liked him best.
Its narrow bounds, but fourteen paces from end to end, turn into a virtue his too common fault of giving undue prominence to every passing emotion.
He excels in monologue, and the law of the sonnet tempers monologue with mercy.
In ‘The Excursion’ we are driven to the subterfuge of a French verdict of extenuating circumstances.
His mind had not that reach and elemental movement of Milton
's, which, like the trade-wind, gathered to itself thoughts and images like stately fleets from every quarter; some deep with silks and spicery, some brooding over the silent thunders of their battailous armaments, but all swept forward in their destined track, over the long billows of his verse, every inch of canvas strained by the unifying breath of their common epic impulse.
It was an organ that Milton
mastered, mighty in compass, capable equally of the trumpet's ardors or the slim delicacy of the flute, and sometimes it bursts forth in great crashes through his prose, as if he touched it for solace in the intervals of his toil.
sometimes puts the trumpet to his lips, yet he lays it aside soon and willingly for his appropriate instrument, the pastoral reed.
And it is not one that grew by any vulgar stream, but that which Apollo
breathed through, tending the flocks of Admetus
, —that which Pan endowed with every melody of the visible universe,— the same in which the soul of the despairing nymph took refuge and gifted with her dual nature,— so that ever and anon, amid the notes of human joy or sorrow, there comes suddenly a deeper and almost awful tone, thrilling us into dim consciousness of a forgotten divinity.
's absolute want of humor, while it no doubt confirmed his self-confidence by making him insensible both to the comical incongruity into which he was often led by his earlier theory concerning the language