mould into which it is thrown, it challenges comparison with Moschus himself, of whose lament for Bion it is formally an imitation. To place the Epitaphium Damonis beside Lycidas is to show the difference between pastoral poetry in its early purity and pastoral poetry after it had gathered up the confused riches of the Renaissance. Lycidas is more splendid; the poet's imagination circles out from his theme with a mightier wing, and lays under contribution a wider area of suggestion: but the Epitaphium Damonis has a unity, a plaintive clinging to its grief, a touching absorption in the familiar aspects of the life it mourns, which compensate for its narrower range. This effect of unity is subtly heightened by the recurrence of the plaint:

"Ite domum, impasti; domino jam non vacat, agni,' interrupting the pastoral pictures as they drift by in lovely succession. The episodic passages descriptive of Milton's experiences at Florence, of the Manso cups, and of the incepted epic upon King Arthur, might seem to be exceptions to the unity of design. Such episodes, however, were traditional in poetry of the kind; and they serve, by the touch of garrulous egotism that is in them, to heighten the effect of naïveté proper to the speaker. The conclusion is similar to that of Lycidas, but touched with a wilder phantasy. Perhaps no passage in Milton is so original, so daring, as this, where the joys of the redeemed soul in Paradise are represented under the symbolism of the Dionysiac orgies.

In the judgment of the reviser, Mr. Moody's translation of the Latin poems, like his sympathetic account of their literary qualities, is extraordinarily fine. His purpose, as explained in his prefatory note, is to add a literal rendering in prose to the metrical versions of Cowper, Strutt, and Masson. But literalness does not mean, necessarily, literal truth to grammar, which often has to be sacrificed for higher considerations of color, form, and idea. In certain cases, Mr. Moody undertakes so to

of

a note, thus interweaving comment with translation. In the opinion of some readers, he has deviated too widely from the text. There are some actual errors, which call for emendation. There are not infrequent omissions, particularly of adjectives, due, the reviser believes, not to Mr. Moody's failure to see the words or to understand their meaning, but to his effort to turn good Latin style into good English style by an occasional pruning of stock epithets and other not indispensable adornments. Now and then he yields to his own imagination, creating the stuff of poetry, but not what Milton designed. The reviser, with some misgiving, has restored most

of the omitted words, and in other regards attempted a closer conformity to the text. He only hopes that in this process, the fine flavor of the original version has not wholly disappeared.

The text adopted by Mr. Moody is substantially that of Masson, a few unimportant pieces being relegated, without translation, to the Appendix. For the revision, the text has been compared with the first edition of 1645 and that of 1673, a few misprints have been corrected, and

a

tion introduced, most of them agreeing with that of the early editions. One emendation, by Warton, has been accepted (see p. 354, l. 171). The only noticeable innovation is the total exclusion of the letter j. A study of the facsimiles of autograph pages of Milton given by Beeching in his edition of 1900 aroused the suspicion that the letter which resembles j is really no more j than it is i. This suspicion was confirmed by Dr. Falconer Madan, formerly director of the Bodleian Library at Oxford, who, at the writer's request, examined the autograph manuscript of Milton's Ode to Rouse. The same form of the letter is used throughout; it natu

[DE AUCTORE TESTIMONIA]

Hæc quæ sequuntur de Authore testimonia, tametsi ipse intelligebat non tam de se quam supra se esse dicta, eo quod præclaro ingenio viri, nec non amici, ita fere solent laudare ut omnia suis potius virtutibus quam veritati congruentia nimis cupide affingant, noluit tamen horum egregiam in se voluntatem non esse notam, cum alii præsertim ut id faceret magnopere suaderent. Dum enim nimiæ laudis invidiam totis ab se viribus amolitur, sibique quod plus æquo est non attributum esse mavult, iudicium interim hominum cordatorum atque illustrium quin summo sibi honori ducat negare non potest.

IOANNES BAPTISTA MANSUS, MARCHIO VILLENSIS NEAPOLITANUS, AD IOANNEM MILTONUM ANGLUM

Ut mens, forma, decor, facies, mos, si pietas sic,

Alla virtù sbandita

Danno nei petti lor fido ricetto,
Quella gli è sol gradita,

Perchè in lei san trovar gioia e diletto;
Ridillo tu, Giovanni, e mostra in tanto,
Con tua vera virtù, vero il mio Canto.

Spinse Zeusi l' industre ardente brama;
Ch' udio d' Helena il grido
Con aurea tromba rimbombar la fama,
E per poterla effigiare al paro
Dalle più belle Idee trasse il più raro.

Cosi l'ape ingegnosa

Trae con industria il suo liquor pregiato Dal giglio e dalla rosa,

E quanti vaghi fiori ornano il prato; Formano un dolce suon diverse chorde, Fan varie voci melodia concorde.

Di bella gloria amante
Milton, dal Ciel natio, per varie parti
Le peregrine piante

Volgesti a ricercar scienze ed arti;
Del Gallo regnator vedesti i Regni,
E dell' Italia ancor gl' Eroi più degni.

