LAIHSA KOCIC-ZAMn6_n>---

FRYE AND THE MUSICAL POET

It is a well-known fact that Frye was a lover of music to the point that he consid­ered it an "alternative career". Yet, the role of music has been left largely unex­plored in the conceptual framework of his literary theory (Bogdan 57). Perhapsfor the same reason, his preoccupation with Milton had never enjoyed such emi­nence as his writings on Blake, because it is in terms of music and musical poetrythat the importance of Milton to Frye stands out (Fletcher 750-1). Hence, myaim is to explore how Frye's knowledge ofmusic, and his theoretical use of musi­cal form-particularly in his exposition of epos-sheds new light on Milton'sParadise Lost and can, therefore, contribute to the recently rekindled debateamong Milton scholars about the oral/aural significance of Milton's poems.

Revisiting Frye's notions on music in poetry in connection with Milton stud­ies seems particularly relevant in light of the obsession the majority of Milton'sscholars bestow upon the poet's thought and thought only. Beverley Sherry-whohas recently been expounding benevolent possibilities lying dormant in T. S. Eli­ot's legacy to Milton studies.(see 2010 and 2010a) encapsulates this obsession inan introduction to John K. Hale's Milton as Multilingual as follows:

In the past sixty years, since the work of, say, C. S. Lewis, Rosemond Tuve, ArnoldStein, F. T. Prince, Frank Kermode, Joseph Summers, Christopher Ricks, there hasbeen a general move awayfrom formalist study, which includes ~erbal criticism, to­wards an emphasis on Milton's thought-moral, religious, philosophical, and political.This development has overtaken the closestudy ofMilton's handling of words, result­ing in a neglect of his minutely sensitive and endlessly creative genius with decorum,which remained for him "the grand master peece to observe", (17)

Stanely Fish too, in his article "Why Milton Matters; or, Against Historicism"(2005) criticizes the current trend in Milton studies, echoing Ellen Rooney'sconcern that "once the category of form has been attenuated every text is reduced

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FRYE AND rua MUSICAL POR1'

• tts ideological and historical context' and'r dito I . ea ng has b d'lcct of ~orting by theme'", Milton scholars say Fi I eon Isplaced by aproje . , S S1 "pick U h

the wrong end", and proceeds to use the stick to ra th pte stick fromhistorical criticism and for forgetting that criticismP£ e~ for their practice of

, 'I h " OCUSlng on aesthetic f"is no less lustonca t an any other because he add "I' orrnhel hi I ' ' s, iterary forms are moreoften than not, tell' ve IC es [i.e. of social and pohtl I '

, '" , 1 lca concerns]", (8)It IS quite Interesting that desplts the similarity f th '

, " 0 ell' assessment, Sherrysingles out FIsh sHow Milton Works-albeit in a fo t ot " ' "

11 0 no e-as typical in ItSminimal concern for the way Milton works with fo 1 I ' ,

, • • Il , rma e ements of writing"

(Hale 17n11). But mstead of delving into this cunostty f th I 'II,. " ur er, WI presentlyheed Sherry s advice, although WIth a tWISt' instead of reas '" . ,. sessing a poet-critic[Eliot] who heard Milton" (Sherry 2010a, 35), I will revisit a critic with a keenear for Milton who considered Eliot a "must read"(Frye 2010, 183), and thusechoed many of Eliot's observations on Milton's aural prowess, yet did so with­out Eliot's anti-Miltonic sentiments.!

According to Warkentin, Frye's notions on music in literature grew out of astudent essay focusing on Robert Browning, which he wrote as an undergradu­ate in 1932-3 (Frye 2006, 9). Published in the University of Toronto Quarterly

