that at that age he had as yet done nothing worthy, are so feelingly and modestly expressed. Here, also, on the banks of Colne, he wrote "Il Penseroso," and "L'Allegro," poems which Dr. Johnson truly says, 66 every man reads with pleasure." And here also he wrote "Lycidas," "The Masque of Comus," and the "Arcades." He used to steal from severer studies at Horton to visit the Countess Dowager of Derby at Harefield, about seven miles further up the stream, to share the agreeable conversation of that lady, and delight her with some of the earliest blossoms of his poetic genius. It was for an entertainment at her house that he wrote the Arcades; the personages of which were performed by some members of her family, who appeared on the stage in pastoral habits, representing shepherds, wood nymphs, and genii of the groves. The Countess sat in a chair of state as the rural queen, and the shepherds celebrated her beauty,

Sitting like a goddess bright
In the centre of her light.

The rest of the Masque was written by another hand, and, probably, is now lost. Next year, in 1634, Milton, who still resided at Horton, flattered by the praises bestowed upon his

fragment of Arcades, wrote the complete and more beautiful Masque of Comus for an entertainment at Ludlow Castle; the personages being represented by the children of the Earl of Bridgewater. Milton wrote it at the request of his friend, Henry Lawes, whom he celebrates in one of his sonnets as the "first who taught our English music how to span words with just note and accent, and who with smooth air could humour best our tongue." Lawes was teacher of music in the family of the Earl, and related to Milton an accident which had befallen the Lady Alice, the Earl's daughter, and requested him to write upon it. The young lady passing Haywood Forest in Herefordshire, with her brother, Lord Brackley, and Mr. Egerton, missed her way in its depths and was for a while lost, and upon this incident the mask is founded. It does not appear that Milton left Horton to be present at the representation; but if he did, his biographers have neglected to inform us of the circumstance. He finally left this seclusion, being weary of the country, in the year 1636 or 1637, and soon afterwards set out upon his continental travels.

Not only the Colne but its tributary brooks are sacred to the memory of Milton. In the

little village of Chalfont St. Giles-washed by the clear Misbourne that runs into the Colne, near Uxbridge, the bard took refuge in the year of the great plague of London. There is a tradition that here he composed a part of his Paradise Lost; but, if we may believe Johnson, that grand poem was completed long before he left London, and anything that may have been done at Chalfont was only some slight correction. Elwood, the Quaker, who took the house for him, relates that Milton showed him there, for the first time, a complete copy of the Paradise Lost. Elwood having perused it, observed, 66 Thou hast said a great deal upon Paradise lost: what hast thou to say upon Paradise found?" Two years afterwards Milton showed his friend his Paradise Regained. This," said he, " is owing to you, for you put it into my head by the question you put to me at Chalfont, which otherwise I had not thought of."

66

Returning again to the Thames we find ourselves within sight of Windsor, and feel all its old associations rising rapidly upon us. But they are too many to be compressed within the limits of this chapter. They require a whole day's musing; — a morning walk, a noon-tide meditation, and an even

ing's dalliance with the old bards, or a no less pleasant gossip with the quaint annalists of the days of yore. This done, we shall return to Windsor.

VOL. I.

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CHAPTER XI.

Approach to Windsor.-The Ducking of Sir John Falstaff.— View from the Castle Terrace. - William of Wykeham and his Kidnappers. - Royal Captives in the Castle. The Loves of James of Scotland and the Lady Jane Beaufort. Imprisonment of the Earl of Surrey.

LD Windsor, which is the first place on the Thames that claims our notice after passing Egham and Staines, is of comparatively small importance. The rise of New Windsor, two miles further up the stream, and more immediately adjoining the castle, has thrown it into the shade. Ever since the days of Edward III, who first made the castle a residence fit for the Kings of England, it has been neglected and forsaken, and its very name so appropriated by its more flourishing rival, that Windsor, without the adjective, is universally held to mean the new town and not the old.