Its mouth yawns not only under Florence, but before the feet of every man everywhere who goeth about to do evil.
His hell is a condition of the soul, and he could not find images loathsome enough to express the moral deformity which is wrought by sin on its victims, or his own abhorrence of it. Its inmates meet you in the street every day.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is there we must ever be. Marlowe's Faustus.
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell. （Paradise Lost, IV. 75.) In the same way,
ogni dove in cielo ZZZe Paradiso. (Paradiso, III. 88, 89.)
It is our own sensual eye that gives evil the appearance of good, and out of a crooked hag makes a bewitching siren.
The reason enlightened by the grace of God sees it as it truly is, full of stench and corruption.
Purgatorio, XIX. 7-33. It is this office of reason which Dante undertakes to perform, by divine commission, in the Infern
408. In the Epithalamion there is an epithet which has been much admired for its felicitous tenderness:—
Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes And blesseth her with his two happy hands. But the purely impersonal passion of the artist had already guided him to this lucky phrase.
It is addressed by Holiness—a dame surely as far abstracted from the enthusiasms of love as we can readily conceive of—to Una, who, like the visionary Helen of Dr. Faustus, has every charm of womanhood, except that of being alive as Juliet and Beatrice are.
O happy earth, Whereon thy innocent feet do ever tread! Faery Queen, B. I. c. x. 9. Can we conceive of Una, the fall of whose foot would be as soft as that of a rose-leaf upon its mates already fallen,—can we conceive of her treading anything so sordid?
No; it is only on some unsubstantial floor of dream that she walks securely, herself a dream.
And it is only when Spenser has escaped thither, onl
t is really solemn trifling to lay any stress on the spelling of the original editions, after having admitted, as Mr. Masson has honestly done, that in all likelihood Milton had nothing to do with it. And yet he cannot refrain.
On the word voutsafe he hangs nearly a page of dissertation on the nicety of Milton's ear. Mr. Masson thinks that Milton must have had a reason for it,
He thinks the same of the variation strook and struck,though they were probably pronounced alike.
In Marlowe's Faustus two consecutive sentences (in prose) begin with the words Cursed be he that struck.
In a note on the passage Mr. Dyce tells us that the old editions (there were three) have stroke and strooke in the first instance, and all agree on strucke in the second.
No inference can be drawn from such casualties. and finds that reason in his dislike to [of] the sound ch, or to [of] that sound combined with s. . . . . . His fine ear taught him not only to seek for musical effects and cadences at larg