pride of his kindling foul. But pale was the face of the warrior; he leaned on his father's fpear. That fpear which he brought from Lara's hall, when the foul of his mother was fad. But flowly now the hero falls like a tree on the plains of Cona. Dark Cuchullin stands alone like a rock in a fandy vale. The fea comes with its waves, and roars on its hardened fides. Its head is covered with foam, and the hills are ecchoing around.

Now from the gray mift of the ocean the whitefailed fhips of Fingal appear. High is the grove of their mafts as they nod, by turns, on the rolling wave.

Swaran faw them from the hill, and returned from the fons of Erin. As ebbs the refounding fea through the hundred ifles of Iniftore; fo loud, fo vaft, fo immenfe returned the fons of Lochlin against the king of the defart hill. But bending, weeping, fad, and flow, and dragging his long fpear behind, Cuchullin funk in Cromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends. He feared the face of Fingal, who was wont to greet him from the fields of renown.

How many lie there of my heroes! the chiefs of Inisfail! they that were chearful in the hall, when the found of the fhells arofe. No more fhall I find their steps in the heath, or hear their voice in the chace of the hinds. Pale, filent, low on bloody beds are they, who were my friends! O fpirits of the lately-dead, meet Cuchullin on his heath. Converfe with him on the wind, when the ruftling tree of Tura's cave refounds. There, far remote, I fhall lie unknown. No bard fhall hear of me. No gray ftone fhall rife to my renown. Mourn me with the dead, o Bragela! departed is my fame.

Such were the words of Cuchullin when he funk in the woods of Cromla.

Offian.

Milton.

د.

Milton.

S. B. II. S. 83. - Eein verlornes Paradies (Paradife Loft) in zwölf Büchern behauptet noch immer, nicht nur unter den Eropden der Engländer, sondern überhaupt unter allen neuern Heldengedichten, den vorzüglichken Rang. Milton besaß ein ungemein großes, reiches, und wahrhaftig dichtrisches Genie, und eine sehr viel befassende Einbildungskraft, die selbst durch den Verlust seines Ges fichts, der ihn um sein vierzigstes Lebensjahr traf, erhöht, verstärkt und bereichert wurde;, und eben so wenig konnten Armuth, politische Gefahr, Ungnade, Einsamkeit und Alter seinen hohen Geißt danieder beugen. Ein italiånisches Trauerspiel des Andreini, L' Adamo, veranlasste ihn zuerst zur Wahl jenes Stofs. (Man sehe einen Auszug daraus in Warton's Effay on Pope, Vol. II. p. 414. M.) Im Jahr 1667 erschien dieß Heldengedicht zuerst, in zehn Büchern, und 1674 in zwölf Büchern. Anfänglich erregte es wenig Aufmerksamkeit, bis zuerst Dryden und nachher Addison im Spectator, die großen Schönheiten dieses Werks lebs haft einsahen, und die Bewunderung zuerst rege machten, welche ihm hernach sowohl seine Nation, als die Ausländer schenkten, die es mehrmal mit sehr verschiedenem Glück, überfesten. Pearce, Bentley, Newton und Richardson find die berühmtesten Kommentatoren über das Verz Lorne Paradies; auch ist hier der Vertheidigung desselben gegen so manche einseitige und mißverstandne Kritiken zu gedenken, welche Bodmer zum Hauptinhalte seiner Krit. Abh. vom Wunderbaren machte, die zu Zürich, 1740. 8. herauskam. Weniger Ruhm und inneres Verdienst hat eben dieses Dichters Wiedererlangtes Daradies (Paradife Regained) in vier Büchern, dessen vornehmster Inhalt der Sieg des Erldfers, über den Versucher in der Wüste ist. hayley schliesst (Ep. III. v. 431.) seine glückliche Charaktes rifirung Milton's mit den beiden schönen Versen:

Round the bleft Bard his raptur'd audience throng,
And feel their fouls imparadis'd in song.

Als eine kleine Probe des herrlichen Ganzen gebe ich hier
bloß den Anfang des fünften Buchs, welcher den aubre

chenden

chenden Morgen schildert, an welchem Eva dem Adam den Traum erzählt, der sie beunruhigte, und worüber er sie zu beruhigen sucht. Sie gehen an ihr Tagewerk, und richten an Gott ihren Morgengesang.

