from our deliberate
conviction that he was seriously guided, in the exercise of his art,
by a sense of duty, and zeal for what is durably important.

Spenser then was essentially a _sacred_ poet; but the delicacy and
insinuating gentleness of his disposition were better fitted to the
veiled than the direct mode of instruction. His was a mind which would
have shrunk more from the chance of debasing a sacred subject by
unhandsome treatment, than of incurring ridicule by what would be
called unseasonable attempts to hallow things merely secular. It was
natural therefore for him to choose not a scriptural story, but a tale
of chivalry and romance; and the popular literature, and, in no small
measure, the pageantry and manners of his time, would join to attract
his efforts that way. In this way too he was enabled, with more
propriety and grace, to introduce allusions, political or courtly, to
subjects with which his readers were familiar; thus agreeably
diversifying his allegory, and gratifying his affection for his
friends and patrons, without the coarseness of direct compliment.

In Milton, most evidently, a great difference was to be expected: both
from his own character and from that of the times in which he lived.
Religion was in those days the favourite topic of discussion; and it
is indeed painful to reflect, how sadly it was polluted by
intermixture with earthly passions: the most awful turns and most
surprising miracles of the Jewish history being made to serve the base
purposes of persons, of whom it is hard to say whether they were more
successful in misleading others, or in deceiving themselves. It was an
effort worthy of a manly and devout spirit to rescue religion from
such degradation, by choosing a subject, which, being scriptural,
would suit the habit of the times, yet, from its universal and eternal
importance, would give least opportunity for debasing temporary
application. Then it was the temper of the man always to speak out.
He carried it to a faulty excess, as his prose works too amply
demonstrate. The more unfashionable his moral was, the more he would
have disdained to veil it: neither had he the shrinking delicacy of
Spenser to keep him back, through fear of profaning things hallowed by
an unworthy touch.

Thus the great epic poem of our language came to be, avowedly, a
sacred poem. One hardly dares to wish any thing other than it is in
such a composition; yet it may be useful to point out in wh