urpassing "Lycidas," though void of the varied music and exquisite
felicities which could not well be present in the conventionalized idiom
of a modern Latin poet. The most pathetic passage is that in which he
contrasts the general complacency of animals in their kind with man's
dependence for sympathy on a single breast; the most biographically
interesting where he speaks of his plans for an epic on the story of
Arthur, which he seems about to undertake in earnest. But the impulses
from without which generally directed the course of this seemingly
autocratic, but really susceptible, nature, urged him in quite a
different direction: for some time yet he was to live, not make a poem.

The tidings which, arriving at Naples about Christmas, 1638, prevailed
upon Milton to abandon his projected visit to Sicily and Greece, were no
doubt those of the revolt of Scotland, and Charles's resolution to
quell it by force of arms. Ere he had yet quitted Italy, the King's
impotence had been sufficiently demonstrated, and about a month ere he
stood on English soil the royal army had "disbanded like the break-up of
a school." Milton may possibly have regretted his hasty return, but
before many months had passed it was plain that the revolution was only
beginning. Charles's ineffable infatuation brought on a second Scottish
war, ten times more ridiculously disastrous than the first, and its
result left him no alternative but the convocation (November, 1640) of
the Long Parliament, which sent Laud to the Tower and Strafford to the
block, cleared away servile judges and corrupt ministers, and made the
persecuted Puritans persecutors in their turn. Not a member of this
grave assemblage, perhaps, but would have laughed if told that not its
least memorable feat was to have prevented a young schoolmaster from
writing an epic.

Milton had by this time found the lodgings in St. Bride's Churchyard
insufficient for him, and had taken a house in Aldersgate Street, beyond
the City wall, and suburban enough to allow him a garden. "This street,"
writes Howell, in 1657, "resembleth an Italian street more than any
other in London, by reason of the spaciousness and uniformity of the
buildings and straightness thereof, with the convenient distance of the
houses." He did not at this time contemplate mixing actively in
political or religious controversy.

"I looked about to see if I could get any place that would hold
myself and my books, and