he make; and on a fudden his poeti"cal faculty would rufh upon him with "an impetus, or aftrum, and his daugh"ter was immediately called to secure "what came. At other times he would "dictate perhaps forty lines in a breath, "and then reduce them to half the "number."

These bursts of light, and involutions of darkness; thefe tranfient and involuntary excurfions and retroceffions of invention, having fome appearance of deviation from the common train of Nature, are eagerly caught by the lovers of a wonder. Yet fomething of this inequality happens to every man in every mode of exertion, manual or mental. The mechanick cannot handle his ham

mer

mer and his file at all times with equal dexterity; there are hours, he knows not why, when his hand is out. By Mr. Richardfon's relation, cafually conveyed, much regard cannot be claimed. That, in his intellectual hour, Milton called for his daughter to fecure what came, may be queftioned; for unluckily it happens to be known that his daughters were never taught to write; nor would he have been obliged, as is univerfally confeffed, to have employed any cafual vifiter in difburthening his memory, if his daughter could have performed the office.

The ftory of reducing his exuberance has been told of other authors, and though doubtlefs true of every

fer

fertile and copious mind, feems to have been gratuitoufly tranferred to Milton.

What he has told us, and we cannot now know more, is, that he compofed much of his poem in the night and morning, Ifi ppo e before his mind was disturbed with common bufinefs; and that he poured out with great fluency his unpremeditated verf. Verfification, free, like his, from the diftreffes of rhyme, muft, by a work fo long, be made prompt and habitual; and, when his thoughts were once adjusted, the words would come at his command.

At what particular times of his life the parts of his work were written, cannot often be known. The beginning of the third book fhews that he had loft

his fight; and the Introduction to the feventh, that the return of the king had clouded him with discountenance; and that he was offended by the licentious feftivity of the Reftoration. There are no other internal notes of time. Milton, being now cleared from all effects of his difloyalty, had nothing required from him but the common duty of living in quiet, to be rewarded with the common right of protection: but this, which, when he fculked from the approach of his king, was perhaps more than he hoped, feems not to have fatisfied him; for no fooner is he fafe than he finds himself in danger, fallen on evil days and evil tongues, and with darknefs and with danger compass'd round.

This darkness, had his eyes been better employed, had undoubtedly deferved compaffion; but to add the mention of danger was ungrateful and unjuft. He was fallen indeed on evil days; the time was come in which regicides could no longer boaft their wickednefs. But of evil tongues for Milton to complain, required impudence at leaft equal to his other powers; Milton, whofe warmeft advocates muft allow, that he never fpared any afperity of reproach or bru tality of infolence.

But the charge itself feems to be falfe; for it would be hard to recollect any reproach cast upon him, either serious or ludicrous, through the whole remaining of his life. He perfued his ftudies,

part

or