fluenced by his bigotry and prejudices, Dr. Johnson impugned the character of Milton, in particulars, where neither bigotry nor prejudice could make its appearance without immediate detection and exposure. The consequence is, that every man of honour esteems it a duty to vindicate the poet from the aspersions of his biographer; and the popularity of the bard is incalculably augmented, in mere counteraction of the malignity of his critic.

Among others, Mr. Hayley interested himself in composing a Life of this eminent British poet, in which the favourable features of his charac

ter are placed most distinctly in our sight, and no opportunity of removing a blemish is suffered to escape unimproved. His temper, his character, his expectations, his hopes, and his fears, pass in review before us; and his conduct is pronounced honourable, disinterested, and benevolent. What he himself terms his " devotion to his country," and seems to boast of, as his ruling passion, has been imputed to him as his most atrocious crime. Without making any allowances for the difficulty of relinquishing an office undertaken intentionally to benefit the public, his continuance in the service of Cromwell has been charged on him, as an approbation and support of the principles and the practices of his master, generally. Mr. Hayley's arguments in justification of Milton, on this subject, will, probably, be deemed not the least ingenious part of his perform

ance:

Though Cromwell had assumed the title of Protector, when Milton in his second defence sketched a masterly portrait of him (as we have seen he did of Bradshaw in the same production) yet the new potentate had not, at this period, completely unveiled his domineering and oppressive character; on the contrary, he affected, with the greatest art, such tender concern for the people; he represented himself, both in his public and private protestations, so perfectly free from all ambitious desires, that many persons, who possessed not the noble un

a

suspecting simplicity of Milton, believed the Protector sincere in declaring that he reluctantly submitted to the cares of government, merely for the settlement and security of the nation. With a mind full

of fervid admiration for his marvellous achievements, and generally disposed to give him credit for every upright intention, Milton hailed him as the father of his country, and delineated his character; if there were some particles of flattery in his panegyric, which, if we adhere to our author's just definition of flattery, we cannot allow, it was completely purified from every cloud or speck of servility, by the most splendid and sublime admonition that was ever given to a man possessed of great talents and great power by a genuine and dauntless friend, to whom talents and power were only objects of reverence, when under the real or fancied direction of piety and virtue.

"Revere (says Milton to the Protector) the great expectation, the only hope, which our country now rests upon yourevere the sight and the sufferings of so many brave men, who, under your guidance, have fought so strenuously for freedom-revere the credit we have gained in foreign nations-reflect on the great things they promise themselves from our liberty, so acquired; from our republic, so gloriously founded, which, should it perish, sh, like an abortion, must expose our country to the utmost contempt and dishonour.

"Finally, revere yourself; and having sought and sustained every hardship and danger for the acquisition of this liberty, let it not be violated by yourself, or impaired by others, in the smallest degree. In truth, it is impossible for you to be free yourself unless we are so; for it is the ordinance of nature, that the man who first invades the liberty of others

must first lose his own; and first feel himself a slave. This indeed is just. But if the very patron and tutelary angel of liberty, if he who is generally regarded as pre-eminent in justice, in sanctity, and virtue; if he should ultimately invade that liberty which he asserted himself, such invasion must indeed be pernicious and fatal, not only to himself, but to the general interest of piety and virtue. Truth, probity, and religion would then lose the estimation and confidence of mankind, the worst of wounds, since the fall of our first parents, that could be inflicted on the "human race. You have taken upon you a burthen of weight inexpressible: it will put to the severest perpetual test the inmost qualities, virtues, and

powers of your heart and soul: it will determine whether there really exists in your character that piety, faith, justice, and moderation, for the sake of which we believe you raised above others, by the influence of God, to this supreme charge.

"To direct three most powerful nations by your counsel, to endeavour to reclaim the people from their depraved institutions to better conduct and discipline, to send forth into remotest regions your anxious spirit and incessant thoughts, to watch, to foresee, to shrink from no labour, to spurn every allurement of pleasure, to avoid the ostentation of opulence and power; these are arduous duties, in comparison of which war itself is mere sport; these will search and prove you; they require indeed a man supported by the assistance of heaven, and almost admonished and instructed by immediate intercourse with God. These and more, I doubt