1 Eliot's earliest remarks on Milton are from his 1919 essay on Marlowe and his two 1921 studieson the Metaphysical poets, Marvell and Donne (Eliot 1934, 118-125, 281-304). However, hismost substantial treatment of Milton is the essay "A Note on Milton's Verse" published in Essaysand Studies (1936) and his lecture on Milton to the British Academy (1947), The essay and thelecture were enti t led "Milton I" and "Milton II" respectively and published in Eliot's collec­tion, On Poetry and Poets (1957). [1 had recourse to these texts in Kermode's edition of Eliot'sessays (Eliot 1980) and in an online edition of Eliot's Milton: TwoStudies (1968), and choose tocite the latter as it provides a more complete text.] The gist of Eliot's complaint against Miltonis that "the sensuous effect of [hi s] verses is entirely on the ear" (11). Milton's syntax, whichEliot considered to be primarily of musical significance and not beneficial to the developmentof thoughts, confirmed his theory of the "dissociation of senslbility", namely, that in Englandthere occurred in the seventeenth century a dislocation of thought and feeling for which Eliotblamed Milton and Dryden (33) . In Eliot's view, Milton, though a great poet, "could only be aninfluence for the worse, upon any poet whatsoever" (31; Frye 2010, 193). The attack initiatedby Eliot, was abetted by Ezra Pound in a 1934 diatribe against "the gross and utter stupidityand obtuseness of Milton" (103) , which had been influenced by Middleton Murry, and lent aca­demic force by A.J. A. Waldock and F. R. Leavis, to whom Milton exhibited "certain sensuouspoverty" (Leavis 47) and "a feeling for words rather than capacity for feeling through words"(51). The ensuing "Milton controversy "was termed by James Thorpe "a unique phenomenon inthe history of literary criticism" (19). For an overview of Eliot's critici~~ c~vering 1919-194:see Bollier (165-192). For a larger-scope study of the twentieth century s Milton. Controve~sy ,tracing it back even to Milton's earliest critics, see Bergonzi (162-180). See also Ricks, especiallypages 1-21. Frye reflecting on the persistence of anti-Miltonic and anti-Romantic sentl~ents.' bl EI' '] d ' tl n of Milton'sIn his contemporaries claimed that Pound's [and presuma y lot s eprecia 10 fachievement "should not be taken today as a serious dictum [... ] but as a quite funny parodY

2o)h . . . h k db t t will fall into" (2010, 101- .t e sort of pedantic nonsense that hlstcrlcism unc ec e y as e

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LARISA KOClc·ZAMB6

in 1942 (11:2, 167-79) under the title "Music in Poetry", it was Frye's first majorpiece of critical writing, and a significant one too, for its major tenets wereincorporated ina systematic discourse on genres in his seminal Anatomy ofCriticism in 1957. For this reason, I will mostly have recourse to the latter workwhen referencing his interpretation of meLos and (to a lesser degree) opsis inliterature and how these affect our reading and understanding of Milton.

According to Frye, literature predominantly "appeals to the ear, and so par­takes of the nature of music", however, it also appeals to the (inner) eye, thuspartaking of the nature of the visuallspatial arts too (2000, 244). Depending onthe inclination and technical skill of the individual poet, one will either empha­size the melos, the musicality of the work, or the opsis, the spectacle of the same,although in Frye's reading this too will turn out to be predominantly an auralquality. In both instances, Frye is adamant to distinguish the technical, Aristo­telian meaning of the two terms from their sentimental applications. Musicalpoetry, claims Frye, is "poetry which resembles in its structure the music con­temporary with it"; this technical use of the word musical is at odds with thesentimental use that calls "any poetry musical if it sounds nice" (255). He blamesthis sentimental use on a misconception of the word "harmony", that is, applyingits common sense meaning to the one pertaining to music, and in the initialessay even blames Milton (though indirectly) for it:

The ancient doctrine that the music of the spheres was a harmony is perhaps the old­est source of this confusion. In At a Solemn Musick, Milton makes the discordantmusic ofearth the symbol of the life of fallen man: in heaven there will be "perfectDiapason", which in terms ofmusicweknowmeans spending all eternity on one note.(Frye 2006, 13)

As he elaborates further in the Anatomy ofCriticism, "[ijn this figurative sense ofthe word harmony, music is not a sequence of harmonies at all, but a sequence ofdiscords ending in harmony, the only stable and permanent 'harmony' in musicbeing the final resolving tonic chord" (256). He goes into a more technical elabo­ration in"Music in Poetry", wherein his blaming reference to Milton seems quitequixotic and paradoxical because just a couple of lines later he quotes two linesfrom Milton's L'Allegro (143-4) as a proper definition of music as such." It is alsosomewhat disappointingfrom a Miltonist point ofview that Frye does not refer-

2 :'Music is not a seque~c~ of harmonies: the word 'harmony' in music ought always to be in~nverted commas. Music IS a sequence of discords ending in harmony [...JIn other words musicIS a process of 'Untwisting all the chains that tie I the hidden soul of harmony" (2006, 11).

