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tenderness, imagination, and harmony, are regarded as genuine sources of poetical delight.

The effect of this favorite composition is exactly such as the poet intended to produce; it first engages the heart with the simplicity of just and natural sorrow, and then proceeds to elevate the mind with magnificent images, ennobled by affectionate and devotional enthusiasm.

The beauties of this pathetic and sublime monody are sufficiently obvious; but the reader who compares it with a poem on the same subject by Cleveland, once the popular rival of Milton, may derive pleasure from perceiving how infinitely our favorite poet has excelled, on this occasion, an eminent antagonist.

Though we find no circumstances, that may ascertain the date of the Allegro and Pensoroso, it seems probable, that those two enchanting pictures of rural life, and of the diversified delights arising from a contemplative mind, were composed at Horton. It was, perhaps, in the same situation, so

favorable to fancy, that Milton wrote the incomparable Latin poem addressed to his father. There are, indeed, some expressions in this performance, which may favor an opinion, that it ought to bear an earlier date; but it has such strength and manliness of sentiment, as incline me to suppose it written at this period; an idea that seems almost confirmed by the lines, that speak of his application to French and Italian, after the completion of his classical studies.

Whatever date may be assigned to it, the composition deserves our particular regard, since, of all his poems, it does the highest honor to his heart.

With what energy and tenderness is his filial gratitude expressed in the following graceful exordium:

Nunc mea Pierios cupiam per pectora fontes
Irriguas torquére vias, totumque per ora
Volvere laxatum gemino de vertice rivum,
Ut tenues oblita sonos, audacibus alis
Surgat in officium venerandi musa parentis.
Hoc utcunque tibi gratum, pater optime, carmen

Exiguum meditatur opus: nec novimus ipsi
Aptius a nobis quae possint munera donis
quæ

Respondere tuis, quamvis nec maxima possint
Respondere tuis, nedum ut par gratia donis
Esse queat, vacuis quæ redditur arida verbis.

O that Pieria's spring would thro' my breast
Pour it's inspiring influence, and rush
No rill, but rather an o'er-flowing flood!
That for my venerable father's sake,

All meaner themes renounc'd, my muse, on wings
Of duty borne, might reach a loftier strain!
For thee, my father, howsoe'er it please,
She frames this slender work; nor know I aught
That may thy gifts more suitably requite;
Tho' to requite them suitably would ask
Returns much nobler, and surpassing far
The meagre gifts of verbal gratitude.

How elegant is the praise he bestows on the musical talents of his father, and how pleasing the exulting and affectionate spirit, with which he speaks of their social and kindred studies!

Nec tu perge, precor, sacras contemnere Musas Nec vanas inopesque puta, quarum ipse peritus

Munere, mille sonos numeros componis ad aptos,
Millibus et vocem modulis variare canoram

Doctus, Arionii merito sis nominis hæres.
Nunc tibi quid mirum, si me genuisse poetam
Contigerit, charo si tam prope sanguine juncti,
Cognatas artes, studiumque affine sequamur?
Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus,
Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti;
Dividuumque deum, genitorque puerque, tenemus.
Tu tamen ut simules teneras odisse camænas,
Non odisse reor; neque enim, pater, ire jubebas
Qua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri,
Certaque condendi fulget spes aurea nummi:
Nec rapis ad leges, male custoditaque gentis
Jura, nec insulsis damnas clamoribus aures;
Sed magis excultam cupiens ditescere mentem,
Me procul urbano strepitu, secessibus altis
Abductum, Aoniæ jucunda per otia ripæ,
Phoebæo lateri comitem sinis ire beatum.

Nor thou persist, I pray thee, still to slight
The sacred Nine, and to imagine vain
And useless, powers, by whom inspir'd thyself
Art skilful to associate verse with airs
Harmonious, and to give the human voice
A thousand modulations! Heir by right
Indisputable of Arion's fame!

Now say! What wonder is it, if a son

Of thine delight in verse; if so conjoin'd
In close affinity, we sympathize

In social arts, and kindred studies sweet:
Such distribution of himself to us

Was Phoebus' choice; thou hast thy gift, and I
Mine also, and between us we receive,
Father and son, the whole inspiring God.
No ho wsoe'er the semblance thou assume
Of hate, thou hatest not the gentle muse,
My father! for thou never bad'st me tread
The beaten path and broad, that leads right on
To opulence; nor didst condemn thy son
To the insipid clamors of the bar,

To laws voluminous and ill observ'd;
But wishing to enrich me more, to fill
My mind with treasure, ledst me far away
From civic din to deep retreats, to banks
And streams Aonian, and with free consent
Didst place me happy at Apollo's side.

The poet seems to have had a prophetic view of the singular calumnies, that awaited his reputation, and to have anticipated his triumph, over all his adversaries, in the following magnanimous exclamation :

Este procul vigiles curæ procul este querela !
Invidiæque acies transverso tortilis hirquo!