luded "some young sparks," and may assume that he then,
as afterwards--

"Disapproved that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains."

There is eloquent testimony of his interest in public affairs in his
subscription of four pounds, a large sum in those days, for the relief
of the homeless Protestants of Ulster. The progress of events must have
filled him with exultation, and when at length civil war broke out in
September, 1642, Parliament had no more zealous champion. His zeal,
however, did not carry him into the ranks, for which some biographers
blame him. But if he thought that he could serve his cause better with a
pamphlet than with a musket, surely he had good reason for what he
thought. It should seem, moreover, that if Milton detested the enemy's
principles, he respected his pikes and guns:--

WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY [NOVEMBER, 1642.]

Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muse's bower:
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground; and the repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.

If this strain seems deficient in the fierceness befitting a besieged
patriot, let it be remembered that Milton's doors were literally
defenceless, being outside the rampart of the City.

We now approach the most curious episode of Milton's life, and the most
irreconcilable with the conventional opinion of him. Up to this time
this heroic existence must have seemed dull to many, for it has been a
life without love. He has indeed, in his beautiful Sonnet to the
Nightingale (about 1632), professed himself a follower of Love: but if
so, he has hitherto followed at a most respectful distance. Yet he had
not erred, when in the Italian sonnet, so finely rendered in Professor
Masson's biography, he declared the heart his vulnerable point:--

"Young, gentle-natured, and a si