at his companions for losing so much time as even to deliberate upon it. All his sentiments are rash, audacious, and desperate. Such as that of arming themselves with tortures, and turning their punishupon him who inflicted them: ments No, let us rather choose, Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Against the tort'rer; when, to meet the noise Of his almighty engine, he shall hear ii. 60. His preferring annihilation to shame or misery is also highly suitable to his character; as the comfort he draws from their disturbing the peace of heaven, that if it be not victory it is revenge, is a sentiment truly diabolical, and becoming the bitterness of this implacable spirit. Belial is described in the first book as the idol of the lewd and luxurious. He is in the second book, pursuant to that description, characterised as timorous and slothful; and if we look into the sixth book, we find him celebrated in the battle of angels for nothing but that scoffing speech which he makes to Satan on their supposed advantage over the enemy. As his appearance is uniform, and of a piece, in these three several views, we find his sentiments in the infernal assembly every way conformable to his character; such are, his apprehensions of a second battle, his horrors of annihilation, his preferring to be miserable, rather than not to be.' I need not observe, that the contrast of thought in this speech, and that which precedes it, gives an agreeable variety to the debate. Mammon's character is so fully drawn in the first book, that the poet adds nothing to it in the second. We were before told, that he was the first who taught mankind to ransack the earth for gold and silver, and that he was the architect of Pandæmonium, or the infernal palace, where the evil spirits were to meet in council. His speech in this book is every way suitable to so depraved a character. How proper is that reflection of their being unable to taste the happiness of heaven were they actually there, in the mouth of one, who, while he was in heaven, is said to have had his mind dazzled with the outward pomps and glories of the place, and to have been more intent on the riches of the pavement than on the beatific vision. I shall also leave the reader to judge how agreeable the following sentiments are to the same character: - This deep world Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth heaven's all-ruling Sire And with the majesty of darkness round Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar, As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? This desert soil Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in dignity that fell, and is, in the first book the second that awakens out of the trance, and confers with Satan upon the situation of their affairs, maintains his rank in the book now before us. There is a wonderful majesty described in his rising up to speak. He acts as a kind of moderator between the two opposite parties, and proposes a third undertaking, which the whole assembly gives into. The motion he makes of detaching one of their body in search of a new world is grounded upon a project devised by Satan, and curiously proposed by him in the following lines of the first book: Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rife A generation, whom his choice regard i. 650. It is on this project that Beëlzebub grounds his proposal: What if we find Some easier enterprise? There is a place, The reader may observe how just it was, not to omit in the first book the project upon which the whole poem turns; as also that the prince of the fallen angels was the only proper person to give it birth, and that the next to him in dignity was the fittest to second and support it. There is besides, I think, something wonderfully beautiful, and very apt to affect the reader's imagina tion, in this ancient prophecy or report in heaven, concerning the creation of man. Nothing could show more the dignity of the species, than this tradition which ran of them before their existence. They are represented to have been the talk of heaven before they were created. Virgil, in compliment to the Roman commonwealth, makes the heroes of it appear in their state of pre-existence; but Milton doos a far greater honour to mankind in general, as he gives us a glimpse of them even before they are in being. The rising of this great assembly is described in a very sublime and poetical manner : Their rising all at once was as the sound ii. 476. The diversions of the fallen angels, with the particular account of their place of habitation, are described with great pregnancy of thought and copiousness of invention. The diversions are every way suitable to beings who had nothing left them but strength and knowledge misapplied. Such are their contentions at the race, and in feats of arms, with their entertainment in the following lines: Others, with vast Typhoean rage, more fell, Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; hell scarce holds the wild uproar. ii. 539. Their music is employed in celebrating their own criminal exploits, and their discourse in sounding the unfathomable depths of fate, free-will, and foreknowledge. The several circumstances in the description of hell are very finely imagined; as the four rivers which disgorge themselves into the sea of fire, the ex tremes of cold and heat, and the river of oblivion. The monstrous animals produced in that infernal world are represented by a single line, which gives us a more horrid idea of them, than a much longer description would have done : -Nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived, ii. 624. This episode of the fallen spirits, and their place of habitation, comes in very happily to unbend the mind of the reader from its attention to the debate. An ordinary poet would indeed have spun out so many circumstances to a great length, and by that means have weakened, instead of illustrated, the principal fable. The flight of Satan to the gates of hell is finely imaged. I have already declared my opinion of the allegory concerning Sin and Death, which is, however, a very finished piece in its kind, when it is not considered as part of an epic poem. The genealogy of the several persons is contrived with great delicacy. Sin is the daughter of Satan, and Death the offspring of Sin. The incestuous mixture between Sin and Death produces those monsters and hell-hounds which from time to time enter into their mother, and tear the bowels of her who gave them birth. These are the terrors of an evil conscience, and the proper fruits of Sin, which naturally rise from the apprehensions of Death. This last beautiful moral is, I think, clearly intimated in the speech of Sin, where, complaining of this her dreadful issue, she adds, |