THE MOON

FIG. 7.—The Corona during the Eclipse of May 1883.Fig.7.—The Corona during the Eclipse of May 1883.

We possess no knowledge of the physical structure of the interior of the Sun, nor have we any terrestrial analogy to guide us as to how matterwould behave when subjected to such conditions of extreme temperature and pressure as exist in the interior of the orb. Yet we are justified in concluding that the Sun is mainly a gaseous sphere which is slowly contracting, and that the energy expended in this process is being transformed into heat so extreme as to render the orb a great fountain of light.

Milton in his poem makes more frequent allusion to the Sun than to any of the other orbs of the firmament, and, in all his references to the great luminary, describes him in a manner worthy of his unrivalled splendour, and of his supreme importance in the system which he upholds and governs. After having alighted on Mount Niphates, Satan is described as looking

Sometimes towards Heaven and the full-blazing Sun,Which now sat high in his meridian tower.—iv. 29-30.

He then addresses him thus:—

O thou that with surpassing glory crowned,Look’st from thy sole dominion like the godOf this new World—at whose sight all the starsHide their diminished heads—to thee I call,But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,That bring to my remembrance from what stateI fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.—iv. 32-39.

On another occasion:—

The golden Sun in splendour likest HeavenAllured his eye.—iii. 572-73.

In describing the different periods of the day, Milton seldom fails to associate the Sun with thesetimes, and rightly so, since they are brought about by the apparent diurnal journey of the orb across the heavens. Commencing with morning, he says:—

Meanwhile,To re-salute the world with sacred light,Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews embalmedThe Earth.—xi. 133-36.Soon as they forth were come to open sightOf day-spring, and the Sun—who, scarce up-risen,With wheels yet hovering o’er the ocean-brim,Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray,Discovering in wide landskip all the eastOf Paradise and Eden’s happy plains.—v. 138-43or some renowned metropolisWith glistering spires and pinnacles adorned,Which now the rising Sun gilds with his beams.—iii. 549-51.while now the mounted SunShot down direct his fervid rays, to warmEarth’s inmost womb.—v. 300-302.for scarce the SunHath finished half his journey, and scarce beginsHis other half in the great zone of Heaven.—v. 558-60.To sit and taste, till this meridian heatBe over, and the Sun more cool decline.—v. 369-70.And the great Light of Day yet wants to runMuch of his race, though steep. Suspense in Heaven,Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he hears,And longer will delay, to hear thee tellHis generation, and the rising birthOf Nature from the unapparent deep.—vii. 98-103.

Meanwhile,To re-salute the world with sacred light,Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews embalmedThe Earth.—xi. 133-36.

Soon as they forth were come to open sightOf day-spring, and the Sun—who, scarce up-risen,With wheels yet hovering o’er the ocean-brim,Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray,Discovering in wide landskip all the eastOf Paradise and Eden’s happy plains.—v. 138-43

or some renowned metropolisWith glistering spires and pinnacles adorned,Which now the rising Sun gilds with his beams.—iii. 549-51.

while now the mounted SunShot down direct his fervid rays, to warmEarth’s inmost womb.—v. 300-302.

for scarce the SunHath finished half his journey, and scarce beginsHis other half in the great zone of Heaven.—v. 558-60.

To sit and taste, till this meridian heatBe over, and the Sun more cool decline.—v. 369-70.

And the great Light of Day yet wants to runMuch of his race, though steep. Suspense in Heaven,Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he hears,And longer will delay, to hear thee tellHis generation, and the rising birthOf Nature from the unapparent deep.—vii. 98-103.

The declining day and approach of evening are described as follows:—

Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where HeavenWith Earth and Ocean meets, the setting SunSlowly descended, and with right aspectAgainst the eastern gate of ParadiseLevelled his evening rays.—iv. 539-43.the Sun now fallenBeneath the Azores; whether the Prime Orb,Incredible how swift, had thither rolledDiurnal, or this less volubil Earth,By shorter flight to the east, had left him thereArraying with reflected purple and goldThe clouds that on his western throne attend.—iv. 591-97.the parting SunBeyond the Earth’s green Cape and verdant IslesHesperian sets, my signal to depart.—viii. 630-32.Now was the Sun in western cadence lowFrom noon, and gentle airs due at their hourTo fan the Earth now waked, and usher inThe evening cool.—x. 92-95.for the Sun,Declined, was hasting now with prone careerTo the Ocean Isles, and in the ascending scaleOf Heaven the stars that usher evening rose.—iv. 352-55.

the Sun now fallenBeneath the Azores; whether the Prime Orb,Incredible how swift, had thither rolledDiurnal, or this less volubil Earth,By shorter flight to the east, had left him thereArraying with reflected purple and goldThe clouds that on his western throne attend.—iv. 591-97.

the parting SunBeyond the Earth’s green Cape and verdant IslesHesperian sets, my signal to depart.—viii. 630-32.

