embossed vases, or whatever of that sort mortals admire, it
were certainly to my shame not to have some time or other made
you a remuneration in return, as far as my faculties might
serve. Your gift of the day before yesterday, however, having
been such a sprightly and elegant set of Hendecasyllabics, you
have, just in proportion to the superiority of that gift to
anything in the form of gold, made us the more anxious to find
some dainty means by which to repay the kindness of so
pleasant a favour. We had, indeed, at hand some things of our
own of this same kind, but such as I could nowise deem fit to
be sent in contest of equality of gift with yours. I send,
therefore, what is not exactly mine, but belongs also to the
truly divine poet, this ode of whom, only last week, with no
deliberate intention certainly, but from I know not what
sudden impulse before daybreak, I adapted, almost in bed, to
the rule of Greek heroic verse: with the effect, it seems,
that, relying on this coadjutor, who surpasses you no less in
his subject than you surpass me in art, I should have
something that might have a resemblance of approach to a
balancing of accounts. Should anything meet you in it not
coming up to your usual opinion of our productions, understand
that, since I left your school, this is the first and only
thing I have composed in Greek,—employing myself, as you
know, more willingly in Latin and English matters; inasmuch
as whoever spends study and pains in this age on Greek
composition runs a risk of singing mostly to the deaf. . . .
From our suburban residence (_E nostro suburbano_), December
4, 1634.
_To Charles Diodati._ (_Familiar Letters_, No. VI.)
Now at length I see plainly that what you are driving at is to
vanquish me sometimes in the art of obstinate silence; and, if
it is so, bravo! have that little glory over us, for behold!
we write first. All the same, if ever the question should come
into contention why neither has written to the other for so
long, do not think but that I shall stand by many degrees the
more excused of the two,—manifestly so indeed, as being one
by nature slow and lazy to write, as you well know; while you,
on the other hand, whether by nature or by habit, are wont
without difficulty to be drawn into epistolary correspondence
of this sort. It makes also for my favour that I know your
method of studying to be so arranged that you frequently take
breath in the middle, visit your friends, write much,
sometimes make a journey, whereas my genius is such that no
delay, no rest, no care or thought almost of anything, holds
me aside until I reach the end I am making for, and round
off, as it were, some great period of my studies. . . .
LONDON, September 2, 1637.
_To Charles Diodati._ (_Familiar Letters_, No. VII.)
. . . What besides God has resolved concerning me I know not,
but this at least: _He has instilled into me, if into any one,
a vehement love of the beautiful._ Not with so much labour, as
the fables have it, is Ceres said to have sought her daughter
Proserpina as it is my habit day and night to seek for this
_idea of the beautiful_, as for a certain image of supreme
beauty, through all the forms and faces of things (_for many
are the shapes of things divine_), and to follow it as it
leads me on by some sure traces which I seem to recognize.
Hence it is that, when any one scorns what the vulgar opine in
their depraved estimation of things, and dares to feel and
speak and be that which the highest wisdom throughout all ages
has taught to be best, to that man I attach myself forthwith
by a kind of real necessity, wherever I find him. If, whether
by nature or by my fate, I am so circumstanced that by no
effort or labour of mine can I myself rise to such an honour
and elevation, yet that I should always worship and look up to
those who have attained that glory, or happily aspire to it,
neither gods nor men, I reckon, have bidden nay.
But now I know you wish to have your curiosity satisfied. You
make many anxious inquiries, even as to what I am at present
thinking of. Hearken, Theodotus, but let it be in your private
ear, lest I blush; and allow me for a little to use big
language with you. You ask what I am thinking of? So may the
good Deity help me, of immortality! And what am I doing?
_Growing my wings_ and meditating flight; but as yet our
Pegasus raises himself on very tender pinions. Let us be lowly
wise!
* * * * *
I have by continuous reading brought down the affairs of the
Greeks as far as the time when they ceased to be Greeks. I
have been long engaged in the obscure business of the state of
Italians under the Longobards, the Franks, and the Germans,
down to the time when liberty was granted them by Rodolph,
King of Germany: from that period it will be better to read
separately what each City did by its own wars. . . .
