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Of lustre from the brook, in memory
Or monuments to ages, and thereon
Offer sweet-smelling gums and flow'rs.
In yonder nether world, where shall I seek
His bright appearances, or footsteps trace?
For though I fled him angry, yet recall'd
To life prolong'd and promis'd race, I now
Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts
Of glory, and far off his steps adore.'

The angel afterwards leads Adam to the highest mount of Paradise, and lays before him a whole hemisphere, as a proper stage for those visions which were to be represented on it. I have before observed how the plan of Milton's poem is in many particulars greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid. Virgil's hero, in the last of these poems, is entertained with a sight of all those who are to descend from him; but though that episode is justly admired as one of the noblest designs in the whole Æneid, every one must allow that this of Milton is of a much higher nature. Adam's vision is not confined to any particular tribe of mankind, but extends to the whole species.

In this great review which Adam takes of all his sons and daughters, the first objects he is presented with exhibit to him the story of Cain and Abel, which is drawn together with much closeness and propriety of expression. The curiosity and natural horror which arises in Adam at the sight of the first dying man is touched with great beauty.

'But have I now seen death? Is this the way
I must return to native dust? O sight
Of terror foul, and ugly to behold!
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!'

The second vision sets before him the image of death in a great variety of appearances. The angel, to give him a general idea of those effects which his guilt had brought upon his posterity, places before him a large hospital, or lazar-house, filled with persons lying under all kinds of mortal diseases. How finely has the poet told us that the sick persons languished under lingering and incurable distempers, by an apt and judicious use of such imaginary beings as those I mentioned in my last Saturday's


Dire was the tossing, deep the groans; Despair
Tended the sick, busy from couch to couch;
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook, but delay'd to strike, tho' oft invok'd
With vows, as their chief good and final hope.
The passion which likewise rises in
Adam on this occasion is very natural:

Sight so deform what heart of rock could long
Dry-ey'd behold? Adam could not, but wept,
Though not of woman born; compassion quell'd
His best of man, and gave him up to tears.

The discourse between the angel and Adam which follows, abounds with noble morals.

As there is nothing more delightful in poetry than a contrast and opposition of incidents, the author, after this melancholy prospect of death and sickness, raises up a scene of mirth, love, and jollity. The secret pleasure that steals into Adam's heart, as

he is intent upon this vision, is imagined with great delicacy. I must not omit the description of the loose female troop, who seduced the sons of God, as they are called in Scripture.

'For that fair female troop thou saw'st, that seem'd
Of goddesses, so blythe, so smooth, so gay,
Yet empty of all good, wherein consists
Woman's domestic honour, and chief praise;
Bred only and completed to the taste
Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance,
To dress, and troule the tongue, and roll the eye;
To these that sober race of men, whose lives
Religious titled them the sons of God,
Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame,
Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles
Of those fair atheists.'-

The next vision is of a quite contrary nature, and filled with the horrors of war. Adam at the sight of it melts into tears, and breaks out into that passionate speech,

-O what are these!

Death's ministers, not men, who, thus deal death
Inhumanly to men, and multiply

Ten thousandfold the sin of him who slew
His brother: for of whom such massacre
Make they, but of their brethren, men of men?

Milton to keep up an agreeable variety in his visions, after having raised in the mind of his reader the several ideas of terror which are conformable to the description of war, passes on to those softer images of triumphs and festivals, in that vision of lewdness and luxury which ushers in the flood.

As it is visible that the poet had his eye upon Ovid's account of the universal deluge, the reader may observe with how much judgment he has avoided every thing that is redundant or puerile in the Latin poet. We do not here see the wolf swimming among the sheep, nor any of those wanton imaginations which Seneca found fault with, as unbecoming this great catastrophe of nature. If our poet has imitated that verse in which Ovid tells us that there was nothing but sea, and that this sea had no shore to it, he has not set the thought in such a light as to in cur the censure which critics have passed upon it. The latter part of that verse in Ovid is idle and superfluous, but just and beautiful in Milton,.

Jamque mare et tellus nullum discrimen habebant;
Nil nisi pontus erat; deerant quoque littora ponto.
Ovid. Met. i. 291.
Now seas and earth were in confusion lost;
A world of waters, and without a coast-Dryden.
-Sea cover'd sea,

Sea without shore.


