V. 1002-Assyrian queen.] Venus is called the Assyrian Queen, because she was first worshipped by the Assyrians. See Pausanias, Attic. lib. i. cap. xiv. NEWTON. V. 1010.] Uundoubtedly Milton's allusion at large, is here to Spenser's allegorical garden of Adonis, Faer. Qu. iii. vi. 46. seq. But at the same time, his mythology has a reference to Spenser's Himne of Love, where Lote is feigned to dwell" in a paradise of all delight," with Hebe, or Youth, and the rest of the darlings of Venus, who sport with his daughter Pleasure. For the fable and allegory of Cupid and Psyche, see Fulgentius, iii. 6. And Apuleius for Psyche's wandering labours long. WARTON. V. 1012-But now my task is smoothly done.] So Shakspeare's Prospero, in the Epilogue to the Tempes, "Now my charms are all o'erthrown, &c." And thus the Satyr, in Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess, who bears the character of our Attendant Spirit, when his office or commission is finished, displays his power and activity, promising any further services, S. ult. p. 195. WARTON. V. 1014.-The green earth's end.] Cape de Verd Isles. SYMPSON. V. 1015-Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend.] A curve which bends, or descends slowly, from its great sweep. Bending has the same sense, of Dover cliff, in K. Lear, A. iv. S. i. "There is a cliff whose high and bending head And from thence can soar as soon Mortals, that would follow me, Or if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her. 1020 1 And, in the Faithful Shepherdess, “ bending plain," p. 105. Jonson has "bending vale," vii. 39. WARTON. Sylvester, as Mr. Dunster observes, has the "heaven's bow'd arches,” The phrase may have originated from Psalm cxliv. 5, “Bow thy heavens, O Lord;" which Sandys thus paraphrases: "Great God, stoope from the bending skies." V. 1021. The sphery chime.] Chime, Ital. Cima. Yet he uses chime in the common sense, Ode Nativ. v. 128. He may do so here, but then the expression is licentious, I suppose for the sake of the rhyme. HURD. The sphery chime is the musick of the spheres As in Machin's Dumbe Knight, 1608, Reed's Old Plays, vol. iv. 447. "It was as silver as the chime of spheres." WARTON. V. 1022.] The Moral of this poem is very finely summed up in the six concluding lines. The thought, contained in the two last, might probably be suggested to our author by a passage in the Table of Cebes, where Patience and Perseverance are represented stooping and stretching out their hands to help up those who are endeavouring to climb the craggy hill of Virtue, and yet are too feeble to ascend of themselves. THYER. Had this learned and ingenious Critick duly reflected on the lofty mind of Milton'smit with the love of sacred song,' and so often and so sublimely employed on topicks of religion, he might readily have found a subject, to which the Poet obviously and divinely alJudes in these concluding lines, without fetching the thought from the Table of Cebes. In the preceding remark, I am convinced Mr. Thyer had no ill intention: but, by overlooking so clear and pointed an allusion to a subject, calculated to kindle that lively glow in the bosom of every Christian which the Poet intended to excite, and by referring it to an image in a profane author, he may, beside stifling the sublime effect so happily produced, afford a handle to some, in these evil days,' who are willing to make the religion of Socrates and Cebes (or that of Nature) supersede the religion of Christ. The Moral of the poem is, indeed, very finely summed up in the six concluding lines; in which, to wind up one of the most elegant produc tions of his genius,' the Foet's eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling,' threw up its last glance to Heaven, in rapt contemplation of that stupendous Mystery, whereby He, the lofty theme of Paradise Regained, stooping from above all height, bowed the Heavens, and came down on Earth, to atone as Man for the Sins of Men, to strengthen feeble Virtue by the influence of his Grace, and to teach her to ascend his throne. EGERTON. The last line had been written thus by Milton: "Heaven itself would bow to her." He altered bow to stoop, because the latter word expresses greater condescension. So, in his Ode on the Passion, he applies, to the Son of God when he took our nature upon him, the phrase "stooping his regal head." Thus Crashaw says, Poems, ed. Paris, 1652, p. 15, that Christ's "all-embracing birth "Lifts earth to heaven, STOOPES heauen to earth." The Attendant Spirit, it may be added, opens the poem with a description of the rewards which Virtue promises," after this mortal life, to her true servants:" The poem, therefore, may be considered more perfect, in closing, as it commenced, with the solemn and impressive sentiments of Scripture. THE BEAUTIES AND THE FAULTS OF COMUS. IN the peculiar disposition of the story, the sweetness of the numbers, the justness of the expression, and the moral it teaches, there is nothing extant in any language like the Mask of Comus. TOLAND, Milton's Juvenile