dy and the _Paradise Lost_, without
showing by _any_ proof that Milton's justly renowned epic {508} is
indeed superior to this, one of the Dutch poet's masterpiece--if
HERMES, being, as I conclude from his own words, conversant
with the language of _our_ Shakspeare, had taken pains to _read
Lucifer_, he would not have repeated a statement unfavourable to
Vondel's poetical genius. I, for my part, will _not_ hazard a judgment
on poems so different and yet so alike, I will _not_ sneer at Milton's
demon-gods of Olympus, nor laugh at "their artillery discharged in the
daylight of heaven;" for such instances of bad taste are to be
considered as clouds setting off the glories of the whole; but _this_ I
will say, that Vondel wrote his _Lucifer_ in 1654, the sixty-seventh of
his life, while Milton's _Paradise Lost_ was composed four years later.
The honour of precedence, in time, at least, belongs to my countryman.
All the odds were against the British poet's competitor, if one who
wrote before him may be so called; for, while Milton enjoyed every
privilege of a sound classical education, Vondel had still to begin a
course of study when more than twenty-six years of age; and, while the
Dutch poet told the price of homely stockings to prosaic burghers, the
writer of _Paradise Lost_ was speaking the language of Torquato Tasso in
the country enraptured by the first sight of _la divina comedia_.

I am no friend of polemical writing, and I believe the less we see of it
in your friendly periodical, the better it is; but still I _must_
protest against such copying of partially-written judgments, when good
information can be got. I say not by stretching out a hand, for the book
was already opened by your correspondent--but alone by using one's eyes
and turning over a leaf or two. Else, why did HERMES learn the
Dutch language? I ask your subscribers if the following verses are
_weak_, and if they would not have done honour to the English Vondel?

CHORUS OF ANGELS.

(From _Lucifer_.)

"Who sits above heaven's heights sublime,
Yet fills the grave's profoundest place,
Beyond eternity, or time,
Or the vast round of viewless space:
Who on Himself alone depends--
Immortal--glorious--but unseen--
And in his mighty being blends
What rolls around or flows within.
Of all we know not--all we know--
Prime source and origin--a sea,
Whose waters