'
I have, indeed, often wondered how Milton, 'an acrimonious and surly
Republican[151],'--'a man who in his domestick relations was so severe
and arbitrary[152],' and whose head was filled with the hardest and most
dismal tenets of Calvinism[153], should have been such a poet; should
not only have written with sublimity, but with beauty, and even gaiety;
should have exquisitely painted the sweetest sensations of which our
nature is capable; imaged the delicate raptures of connubial love; nay,
seemed to be animated with all the spirit of revelry. It is a proof that
in the human mind the departments of judgement and imagination,
perception and temper, may sometimes be divided by strong partitions;
and that the light and shade in the same character may be kept so
distinct as never to be blended[154].
In the Life of Milton, Johnson took occasion to maintain his own and the
general opinion of the excellence of rhyme over blank verse, in English
poetry[155]; and quotes this apposite illustration of it by 'an
ingenious critick,' that _it seems to be verse only to the eye_[156].
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