Poems are so no otherwise, than as they were written in his younger years; for their dignity and excellence they are sufficient to have set him among the most celebrated of the poets, even of the ancients themselves: his Mask and Lycidas are perhaps superior to all in their several kinds. RICHARDSON. Comus is written very much in imitation of Shakspeare's Tempest, and the faithful Shepherdess of Fletcher; and though one of the first, is yet one of the most beautiful of Milton's compositions. NEWTON. Milton seems in this poem to have imitated Shakspeare's manner more than in any other of his works; and it was very natural for a young author, preparing a piece for the stage, to propose to himself for a pattern the most celebrated master of English dramatic poetry. THYER Milton has here more professedly imitated the manner of Shakspeare in his fairy scenes, than in any other of his works: and his poem is much the better for it, not only for the beauty, variety, and novelty of his images, but for a brighter vein of poetry, and an ease and delicacy of expression very superior for his natural manner. WARBURTON, If this Mask had been revised by Milton, when his ear and judg ment were perfectly formed, it had been the most exquisite of all his poems. As it is, there are some puerilities in it, and many inaccuracies of expression and versification. The two editions of his Poems are of 1645 and 1673. In 1645 he was, as he would think, better employed. In 1673 he would condemn himself for having written such a thing as a Mask, especially for a great lord, and a sort of viceroy. HURD. The greatest of Milton's juvenile performances is the Mask of Comus, in which may very plainly be discovered the dawn or twilight of Paradise Lost. Milton appears to have formed very early that system of diction, and mode of verse, which his maturer judgment approved, and from which he never endeavoured nor desired to deviate. Nor does Comus afford only a specimen of his language; it exhibits likewise his power of description and his vigour of seutiment, 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. As a series of lines, therefore, it may be considered as worthy of all the admiration with which the votaries have received it. As a drama it is deficient. The action is not probable. A masque, in those parts where supernatural intervention is admitted, must indeed be given up to all the freaks of imagination; but, so far as the action is merely human, it ought to be reasonable, which can hardly be said of the conduct of the two brothers, who, when their sister sinks with fatigue in a pathless wilderness, wander both away together in search of berries too far to find their way back, and leave a helpless lady to all the sadness and danger of solitude. This however is a defect overbalanced by its convenience. What deserves more reprehension is, that the prologue spoken in the wild wood by the Attendant Spirit is addressed to the audience; a mode of communication so contrary to the nature of dramatie representation, that no precedents can support it. The discourse of the Spirit is too long; an objection that may be made to almost all the following speeches; they have not the sprightliness of a dialogue animated by reciprocal contention, but seem rather declamations deliberately composed, and formally repeated, on a moral question. The auditor therefore listens as to a lecture, without passion, without anxiety The song of Comus has airiness aud jollity; but, what may recommend Milton's moral as well as his poetry, the invitations to pleasure are so general, that they excite no distinct images of corrupt enjoymeat, and take no dangerous hold on the fancy, The following soliloquies of Comus and the Lady are elegant, but tedious. The song must owe much to the voice, if it ever can delight. At last the Brothers enter, with too much tranquillity; and when they have feared lest their sister should be in danger, and hoped that she is not in dauger, the elder makes a speech in praise of chastity, and the younger finds how fiue it is to be a philosopher. Then descends the Spirit in form of a shepherd; and the Brother, instead of being in haste to ask his help, praises his singing, and inquires his business in that place. It is remarkable, that at this interview the Brother is taken with a short fit of rhyming. The Spirit relates that the Lady is in the power of Comus; the Brother moralizes again; and the Spirit makes a long narration of no use, because it is false, and therefore unsuitable to a good being. In all these parts the language is poetical, and the sentiments are generous; but there is something wanting to allure attention. The dispute between the Lady and Comus is the most animated and affecting scene of the drama, and wants nothing but a brisker reciprocation of objections and replies to invite attention, and detain it. The songs are vigorous, and full of imagery; but they are harsh in their diction, and not very musical in their numbers. Throughout the whole, the figures are too bojd, and the lan |