not, but you diligently revolve in your mind, and this in particular, by what methods you may be most able to accomplish things of highest moment, and secure to us our liberty not only safe but enlarged." If a private individual thus speaking to a man of unbounded influence, whom a powerful nation had idolized and courted to assume the reins of government, can be called a flatterer, we have only to wish that all the flatterers of earthly power may be of the same complexion. The admonition to the people with which Milton concludes his second defence, is by no means inferior in dignity and spirit to the advice he bestowed on the Protector. The great misfortune of the monitor was, that the two parties to whom he addressed his eloquent and patriotic exhortation, were neither of them so worthy of his counsel as he wished them to be, and en

deavoured to make them. For Cromwell, as his subsequent conduct sufficiently proved, was a political impostor with an arbitrary soul: and as to the people, they were alternately the dishonoured instruments and victims of licentiousness and

fanaticism. The protector, his adherents, and his enemies, to speak of them in general, were as little able to reach the disinterested purity of Milton's principles, as they were to attain, and even to estimate the sublimity of his poetical genius. But Milton, who passionately loved his country though he saw and lamented the va

rious corruptions of his contemporaries, still continued to hope, with the native ardour of a sanguine spirit, that the mass of the English people would be enlightened and improved.

It is probable that this earnest desire for the enlightening and improvement of his countrymen, biassed the mind of Milton, not only to expect what was not to be realized, but also to a kind of submissive acquiescence in the person, whoever he might be, from whom such blessings were awaited: and if he considered Cromwell as raised up by Providence for such purposes, he might deem it his duty to assist in fulfilling those purposes, whatever direction his opinion of Cromwell might take. "It is evident," says Mr. H. "that he had no secret intimacy or influence with the Protector; and that instead of engaging in ambitious machinations, he confined himself as much as possible to the privacy of domestic life." Though the poetical panegyrics of others encircled even the grave of that extraordinary man, yet Milton praised him no more;-disappointed as Mr. H. conjectures, in his " generous hopes."

Milton has been charged, moreover, with acrimony of temper, with acting tyrannically in his family, with alienating the affections of his wife, and embittering the best days of his children. Unhappily for him, that spirit of party to which we have already alluded, interrupted the conjugal harmony of our poet and his bride, as it did that of thousands. He and his family had formerly suffered from the persecution of Papists; therefore he hated Popery: his wife and her family detested the eccentricities of fanaticism: he was for liberty; she was for monarchical supremacy. The confusions of the times annulled their domestic arrangements and their fire-side comforts were ba

nished.

Only those who have had some acquaintance with persons of advanced age, can so much as guess what was suffered by individuals and by families, from the paroxysms of party madness. History has said something in respect to the afflictions sustained by the nation; but those which em

bittered private life she has relinquished to the report of tradition.

Milton is, however, best known among us as a poet, and in this character he is entitled to his due share of applause and honour, independent of his failings or his fancies as a man. Mr. H. takes a great delight in tracing the career of his studies, and watches his course, while in Italy especially, with an ardent eye. It is every way credible that Milton should have meditated his immortal work, long before he determined in earnest to undertake it. And that, when he did resolve to commence it, he should revolve in his mind what he had seen, or heard, or fancied, or conjectured, or discussed, that could be brought to bear on his subject, is highly probable. We think nothing the worse of his talents, if he really did avail himself of his remarks made many years before, on what he approved or disapproved in the performances of those who had treated the subject of the fall of Adam, whether in verse or prose. Among these, certainly the "Adam" of Andrieni, now first translated by Messrs. Cowper and Hayley, holds a distinguished place. It has much of Miltonic fancy in it: but to render the proof complete it should be known whether the original were rare or common, in repute or in disgrace, when Milton was in Italy. In proportion to its renown or scarcity would be the chance of its perusal by a traveller. The same may be said of other works on this or on any other subject. Milton did not seek with antiquarian diligence, but he read what casualty threw in his way. We must, however, acknowledge our obligations to the translators of this spirited poem: it adds to our enjoyment of Paradise Lost. Other, though minor works on the same subject, have been déterré by the biographer's industry.