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eluge, wherein our poet has visibly the ad-ble, and has passed the common exercises
antage. The sky's being overcharged with of his years with tolerable advantage, but is
louds, the descending of the rains, the withal what you would call a forward youth:
sing of the seas, and the appearance of by the help of this last qualification, which
he rainbow, are such descriptions as every serves as a varnish to all the rest, he is en-
ne must take notice of. The circumstance abled to make the best use of his learning,
elating to Paradise is so finely imagined, and display it at full length upon all occa-
nd suitable to the opinions of many learned sions. Last summer he distinguished him-
thors, that I cannot forbear giving it a self two or three times very remarkably, by
lace in this paper.
puzzling the vicar, before an assembly of
most of the ladies in the neighbourhood; and
from such weighty considerations as these,
as it too often unfortunately falls out, the
mother is become invincibly persuaded that
her son is a great scholar; and that to chain
him down to the ordinary methods of edu-
cation, with others of his age, would be to
cramp his faculties, and do an irreparable
injury to his wonderful capacity.

Then shall this mount
Of Paradise, by might of waves be mov'd
Out of his place, push'd by the horned flood;
With all his verdure spoil'd, and trees adrift
Down the great river to th' op'ning gulf,
And there take root; an island salt and bare,
The haunt of seals and orcs and sea-mews' clang.

The transition which the poet makes
om the vision of the deluge, to the concern
occasioned in Adam, is exquisitely grace-
al, and copied after Virgil, though the first
ought it introduces is rather in the spirit

f Ovid:

How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold
The end of all thy offspring, end so sad,
Depopulation! Thee another flood,

Of tears and sorrow, a flood, thee also drown'd,
And sunk thee as thy sons: till gently rear'd
By th' angel, on thy feet thou stood'st at last,
Though comfortless, as when a father mourns
His children all in view destroy'd at once.

I have been the more particular in my
uotations out of the eleventh book of Para-
se Lost, because it is not generally reck-
ned among the most shining books of this
oem: for which reason the reader might
eapt to overlook those many passages in
which deserve our admiration. The ele-
enth and twelfth are indeed built upon that
ngle circumstance of the removal of our
rst parents from Paradise: but though this
not in itself so great a subject as that in
ost of the foregoing books, it is extended
nd diversified with so many surprising in-
dents and pleasing episodes, that these
vo last books can by no means be looked
pon as unequal parts of this divine poem,
I must further add, that, had not Milton
presented our first parents as driven out
Paradise, his fall of man would not have
een complete, and consequently his action
ould have been imperfect.

To. 364.] Monday, April 28, 1712.

-Navibus atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere.


Hor. Ep. xi. Lib. 1. 29. Anxious through seas and land to search for rest, Is but laborious idleness at best.-Francis.

I happened to visit at the house last week, and missing the young gentleman at the tea-table, where he seldom fails to officiate, could not upon so extraordinary a circumstance avoid inquiring after him, My lady told me he was gone out with her woman, in order to make some preparation for their equipage; for that she intended very speedily to carry him to "travel." The oddness of the expression shocked me a little; however, I soon recovered myself enough to let her know, that all I was willing to understand by it was, that she designed this summer to show her son his estate in a been. But she soon took care to rob me of distant county, in which he had never yet that agreeable mistake, and let me into the whole affair. She enlarged upon young master's prodigious improvements, and his comprehensive knowledge of all book-learning; concluding, that, it was now high time he should be made acquainted with men and things; that she had resolved he should make the tour of France and Italy, but could not bear to have him out of her sight, and therefore intended to go along with him.

I was going to rally her for so extravagant
a resolution, but found myself not in a fit
humour to meddle with a subject that de-
manded the most soft and delicate touch
imaginable. I was afraid of dropping some-
thing that might seem to bear hard either
upon the son's abilities, or the mother's dis-
cretion, being sensible that in both these
cases, though supported with all the pow-
ers of reason, I should, instead of gaining
her ladyship over to my opinion, only ex-
pose myself to her disesteem: I therefore
immediately determined to refer the whole
matter to the Spectator.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-A lady of my ac-
"When I came to reflect at night, as my
aintance, for whom I have too much re- custom is, upon the occurrences of the day,
pect to be easy while she is doing an I could not but believe that this humour of
discreet action, has given occasion to this carrying a boy to travel in his mother's lap,
ouble. She is a widow, to whom the in- and that upon pretence of learning men and
lgence of a tender husband has entrusted things, is a case of an extraordinary nature,
e management of a very great fortune, and carries on it a peculiar stamp of folly.
d a son about sixteen, both of which she I did not remember to have met with its pa-
extremely fond of. The boy has parts of rallel within the compass of my observation,
e middle size, neither shining nor despica-though I could call to mind some not ex-

