for personifying the fiend, on the supposition that the poet's language is merely figurative; with what justice, this note may perhaps assist in deciding. Some might disapprove the renovation of Popish ideas; whilst others, more attentive to ancient costume, and regardless of popular or other prejudices, might be disposed to defend the painter on the ground of strict adherence to the manners of the times." Vol. ii. p. 19, 20, 21.

No. CLXVIII.

The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,

And added length to solemn sounds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.

DRYDEN.

THE powerful influence of music has been so generally felt and acknowledged in all ages, that it seems almost unnecessary to expatiate on it with any illustrations. Nothing indeed can more plainly prove its paramount power over the mind, than its ancient honours in the earlier ages of mankind; when it was the chosen medium for the publication and recommendation of the laws; for inculcating the doctrines of morality and the examples of history; and for inciting to the practice of the highest duties, the precepts of religion, and the worship of the gods. Codes and systems of these divine and moral duties were compiled in verse, and chanted in full choral assembly of the people; for verse and song were synonimous. It is well known, that from the first great example and father of epic poetry, to the wild warblings of our own minstrel bards, the author was the

singer of his own works. Music was his only means of publication; and Apollo his only patron. And it is observable among our polished neighbours of the continent, on the classic ground of Italy, where, though not in such bright blaze, yet certainly are to be found traces of the ancient flame, the improvisatori, or extempore composers of verses, are obliged to have recourse to the auxiliary powers of music.

Poetry, indeed, implies, in some degree, the properties of music. It is one of the branches into which this great and extensive subject is divided; musica poetica; metrical sound being evidently a species of harmony. Musica harmonica, however, is contradistinguished to the other five parts, into which Porphyry distributes this comprehensive art, as the science of disposing and conducting sounds vocal and instrumental, separating them at just intervals, or combining with due proportion and relation to each other. This noble skill, embracing the other lovely harmony of poetry, or, in Milton's warm expression,

Married to immortal verse,

is omnipotent over every passion. It regulates the violence of rage, and animates the languor

of despondency; it assuages the stings of pain, and gives new sense to pleasure; it calls forth the best energies of the soul; and while its universal command can subdue and correct the vices of the mind, it knows also to exalt the noblest virtues by its divine enthusiasm.

On the sublimest of all subjects, it is peculiarly observable, that the power of music triumphs over other arts. In them the greatest masters have in vain attempted to personify to the imagination the ineffable attributes of the deity, or to represent the sacred mysteries of immortal existence. The infernal regions of Angelo or Dante, though blazing with the brightest colouring that painting or poetry could give them, disappoint the mind with expression evidently and infinitely imperfect. Of the former indeed, though from a genius so sublime, the effect to the eye has appeared directly the contrary to what the imagination expects; and the flaming limbs of the dæmons are perhaps truly criticised, as rather ridiculous than terrible.

If any glance of mortal ken could soar "from earth to heaven," or penetrate the mysteries of other worlds, it may fairly be pronounced, even by English critics, without any imputation of partiality, that the poet of Paradise possessed the peculiar power. Certainly, the sublime

horrors of hell have never been so powerfully pourtrayed by human imagination; and his astonishing creative genius has, with more daring wing than any other, passed " the flaming bounds."

But the most that genius can do, is to create new combinations of ideas, originally received through the senses. So received, they are compared, distinguished, and classed, or mixed and multiplied, by reflection. But the materials can be only supplied from experience of sensation and invention is no more than the discovery of new modes of representing them. It is to be feared, therefore, that if Milton succeeded better in his description of the fallen angels, than of those who enjoyed

Heaven's purest light,

that the cause may be traced to the imperfections of human nature; less qualified by experience to imagine the perfect purity of the divine attributes, and celestial enjoyment, than the errors of disobedience and pride, and their consequent punishments.

For the warmest admirer of our immortal poet must confess, that even his

Seraph-wing of ecstasy

fails under him, when he aspires to display the