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Fnvn AND T lt ll MU1lICAI. Porn

oncethe "regular / [..] when most Irregular" dunce of the nngcls," when clarifyingthat the music most closely analogous to extended poetry in continuous metre is"musicin its more extended Instrumental forms, In which the organizing rhythmhas dcscend ed more directly from dance thnn from song" (255).

Disappointing as this omission might be, It Is nevertheless understandablesince Frye's study on musical poetry is not a case study-as one might termEliot's stud)' on Milton-hut a general attempt at a theory/rhetoric of genres.Howc"er, whenever Frye references Milton, he does so in terms reminiscent ofEliot. Thus, he claims that "Milton must he read with a myopic eye and a keenear" (2006, 20). In Eliot's words, Paradise Lost exerts a "peculiar demand for areadjustment of the reader's mode of apprehension" in which emphasis is "onthe sound, not the vision, upon the word, not the idea" (1968, 41). One should,however, quickly add that it is not emphasis on a single word that Eliot is refer­ring to, hut a string of words. As he notes, "Milton's verse is especially refrac­tory to yielding up its secrets to examination of the single line" or the singleword for that matter (42). The unit of Milton's verse is "the period, the sentenceand still more the paragraph" for "[i]t is only in the period that the wavelengthof Milton's verse is to be found" (42). Frye concurs when he states that musicaldiction "employs a long cumulative rhythm sweeping the lines up into largerrhythmical units such as the paragraph"," listing two additional features: theirregularity of its metre and the heavy reliance on enjambment (2000, 257). It ishere that he references Milton as employing the word musical in its proper sense:"When Milton says that rhymed heroic verse is 'of no true musical delight',because musical poetry must have 'the sense variously drawn out from one verseinto another', he is using the word musical in its technical sense" (257).

Let us, therefore, take a look at one of those "wavelength", paragraph-longpassages of Milton's Paradise Lost that particularly exemplifies the features Fryeassociates with musical poetry: "shar~ barking accents, crabbed and obscurelanguage, mouthfuls of consonants and the bite and grip of many monosyllables"(2006, 12). The passage in question describes bands of fallen angels bent ondiscovering their new dismal world in Hell:

3 "Mystical dance, which yonder starrie Spheare I Of Planets and of fixt in all her Wheeles IResembles nearest, mazes intricate, I Eccentric, intervolv'd, yet regular I Then most when mostirregular they seem, I And in thir motions harmonie Divine I So smooths her charming tones,that Gods own ear I Listens delighted" (PL 5.620-7).

• Similarly, C. S. Lewis writes in A Preface to Paradise Lost: "We must not be allowed to settledown at the end of each sentence. Even the fuller pause at the end of a paragraph must be felt aswe feel a pause in a piece of music, where the silence is part of the music, and not as we feel thepause between one item of a concert and the next" (45). Note that Lewis too puts an emphasison sensing Milton's larger, epic units, implying hearing in his reference to musical pause.

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LAIIISA I(OCIC.ZAMIH')

[... ) Thus roving onIn confus'd march forlorn, th' ndvcntllt'Ollll Bnnus

\\7ith shuddrlng hOlTIJr pale, and eyes ngnst

Vicw'd first thlr lamentable lot, and foundNo rest: through many a dark and drcarlo Valle

The)' pass'd, and many a Region dolorous,

O'er many a Frozen, many a fierle Alpe,Rocks, Caves, Lakes. Fens, Bogs, Dens, and shades of death,

A Universe of death, which God by curse

Created evil, for evil only good.

\\7here all life dies, death lives. and Nature breeds,

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,

Abominable, inutterable, and worse

Than Fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd,

Gorgons and Hydras, and Chimeras dire. (2.614-628)

The predicament of the devils, their inability to find rest in this "Region dolor­ous", is highlighted by the "bite and grip" and rapid succession of many mono-

. syllables ("Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens [...]") emphasizing both thedebased nature of the variety offered in Hell and the musical experience ofreading the passage. In addition, as a monosyllable "always demands a separateaccent, however slight" (Frye 2000, 261), the accumulated stress of the monosyl­labic line makes "the reading of Hell analogous to exploring it" (Forsyth 204),as the passage describing Satan's flight across Chaos recreates in reading theturbulent bumpiness of his course: "Ore bog or steep, through strait, rough,dense, or rare, I With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way, I And swimsor sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flyes" (2.948-950).