20

30

40

Io, che in riva dell' Arno
Tento spiegar tuo merto alto e preclaro, so
So che fatico indarno,

E ad ammirar, non a lodarlo imparo;
Freno dunque la lingua, e ascolto il core,
Che ti prende a lodar con lo stupore.
Del Sig. ANTONIO FRANCINI,
Gentiluomo Fiorentino.

IOANNI MILTONI LONDINENSI

Iuveni patriâ, virtutibus, eximio: Viro qui multa peregrinatione, studio cuncta, orbis terrarum loca perspexit, ut, novus Ulysses, omnia ubique ab omnibus apprehenderet:

Polyglotto, in cuius ore linguæ iam deperditæ sic reviviscunt ut idiomata omnia sint in eius laudibus infacunda; et iure ea percallet ut admirationes et plausus populorum ab propriâ sapientiâ excitatos intelligat:

Illi, cuius animi dotes corporisque sensus ad admirationem commovent, et per ipsam motum cuique auferunt; cuius opera ad plausus hortantur, sed venustate vocem laudatoribus adimunt:

Cui in memoriâ totus orbis; in intellectu sapientia; in voluntate ardor gloriæ; in ore eloquentia; harmonicos cælestium sphærarum sonitus Astronomiâ duce audienti; characteres mirabilium naturæ per quos Dei magnitudo describitur magistrâ Philosophiâ legenti; antiquitatum latebras, vetustatis excidia, eruditionis ambages, comite assiduâ autorum lectione,

Exquirenti, restauranti, percurrenti
(At cur nitor in arduum?):

Illi in cuius virtutibus evulgandis ora Famæ non sufficiant, nec hominum stupor in laudandis satis est, reverentiæ et amoris ergo hoc eius meritis debitum admirationis tributum offert

CAROLUS DATUS, Patricius Florentinus, tanto homini servus, tantæ virtutis amator.

The chief interest of the elegy, besides the light it throws on the incident of Milton's rustication and his feeling toward his college, lies

in the account which he gives of his pastimes during this period of enforced vacation. The enthusiastic account of his theatre-going is especially noteworthy, though ambiguity exists throughout the passage as to whether actual stage representations or merely the reading of drama is meant, an ambiguity which is increased by the fact that the illustrations seem drawn equally from Roman comedy and Greek tragedy, and from the contemporary drama of England. He also recounts his walks in the streets and parks of London, with a youthful zest and freshness doubly delightful in a character like his. girls whom he encounters, though couched in His praise of the the conventional language of pseudo-classic poetry, is thoroughly youthful and gay; even here, however, there is a touch of strenuousness at the end, none the less earnest for being half-playfully uttered.

AT last, dear friend, your letter has reached me; the missive paper bears me your words from the western shore of the Dee, by Chester, where that river goes down swiftly to the Irish Sea. Much joy it gives me to think that a far-off country keeps well for me so dear a head as yours, and a heart that loves me; and that this distant region owes me my merry mate, aye, and will soon repay him at my prayers. That city which Thames washes with her tidal wave keeps me fast, nor does my pleasant birth-place detain me against my will. I have no wish to go back to reedy Cam; I feel no homesickness for that forbidden college room of mine. The bare fields there, niggard of pleasant shade, do not please me. How ill does that place suit with poets! I have no fancy to endure forever my stern master's threats or those

other actions at which my nature rebelled. If this is "exile," to live under my fathers' roof and be free to use my leisure pleasantly, I will not repudiate either the name of outcast or his lot, but will in all happiness enjoy this state of exile. Oh would that Ovid, sad exile in the fields of Thrace, had never suffered a worse lot! Then he would have yielded not a whit even to Ionian Homer, nor would the first praise be thine, Virgil, for he would have vanquished thee.

I have time free now to give to the tranquil Muses. My books-my very life claim me wholly. When I am weary, the pomp of the theatre with its sweeping pall awaits me, and the garrulous stage invites me to its own applause. Sometimes the cautious old man holds the scene, or the prodigal heir, or the wooer, or the soldier with his helmet laid aside; or the lawyer, pregnant with a ten-years' suit, thunders barbarous words before an ignorant court. The wily servant helps his young master in his love-scrapes, and tricks the stern father under his very nose; and the girl, wondering at the new ardors that fill her, knows not what love is, and while she knows not, loves. Then frenzied Tragedy shakes her bloody sceptre, and rolls her eyes under her disheveled hair. I suffer and yet I gaze, and find it good to suffer and gaze. A sweet bitterness now and then mingles with my tears as I see some hapless boy leave all his joys untasted and fall lamentable for the rending of his love; or when the fierce avenger of crime recrosses Styx out of the shades, and terrifies conscious breasts with baleful torch; or when the house of Pelops mourns, or mourns the noble house of Ilus; or when the hall of Creon atones for the incest of its ancestors.

But I do not stay indoors always, nor even in town; I do not let the spring slip by unused. I visit the neighboring park, thick-set with elms or the noble shade of some suburban place. There often one may see the virgin bands go past, stars that breathe alluring flames. Ah, how many times have I stood stupefied before the miracle of some gracious form, such as might give old Jove his youth again! Ah, how many