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YO HA NNIS MILIONI
Carmina Miltoni, quid nisi cuncta legis ?
Et fata, & fines continet 'iste liber. Intima panduntur magni penetralia mundi,
Scribitur & toto quicquid in orbe latet : Terræque, tractusque maris, cælumque profundum,
Sulphureumque Erebi, flammivomumque fpecus: Quæque colunt terras, pontumque, & Tartara cæca,
Quæque colunt fummi lucida regna poli :
Et sine fine Chaos, &'fine fine Deus:
In Christo erga homines conciliatus, amor.
Et tamen hæc hodie terrå Britanna legit.
Quæ canit, & quanta prælia dira tuba!
Et quæ cæleftes pugna deceret agros! Quantus in ætliereis tollit fe Lucifer armis!
Atque ipfo graditur vix Michaële minor Quantis, & quain funestis concurritur iris, Dum ferus hic ftellas protegit, ille rapit! VOL. I.
Dum vulsos montes ceu tela reciproca torquent,
Et non mortali desuper igne pluunt :
Et metuit pugnæ non fuperefle furæ.
Et currus animes, armaque digna Deo,
Erumpunt torvis fulgura luminibus,
Admiftis flammis infonuere polo :
Et cassis dextris irrita tela cadunt;
Infernis certant condere fe tenebris.
Et quos fama recens vel colebravit anus. Hæc quicunque leget tantùm cecinisse putabit Mæonidem ranas, Virgilium culices.
SAMUEL BARROW, M. D.
ON PARADISE LOST.
In Nender book his vast design unfold,
Yet as I read; ftill growing less levëre',
Or if a work to infinite he spannid,
Pardon me, mighty Poet; nor despise
That majesty which through thy work doth reign,
Where couldkt thou words of such a compass find ? Whence furnish such a vast expence of mind ? . Just Heaven thee, like Tiresias, to requite Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight.
Well might'i thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure; While the town-bays writes all the while and spells, And like a pack-horse tires without his bells; Their fancies like our bushy-points appear, The poets tag them, we for fashion wear. I too, transported by the mode, offend, And while I meant to praise thee must commend. Thy verse created like thy theme sublime,...
1 Number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme.
To Mr. JOHN MILTON, On his Poem entitled PARADISE "LOST. O
Thou! the wonder of the present age,
An age immerst in luxury and vice;
F. C. ;680.
HE measure is English heroic verse without
rhyme, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin ; rhyme being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer. works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame meter; graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern poets, carried away by custom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse than else they would have expressed them. Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme both in longer and shorter works, as have also long since our best English tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned Ancients both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then VOL. I. B