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tremely unlike it. From hence my thoughts | we find celebrated as the scene of some fa-
took occasion to ramble into the general no- mous action, or retaining any footsteps of a
tion of travelling, as it is now made a part Cato, Cicero, or Brutus, or some such great
of education. Nothing is more frequent virtuous man. A nearer view of any such
than to take a lad from grammar and taw, particular, though really little and trifling
and, under the tuition of some poor scholar, in itself, may serve the more powerfully to
who is willing to be banished for thirty warm a generous mind to an emulation of
pounds a year, and a little victuals, send their virtues, and a greater ardency of am-
him crying and snivelling into foreign coun- bition to imitate their bright examples, if it
tries. Thus he spends his time as children comes duly tempered and prepared for the
do at puppet-shows, and with much the impression. But this I believe you will
same advantage, in staring and gaping at an hardly think those to be, who are so far
amazing variety of strange things; strange from entering into the sense and spirit of the
indeed to one who is not prepared to com- ancients, that they do not yet understand
prehend the reasons and meaning of them, their language with any exactness.*
whilst he should be laying the solid founda-
tions of knowledge in his mind, and furnish-
ing it with just rules to direct his future
progress in life under some skilful master
of the art of instruction.

'Can there be a more astonishing thought
in nature, than to consider how men should
fall into so palpable a mistake? It is a large
field, and may very well exercise a sprightly
genius; but I do not remember you have yet
taken a turn in it. I wish, sir, you would
make people understand that "travel" is
really the last step to be taken in the insti-
tution of youth, and that to set out with it,
is to begin where they should end.

'But I have wandered from my purpose, which was only to desire you to save, if pos sible, a fond English mother, and mother's own son, from being shown a ridiculous spectacle through the most polite parts of Europe. Pray tell them, that though to be sea-sick, or jumbled in an outlandish stagecoach, may perhaps be healthful for the constitution of the body, yet it is apt to cause such dizziness in young empty heads as too often lasts their life-time. I am, sir, your most humble servant.



'Certainly the true end of visiting foreign 'SIR,-I was married on Sunday last, and parts, is to look into their customs and po- went peaceably to bed; but, to my surprise, licies, and observe in what particulars they was awakened the next morning by the excel or come short of our own; to unlearn thunder of a set of drums. These warlike some odd peculiarities in our manners, and sounds (methinks) are very improper in a wear off such awkward stiffnesses and af- marriage-concert, and give great offence; fectations in our behaviour, as possibly may they seem to insinuate, that the joys of this have been contracted from constantly assostate are short, and that jars and discords ciating with one nation of men, by a more soon ensue. I fear they have been ominous free, general, and mixed conversation. But to many matches, and sometimes proved a how can any of these advantages be attained prelude to a battle in the honey-moon. A by one who is a mere stranger to the cus- nod from you may hush them; therefore, toms and policies of his native country, and pray, sir, let them be silenced, that for the has not yet fixed in his mind the first prin- future none but soft airs may usher in the ciples of manners and behaviour? To en-morning of a bridal night; which will be a deavour it, is to build a gaudy structure without any foundation; or, if I may be allowed the expression, to work a rich embroidery upon a cob web.

'Another end of travelling, which deserves to be considered, is the improving our taste of the best authors of antiquity, by seeing the places where they lived, and of which they wrote; to compare the natural face of the country with the descriptions they have given us, and observe how well the picture agrees with the original. This must certainly be a most charming exercise to the mind that is rightly turned for it; besides that, it may in a good measure be made subservient to morality, if the person is capable of drawing just conclusions concerning the uncertainty of human things, from the ruinous alterations time and barbarity have brought upon so many palaces, cities, and whole countries, which make the most illustrious figures in history. And this hint may be not a little improved by examining every little spot of ground that

favour not only to those who come after, but to me, who can still subscribe myself, your

most humble and most obedient servant,


'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am one of that sort of women whom the gayer part of our sex are apt to call a prude. But to show them