LONDON, September 23, 1637.
_To Benedetto Bonmattei of Florence._ (_Familiar Letters_, No. VIII.)
. . . I, certainly, who have not wet merely the tips of my
lips with both those tongues, but have, as much as any, to the
full allowance of my years, drained their deeper draughts, can
yet sometimes willingly and eagerly go for a feast to that
Dante of yours, and to Petrarch, and a good few more; nor has
Attic Athens herself, with her pellucid Ilissus, nor that old
Rome with her bank of the Tiber, been able so to hold me but
that I love often to visit your Arno and these hills of
Fæsule. See now, I entreat, whether it has not been with
enough of providential cause that _I_ have been given to you
for these few days, as your latest guest from the ocean, who
am so great a lover of your nation that, as I think, there is
no other more so. . . .
FLORENCE, September 10, 1638.
_Mansus_
Milton's Latin poem addressed to Manso, Marquis of Villa, in grateful
acknowledgment of the distinguished attention which had been shown him
by the aged Marquis, during his stay in Naples, contains the first
intimation in his writings of his contemplating an epic poem to be based
on the legendary or mythical history of Britain, with King Arthur for
its hero.
The following is Masson's quite literal prose translation of vv. 70-100:
. . . 'Oh that my lot might yield me such a friend, one who should know
as well how to decorate Apollo's children, if perchance I shall ever
call back into verse our native kings, and Arthur stirring wars even
under the earth that hides him, or speak of the great-souled heroes, the
knights of the unconquered Table, bound in confederate brotherhood, and
(Oh may the spirit be present to me!) break the Saxon phalanxes under
the British Mars. Then, when, having measured out the period of a not
silent life, and full of years, I shall leave the dust its due, he would
stand by my bed with wet eyes; it would be enough if I said to him
standing by "Let me be thy charge;" he would see that my limbs, slacked
in livid death, were softly laid in the narrow coffin; perchance he
would bring out from the marble our features, wreathing the hair either
with the leaf of Paphian myrtle or with that of Parnassian laurel; but I
should repose in secure peace. Then, too, if faith is aught, if there
are assured rewards of the good, I myself, withdrawn into the ether of
the heaven-housed gods, whither labour and the pure mind and the fire of
virtue carry us, shall behold these things from some part of the unseen
world, as far as the fates allow, and, smiling serene, with soul entire,
shall feel my face suffused with the purple light, and applaud myself
the while in the joy of ethereal Olympus.'
_From the 'Areopagitica: a speech for the liberty of unlicensed
printing. To the Parliament of England'_
And lest some should persuade ye, lords and commons, that
these arguments of learned men's discouragement at this your
order are mere flourishes, and not real, I could recount what
I have seen and heard in other countries, where this kind of
inquisition tyrannizes; when I have sat among their learned
men, (for that honour I had,) and been counted happy to be
born in such a place of philosophic freedom, as they supposed
England was, while themselves did nothing but bemoan the
servile condition into which learning amongst them was
brought; that this was it which had damped the glory of
Italian wits; that nothing had been there written now these
many years but flattery and fustian. There it was that I found
and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the
Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the
Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought. And though I knew
that England then was groaning loudest under the prelatical
yoke, nevertheless I took it as a pledge of future happiness,
that other nations were so persuaded of her liberty.
Yet was it beyond my hope, that those worthies were then
breathing in her air, who should be her leaders to such a
deliverance, as shall never be forgotten by any revolution of
time that this world hath to finish. When that was once begun,
it was as little in my fear, that what words of complaint I
heard among learned men of other parts uttered against the
Inquisition, the same I should hear, by as learned men at
home, uttered in time of parliament against an order of
licensing; and that so generally, that when I had disclosed
myself a companion of their discontent, I might say, if
without envy, that he whom an honest quæstorship had endeared
to the Sicilians, was not more by them importuned against
Verres, than the favourable opinion which I had among many
who honour ye, and are known and respected by ye, loaded me
with entreaties and persuasions, that I would not despair to
lay together that which just reason should bring into my mind,
towards the removal of an undeserved thraldom upon learning.