Now was the Sun in western cadence lowFrom noon, and gentle airs due at their hourTo fan the Earth now waked, and usher inThe evening cool.—x. 92-95.

for the Sun,Declined, was hasting now with prone careerTo the Ocean Isles, and in the ascending scaleOf Heaven the stars that usher evening rose.—iv. 352-55.

In the combat between Michael and Satan, which ended in the overthrow of the rebel angels, Milton, in his description of their armour, says:—

two broad suns their shieldsBlazed opposite.—vi. 305-306,

and in describing the faded splendour of the ruined Archangel, the poet compares him to the Sun when seen under conditions which temporarily deprive him of his dazzling brilliancy and glory:—

as when the Sun new-risenLooks through the horizontal misty airShorn of his beams, or, from behind the MoonIn dim eclipse, disastrous twilight shedsOn half the nations, and with fear of changePerplexes monarchs.—i. 594-99.

This passage affords us an example of the sublimity of Milton’s imagination and of his skill in adapting the grandest phenomena in Nature to the illustration of his subject.

The Moon is the Earth’s satellite, and next to the Sun is the most important of the celestial orbs so far as its relations with our globe are concerned. Besides affording us light by night, the Moon is the principal cause of the ebb and flow of the tide—a phenomenon of much importance to navigators. The Moon is almost a perfect sphere, and is 2,160 miles in diameter. The form of its orbit is that of an ellipse with the Earth in the lower focus. It revolves round its primary in 27 days 7 hours, at a mean distance of 237,000 miles, and with a velocity of 2,273 miles an hour. Its equatorial velocity of rotation is 10 miles an hour. The density of the Moon is 3·57 that of water, or 0·63 that of the Earth; eighty globes, each of the weight of the Moon, would be required to counterbalance the weight of the Earth, and fifty globes of a similar size to equal it in dimensions. The orb rotates on its axis in the same period of time inwhich it accomplishes a revolution of its orbit; consequently the same illumined surface of the Moon is always directed towards the Earth. To the naked eye the Moon appears as large as the Sun, and it very rapidly changes its form and position in the sky. Its motions, which are of a very complex character, have been for many ages the subject of investigation by mathematicians and astronomers, but their difficulties may now be regarded as having been finally overcome.

The phases of the Moon are always interesting and very beautiful. The orb is first seen in the west, after sunset, as a delicate slender crescent of pale light; each night it increases in size, whilst it travels eastward, until it attains the figure of a half moon; still growing larger as it pursues its course, it finally becomes a full resplendent globe, rising about the time that the Sun sets and situated directly opposite to him. Then, in a reverse manner, after full moon, it goes through the same phases, until, as a slender crescent, it becomes invisible in the solar rays; afterwards to re-appear in a few days, and, in its monthly round, to undergo the same cycle of changes. The phases of the Moon depend upon the changing position of the orb with regard to the Sun. The Moon shines by reflected light derived from the Sun, and as one half of its surface is always illumined and the other half totally dark, the crescent increases or diminishes when, by the Moon’s change of position, we see more or less of the bright side. Visible at first as aslender crescent near the setting Sun, the angular distance from the orb and the width of the crescent increase daily, until, at the expiration of seven days, the Moon is distant one quarter of the circumference of the heavens from the Sun. The Moon is then a semi-circle, or in quadrature. At the end of other seven days, the distance of the Moon from the Sun is at its greatest—half the circumference of its orbit. It is then visible as a circular disc and we behold the orb as full moon. The waning Moon, as it gradually decreases, presents the same aspects reversed, and, finally, its slender crescent disappears in the Sun’s rays. The convex edge of the crescent is always turned towards the Sun. The rising of the Moon in the east and its setting in the west is an effect due to the diurnal rotation of the Earth on her axis, but the orb can be perceived to have two motions besides: one from west to east, which carries it round the heavens in 29·53 days, and another from north to south. The west to east motion is steady and continuous, but, owing to the Sun’s attractive force, the Moon is made to swerve from its path, giving rise to irregularities of its motion calledPERTURBATIONS. The most important of these is theannual equation, discovered by Tycho Brahé—a yearly effect produced by the Sun’s disturbing influence as the Earth approaches or recedes from him in her orbit; another irregularity, called theevection, is a change in the eccentricity of the lunar orbit, by which the mean longitude of the Moon is increased or diminished.Elliptic inequality,parallactic inequality, thevariation, andsecular acceleration, are other perturbations of the lunar motion, which depend directly or indirectly on the attractive influence of the Sun and the motion of the Earth in her orbit.