The following paragraph, in the first edition of this paper in folio, was afterwards suppressed. It is here reprinted from the Spect. in folio, No. 364. I cannot quit this head without paying my acknow ledgments to one of the most entertaining pieces this age has produced, for the pleasure it gave me. You will easily guess that the book I have in my head is Mr Addison's Remarks upon Italy. That ingenious gentle man has with so much art and judgment applied his er illustrate the several occurrences of his travels, that act knowledge of all the parts of classical learning, work alone is a pregnant proof of what I have said Nobody that has a taste this way, can read him gi from Rome to Naples, and making Horace and Sili himself to reflect that he was not in his retinue. I am Italicus his chart, but he must feel some uneasiness in sure I wished it ten times in every page, and that no without a secret vanity to think in what state I shoul and in company with a countryman of my own, who, have travelled the Appian road, with Horace for a guide all men living, knows best how to follow his steps

hat I have very little regard to their month on the lower part of the sex, who aillery, I shall be glad to see them all at act without disguise, are very visible. It The Amorous Widow, or The Wanton is at this time that we see the young Wife, which is to be acted for the benefit wenches in a country-parish dancing round of Mrs. Porter, on Monday the 28th instant. a May-pole, which one of our learned anassure you I can laugh at an amorous tiquaries supposes to be a relick of a cerwidow, or wanton wife, with as little tempt-tain pagan worship that I do not think fit tion to imitate them, as I could at any to mention. ther vicious character. Mrs. Porter bliged me so very much in the exquisite ense she seemed to have of the honourable entiments and noble passions in the chaacter of Hermione, that I shall appear in er behalf at a comedy, though I have no reat relish for any entertainments where he mirth is not seasoned with a certain everity, which ought to recommend it to people who pretend to keep reason and auhority over all their actions. I am, sir, our frequent reader,



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THE author of the Menagiana acquaints that discoursing one day with several dies of quality about the effects of the month of May, which infuses a kindly armth into the earth, and all its inhabitnts, the marchioness of S- -, who was ne of the company, told him, that though me would promise to be chaste in every onth besides, she could not engage for erself in May. As the beginning therere of this month is now very near, I den this paper for a caveat to the fair sex, and publish it before April is quite out, at if any of them should be caught trip ng, they may not pretend they had not mely notice.

It is likewise on the first day of this month that we see the ruddy milk-maid exerting herself in a most sprightly manner under a pyramid of silver tankards, and, like the virgin Tarpeia,* oppressed by the costly ornaments which her benefactors lay upon her.

I need not mention the ceremony of the green gown, which is also peculiar to this gay season.

The same periodical love-fit spreads through the whole sex, as Mr. Dryden well observes in his description of this merry month.

'For thee, sweet month, the groves green liv'ries wear,
If not the first, the fairest of the year;
For thee the graces lead the dancing hours,
And nature's ready pencil paints the flowers.
The sprightly May commands our youth to keep
The vigils of her night, and breaks their sleep;
Each gentle breast with kindly warmth she moves,
Inspires new flames, revives extinguish'd loves.'

Accordingly, among the works of the great masters in painting, who have drawn this genial season of the year, we often observe Cupids confused with Zephyrs, flying up and down promiscuously in several from my own experience, that about this parts of the picture. I cannot but add time of the year love-letters come up to me in great numbers, from all quarters of

the nation.

last post from a Yorkshire gentleman, who I received an epistle in particular by the makes heavy complaints of one Zelinda, whom it seems he has courted unsuccessthat he designs to try her this May; and if fully these three years past. He tells me he does not carry his point, he will never think of her more.

Having thus fairly admonished the female sex, and laid before them the dangers they

I am induced to this, being persuaded the ove-mentioned observation is as well cal-in the next place lay down some rules and are exposed to in this critical month, I shall lated for our climate as that of France; directions for the better avoiding those d that some of our British ladies are of calentures which are so very frequent in e same constitution with the French archioness.

this season.

I shall leave it among physicians to deIn the first place, I would advise them mine what may be the cause of such an the company of a parent, a guardian, or never to venture abroad in the fields, but in niversary inclination; whether or no it that the spirits, after having been as it before shown how apt they are to trip in some other sober discreet person. I have ere frozen and congealed by winter, are the flowery meadow; and shall further w turned loose and set a rambling; or, observe to them, that Proserpine was out at the gay prospects of fields and meaws, with the courtship of the birds in a-maying when she met with that fatal adry bush, naturally unbend the mind, venture to which Milton alludes when he

d soften it to pleasure; or that, as some
ve imagined,
a woman is prompted by
ind of instinct to throw herself on a bed
flowers, and not to let those beautiful
uches which nature has provided lie use-
8. However it be, the effects of this


That fair field

Of Enna, where Proserpine gath'ring flowers,
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gather'd.-

*T. Livii Hist. Dec. 1. lib. i. cap. xi.