But those exertions in which the muse of Cowper took most delight, and which probably will be thought by his admirers the most curious por

tion of these volumes, are the translations of the minor poems and sonnets. They are carefully and even anxiously executed; but with such judicious choice of words, and so close assimilation to Milton's spirit, that could the poet rise from his grave, he would feel nothing but complacency were they ascribed to his pen. What differences they manifest are rather to be attributed to the changes in our language; and these, we think, have improved its harmony, without diminishing its strength. We shall insert a specimen of these sonnets:

To Charles Diodati. Charles-and I say it wond'ring-thou must know

That I, who once assumed a scornful air,

And scoffed at love, am fallen in his

Cowper's reasons for not translating the poems on the Gunpowder Treason, are honourable to his candour and liberality of spirit:

The pure mind of Cowper was a stranger, in its own feelings, to the common animosities of the world; and he was, on all occasions, evangelically disposed to promote peace and good-will among men. How much he was influenced by an amiable desire to avoid what might awaken or increase enmity and bitterness of spirit, he has shown in the course of these translations from Milton, by omitting to translate compositions of extreme severity against the Catholics, and by thus decla

ring his reason for the omission:

"The Poems on the subject of the Gun. powder Treason I have not translated;

both because the matter of them is unpleasant, and because they are written with an asperity, which, however it might be warranted in Milton's day, would be extremely unseasonable now!"

In writing to Mr. Johnson, on this subject, he explained his sentiments still further :

"Weston, Oct. 30, 1791.

"We and the papists are at present on amicable terms. They have behaved themselves peaceably many years, and have lately received favours from government: I should think, therefore, that the dying embers of ancient animosity had

better not to be troubled."

The translator likewise omitted a few of the minuter poems, which he thought not worthy of ranking with the rest; a privilege that the editor has also exerted!

It must be acknowledged that Milton from his earliest years felt himself born for no vulgar purposes, nor made of vulgar materials. He soon meditated high things; and he attempted them: first, no doubt, in politics; afterwards in poesy. such a charge he is most surely exposed: had he died a few years sooner than he did, he would have been deemed presuming.

To

Mr. Hayley's mind has been equally intent on promoting the reputation of his friend Cowper, as on vindicating the memory of Milton. He has succeeded in both purposes; for though the annotations of his friend are but slight and unfinished, yet they are sufficient evidences of correct judgment and good taste to induce a wish for more from the same pen, as well as for the completion of these. We know no greater proof of success to a certain point. The names of Cow

per and Hayley will go down to pos

terity together: and this is a gratification to the survivor, though his friend sleeps.

THE Jacobite Ballads, which compose the third class in this interesting volume, are judiciously divided into two portions: the one relating to the rebellion of 1715, and the other, to that of 1745. The latter have the most merit; as though the fury of political rancour had any connection with the inspirations of genius, or that men, who are disturbed by feelings too recently excited by a legitimate object, are unable to subdue them to the influence either of reason or a regulated imagination.

The publication of these ballads in the present day can have no evil tendency: but the spirit with which they are written; the keen and manly satire which they contain, their sarcastic ridicule, and their animating enthusiasm must have produced a powerful effect on the minds of those for whom they were intended. When poetry, patriotism, and revenge go hand in hand, the issue must be mighty. The lyric effusions of native bards have, in all rude ages, especially, incited the warrior to deeds of glory. Popular tunes, deeply connected with the feelings of home and all its numerous circumstances, have a similar effect, as the well known fact of the Rance de Vaches, testifies. Loyalty or disaffection may be inspired, nourished, and propagated from sire to son, by the simple vehicle of national songs: and we have the testimony of Burnet as to the effect produced by the tune and words of Lillibullero in Ireland. It has been said, indeed, and with some probability of truth, that the nautical songs of a living writer, (Dibdin)

have contributed to the production of that fearless courage, rough sincerity, and careless jollity, which are so characteristic of a British sailor: and we can well believe that a Scotch Highlander has his animosity to the house of Brunswick as well as his devotion to the exiled race of Stuart, heightened by such effusions as "The wee, wee German Lairdie," "To Daunton me," "Cumberland and Murray's descent into Hell," &c. It is a truth which the philosopher is forced to confess, that the passions of men, when once excited, are kept in a state of energy by the simplest provocatives: a word, a look, an action, inconceivably trivial in themselves, will stimulate thousands, engaged in a common cause, to the wildest excesses. The Roman and Grecian republics, the tumults in the Italian states, the civil wars in England, the French revolution, and even the petty mobs at an election, all furnish proofs of this. They, over whom nobler incentives would have no power, may be driven any where, and to any purpose, by a word, a song, or a tune.

We shall now proceed to extract one or two of the Jacobite Ballads as specimens of that inveterate hatred which animated one part of the Scottish nation for many years:

'THE WEE, WEE GERMAN LAIRDIE Wha the deil hae we got for a king,

But a wee, wee German lairdie!
An' whan we gade to bring him hame,
He was delving in his kail-yardie.
Sheughing kail an' laying leeks,
But the hose and but the breeks,
Up his beggar duds he cleeks,
The wee, wee German lairdie.