Which else would feel with universal pain:

With pleasing sweetness, and resplendent shine, Soft'ning the wanton touch, and wand'ring eyne, Doth oft the Prince himself with witch'ries undermine.

*

*

With Gustus Linqua† dwells, his prattling wife,

Endowed with strange and adverse qualities; The nurse of hate and love, of peace and strife; Mother of fairest truth, and foulest lies,

Or best, or worst, no mean, made all of fire, Which sometimes hell, and sometimes heavens inspire,

By whom oft truth's self speaks, oft that first murd'ring liar.

The idle sun stood still at her command

Breathing his fiery steeds in Gibeon;

t

And pale-fac'd Cynthia at her word made stand,
Resting her couch in vale of Ajalon.

Her voice oft open breaks the stubborn skies,

And holds the Almighty's hands with suppliant

cries:

Her voice tears open hell with horrid blasphemies!

Therefore that great Creator, well foreseeing

To what a monster she would soon be changing, Though lovely once, perfect and glorious being! Curb'd with her iron bit, and held from ranging; And with strong bonds her looser steps enchaining, Bridled her course, too many words refraining, And doubled all his guards, bold liberty restraining.

*The taste or palate. The tongue. The tongue is held by a ligament ori g inally called a bridle.

For close within he sits twice sixteen guarders,
Whose harden'd temper could not soon be mov'd;
Without the gate he plac'd two other warders,
To shut and ope the gate as it behov'd:

But such strange force hath her enchanting art,
That she hath made her keepers of her part,
And they to all her flights all furtherance impart.
Then, with their help, by her the sacred muses
Refresh the prince dull'd with much business;
By her the prince, unto his Prince oft uses
In heavenly throne from hell to find access;
She heaven to earth in music often brings,

And earth to heaven :-but ah! how sweet she
sings,

When in rich Grace's key she tunes poor nature's strings

Thus Orpheus won his lost Eurydice,

Whom some deaf snake that could no music hear,
Or some blind newte, that could no beauty see,
Thinking to kiss, kill'd with his forked spear;

He when his plaints on earth were vainly spent,
Down to Avernus' river boldly went,

And charm'd the meagre ghosts with mournful blandishment.

There what his mother fair Calliope

From Phoebus' harp and muses' spring had brought

him;

What sharpest grief for his Eurydice,

And love redoubling grief, had newly taught him,

The tongue is guarded with thirty-two teeth, and with the lips; all which do not a little help the speech, and sweeten the voice.

Y

He lavish'd out, and with his potent spell

Bent all the rig'rous powers of stubborn hell;
He first brought pity down with rigid ghosts to dwell.

Th' amazed shades came flocking round about,
Nor car'd they now to pass the Stygian ford,
All hell came running there, an hideous rout,
And dropp'd a silent tear for ev'ry word :
The aged ferryman shov'd out his boat;
But that without his help did thither float,
And having ta’en him in, came dancing on the moat.

The hungry Tantal might have filled him now,

And with large draughts swill'd in the standing pool, The fruit hung list'ning on the wond'ring bough, Forgetting hell's command: but he, ah, fool! Forgot his starved taste his ears to fill :

Ixion's turning wheel unmov'd stood still; But he was rapt as much with powr'ful music's skill.

Tir'd Sisyphus sat on his resting stone,

And hop'd at length his labour done for ever:
The vulture feeding on his pleasing moan,
Glutted with music, scorn'd great Tityus' liver:
The furies flung their snaky whips away,

And melt in tears at his enchanting lay;

No shrieks now were heard; all Hell kept holiday!

That treble dog, whose voice, ne'er quiet, fears

All that in endless night's sad kingdom dwell, Stood pricking up his thrice two list'ning ears, With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell;

And softly whining pitied much his wrongs;

And now first silent at those dainty songs,

Oft wish'd himself more ears, and fewer mouths and

tongues.

At length return'd with his Eurydice;

But with this law, not to return his eyes,
Till he was past the laws of Tartary;
Alas! who gives love laws in misery?

Love is love's law; love but to love is tied;

Now when the dawn of neighbour day he spied, Ah, wretch!-Eurydice he saw,-and lost,--and died!

As who so strives from grave of hellish night,
To bring his dead soul to the joyful sky;
If when he comes in view of heavenly light,
He turns again to hell his yielding eye,

And longs to see what he had left; his sore

Grows desp'rate, deeper, deadlier than afore; His helps and hopes much less, his crime and judgment

more.

But why do I enlarge my tedious song,

And tire my flagging muse with weary flight! Ah! much I fear I hold you much too long.The outward parts be plain to every sight: But to describe the people of this isle,

And the great Prince, these reeds are all too vile: Some higher verse may fit, and some more holy stile.

See Phlegon drenched in the hissing main,

Allays his thirst and cools the flaming car;
Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her train:
And see, the apish earth lights many a star,
Sparkling in dewy globes-all home invite:

Home then my flocks; home, shepherds, home; 'tis night:

My song with day is done-my muse is set with light.

By this the gentle boys had framed well

A myrtle garland mix'd with conqu'ring bay, From whose fit match issu'd a pleasing smell, And all enamell'd it with roses gay;

With which they crown'd their honour'd Thirsil's head;

Ah, blessed shepherd swain! ah, happy meed! While all his fellows chant on slender pipes of reed.

After painting the happy state of the island before the fall, the poet next pourtrays, individually, the human passions, (the virtues and vices,) which still contend for its entire possession; the latter under the command of "that Great Dragon," the Prince of Darkness; the former led on by Eclecta, (or Intellect.) Each passion or faculty, has its appropriate character, and is distinguished by its peculiar costume and ornaments, device and motto, with indeed more or less of consistency and finishing, but exhibiting throughout the allegory, numerous proofs of fertility of invention, correctness of taste, and command of imagery; whilst the whole is animated by the genuine enthusiasm of poetry. In the event Eclecta being nearly overpowered by the strength and stratagems of her adversary, makes an energetic appeal to heaven, from whence she obtains immediate aid, and the arch enemy is subdued. From the beautiful and interesting passages which abound in these seven cantos, we must reluctantly confine ourselves to extracting the introductory stanzas in the seventh, on the instability of human happiness and glory; the personification of Covetousness, Sparingness, and Prodigality, in the eighth; of Faith, Hope, and Charity, in the ninth; the exordium of the twelfth, displaying the tranquil pleasures of the pastoral life; and