of puny mortals, but of mighty cherubim. Their swords flame, not metaphorically, but they are swords of fire; they flash not by reflection of the sunbeams, like the swords of Homer, but by their own light, and that light plays not idly in the broad day, but far round illumines Hell. And lastly, they defy not a created being like themselves, but the Almighty."

BOOK II.

As when from mountain tops, &c.

Line 488.

"The reader loses half the beauty of this charming simile, who does not give particular attention to the numbers. There is a majesty in them not often equalled, and never surpassed even by this great poet himself; the movement is uncommonly slow; an effect produced by means already hinted at, the assemblage of a greater proportion of long syllables than usual. The pauses are also managed with great skill and judgment; while the clouds rise, and the heavens gather blackness, they fall in those parts of the verse, where they retard the reader most, and thus become expressive of the solemnity of the subject; but in the latter part of the simile, when the sun breaks out, and the scene brightens, they are so disposed as to allow the verse an easier and less interrupted flow, more suited to the cheerfulness of the occasion."

He concludes with the following summary of the great doctrines that form the foundation of the Paradise Lost.

"It may not be amiss, at the close of these ad

mirable speeches-as admirable for their sound divinity as for the perspicuity with which it is expressed--to allow ourselves a moment's pause, for the purpose of taking a short retrospect of the doctrines contained in them. Man, in the beginning, is placed in a probationary state, and made the arbiter of his own destiny. By his own fault, he forfeits happiness, both for himself and his descendants. But mercy interposes for his restoration. That mercy is represented as perfectly free, as vouchsafed to the most unworthy; to creatures so entirely dead in sin as to be destitute even of a sense of their need of it, and consequently too stupid even to ask it. They are also as poor as they are unfeeling; and, were it possible that they could affect themselves with a just sense and apprehension of their lapsed condition, they would have no compensation to offer to their offended Maker, nothing with which they can satisfy the demands of his justice,-in short, no atonement. In this ruinous state of their affairs, and when all hope of reconciliation seems lost for ever, the Son of God voluntarily undertakes for them,-undertakes to become the son of man also, and to suffer, in man's stead, the penalty annexed to his transgression. In consequence of this self-substitution, Christ becomes the federal head of his church, and the sole author of salvation to his people. Adam's sin was imputed to his posterity, so the faultless obedience of the second Adam is imputed to all, who, in the great concern of justification, shall renounce their own obedience as imperfect

As

and therefore incompetent. The sentence is thus reversed as to all believers: "Death is swallowed up in victory." The Saviour presents the redeemed before the throne of the Eternal Father, in whose countenance no longer any symptom of displeasure appears against them, but their joy and peace are thenceforth perfect. The general resurrection takes place; the saints are made assessors with Christ in the judgment both of men and angels; the new heaven and earth, the destined habitation of the just, succeed; the Son of God, his whole undertaking accomplished, surrenders the kingdom to his Father God becomes all in all! It is easy to see, that, among these doctrines, there are some which, in modern times, have been charged with novelty; but how new they are Milton is a witness."

Fuseli, whose labours were so unfortunately superseded, completed a series of admirable paintings from subjects furnished by the Paradise Lost; which were afterwards exhibited in London, under the name of the Milton Gallery. He thus acquired a reputation which placed him in the first rank of artists; and the amateur had the opportunity of seeing, in the Shakspeare and Milton galleries, the most distinguished painters engaged in illustrating the productions of the two greatest authors that ever adorned any age or country.*

* A popular writer paid the following eloquent tribute to these masterly specimens of professional art.

Yet mark each willing Muse, where Boydell draws, And calls the sister pow'rs in Shakspeare's cause!

This projected edition of Milton is remarkable as having laid the foundation of the intercourse, which soon ripened into friendship, between Cowper and Hayley. The latter was at that time engaged in writing a life of Milton, which gave rise to his being represented as an opponent of Cowper. To exonerate himself from such an imputation, he wrote the letter which we subjoin in a note.*

By art controll'd the fire of Reynolds breaks,
And nature's pathos in her Northcote speaks;
The Grecian forms in Hamilton combine,
Parrhasian grace and Zeuxis' softest line;

There Barry's learning meets with Romney's strength,
And Smirke portrays Thalia at full length.

Lo! Fuseli (in whose tempestuous soul,

The unnavigable tides of genius roll,)

Depicts the sulph'rous fire, the smould'ring light,
The bridge chaotic o'er the abyss of night,
With each accursed form and mystic spell,
And singly
"bears up all the fame of hell!"

Pursuits of Literature.

*Eartham, Feb. 1792.

Dear Sir-I have often been tempted, by affectionate admiration of your poetry, to trouble you with a letter; but I have repeatedly checked myself in recollecting that the vanity of believing ourselves distantly related in spirit to a man of genius is but a sorry apology for intruding on his time.

Though I resisted my desire of professing myself your friend, that I might not disturb you with intrusive familiarity, I cannot resist a desire, equally affectionate, of disclaiming an idea which I am told is imputed to me, of considering myself, on a recent occasion, as an antagonist to you. Allow me, therefore, to say, I was solicited to write a Life of Milton, for Boydell and Nichol, before I had the least idea that you and

Having detailed the circumstances connected with the edition of Milton, we return to the regular correspondence.

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.*

Weston, Dec. 10, 1793.

You mentioned, my dear friend, in your last letter, an unfavourable sprain that you had received, Mr. Fuseli were concerned in a project similar to theirs. When I first heard of your intention, I was apprehensive that we might undesignedly thwart each other; but, on seeing your proposals, I am agreeably persuaded that our respective labours will be far from clashing; as it is your design to illustrate Milton with a series of notes, and I only mean to execute a more candid life of him than his late biographer has given us, upon a plan that will, I flatter myself, be particularly pleasing to those who love the author as we do.

As to the pecuniary interest of those persons who venture large sums in expensive decoration of Milton, I am persuaded his expanding glory will support them all. Every splendid edition, where the merits of the pencil are in any degree worthy of the poet, will, I think, be secure of success. I wish it cordially to all; as I have great affection for the arts, and a sincere regard for those whose talents reflect honour upon them.

To you, my dear Sir, I have a grateful attachment, for the infinite delight which your writings have afforded me; and if, in the course of your work, I have any opportunity to serve or oblige you, I shall seize it with that friendly spirit which has impelled me at present to assure you, both in prose and rhyme, that I am your cordial admirer,

W. HAYLEY.

P.S. I wrote the enclosed sonnet on being told that our names had been idly printed together, in a newspaper, as

* Private Correspondence.