John Milton (1608-1674) is known today as one of the greatest writers in the English language. Well-known mainly for his epic poems “Paradise Lost” and “Paradise Regained,” he has received more criticism than any English author except Shakespeare and maybe Chaucer.
Born in Cheapside, London, Milton was the son of a successful scrivener and notary; this of course led him to be interested in literature from an early age. He was fascinated by the Latin language as well as English.
Milton had some crucial hardships in his life that shaped his poetry. He had an unhappy marriage to Mary Powell – his inner feelings about this marriage sometimes surface in his poetry. He also became blind in 1652. After this point, he devoted more time and interest to poetry. Amazingly, he actually dictated passages of “Paradise Lost” that he composed at night in the morning.
Information comes from:
Poetry Criticism. Ed. Carol T. Gaffke. Vol. 19. Detroit: Gale, 1997. p189-264.
Personal Note:
I notice that many critics – most, if not all, in fact – compare Milton to Shakespeare. The main difference I find is that Milton seems much more personal to the reader than Shakespeare. Shakespeare wrote plays about other people, telling the stories of other lives, rather than writing about himself – at least openly. In fact, many facts about Shakespeare’s life are undefined because he gave few clues in his writing. Milton, on the other hand, writes much more about his personal life. With a beautiful mastery of diction, rhyme, and rhythm, Milton expresses his deepest sorrows as well as greatest joys in life. He usually ends optimistically, thanking God for what he has. Not really liking Milton at first (“Paradise Lost” was hard to read), I have begun to appreciate Milton more after spending a week reading about his life and poetry.
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On His Blindness
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
Milton writes this after he becomes blind. He feels betrayed by God. The last line shows surfacing anger, explaining that all men are equal in God’s eye, whether they be remarkable poets or men who do nothing. The chance of tragedy occurring is equal with every man – and Milton finds this unfair.
What I love most about this poem is the way Milton conceals his sadness and anger towards God. Questioning God’s will in the 17th century is suicide, yet Milton does exactly that – implying it, rather than saying it outright of course. Milton questions God’s will even in the title. Perhaps God is blind.
On His Being Arrived at the Age of 23
HOW soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom sheweth.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear
That some more timely happy spirits indueth.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot however mean or high,
Toward which time leads me and the will of heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great taskmaster's eye.
Milton discusses the sadness of aging. Strangely, 23 is quite a young age to have this dilemma – I would expect it to occur in his 40s at least. Lines 6 and 7 – “That I to manhood…less appear” – are beautifully written and relatable to a wide array of readers. Milton writes that he is inevitably becoming a man, as his “hasting days fly on,” but he is not ready inside – he is not “ripe.” This is a dreadful feeling every human being undergoes.
Milton ends the poem on an optimistic note, though. In line 12 he realizes that as he gets older, he is closer to reaching to heaven. And in the final two lines Milton concludes that he trusts God, his “taskmaster,” to treat him fairly.
At a Solemn Music
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mixed pow'r employ,
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;
And to our high-raised phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne
To Him that sits thereon,
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow,
And the Cherubic host in thousand choirs
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
Singing everlastingly:
Thus we on earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportioned sin
Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that song,
And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long
To His celestial concert us unite,
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light.
My favorite line is “Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse.” Milton differentiates between sound and actual written lyrics, yet affirms that they work together to create music. I also enjoy how Milton moves the subject from music to heaven, how even God sits on his “sapphire-coloured throne,” listening to the same music Milton is. This poem makes it seem as though Milton is able to hear heaven itself in a song and his verse helps establish the beauty of music – you can almost hear it as you read it.
The poem is far too long to post here, so I have included a link:
http://www.bartleby.com/101/317.html
This poem is one of Milton’s most famous and it isn’t surprising. Although I do not understand a fraction of the allusions, I can feel Milton’s emotion pouring out through this poem more than any other of his poems I have read so far.
“For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Milton mourns for his friend and expresses it with such deep poignancy. The poem’s tone of loss reminds me of another – although it was written long after Milton’s death – “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d” by Walt Whitman.
At the end of the poem, Milton realizes that his friend will live in heaven and ends on an optimistic note, “To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.”
Milton's "L'Allegro," meaning "the happy man" in Italian contrasts with Il Penseroso, "a melancholy man." These two poems are also some of Milton's more commonly known pieces.
I find it very difficult to understand "L'Allegro," but I do appreciate its beautiful language.
It is too long to post here, so here is the link:
http://www.bartleby.com/101/310.html
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