The previous passage also reveals some slight discrepancy between Eliot's andFrye's assessment of Milton's verse, and the eventually impossible task of distin­guishing between the working of melos and opsis in the technical use of theterms Frye prefers.

Eliot, who persistently emphasizes the limitation of Milton's visual powers, issomewhat relenting when it comes to "imagery suggestive of vast size, limitlessspace, abysmal depth, and light and darkness" for this he considers "the kind ofimagery in which he [Milton] excelled, or made less demand upon the powers ofvisual imagination which were in him defective" (1968, 40). An observation thatmight be justified in theological terms, as Milton applied the imagery describedby Eliot predominantly to scenes of Hell and its horrors, thus, emphasizing thevisual nature of the Fall, while contrasting it with the aural nature of faith and

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FRYI1 ANIl r un MUSICAl. PORT

Edcn.s And while for Eliot Milton excelled In depicting Hell, Frye claims that"[tlhc musical, or cacophonous, diction Is better fitted for the grotesque andhorriblc, or for Invective and abuse" (2006,12; 2000, 256-7), yet again evokingMilton's Hell, th e epitome of grotesque aud horrible but not In a pictorial sense.For indeed, despit e the multitude of words displayed In the passage we get nosense of what the devils see In particular; It Is rather the sense of what they feelwhile seeing it that we gather. Not only cannot the devils find rest, the readertoo is denied a rest and Is particularly out of breath by the time slhe reaches theperiod of Milton's paragraph. In the passage Milton makes the most out of thestructure and textu re of English, particularly with the cluster of monosyllablesthat accentuate, as Milton's schoolmaster would say, "heaviness andslowness"(Jones 238). Another contemporary of Milton, Richard Flecknoe in hisMiscellania (1653), claims that the unpopularity of English-In Europe is due toflits monosyllables, and short snapping words [...] which render the sound harshand unpleasant unto Strangers ears [...] render[ing] it ragged and disjointed"(Jones 238n6), a description perfectly corresponding to the ragged bands ofMil­ton's fallen angels "in confus'd march forlorn". And yet, does the impossibilityto visualize Milton's sonorous description of the devil's exploration render thispassage devoid of opsis?

As it turns out, what Frye consider analogous to opsis in its technical, true senseis the rhetorical device of onomatopoeia, i.e. of imitative harmony, and quotes fromPope's Essay on Criticism to describe and exemplify the phenomenon:

'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence,

The sound must seem an echo to the sense [.. .J

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,

The line too labours, and the words move slow;

Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain,

Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.

(Frye 2000, 258)

So, for Frye opsis basically boils down to sound-effects that correspond with thesense of the words in the poem, much like in the passages from Paradise Lost

5 E.g. Milton stresses the role visual perception has in the Fall when describing Eve's reaction toSatan's reasoning in the temptation scene of Book 9: "Fixt on the Fruit she gaz'd, which to beholdI Might tempt alone [... ]1 [...] which with desi re [...] Sollicited her longing eye" (9.735-736, 741,743). Also in Eve's musing to herself, paraphrasing Gen 3:6 (d. 11n2:16): "Here grows t~e Cur=of all, th is Fruit Divine, 1 Fair to the Eye, inviti ng to the Taste, 1Of vertue to make Wise [...](9.776-778).

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LARI!lA /(OCIC-ZAMII6

I have quoted." English, according to Frye, excels in imitative harmonies and,although, some of them inevitably get lost with the passage of time, new ones areperpetually being "recreated in colloquial speech" which is itself, if good, termed"picturesque" or "colourful" (259). Consequently, the difference between melosand opsis is not based on the sensory effect they create, since both are elementsof poetry (literature) and as such primarily appeal to the ear (243-244). Nor dothey seem to work by mutual exclusion but in a complementary way: the passagein mention employs both melos and opsis, thus, both contributed to the mostvalued and often cited strength of Milton's Paradise Lost, namely, its kineticeffect on the reader. A further telling example of this effect is, still within Book2, when Sin opens the Gate of Hell and before her, Satan and Death "in suddenview appear I The secrets of the hoarie deep" (2.890-891). Yet again, the readerhas no access to their "view" in terms of visual description, for everything Miltonlists defies visual imagination and references sound instead:

[•••J a dark

Illimitable Ocean without bound,

Without dimension, where length, breath, & highth,

And time and place are lost; where eldest Night

And Chaos, Ancestors of Nature, hold

Eternal Anarchic, amidst the noise

Of endless Warrs, and by confusion stand.

