the birds fled from the tree to Saint Brandon; and he, with flickering of his wings, made a full merry noise like a fiddle, that him seemed he never heard so joyful a melody. And then Saint Brandon commanded the bird to tell him the cause why they sat so thick on the tree, and sang so merrily. And then the bird said, Sometime we were angels in heaven; but when our Master Lucifer fell down in to hell for his high pride, and we fell with him for our offences; some higher and some lower, after the quality of the trespass. And by cause our trespass is but little, therefore our Lord hath sent us here, out of all pain, in full great joy and mirth, after his pleasing, here to serve him on this tree, in the best manner we can. The Sunday is a day of rest from all worldly occupation; ond therefore that day all we be made as white as any snow, for to praise our Lord in the best wise we may. And then all the birds began to sing even-song so merrily, that it was an heavenly noise to hear; and after supper, Saint Brandon and his fellows went to bed and slept well; and on the morn they arose by times, and then those birds began matins, pryme, and hours, and all such service as Christian men used to sing. And Saint Brandon with his fellows abode there viii weeks, until Trinity Sunday was passed.*

In "The Crafte to lyue well and to dye well. Translated out of Frensshe into Englysshe, the xxi daye of Januarye, the yere of our Lord m ccccc.v," "-a work also printed by Wynkyn de Worde there is a legend founded on a favorite incident of ancient and modern fiction:

"And of the said Joys of paradise, we read such an example of an holy and devout religious that prayed

From the "Legenda Aurca; that is to saye in Englysshe The Golde Legende. Accomplysshe & fynysshe att Westmynster the viii daye of Janeuer the yere of oure lorde Thousande cccc lxxxxviii. And in the xiii yere of the reygne of kynge Henry the vii. By me wynkyn de worde.'

continually unto god, that it would please him to shew him some sweetness of the joys of paradise. And so as the said holy and devout religious man was one day in oraison [orison], he heard a little bird that sung by him so sweetly, that it was marvel and melody to hear her. And the said religious hearing this little bird sing so sweetly and melodiously, he rose him from the place where he was to make his oraison, and would have taken and catched the said bird by the tail; the which fled away till unto a forest-the which forest was near unto the monastery of the said religious-and set her upon a tree. And the said religious that followed her, rested him under the tree where the said bird was set, for to hearken her sweet and melodious song, that it was so melodious, as it is said. And the said bird, after she had well sung, flew her way; and the said religious returned him to the monastery; and it seemed him truly that he had ne [not] been more than an hour or two under the said tree. And when he was come unto the monastery, he found the gate stopped; and found another gate made upon the other side of the said monastery, and he came for to knock at the said gate. Then the porter demanded him from whence he came— what he was-and what he would? And the said devout religious answered, I rode forth but late from the monastery, and I have not tarried, and I have found all changed here!' And, incontinent, the porter led him unto the Abbot, and unto him told the case, how the said religious was comen unto the gate, and how he had questioned with him, and how he had told him that it was but late that he was gone forth, and that he was right soon returned; and that, notwithstanding, he knew no more any thing there. And anon, the Abbot, and the most ancientest of the place, demanded the name of the Abbot that was at the hour that he rode from the said monastery? -and after he named him unto them, they looked in their Chronicles and they found that he had been absent by the space of iii. C. [three hundred] and three score years! O soul devout [immediately subjoins the

author] If a man have been ccclx year without having cold, ne heat, ne hunger, ne thirst to hear only one angel of paradise sing,' &c.

NOTE III.-PAGE 95.

I am aware that my opinions on the subject may be considered heterodox, and that numerous instances and arguments ancient and modern may be cited to prove the legitimate use of episodes and digressions in heroic poetry. There is no doubt that occasionally they are great embellishments, but the only question is what proportion they should bear in length and importance to the entire poem. In the Iliad they are neither very frequent nor very long, and seldom introduced except to illustrate or detail circumstances immediately connected with the action of the epic. Neither the Odyssey nor the Æneid stand alone as entire and complete poems, in the same manner that the Iliad does. They each celebrate the fortunes of one of the leaders in the Trojan war; and Homer first, and then Virgil in imitation of him, found it necessary or interesting to detail the series of events through which his hero passed from his disappearance in the Iliad to his re-appearance either in the Odyssey or Æneid. There was a gap to fill up between the action of the one poem, and the action of the other, and this could only be effected after the manner of Ulysses' narration to Alcinous, or that of Eneas to Dido. In the later ages and in the Italian school episodes and digressions became more frequent, but they tended neither to increase the interest nor add to the power or majesty of the epic. Events seldom appear vividly real when seen not merely through the author's description but through the description of one of his characters; or if they do then rise before us in the actual substance of life, we forget the circumstance of the narration, and are lost to the listening group before whom they are detailed. In the one case therefore the narration is feeble, in the other we are distracted from the immediate action of the poem, and when the tale is told

we return with an effort to the main plot which it has somewhat entangled. I think that this is particularly the case in the Paradise Lost. It begins with the bold and glowing scene of Satan and his angels gasping in the burning lake, and the cause of their discomforted condition is dimly but sufficiently distinctly figured—then comes his journey to the earth, and our introduction to Adam and Eve. As yet the action has progressed, and concontinues to do so until the angel Raphael commences his narration; when we are suddenly transported to the time of Satan's first defection, and a great part of the poem is occupied by an account of the series of events that occurred from that time until the period of man's creation, about which era the epic commenced. There is this further disadvantage in the arrangement, that in the first book we are informed of the event of the combat between the powers of light and darkness, and apart from the inequality of the strife, are previously acquainted with its issue. I would test the general truth of these observations by the different degrees of interest excited by the earlier and latter books of Paradise Lost. The poetry throughout is inimitably fine; but the attention, which was spell-bound in the commencement, becomes gradually languid as we approach the conclusion of the work.

Milton does not appear to have been particularly happy in the arrangement of a plot, and to this circumstance chiefly his ill success in dramatic writing may be attributed. It is of very little importance to say that a poem is written according to rules, if a better effect might have been produced by a laxer regardance of them; and I am not sure that the Paradise Lost, as a whole, would not produce a stronger impression if it represented a continuous series of actions, and were less entangled with narrations of prior and prophecies of future events.

INGALL. PRINTER, READING.