The Jeffersonian. [volume] (Stroudsburg, Pa.) 1853-1911, 1867-04-11
For the Jefersonian.
Passages from Millions Paradise Lost

John Milton was born at London in
the year 1908. John Milton, his father,
scrivener by profession, lived in repu-
table manner on competent estate, en-:
tirely his own acquisition. Being disin-
herited in early youth by his parents, for
renouncing the communion of the Romish
Church, he assiduously set about rcaliz-
ing an independence for himself, by per-
severance in literary pursuits.
The young poet was the great favorite
of his fathers hopes; and having by care
ful foresight, detected the Unborn genius
which early displayed itself, he was at the
expense Of procuring domestic tutor;
whom Milton afterwards celebrated in
Latin elegy. He seldom quilted his
studies before midnight, and often COM
planned of severe pain in his head and
WEAKNESS in his eyes, which finally ended
in the total privation of his sight. From
his domestic studies he was removed to
st. Pauls School, to cultivate his classics
under the care of DR.. Gill; and trans
ferred from thence to Christ College, in
Cambridge, where he was distinguished
for his superiority in all kinds of academ-
ical exercises In Cambridge he continued
to be a member, till he became Master of
Arts; and then retired to Horton, in
Buckinghamshire, where he pursued his
studies with success.
Then commenced his literary and politi-
cal career. He travelled through France
and Italy, and intended to take a survey
of Greece and Sicily, but was compelled
to relinquish his project and return to
England. At Paris he became acquain-
ted with the celebrated Grotius, through
Lord Viscount Scudamore, the ambassa-
dor from Charles |; aud in Rome, Genoa,
Florence, and other cities, he contracted
friendship with persons of the highest
reputation and learning.
He returned to England at the very
time when the great Revolution was about
to throw desolation and bloodshed over
the land. He received and protected his
fatherin law, who being a vigilant es-
pouser of the Kings cause, was exposed
to ejectment and persecution from the
victorious faction. He became Latin
secretary to Cromwell and the Parliament;
and continued to be till the Restoration.
He left Whitehall and returned to st.
James's Park His wife died in child
bed, and about the time of her death a
gntta serena, which had been increasing,
totally extinguished his sight. The light
Of day was dimmed for ever to his eyes,
but the celestial grandeur of the eternal
light, he ever enjoyed.
II composed Paradise Lost in the days
of his darkness and sorrow. His daugh-
ters transcribed, as he delivered the grand
celebrities of the divine word, and the
Salvation of man. How proGigious! how
awfully sublime are the resources of the
poetic Oracle, amidst gloom and anxiety!
The high tone of an eternal requiem,
ever burns in the soul of the suffering
poet. Vivid and picturesque, are the
climes of the unseen regions, beyond the
sphere of our fnitude Graphic and pa
thetic are the high conceptions of the
blind! How vast and dignifed are his
faculties of vision and languid aspirations,
as he sings:-
Z" Hail! holy light! offspring of heaven
fr.tborn!
Or of the eternal, CO. eternal beam!
May express thee unbalanced? since God
is light,
And never but in unapproached light
Dwell from eternity: dwell then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence in-
create!
Or nearest thou rather pure ethereal
stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? Before
the sun,
Before the heavens thou vert, and at the
voice
OF God, as with mantle didst invest
The rising world Of waters, dark and
deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.
Thee | revisit now with boder wing,
Escaped the Stygian pool, though long
detained
In that obscure sojourn; while in my
fight,
Through utter, and through middle dark
ness borne;
With other notes than to tn Orphean Tyre
| sing of Chaos and eternal Night;
Taught by tn heavenly Muse to venture
down
The dark descent, and up to reascend
Though hard and rare! Thee L revisit
safe,
And feel the sovereign vital lamp, but
thou,
Reyisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no
dawn;
So thick deep serene hath quenched
their oIbs,
Or dim suffusion yelled! Yet not the
more
Cease to wander, where the MUSES. haunt
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny
hill;
Smit with the love Of sacred song, but
chief
The Sion, and the nowery brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallowed feet, and war