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In the second place, I cannot but approve those prescriptions which our astrological physicians give in their almanacks for this month: such as are a spare and simple diet, with a moderate use of phlebotomy."

Since I am going into quotations, I shall | That devotion to his mistress kindles in his conclude this head with Virgil's advice to mind a general tenderness, which exerts young people while they are gathering itself towards every object as well as his wild strawberries and nosegays, that they fair one. When this passion is represented should have a care of the snake in the by writers, it is common with them to engrass.' deavour at certain quaintnesses and turns of imagination, which are apparently the work of a mind at ease; but the men of true taste can easily distinguish the exertion of a mind which overflows with tender sentiments, and the labour of one which is only describing distress. In performances of this kind, the most absurd of all things is to be witty; every sentiment must grow out of the occasion, and be suitable to the circumstances of the character. Where this rule is transgressed, the humble servant in all the fine things he says, is but showing his mistress how well he can dress, instead of saying how well he loves. Lace and drapery is as much a man, as wit and turn is passion.

Under this head of abstinence I shall also advise my fair readers to be in a particular manner careful how they meddle with romances, chocolate, novels, and the like inflamers, which I look upon as very dangerous to be made use of during this great carnival of nature.

As I have often declared that I have nothing more at heart than the honour of my dear country-women, I would beg them to consider, whenever their resolutions begin to fail them, that there are but one-andthirty days of this soft season, and if they can but weather out this one month, the rest of the year will be easy to them. As for that part of the fair sex who stay in town, I would advise them to be particularly cautious how they give themselves up to their most innocent entertainments. If they cannot forbear the playhouse, I would recommend tragedy to them rather than comedy; and should think the puppet-show much safer for them than the opera, all the while the sun is in Gemini.



'MR.SPECTATOR,-The following verses are a translation of a Lapland love-song which I met with in Scheffer's history of that country. I was agreeably surprised to find a spirit of tenderness and poetry a region which I never suspected for delicacy. In hotter climates, though altogether uncivilized, I had not wondered if I had found some sweet wild notes among the natives, where they live in groves of oranges, and hear the melody of the birds about them. But a Lapland lyric, breathing sentiments of love and poetry, not unworthy old Greece or Rome; a regular ode from a climate pinched with frost, and cursed with darkness so great a part of the year; where it is amazing that the poor natives should get food, or be tempted to propagate their species-this, I confess, seemed a greater miracle to me than the famous stories of their drums, their winds, and en

The reader will observe, that this paper
is written for the use of those ladies who
think it worth while to war against nature
in the cause of honour. As for that aban-
doned crew, who do not think virtue worth
contending for, but give up their reputa-
tion at the first summons, such warnings
and premonitions are thrown away upon
them. A prostitute is the same easy crea-chantments.
ture in all months of the year, and makes
no difference between May and December.

No. 366.] Wednesday, April 30, 1712.

Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor æstiva recreatur aura;
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,

Dulce loquentem. Hor. Od. xxii. Lib. 1. 17.
Set me where on some pathless plain

The swarthy Africans complain,
To see the chariot of the sun

So near the scorching country run;

The burning zone, the frozen isles,

Shall hear me sing of Celia's smiles;
All cold, but in her breast, I will despise,
And dare all heat but that of Celia's eyes.

THERE are such wild inconsistencies in
the thoughts of a man in love, that I have
often reflected there can be no reason for
allowing him more liberty than others pos-
sessed with phrenzy, but that his distem-
per has no malevolence in it to any mortal.

I am the bolder in commending this northern song, because I have faithfully kept to the sentiments, without adding or diminishing; and pretend to no greater praise from my translation, than they who smooth and clean the furs of that country which have suffered by carriage. The numbers in the original are as loose and unequal as those in which the British ladies sport their Pindarics; and perhaps the fairest of them might not think it a disagreeable present from a lover. But I have ventured to bind it in stricter measures, as being more proper for our tongue, though perhaps wilder graces may better suit the genius of the Laponian language.

'It will be necessary to imagine that the author of this song, not having the liberty of visiting his mistress at her father's house, was in hopes of spying her at a distance in her fields.

this love-song.
* Mr. Ambrose Phillips was the supposed author of

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