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M I L T O N. 

 BY SIR EGERTON BRYDGES. 



WRITTEN MAY 14, 1831. 



GENEROUS and noble is the love of fame, 

 When we on Virtue's base would build our name, 

 And strive the applause to win that soothes alone 

 The conscience sitting on the bosom's throne. 

 There is a ceaseless monitor within, 

 That little lists the world's tumultuous din 

 The clamour of the mob by hollow sounds 

 Won to rebellion, till the noise astounds ; 

 That rends the air, with senseless fury hot; 

 Then in a moment stops, and is forgot ! 

 But in the fire, which round the cradle's cries, 

 The Muse to the elected child supplies, 

 There is a steadiness of flame, which burns, 

 Guarded from tempests, in the Muse's urns. 

 It smiles in calmness at the blights, which chill 

 The cherish'd purpose of the worldling's ill, 

 And hears with scorn the applauses coarse and loud, 

 To him who feeds the passions of the crowd. 

 Neglected knows he where his power is placed, 

 Disdains in vulgar toils his strength to waste ; 

 And, though to age the approval be delay 'd, 

 Lives calm and persevering in the shade. 



Thus Milton, who, above all human force, 

 Drank inspiration's essence at its source, 

 Lived his long days amid the witty crews, 

 Who paid their seeming worship to the Muse ; 

 Yet, while a hundred bards with wreaths they crown'd, 

 To him alone were mute and wanting found : 

 But he regardless and uncheck'd went on, 

 Working from dawn to night, and night to dawn ; 

 And still the fabric grew beneath his tongue ; 

 And still with joy upon the task he hung. 

 Nor tamed the fire ; nor bated he a jot 

 Of holy hope, that fix'd him to his lot. 

 ." The day will come," he whisper'd to his soul, 

 " When this dark stubborn curtain shall uproll, 

 And to a wondering world unborn display 

 The mighty blaze of my creative lay ! 

 Then shall these pigmies with their tinkling songs, 

 And all that to the puny race belongs, 

 Their feathers, and their bells, and painted cheeks, 

 And all that sensual luxury's follies seeks, 

 M.M. No. 5. 3 S 



