,
Still to be so displaced. I was all ear,
And took in strains that might create a soul
Under the ribs of death."

The brother, struck with horror at
the imminent peril in which the sister
seems placed, asks reproachfully,
"Is this the confidence you gave me, bro-

ther ?"

Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt,
Surpris'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd;
Yea, even that, which mischief meant most
harm,

Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.”

Here again we have a noble tribute to the glory of virtue. But it must be remembered that the only species of virtue of which this can be spoken is that spirit of Christian fortitude which God himself awakens and to which he lends his continual aid. And to the timid professor of religion it is a subject of great encouragement that it is not on his own strength he is to rely for perseveweakness and inconstancy, be is glad rance in godliness; sensible of his And Socrates in Platot had before to grasp an Almighty Supporter, and him spoken of philosophy as being to rest upon him who upholds the the noblest music Ὡς φιλοσοφίας μεν world. Thus supported, thus inviοὖσης μεγιστης μουσικῆς. gorated, the good man may, indeed,

The second brother then exclains,
"How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute."

The spirit, in the garb of a shep-rise superior to temptation and to herd informs the brothers of their chance, feeling assured that the flame of piety which burns in his breast will never be extinguished,

*Phod 21.

+ Phæd. 4.

Let the young

more to bestow.
beware of the stealthy approaches of
sin: it will enfeeble the intellect, it
will corrode the genius: it will an-
nihilate contentment. Let them fly
from the scene of temptation before
they be immersed in its seduc-
tions, lest, as was fabled of those who
bathed in the enervating waters of
Salmacis, they come forth from their
guilty retirements, shorn of their
manhood and their strength.

Comus himself is moved by the reproof of the lady. He feels "how awful goodness is;" and though surrounded by his followers and holding in his hand the ensigns of his power, he trembles before his victim, like a guilty thing:

She fables not ;* I feel that I do fear
Her words set off by some superior power;
And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering
dew

Dips me all o'er."

The note of Dr. Wharton is very good. "Her words are assisted by somewhat divine; and I, although immortal, and above the race of man, am so affected with their force, that a cold shuddering dew, &c. Here is the noblest panegyric on the power of virtue, adorned with the sublimest imagery. It is extorted from the mouth of a magician and a preternatural being, who although actually possessed of his prey, feels all the terrors of human nature at the bold rebuke of innocence, and shudders with a sudden cold sweat, like

The voice of temptation falls harmlessly on the ear of one who is listening for sounds far sweeter: the odours of unlawful pleasure are to him loathsome as the damp vapours of the sepulchre, and he can despise the gross gratifications of sense since he is able to feed upon angel's food. For one who has but tasted the delights of virtue the joys of sin will bave little attraction: and should he, through the frailty of our common nature, be overcome by passion or again entangled in the fascinations of the world, the cries of his remorse a guilty man." may fitly be compared to the shrieks

The tempter is foiled: the disof Eurydice, dragged back a second enchantment of the lady ensues. time to hell. There is a mystery in The invocation of Sabrina is pleasant goodness which it is impossible to as the voice of childhood:

Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lillies knitting

explain to the profligate: he knows" Sabrina fair,
not what he has lost in losing the
sense of purity: the sweets of vo-
luptiousness soon fall on the blunted
appetite, and alas, the sensualist
finds that the world has nothing

*Compare Esch. Prometh. 1088.