to have been the lot of some of the greatest and the best
of my species. Among those on whom it has fallen, I
might reckon some of the remotest bards of remote anti-
quity, whose want of sight the Gods are said to have
compensated with extraordinary and far more valuable
endowments, and whose virtues were so venerated that
men would rather arraign the Gods themselves of injustice,
than draw from the blindness of these admirable mortals
an argument of their guilt. What is handed down to us
respecting the augur Tiresias is very commonly known.
Of Phineus, Apolonius in his Argonautics thus sings—
'Careless of Jove, in conscious virtue bold,

His daring lips Heav'ns sacred mind unfold.
The God hence gave him years without decay,
But robb'd his eye-balls of the pleasing day.'

"As for what I wrote at any time, (since the Royalists think I now suffer on that account, and triumph over me,) I call God to witness that I did not write any thing but what I then thought, and am still persuaded to be, right and true and acceptable to God; nor led by any sort of ambition, profit, or vain glory; but have done all from a sense of duty and honour, or out of piety to my country, and for the liberty of Church and State. On the contrary, when the task of answering the king's defence was enjoined me by public authority, being both in an ill state of health, and the sight of one eye almost gone already, the Physicians openly predicting the loss of both if I undertook this labour, yet nothing terrified by their premonition, I did not long balance whether my duty should be preferred to my eyes."

The following beautiful Sonnet will show the happy state of his mind under this painful affliction, the principles of the gospel evidently "filled him with joy and peace in believing" so that he "abounded in hope by the power of the Holy Ghost."

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

"When I consider how my life is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he, returning chide,
'Doth God exact day labour, light denied?
I fondly ask: but patience to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's works, or his own gift; who best
Bears his mild yoke they serve him best: his state
Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed,
And post c'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.'”

In a letter expressive of his entire resignation to the will of God, under this painful affliction, addressed to his friend, Leonard Philarus of Athens, dated Westminster, September 28th, 1654, he gives this further account of his blindness.

"That I might not seem," he says, "to neglect any means, perhaps of divine suggestion, for my relief, I will hasten to comply with your request :—

"It is now about ten years, I think, since I first perceived my sight beginning to grow weak and dim, and at the same time my spleen and other visura heavy and flatulent. When I sate down to read as usual in the morning, my eyes gave me considerable pain, and refused their office till fortified by moderate exercise of body. If I looked at a candle, it appeared surrounded by an iris. In a little time, a darkness covering the left side of the left eye, which was partially clouded some years before the other, interrupted the view of all things in that direction. Objects also in front seemed to dwindle in size whenever I closed my right eye. This eye too for three years gradually failing, a few months previous, while I

was perfectly stationary, every thing seemed to swim backward and forward: and now thick vapours appear to settle upon my forehead and temples, which weigh down my eyes with an oppressive sense of drowsiness, especially in the interval between the dinner and evening; so as frequently to remind me of Phineus, the Salmy dissim, in the Argonautics.

"In darkness swam his brain, and where he stood,
The stedfast earth seemed rolling like a flood.
Nerveless his tongue, and, every power oppressed,
He sunk, and languished into torpid rest."

"I ought not to omit mentioning that, before I wholly lost my sight, as soon as I lay down in bed, and turned upon either side, brilliant flashes of light used to issue from my closed eyes; and afterwards upon the gradual failure of any power of vision, colours proportionably dim and faint, seemed to rush out with a degree of vehemence and a kind of inward noise. These have now faded into uniform blackness, such as ensues on the extinction of a candle; or blackness varied only and intermingled with a dunnish grey. The constant darkness, however, in which I live day and night, inclines more to a whitish than a blackish tinge; and the eye in turning itself round admits, as through a narrow chink, a very small portion of light. But this, though it may offer a similar glance of hope to the physician, does not prevent me from making up my mind to my case, as evidently beyond the reach of cure and I often reflect, that as many days of darkness, according to the wise man, (Eccle. xi. 8.) are allotted to us all, mine, which by the singular favour of the Deity, are divided between leisure and study, and are recruited by the conversation and intercourse of my friends, are more agreeable than those deadly shades of

which Solomon is speaking. But if, as it is written, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word which proceedeth out of the mouth of God," (Matt. iv. 4.) why should not each of us likewise acquiesce in the reflection, that he derives not the benefit of his sight from his eyes alone, but from the guidance and providence of the same Supreme Being? Whilst he looks out and provides for me as he does, and leads me about as it were with his hand through the paths of life, I willingly surrender my own faculty of vision in conformity to his good pleasure and with a heart as strong and as stedfast as if I were a Lynceus, I bid you, my Philarus, farewell!" It may perhaps be thought by some, that MILTON need not have noticed such contemptible charges. But what despicable pigmies must those have been, who compelled 'him to talk as vain and worthless fools do, who have nothing in view but selfish ends, by the vanity of their selfcommendations: so PAUL, who was cast in a similar mould, (and to whom I consider MILTON stands next of uninspired men,) said to the ungrateful Corinthians :“I say again, let no man think me a fool; if otherwise, yet as a fool receive me, that I may boast myself a little. That which I speak, I speak it not after the Lord, but as it were foolishly in this confidence of boasting."-2 Cor. xi. 16, 17.

The following beautiful Sonnet will put a suitable conclusion to this painful subject of a good man having probably "been made the song of the drunkard," on account of the affliction with which it had pleased God to visit him :

TO CYRIAC SKINNER.

CYRIAC, this three years' day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear

Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide."

ALEXANDER MORUS took the field again, and published what he called "Fides Publica," and MILTON replied, in a work entitled "Defencio pro," or a defence of himself, and so completely baffled his opponent, that he prudently quitted the field, and MILTON was proclaimed, by general consent, the People's Champion and Conqueror: -an honour this, greater than what many monarchs have obtained even from their sycophants and parasites-more valuable, more permanent !

It appears that MILTON was now advanced from his office to the Council, to be Latin Secretary to that most extraordinary man, OLIVER CROMWELL: for whose statue I venture to bespeak a niche among the illustrious dead in Westminster Abbey: not doubting, from recent events, but the time will come, when the governors of the nation will be so sensible of the obligations of Britain to that illustrious ruler and his noble compatriots, as, maugre the mean power of ignorance and prejudice, will decree him a monumental inscription in the sepulchres of our kings.