-was acted and published in 1654, when Milton is known to have
been studying Dutch, but when the plan of "Paradise Lost" must have been
substantially formed. There can, nevertheless, be no question of the
frequent verbal correspondences, not merely between Vondel's Lucifer and
"Paradise Lost," but between his Samson and "Samson Agonistes." Milton's
indebtedness, so long ago as 1829, attracted the attention of an English
poet of genius, Thomas Lovell Beddoes, who pointed out that his
lightning-speech, "Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven," was a
thunderbolt condensed from a brace of Vondel's clumsy Alexandrines,
which Beddoes renders thus:--

"And rather the first prince at an inferior court
Than in the blessed light the second or still less."

Mr. Gosse followed up the inquiry, which eventually became the subject
of a monograph by Mr. George Edmundson ("Milton and Vondel," 1885). That
Milton should have had, as he must have had, Vondel's works translated
aloud to him, is a most interesting proof, alike of his ardour in the
enrichment of his own mind, and of his esteem for the Dutch poet.
Although, however, his obligations to predecessors are not to be
overlooked, they are in general only for the most obvious ideas and
expressions, lying right in the path of any poet treating the subject.
_Je l'aurais bien pris sans toi._ When, as in the instance above quoted,
he borrows anything more recondite, he so exalts and transforms it that
it passes from the original author to him like an angel the former has
entertained unawares. This may not entirely apply to the Italian
reformer, Bernardino Ochino, to whom, rather than to Tasso, Milton seems
indebted for the conception of his diabolical council. Ochino, in many
respects a kindred spirit to Milton, must have been well known to him as
the first who had dared to ventilate the perilous question of the
lawfulness of polygamy. In Ochino's "Divine Tragedy," which he may have
read either in the Latin original or in the nervous translation of
Bishop Poynet, Milton would find a hint for his infernal senate. "The
introduction to the first dialogue," says Ochino's biographer Benrath,
"is highly dramatic, and reminds us of Job and Faust." Ochino's
arch-fiend, like Milton's, announces a masterstroke of genius. "God sent
His Son into the world, and I will send my son." Antichrist accordingly
comes to light in the shape of the Pope, and works infinite havoc until
Henry VIII.