what judgment, wit,
or elegance was my share would herein best appear, and best value
itself, by how much more wisely and with more love of virtue I should
choose (let rude ears be absent) the object of not unlike praises. For
albeit these thoughts to some will seem virtuous and commendable, to
others only pardonable, to a third sort perhaps idle, yet the
mentioning of them now will end in serious.

"Nor blame it, readers, in those years to propose to themselves such a
reward, as the noblest dispositions above other things in this life
have sometimes preferred; whereof not to be sensible when good and fair
in one person meet, argues both a gross and shallow judgment, and
withal an ungentle and swainish breast. For by the firm settling of
these persuasions, I became, to my best memory, so much a proficient,
that if I found those authors anywhere speaking unworthy things of
themselves, or unchaste of those names which before they had extolled,
this effect it wrought with me,--from that time forward their art I
still applauded, but the men I deplored; and above them all, preferred
the two famous renowners of _Beatrice_ and _Laura_, who never write but
honor of them to whom they devote their verse, displaying sublime and
pure thoughts without transgression. And long it was not after, when I
was confirmed in this opinion,--that he who would not be frustrate of
his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be
a true poem; that is, a composition and pattern of the best and
honorablest things: not presuming to sing high praises of heroic men or
famous cities, unless he have in himself the experience and the
practice of all that which is praiseworthy." [8]

It may be fanciful to add, and we may be laughed at, but we believe
that the self-reverencing propensity was a little aided by his singular
personal beauty. All the describers of his youth concur in telling us
that this was very remarkable. Mr. Masson has the following account of
it:--

"When Milton left Cambridge in July, 1632, he was twenty-three years
and eight months old. In stature, therefore, at least, he was already
whatever he was to be. 'In stature,' he says himself at a later
period, when driven to speak on the subject, 'I confess I am not tall,
but still of what is nearer to middle height than to little; and what
if I were of little, of which stature have often been very great men
both in peace and war--though why should that be c