_To Lucas Holstenius in the Vatican at Rome._ (_Familiar Letters_, No.
IX.)
Although I both can and often do remember many courteous and
most friendly acts done me by many in this my passage through
Italy, yet, for so brief an acquaintance, I do not know
whether I can justly say that from any one I have had greater
proofs of goodwill than those which have come to me from you.
For, when I went up to the Vatican for the purpose of meeting
you, though a total stranger to you,—unless perchance
anything had been previously said about me to you by Alexander
Cherubini,—you received me with the utmost courtesy. Admitted
at once with politeness into the Museum, I was allowed to
behold the superb collection of books, and also very many
manuscript Greek authors set forth with your
explanations,—some of whom, not yet seen in our age, seemed
now, in their array, like Virgil's
penitus convalle virenti
Inclusæ animæ superumque ad lumen ituræ, (vi. 679)
to demand the active hands of the printer, and a delivery into
the world, while others, already edited by your care, are
eagerly received everywhere by scholars:—dismissed, too,
richer than I came, with two copies of one of these last
presented to me by yourself. Then, I could not but believe
that it was in consequence of the mention you made of me to
the most excellent Cardinal Francesco Barberini that, when he,
a few days after, gave that public musical entertainment
with truly Roman magnificence (ἀκρόαμα illud musicum
magnificentiâ vere Romanâ publice exhiberet), he himself,
waiting at the doors, and seeking me out in so great a crowd,
almost seizing me by the hand, indeed, admitted me within
in a truly most honourable manner. Further, when, on this
account, I went to pay my respects to him next day, you again
were the person that both made access for me and obtained me
an opportunity of leisurely conversation with him—an
opportunity such as, with so great a man,—than whom, on the
topmost summit of dignity, nothing more kind, nothing more
courteous,—was truly, place and time considered, too ample
rather than too sparing. . . .
FLORENCE, March 30, 1639.
_Epitaphium Damonis_
The 'Epitaphium Damonis' is a pastoral elegy, occasioned by the death of
Charles Diodati, which occurred in the summer or autumn of 1638, while
Milton was on his continental tour. As an expression of the poet's grief
for the loss of his boyhood's and early manhood's dearest, most
intimate, and sympathetic friend, it has a general autobiographic
character; but it contains one passage (vv. 161-178), having a special
interest of the kind, in which he again alludes to his contemplated epic
poem, to be based on the legendary history of Britain.
The following is Masson's translation of the Argument and of vv.
161-178:
'Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds of the same neighbourhood, following the
same pursuits, were friends from their boyhood, in the highest degree of
mutual attachment. Thyrsis, having set out to travel for mental
improvement, received news when abroad of Damon's death. Afterwards at
length returning, and finding the matter to be so, he deplores himself
and his solitary condition in the following poem. Under the guise of
Damon, however, is here understood Charles Diodati, tracing his descent
on the father's side from the Tuscan city of Lucca, but otherwise
English—a youth remarkable, while he lived, for his genius, his
learning, and other most shining virtues.'
'Go unpastured, my lambs: your master now heeds not your bleating.
_I_ have a theme of the Trojans cruising our southern headlands
Shaping to song, and the realm of Imogen, daughter of Pandras,
Brennus and Arvirach, dukes, and Bren's bold brother, Belinus;
Then the Armorican settlers under the laws of the Britons,
Ay, and the womb of Igraine fatally pregnant with Arthur,
Uther's son, whom he got disguised in Gorlois' likeness,
All by Merlin's craft. Oh then, if life shall be spared me,
Thou shalt be hung, my pipe, far off on some brown dying pine tree,
Much forgotten of me; or else your Latian music
Changed for the British war-screech! What then? For one to do all
things,
One to hope all things, fits not! Prize sufficiently ample
Mine, and distinction great (unheard of ever thereafter
Though I should be, and inglorious, all through the world of the
stranger),
If but yellow-haired Ouse shall read me, the drinker of Alan,
Humber, which whirls as it flows, and Trent's whole valley of
orchards,
Thames, my own Thames, above all, and Tamar's western waters,
Tawny with ores, and where the white waves swinge the far Orkneys.'