For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four Champions fierce

Strive here for Maistrie, and to Battel bring

Thir embryon Atoms; they around the flag

Of each his Faction, in thir several Clanns,

Llght-arrn'd or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,

Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the Sands '. , .

Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil,

Levied to side with warring Winds, and poise

Thir lighter wings. To whom these most adhere,

6 The apsis in this sense is even more pronounced if we consider that the adjectives in the passageunder consideration (PL 2.614-628) are dominated by the sound of R: dark, drearie, dolorous,frozen, fierie, perverse, monstrous; prodigious, inutterable, worse; even the prodigies importedfrom classical antiquity resound with R's: Gorgons, Hydras, Chimeras. According to JohnAubrey (1626-1697), Milton "pronounced the letter R very hard" (Hughes 1023). In a parenthe­sis Aubrey refers to R as the litera canina (I.e. the canine letter), so the hard pronunciation ofR might sound something like a growl, or a snarl. Read in such an onomatopoeic manner, thepassage almost creates the sense of "wailing and gnashing ofteeth"-a recurring figure in the

. gospel of Matthew to describe the anguish of the damned (see also PL 6.339-343 of Satan).

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Fnvl1 AN!) rus MUillCAJ. POBT

Hcc rules a moment; C!trWS Umpire stts,And by dcclslon more lmbrullcs the ft'nyBywhich he Reigns [... J (2.891-909)

11lc invocation of a battle scene with the notion of armies grouped around flags,in clans according to their light or heavy armoury only serves to highlight thefutility of our attempt to imagine such a scene (for picturing it would entail asort of ordering, especially in a martial scene like this). What we get instead isanarchy, in which we cannot make head or tail of an army of such insubstantialchampions as hot, cold, moist, and dry (monosyllables again). Like the victoryof the elements and their "embryon Atoms" it is but for a moment that we getan image, only to discard it in the following moment. As on torrid soil, we getno solid footing and we stand in confusion if we stand at all.

It is at the brink of this abyss that Satan pauses, lingering and postponing hisflight:

[...] Into this wilde Abyss,

The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave

Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,

But all these in thir pregnant causes mixt

Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight,

Unless th' Almighty Maker them ordain

His dark materials to create more Worlds,

Into this wild Abyss the warie fiend

Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while,

Pondering his Voyage [... ] (2.910-919)

Theeighteenth-century commentator, Jonathan Richardson lauds this passage as"veryArtfull!" for in it "the Poet Himself seems to be Doing what he Describes,for the Period begins at 910. Then he goes not On Directly but Lingers; givingan Idea of Chaos before he Enters into it" (81). But Milton is not merely artfulin postponing our initial anticipation of Satan's flight or jump "into this wildeAbyss" for the reader's expectation is thwarted yet again at the repetition of"into this wilde Abyss" as "the wade fiend" merely "stood on the brink of Helland look'd a while I Pondering his Voyage". It is ten lines later that he will actu­ally spread "his Sail-broad Vannes" for flight and spurn the ground (2.927-929).Again, the kinetic effect, making the reader experience rather than picture whatthe poet describes is achieved by the long cumulative rhythm of the paragraph

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LAIWIA [«(JCIC-ZAM"l;

long passage, which , to relteratc my point, Is cha rnctcrlstlc of musical diction

according to Frye.In conclusion, I wish to bring up a point In Frye's argumcnt with which I

strongly disagree. When Idcntlfylng the "radical of presentation" as the basis ofgeneric distlnction-e-Tn the sense that the genre is determined by the conditionsestablished between the poet and his public" (2000, 247)-and acknowledgingthat certain works might have more than one radical of presentation connected

to it, he makes the following remark:

