to competition with Milton; but the
comparison must, of course, force itself upon the reader; and although
it was not to be expected that she should rise so soaringly as Milton
does above the level of her theme, it was at any rate to be expected
that her _dramatis personae_ should not stand in absolute contrast to
his. Yet Milton's Satan and Miss Barrett's Lucifer are the very
antipodes of each other. Milton's Satan is a thoroughly practical
character, and, if he had been human, he would have made a first-rate
man of business in any department of life. Miss Barrett's Lucifer, on
the contrary, is the poorest prater that ever made a point of saying
nothing to the purpose, and we feel assured that he could have put his
hand to nothing in heaven, on earth, or in hell. He has nothing to do,
he does nothing, and he could do nothing. He seems incapable of
excogitating a single plot of treachery, or of carrying into execution a
single deed of violence. His thoughts are a great deal too much taken up
about his own personal appearance. Gabriel is an equally irresolute
character. The following is a portion of a dialogue which takes place
between the two; and it is perhaps as fair a sample of the drama as any
that we could select. Near the beginning of the poem Gabriel concludes a
short address to Lucifer with these words--

"Go from us straightway.

_Lucifer._ Wherefore?

_Gabriel._ Lucifer,
Thy last step in this place, trod sorrow up.
Recoil before that sorrow, if not this sword.

_Lucifer._ Angels are in the world--wherefore not I?
Exiles are in the world--wherefore not I?
The cursed are in the world--wherefore not I?

_Gabriel._ Depart.

_Lucifer._ And where's the logic of 'depart?'
Our lady Eve had half been satisfied
To obey her Maker, if I had not learnt
To fix my postulate better. Dost thou dream
Of guarding some monopoly in heaven
Instead of earth? _Why I can dream with thee
To the length of thy wings._

_Gabriel._ I do not dream.
This is not heaven, even in a dream; nor earth,
As earth was once,--first breathed among the stars,--
Articulate glory from the mouth divine,--
To which the myriad spheres thrill'd audibly,
Touch'd like a lute-string,--and the sons of God
Said AMEN, singing it. I know that this
Is earth, not new created, but new cursed--
This, Eden's gat