_From 'Of Reformation in England'_
Oh, sir, I do now feel myself inwrapped on the sudden into
those mazes and labyrinths of dreadful and hideous thoughts,
that which way to get out, or which way to end, I know not,
unless I turn mine eyes, and with your help lift up my hands
to that eternal and propitious Throne, where nothing is
readier than grace and refuge to the distresses of mortal
suppliants: and it were a shame to leave these serious
thoughts less piously than the heathen were wont to conclude
their graver discourses.
Thou, therefore, that sittest in light and glory
unapproachable, Parent of angels and men! next, thee I
implore, omnipotent King, Redeemer of that lost remnant whose
nature thou didst assume, ineffable and everlasting Love! and
thou, the third subsistence of divine infinitude, illumining
Spirit, the joy and solace of created things! one Tripersonal
godhead! look upon this thy poor and almost spent and expiring
church, leave her not thus a prey to these importunate wolves,
that wait and think long till they devour thy tender flock;
these wild boars that have broke into thy vineyard, and left
the print of their polluting hoofs on the souls of thy
servants. Oh! let them not bring about their damned designs,
that stand now at the entrance of the bottomless pit,
expecting the watchword to open and let out those dreadful
locusts and scorpions, to reinvolve us in that pitchy cloud of
infernal darkness, where we shall never more see the sun of
thy truth again, never hope for the cheerful dawn, never more
hear the bird of morning sing. Be moved with pity at the
afflicted state of this our shaken monarchy, that now lies
labouring under her throes, and struggling against the grudges
of more dreaded calamities.
O thou, that, after the impetuous rage of five bloody
inundations, and the succeeding sword of intestine war,
soaking the land in her own gore, didst pity the sad and
ceaseless revolution of our swift and thick-coming sorrows;
when we were quite breathless, of thy free grace didst motion
peace, and terms of covenant with us; and having first well
nigh freed us from antichristian thraldom, didst build up this
Britannic empire to a glorious and enviable height, with all
her daughter-islands about her; stay us in this felicity, let
not the obstinacy of our half-obedience and will-worship bring
forth that viper of sedition, that for these fourscore years
hath been breeding to eat through the entrails of our peace;
but let her cast her abortive spawn without the danger of this
travailing and throbbing kingdom: that we may still remember
in our solemn thanksgivings, how for us, the northern ocean
even to the frozen Thule was scattered with the proud
shipwrecks of the Spanish armada, and the very maw of hell
ransacked, and made to give up her concealed destruction, ere
she could vent it in that horrible and damned blast.
Oh how much more glorious will those former deliverances
appear, when we shall know them not only to have saved us from
greatest miseries past, but to have reserved us for greatest
happiness to come! Hitherto thou hast but freed us, and that
not fully, from the unjust and tyrannous claim of thy foes;
now unite us entirely, and appropriate us to thyself, tie us
everlastingly in willing homage to the prerogative of thy
eternal throne.
And now we know, O thou our most certain hope and defence,
that thine enemies have been consulting all the sorceries of
the great whore, and have joined their plots with that sad
intelligencing tyrant that mischiefs the world with his mines
of Ophir, and lies thirsting to revenge his naval ruins that
have larded our seas: but let them all take counsel together,
and let it come to nought; let them decree, and do thou cancel
it; let them gather themselves, and be scattered; let them
embattle themselves, and be broken; let them embattle, and be
broken, for thou art with us.
