riness of life by the mortuary tablets under our feet.
The vast superiority of Bunyan over Spenser lies in the fact that we help make his allegory out of our own expfinds its startling parallel in that of every one of us. The very homeliness of Bunyan's names and the everydayness of his scenery, too, put us off our guard, and we ' muster-roll by the specious trick of personification.
There is, likewise, in Bunyan, a childlike simplicity and taking-for-granted which win our confidence.
His Giant Despair,
Bunyan probably took the hint of the Giant's suicidal offer of knife, halter, or poison, from Spenser's swords, ropes, poison, in Faery Queen, B. I. d wonder as something beforehand accepted by the imagination.
These figures of Bunyan's are already familiar inmates of the mind, and, if there be any sublimity in h of all his conceptions, yet no real giant, but a pure eidolon of the mind.
As Bunyan rises not seldom to a natural poetry, so Spenser sinks now and then, through th
city of self-reliance, I suspect, which goes far toward making the sublime, and which, falling by a hair's-breadth short thereof, makes the ridiculous.
Puritanism showed both the strength and weakness of its prophetic nurture; enough of the latter to be scoffed out of England by the very men it had conquered in the field, enough of the former to intrench itself in three or four immortal memories.
It has left an abiding mark in politics and religion, but its great monuments are the prose of Bunyan and the verse of Milton.
It is a high inspiration to be the neighbor of great events; to have been a partaker in them and to have seen noble purposes by their own self-confidence become the very means of ignoble ends, if it do not wholly depress, may kindle a passion of regret deepening the song which dares not tell the reason of its sorrow.
The grand loneliness of Milton in his latter years, while it makes him the most impressive figure in our literary history, is reflected also in his ma