Milton, for example, seems to have no ideal of reciter and audience in mind for Para­

dise Lost; he seems content to leave it, in practice, a poem to be read in a book. When

he uses the convention of invocation, thus bringing the poem into the genre of the

spoken wo~d, the significance ofthe convention is [merely] to indicate what tradition

his work primarily belongs to and what its closes affinities are with. (247)

For Frye, Milton's Paradise Lost is an epic and not an epos, a difference he main­tains throughout his essay, using the word epos "to describe works in which theradical of presentation is oral address" (i.e. "poems intended to be recited") andusing the word epic "for its customary use as the name of the form of the Iliad,Odyssey, Aeneid and Paradise Lost" or, in other words, "epics of the conventionaljumbo size" and therefore, one assumes, not convenient for recital (248). Andyet, as Walter ]. Ong claims, "In all the wonderful worlds that writing opens, thespoken word still resides and lives. Written texts all have to be related somehow,directly or indirectly, to the world of sound, the natural habitat of language,to yield their meaning" (8)7. This is especially true when considering Renais­sance texts, Milton's included. We need to remember, Neil Rhodes urges, thatRenaissance culture "was still highly oral in character, where reading aloud wascommon, and where sound effects were as important in the reception of poetryas they would have been in the more obviously spoken forms of drama, sermonand oratory" (32). As Milton scholars, we need to remember this not merely toretrieve "a vital element [...] of cultural history" marginalized with the rejec­tion of formalism in favour of historicism in the 1980s (ibid.), but because ofthe growing popularity of Milton marathons, that is, the public reading aloudof Milton's works (mostly Paradise Lost). These marathons are gaining world-

7 As a ma~ter of fact, in an attempt to come up with an alternative to the anachronistic and self­contradictory term, "oral llterature", Ong himself, in his seminal study, adapts Frye's termino­logy and opts to refer to all purely oral art as epos ,

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Fnvll ANI> 1"lI n MU!1! CAI. Po rrr

wide momentum, performed within many academic communities and nowadaysrcgula1'1)' report ed on th e Int ern et .

11,crefore, while disagreeing with Frye's reductlonlst view of Paradise Lost'sradical of presentation, I do believe Frye's theory of genre, and particularly hisreintroduction of melos and opsls, can have an important part in readjusting ourmode of apprehension of Milton, allowing the aural and oral features of his workto reenter the arenas of conflict of his thought. In Hale's words, Paradise Lost is"oral in conception, execution and first reception; so why not also in present-dayreception?" (17).

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Bogdan , Deanne. "Musical/Literary Boundaries in Northrop Frye". ChangingEnglish 6.1 (1999): 57-79. Print.

Bollier, E. P. "T. S. Eliot and John Milton: A Problem in Criticism". Tulane Stu-dies in English 8 (1955): 165-192. Print.

Eliot, T. S. Milton. Two Studies. London: Faber, 1968. Print.---. On Poetry and Poets. London: Faber, 1957. Print.---. Selected Essays. 2nd edition. London: Faber, 1934. Print.---. Selected Prose ofT. S. Eliot. Ed. Frank Kermode. London and Boston: Faber,

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(2005): 1-12. Print.Fletcher, Angus. "Northrop Frye: The Critical Passion". Critical Inquiry 1.4

(1975): 741-756. Print.Forsyth, Neil. The Satanic Epic. Princeton - Oxford: Princeton UP, 2003. Print.Frye, Northrop. Anatomy ofCriticism. Four Essays. Foreword by Harold Bloom.

Princeton and Oxford: Princeton UP, 2000. Print.- __. "Music in Poetry". The Educated Imagination and Other Writings on Criti­

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Tirril Hall, Pentrith, Cumbria: Humanities-Ebooks.co.uk, 2007. Print.

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Hughes, Merritt Y., ed. john Milton. Complete Poems and Major Prose. Indian­apolis, N.Y.: Odyssey, 1957.

Jones, Richard Foster. The Triumph ofthe English Language: A Survey ofOppini­ons Concerning the Vernacular from the Introduction ofPrinting to the Res­toration. 2nd edition. Stanford, CA and London: Stanford UP, 1966.

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in Criticism 60.3 (2010): 220-241.---. "The Legacy of T.S. Eliot to Milton Studies". Versification 5 (201Oa): 27-38.Thorpe, James, Ed. Milton Criticism: Selections from Four Centuries. London:

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i I

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