postulations and wishes, as reason too often submits to learn from despair:

O first created beam, and thou great word
Let there be light, and light was over all;

Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?
The sun to me is dark,

And silent as the moon,

When she deserts the night,

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Since light so necessary is to life,
And almost life itself; if it be true,
That light is in the soul,

She all in ev'ry part; why was the sight
To such a tender ball as the eye confin'd,
So obvious and so easy to be quench'd,
And not, as feeling, through all parts diffus'd
That she may look at will thro' ev'ry pore?

Such are the faults and such the beauties of Samson Agonistes, which I have shown with no other purpose than to promote the knowledge of true criticism. The everlasting verdure of Milton's laurels has nothing to fear from the blasts of malignity; nor can my attempt produce any other effect, than to strengthen their shoots by lopping their luxuriance.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

London: Printed by Lake Hansard & Sons, near Lincoln's-Inn Fields.