PARADISE LOST, B. V. v. 1-219.

Milton.

Now morn, her rofy steps in th'eaftern clime
Advancing, fow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd, fo custom'd; for his fleep
Was airylight from pure digeftion bred,
And temp'rate vapours bland, which th'only found
Of leave and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dilpers d, and the fhrill matin fong
Of birds on every bough; So much the more
His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve
With treffes discompos'd, and glowing cheek,
As through unquiet reft: he; on his fide
Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand foft touching, whisper'd thus: Awake,
My fairest, my efpous'd, my latest found,
Heav'ns laft beft gift, my ever-new delight,
Awake! the morning fhines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,
How nature paints her colours, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid fweet.
Such whifp'ring wak'd her, but with ftartled eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus fhe spake:
O fole in whom my thoughts find all repofe,
My glory, my perfection, glad I fee
Thy face, and morn return'd; for I this night
(Such night till this I never pafs'd) have dream'd

د.

Milton.

If dream'd, not, as I oft am wont, of thee,
Works of day paft, or morrow's next defign;
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
Knew never till this irkfome night; methought
Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk
With gentle voice; I thought it thine; it faid:
Why fleep'ft thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the filent, fave where filence yields
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake
Tunes fweeteft his love-labour'd fong; now reigns
Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleafing light
Shadowy fets off the face of things; in vain
If none regard; heav'n wakes with all his eyes;
Whom to behold but thee, Nature's defire?
In whofe fight all things joy, with ravifhment
Attracted by thy beauty ftill to gaze:

I rofe as at thy call, but found thee not;
To find thee I directed then my walk;

And on, methought, alone I pafs'd through ways
That brought me on a fudden to the tree
Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seem'd,
Much fairer to my fancy than by day:
And as I wondring look'd, befide it stood
One fhap'd and wing'd like one of thofe from:
heav'n

By us oft feen; his dewy locks diftill'd
Ambrofia; on that tree he alfo gaz'd;
And, o fair plant, faid he, with fruit surcharg'd
Deigns none to eafe thy load, and taste thy fweet,
Nor God, nor Man? Is knowledge fo defpis'd?
Or envy, or what referve forbids to taste?
Forbid who will, none fhall from me withhold
Longer thy offer'd good; why else let here?
This faid, he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm
He pluck'd, he tafted: me damp horror chill'd
At fuch bold words vouch'd with a deed fo bold.
But he thus overjoy'd, o fruit divine,

Sweet of thy felf, but much more fweet thus
cropt.

Forbidden here, it feems, as only fit

For god, yet able to make gods of men;

And

And why not gods of men, fince good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows,
The author not impair'd, but honour'd move?
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve,
Partake thou alfo; happy though thou art,
Happier thou may be, worthier canst not be:
Tafte this, and be henceforth among the gods,
Thyfelf a goddess, not to earth confin'd
But fometimes in the air, as we; fometimes
Afcend to heav'n, by merit thine, and fee,
What life the gods live there, and fuch live thou.
So faying, he drew nigh, and to me held
Ev'n to my mouth, of that fame fruit held part
Which he had pluck'd; the pleasant favoury smell
So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought,
Could not but tafte. Forthwith up to the clouds
With him I flew, and underneath beheld
The earth outstretch'd immenfe, a profpect wide
And various: wondring at my flight and change
To this high exaltation; fuddenly

My guide was gone, and I, methought, funk down,
And fell asleep: but o how glad I wak'd,
To find this but a dream! Thus Eve her night
Related, and thus Adam anfwer'd fad.

Beft image of myfelf, and dearer half,
The trouble of thy thoughts this night in fleep
Affects me equally; nor can I like

This uncouth dream, of evil fprung, I fear:
Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,
Created pure. But know, that in the foul
Are many leffer faculties, that ferve
Reafon as chief: among thefe Fancy next
Her office holds; of all external things,
Which the five watchful fenfes reprefent,
She forms imaginations, airy fhapes,
Which reafon joining or disjoining, frames,
All what we affirm or what deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion: then retires.
Into her private cell, when nature rests
Oft in her abfence mimic fancy wakes,
To imitate her; but misjoining fhapes,

Milton.