And, though her body die, her fame survives,

A secular bird, ages of lives.

Man. Come, come; no time for lamentation now,

Nor much more cause. Samson hath quit himself

Like Samson, and heroicly hath finished
A life heroic, on his enemies

1711

Fully revenged - hath left them years of mourning,

And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor Through all Philistian bounds; to Israel Honour hath left and freedom, let but them

Find courage to lay hold on this occasion; To himself and father's house eternal fame; And, which is best and happiest yet, all this With God not parted from him, as was feared,

But favouring and assisting to the end. 1720 Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt,

Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair,

And what may quiet us in a death so noble. Let us go find the body where it lies Soaked in his enemies' blood, and from the stream

With lavers pure, and cleansing herbs, wash off

The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while

(Gaza is not in plight to say us nay), Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,

1730

To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend, With silent obsequy and funeral train, Home to his father's house. There will I build him

A monument, and plant it round with shade Of laurel ever green and branching palm, With all his trophies hung, and acts enrolled

In copious legend, or sweet lyric song.
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,
And from his memory inflame their breasts
To matchless valour and adventures high;
The virgins also shall, on feastful days, 174
Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewail-
ing

His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice,
From whence captivity and loss of eyes.

Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt
What the unsearchable dispose
Of Highest Wisdom brings about,
And ever best found in the close.
Oft He seems to hide his face,
But unexpectedly returns,
And to his faithful Champion hath in place
Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaz

mourns,

And all that band them to resist
His uncontrollable intent.

His servants He, with new acquist
Of true experience from this great event,
With peace and consolation hath dismissed,
And calm of mind, all passion spent.

"

In the first half of the seventeenth century Latin was not only the accepted language for learned writing, and for writing addressed to a European audience, but in many cases it was spontaneously chosen for other and more intimate purposes. Europe, and especially England, was not yet far enough away from the revival of learning to have begun to throw off the spell of the classics. In the universities, of course, the prejudice in favor of Latin was overwhelming, and he was an indifferent scholar who came away from his Alma Mater without having put that language almost as much at his command as the vernacular. In reading Milton's Latin poetry, therefore, we must bear in mind that it was not taskverse, nor mere language exercise, but that almost as a matter of course he put into it, rather than into his English verse, the first enthusiasm of his mind. Indeed, if it were not for the Nativity Ode, we should be justified in saying that before the Horton period began, he possessed a much greater facility and poetical power in Latin than in English. As it is, we find in his Latin poetry that record of his poetic boyhood which we look for in vain among the meagre and (with one great exception) disappointing English verse of his early period.

The most obvious interest which attaches to the Latin poems is the definite autobiographic material which they contain. In the first elegy, for example, we learn of Milton's suspension from college, and of the manner in which he employed himself during his enforced vacation. In the sixth elegy occurs the first mention of the Nativity Ode, at the close of a noble statement of that poetic creed, making great art in

separable from great living, which he had already at the age of twenty-one fully developed. Then, set in odd relief against this precocious solemnity, there follows in the seventh elegy an account of a thoroughly boyish and naïve love affair, a chance meeting in a London street with a girl whose eyes draw the soul out of his body, -one of those lightning flashes from the clear sky of youth which tell of the summer passion suspended there. In the verses To Manso, we get the first announcement of Milton's intention to write an epic poem on the legendary history of Britain, in a connection suggestive of the manner in which the heroic poems of Italy had stimulated and made definite his vague poetical ambitions. In the Epitaphium Damonis we learn of his decision, arrived at only after much debate and weighing of the odds, to write in English rather than in Latin.

More interesting even than these scraps of definite information, is the light thrown by the Latin poems upon Milton's relations with the people about him. The second elegy shows us the deep feeling of tenderness which he continued to cherish for his tutor, Thomas Young, after their separation; and furnishes a picture of that worthy Smectymnuan which seems to justify the feeling. The verses addressed to his father show us both how carefully and generously the elder Milton provided for his son's growth in all the graces and virtues of the intellect, and also how uneasy the old gentleman became over the refusal of that son to employ his education toward any more definite end than that of becoming a poet skilled to sing of time and eternity. Behind the son's protest against his elder's practicality