5.

The golden sun,

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings

Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce;
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings; yet the dead are there,
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep; the dead reign there alone.

6. So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall
Unnoticed by the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men,

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off,

Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side,
By those, who, in their turn, shall follow them.

7. So live, that, when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan' that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Oregon. Caravan; all the living; literally, a body of traveling pilgrims.

LESSON CXXXI.

INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES OF MILTON.

CHANNING.

1. In speaking of the intellectual qualities of Milton," we may begin by observing that the very splendor of his poetic fame has tended to obscure or conceal the extent of his mind, and the variety of its energies and attainments. To many, he seems only a poet, when, in truth, he was a profound scholar, a man of vast compass of thought, imbued thoroughly with all ancient and modern learning, and able to master, to mold, to impregnate with his own intellectual power, his great and various acquisitions.

2. He had not learned the superficial doctrine of a later day, that poetry flourishes most in an uncultivated soil, and that imagination shapes its brightest visions from the mists of a superstitious age; and he had no dread of accumulating knowledge lest he should oppress and smother his genius.

3. He was conscious of that within him which could quicken all knowledge, and wield it with ease and might; which could give freshness to old truths, and harmony to discordant thoughts; which could bind together, by living ties and mysterious affinities, the most remote discoveries; and rear fabrics of glory and beauty from the rude materials which other minds had collected.

4. Milton had that universality of mind which marks the highest order of intellect. Though accustomed, almost from infancy, to drink at the fountains of classical literature, he had nothing of the pedantry and fastidiousness which disdain all other draughts. His healthy mind delighted in genius. in whatever soil, or in whatever age, it might have burst forth and poured out its fullness. He understood too we the right, and dignity, and pride of created imagination, to lay on it the laws of the Greek or Roman school. Parnas sus was not to him the only holy ground of genius.

■ Milton, John; the Homer of Britain; born in London, Dec. 9th, 1608. See p. 288. Parnassus; the name of a mountain-chain in Phocis, a small tract of country in

5. He felt that poetry was a universal presence. Grea minds were everywhere his kindred. He felt the enchant ment of oriental fiction, surrendered himself to the strange creations of "Araby the blest," and delighted still more in the romantic spirit of chivalry, and in the tales of wonder in which it was embodied. Accordingly, his poetry reminds us of the ocean, which adds to its own boundlessness, contributions from all regions under heaven.

6. Nor was it only in the department of imagination that his acquisitions were vast. He traveled over the whole field of knowledge, as far as it had then been explored. His various philological attainments were used to put him in possession of the wisdom stored in all countries where the intellect had been cultivated. The natural philosophy, metaphysics, ethics, history, theology, and political science of his own and former times, were familiar to him. Never was there a more unconfined mind; and we would cite Milton as a practical example of the benefits of that universal culture of intellect, which forms one distinction of our times, but which some dread as unfriendly to original thought.

7. Let such remember that mind is, in its own nature diffusive. Its object is the universe, which is strictly one, or bound together by infinite connections and correspondencies; and, accordingly, its natural progress is from one field of thought to another, and wherever original power or creative genius exists, the mind, far from being distracted or oppressed by the variety of its acquisitions, will see more and more bearings, and hidden and beautiful analogies in all the objects of knowledge, will see mutual light shed from truth o truth, and will compel, as with a kingly power, whatever it understands to yield some tribute of proof, or illustration, or splendor, to whatever topic it would unfold

Greece proper. Between two rocks on this mountain issues what poets call the Par assian spring ■ Metaphysics; the science of mind or intelligence.

LESSON CXXXII.

[Before reading this piece it would be well to consult the directions

Walsingham. Nay! my good lord! you carry this too far; Alasco leader of a band of rebels!

Impossible!

Hohendahl. I have it here in proof;
Rebellion wears his livery, and looks big
In promise of his aid: his followers
Are seen in midnight muster on our hills,
Rehearsing insurrection, and arrayed
In mimicry of war.

Wal. It cannot be !

By heaven it cannot be ! your spies deceive you.
I know the madness of the time has reached him,
And when the fit is on, like other fools,
He raves of liberty and public rights;
But he would scorn to lead the low cabals

Of vassal discontent and vulgar turbulence.

Hoh. My good old friend! your loyal nature yields
Unwilling credence to such crimes as these;

But I have marked Alasco well, and found
Beneath the mask of specious seeming, still
The captious critic of authority;

Ready to clap sedition on the back,

And stir the very dregs and lees of life,

To foam upon its surface; but I see
The subject moves you.

Wal. Yes, it does, indeed!

His father was my friend and fellow-soldier,

A braver spirit never laid his life

Upon his country's altar. At my side

He fell; his wife and son, with his last breath,

Bequeathing to my care; a sacred trust,

Of half its duties speedily curtailed;

For grief soon bowed the widow to her grave.
Sole guardian of Alasco, 't was my pride

To form him like his father; and indeed,
So apt in honor and all worth he grew,

My wishes scarce kept pace with his advancement.
While yet a boy, I led him to the field,
And there such gallant spirit he displayed,
That e'en the steady veteran in the breach
Was startled at his daring. To be brief,
I loved him as my son.

[Enter Alasco.]

You were our theme, Alasco.

Alasco. A subject, sir, unworthy of discussion, If slander have not given it a zest.

Wal. Slander, Alasco!

Alas. Ay, sir, slander's abroad,

And busy; few escape her; she can take

All shapes; and sometimes, from the blistered lips
Of galled authority, will pour her slime

On all who dare dispute the claims of pride,

Or question the high privilege of oppression.

Hoh. Your words seem pointed, sir, and splenetic.

Alas. They are honest, my lord, and you well understand

them.

Wal. What means this heat, Alasco? Innocence

Can fear no slander, and suspects no foe.

Alas. He's on his guard who knows his enemy,

And innocence may safely trust her shield

Against an open foe; but who's so mailed

That slander shall not reach him? coward calumny
Stabs in the dark.

Wal.

Alas.

Wal.

Alasco!

[Going.]

Count Alasco!

[Returning.] Sir, your pleasure?

"Tis now, methinks, some twenty years, or more, Since that brave man, your father, and my friend, While life scarce fluttered on his quivering lips, Consigned your youthful fortunes to my care.