"If of my reign prophetic writ hath told That it shall never end, so when begin The Father in His purpose hath decreed."

(P. R. iii. 184-6.)

Acquiescence, a conviction of the uselessness of individual or organised effort to antic.i.p.ate what only slow evolution can bring, is characteristic of increasing years, and was likely enough to be the temper of Milton when he had seen the failure of the effort to make actual on earth the kingdom of Heaven. The temptation is developed in such a way that every point supposed to be weak is attacked. "You may be what you claim to be," insinuates the devil, "but are rustic."

"Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent At home, scarce view'd the Galilean towns, And once a year Jerusalem."

(P. R. iii. 232-4.)

Experience and alliances are plausibly urged as indispensable for success. But Jesus knew that the sum total of a man's power for good is precisely what of good there is in him and that if it be expressed even in the simplest form, all its strength is put forth and its office is fulfilled. To suppose that it can be augmented by machinery is a foolish delusion. The

"projects deep Of enemies, of aids, battles and leagues, Plausible to the world"

(P. R. iii. 395-3.)

are to the Founder of the kingdom not of this world "worth naught."

Another side of the mountain is tried. Rome is presented with Tiberius at Capreae. Could it possibly be anything but a n.o.ble deed to

"expel this monster from his throne Now made a sty, and in his place ascending, A victor people free from servile yoke!"

(P. R. iv. 100-102.)

"AND WITH MY HELP THOU MAY'ST." With the devil's help and not without can this glorious revolution be achieved! "For him," is the Divine reply, "I was not sent." The attack is then directly pressed.

"The kingdoms of the world, to thee I give; For, giv'n to me, I give to whom I please, No trifle; yet with this reserve, not else, On this condition, if thou wilt fall down And worship me as thy superior lord."

(P. R. iv. 163-7.)

This, then, is the drift and meaning of it all. The answer is taken verbally from the gospel.

"'Thou shalt worship The Lord thy G.o.d, and only Him shalt serve.'"

(P. R. iv. 176-7.)

That is to say, Thou shalt submit thyself to G.o.d's commands and G.o.d's methods and thou shalt submit thyself to NO OTHER.

Omitting the Athenian and philosophic episode, which is unnecessary and a little unworthy even of the Christian poet, we encounter not an amplification of the Gospel story but an interpolation which is entirely Milton's own. Night gathers and a new a.s.sault is delivered in darkness.

Jesus wakes in the storm which rages round Him. The diabolic hostility is open and avowed and He hears the howls and shrieks of the infernals.

He cannot banish them though He is so far master of Himself that He is able to sit "unappall'd in calm and sinless peace." He has to endure the h.e.l.lish threats and tumult through the long black hours

"till morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray, Who with her radiant finger still'd the roar Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds, And grisly spectres, which the Fiend had rais'd To tempt the Son of G.o.d with terrors dire.

But now the sun with more effectual beams Had cheer'd the face of earth, and dri'd the wet From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds, Who all things now beheld more fresh and green, After a night of storm so ruinous, Clear'd up their choicest notes in bush and spray To gratulate the sweet return of morn."

(P. R. iv. 426-38.)

There is nothing perhaps in Paradise Lost which possesses the peculiar quality of this pa.s.sage, nothing which like these verses brings into the eyes the tears which cannot be repressed when a profound experience is set to music.

The temptation on the pinnacle occupies but a few lines only of the poem. Hitherto Satan admits that Jesus had conquered, but he had done no more than any wise and good man could do.

"Now show thy progeny; if not to stand, Cast thyself down; safely, if Son of G.o.d; For it is written, 'He will give command Concerning thee to His angels; in their hands They shall uplift thee, lest at any time Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone.'"

(P. R. iv. 554-9.)

The promise of Divine aid is made in mockery.

"To whom thus Jesus: 'Also it is written, Tempt not the Lord thy G.o.d.' He said, and stood: But Satan, smitten with amazement, fell."

(P. R. iv. 560-2.)

It is not meant, "thou shalt not tempt ME," but rather, "it is not permitted me to tempt G.o.d." In this extreme case Jesus depends on G.o.d's protection. This is the devil's final defeat and the seraphic company for which our great Example had refused to ask instantly surrounds and receives him. Angelic quires

"the Son of G.o.d, our Saviour meek, Sung victor, and from heavenly feast refresh't, Brought on His way with joy; He un.o.bserv'd, Home to His mother's house private return'd."

(P. R. iv. 636-9.)

Warton wished to expunge this pa.s.sage, considering it an unworthy conclusion. It is to be hoped that there are many readers of Milton who are able to see what is the value of these four lines, particularly of the last.

It is hardly necessary to say more in order to show how peculiarly Milton is endowed with that quality which is possessed by all great poets--the power to keep in contact with the soul of man.

THE MORALITY OF BYRON'S POETRY. "THE CORSAIR."

[This is an abstract of an essay four times as long written many years ago. Although so much has been struck out, the substance is unaltered, and the conclusion is valid for the author now as then.]

Byron above almost all other poets, at least in our day, has been set down as immoral. In reality he is moral, using the word in its proper sense, and he is so, not only in detached pa.s.sages, but in the general drift of most of his poetry. We will take as an example "The Corsair."

Conrad is not a debauched buccaneer. He was not -

"by Nature sent To lead the guilty--guilt's worst instrument."

He had been betrayed by misplaced confidence.

"Doom'd by his very virtues for a dupe, He cursed those virtues as the cause of ill, And not the traitors who betray'd him still; Nor deem'd that gifts bestow'd on better men Had left him joy, and means to give again, Fear'd--shunn'd--belied--ere youth had lost her force, He hated man too much to feel remorse, And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call, To pay the injuries of some on all."