_Then, amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints, some one
may perhaps be heard offering at high strains in new and lofty
measures, to sing and celebrate thy divine mercies and
marvellous judgments in this land throughout all ages_;
whereby this great and warlike nation, instructed and inured
to the fervent and continual practice of truth and
righteousness, and casting far from her the rags of her old
vices, may press on hard to that high and happy emulation to
be found the soberest, wisest, and most Christian people at
that day, when thou, the eternal and shortly-expected King,
shalt open the clouds to judge the several kingdoms of the
world, and distributing national honours and rewards to
religious and just commonwealths, shalt put an end to all
earthly tyrannies, proclaiming thy universal and mild monarchy
through heaven and earth; where they undoubtedly, that by
their labours, counsels, and prayers, have been earnest for
the common good of religion and their country, shall receive
above the inferior orders of the blessed, the regal addition
of principalities, legions, and thrones into their glorious
titles, and in supereminence of beatific vision, progressing
the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity, shall clasp
inseparable hands with joy and bliss, in overmeasure for ever.
_From 'Animadversions upon the Remonstrant's Defence,' etc._
O thou the ever-begotten Light and perfect Image of the
Father! thou hast opened our difficult and sad times, and
given us an unexpected breathing after our long oppressions:
thou hast done justice upon those that tyrannized over us,
while some men wavered and admired a vain shadow of wisdom in
a tongue nothing slow to utter guile, though thou hast taught
us to admire only that which is good, and to count that only
praiseworthy, which is grounded upon thy divine precepts. Thou
hast discovered the plots, and frustrated the hopes, of all
the wicked in the land, and put to shame the persecutors of
thy church: thou hast made our false prophets to be found a
lie in the sight of all the people, and chased them with
sudden confusion and amazement before the redoubled brightness
of thy descending cloud, that now covers thy tabernacle. Who
is there that cannot trace thee now in thy beamy walk through
the midst of thy sanctuary, amidst those golden candlesticks,
which have long suffered a dimness amongst us through the
violence of those that had seized them, and were more taken
with the mention of their gold than of their starry light;
teaching the doctrine of Balaam, to cast a stumbling-block
before thy servants, commanding them to eat things sacrificed
to idols, and forcing them to fornication? Come, therefore, O
thou that hast the seven stars in thy right hand, appoint thy
chosen priests according to their orders and courses of old,
to minister before thee, and duly to press and pour out the
consecrated oil into thy holy and ever-burning lamps. Thou has
sent out the spirit of prayer upon thy servants over all the
land to this effect, and stirred up their vows as the sound of
many waters about thy throne. Every one can say, that now
certainly thou hast visited this land, and hast not forgotten
the utmost corners of the earth, in a time when men had
thought that thou wast gone up from us to the furthest end of
the heavens, and hadst left to do marvellously among the sons
of these last ages. Oh perfect and accomplish thy glorious
acts! for men may leave their works unfinished, but thou art a
God, thy nature is perfection: shouldst thou bring us thus far
onward from Egypt to destroy us in this wilderness, though we
deserve, yet thy great name would suffer in the rejoicing of
thine enemies, and the deluded hope of all thy servants. When
thou hast settled peace in the church, and righteous judgment
in the kingdom, then shall all thy saints address their
voices of joy and triumph to thee, standing on the shore of
that Red Sea into which our enemies had almost driven us. _And
he that now for haste snatches up a plain ungarnished present
as a thank-offering to thee, which could not be deferred in
regard of thy so many late deliverances wrought for us one
upon another, may then perhaps take up a harp, and sing thee
an elaborate song to generations._ In that day it shall no
more be said as in scorn, this or that was never held so till
this present age, when men have better learnt that the times
and seasons pass along under thy feet to go and come at thy
bidding: and as thou didst dignify our fathers' days with many
revelations above all the foregoing ages, since thou tookest
the flesh; so thou canst vouchsafe to us (though unworthy) as
large a portion of thy Spirit as thou pleasest: for who shall
prejudice thy all-governing will? seeing the power of thy
grace is not passed away with the primitive times, as fond and
faithless men imagine, but thy kingdom is now at hand, and
thou standing at the door. Come forth out of thy royal
chambers, O Prince of all the kings of the earth! put on the
visible robes of thy imperial majesty, take up that unlimited
sceptre which thy Almighty Father hath bequeathed thee; for
now the voice of thy bride calls thee, and all creatures sigh
to be renewed.
_From 'The Reason of Church Government urged against Prelaty'_