As the plane of the Moon’s orbit is inclined at an angle of rather more than 5° to the ecliptic, it follows that the orb, in its journey round the Earth, intersects this great circle at two points called the ‘Nodes.’ When crossing the ecliptic from south to north the Moon is in its ascending node, and when crossing from north to south in its descending node. In December the Moon reaches the most northern point of its course, and in June the southernmost. Consequently we have during the winter nights the greatest amount of moonlight, and in summer the least. In the evenings the moonlight is least in March and greatest in September, when we have what is called the Harvest Moon.

The telescopic appearance of the Moon is very interesting and beautiful, especially if the orb is observed when waxing and waning. As no aqueous vapour or cloud obscures the lunar surface, all its details can be perceived with great clearness and distinctness. Indeed, the topography of the Moon is better known than that of the Earth, for the whole of its surface has been mapped and delineated with great accuracy and precision. The Moon is in no sense a duplicate of its primary, and no analogy exists between the Earth and her satellite.Evidence is wanting of the existence of an atmosphere surrounding the Moon; no clouds or exhalations can be perceived, and no water is believed to exist on the lunar surface. Consequently there are no oceans, seas, rivers, or lakes; no fertile plains or forest-clad mountains, such as are found upon the Earth. Indeed, all the conditions essential for the support and maintenance of organic life by which we are surrounded appear to be nonexistent on the Moon. Our satellite has no seasons; its axial rotation is so slow that one lunar day is equal in length to fourteen of our days; this period of sunshine is succeeded by a night of similar duration. The alternation of such lengthened days and nights subjects the lunar surface to great extremes of heat and cold.

When viewed with a telescope, the surface of the Moon is perceived to consist of lofty mountain chains with rugged peaks, numerous extinct volcanoes called crater mountains, hills, clefts, chasms, valleys, and level plains—a region of desolation, presenting to our gaze the shattered and upturned fragments of the Moon’s crust, convulsed by forces of a volcanic nature which have long since expended their energies and died out. The mountain ranges on the Moon resemble those of the Earth, but they have a more rugged outline, and their peaks are more precipitous, some of them rising to a height of 20,000 feet. They are called the Lunar Alps, Apennines, and Cordilleras, and embrace every variety of hill, cliff, mound, and ridge of comparatively low elevation.The plains are large level areas, which are situated on various parts of the lunar surface; they are of a darker hue than the mountainous regions by which they are surrounded, and were at one time believed to be seas. They are analogous to the prairies, steppes, and deserts of the Earth.

Valleys.—Some of these are of spacious dimensions; others are narrow, and contract into gorges and chasms. Clefts or rills are long cracks or fissures of considerable depth, which extend sometimes for hundreds of miles across the various strata of which the Moon’s crust is composed.

The characteristic features of the Moon’s surface are the crater mountains: they are very numerous on certain portions of the lunar disc, and give the Moon the freckled appearance which it presents in the telescope, and which Galileo likened to the eyes in the feathers of a peacock’s tail. They are believed to be of volcanic origin, and have been classified as follows: ‘Walled plains, mountain rings, ring plains, crater plains, craters, craterlets, and crater cones.’ Upwards of 13,000 of these mountains have been enumerated, and 1,000 are known to have a diameter exceeding nine miles. Walled plains consist of circular areas which have a width varying from 150 miles to a few hundred yards. They are enclosed by rocky ramparts, whilst the centre is occupied by an elevated peak. The depth of these formations, which are often far below the level of the Moon’s surface, ranges from 10,000 to 20,000 feet. Mountainrings, ring plains, and crater plains resemble those already described, but are on a smaller scale; the floors of the larger ones are frequently occupied by craters and craterlets. The latter exist in large numbers, and some portions of the Moon’s surface appear honeycombed with them, the smaller craters resting on the sides of larger ones and occupying the bottoms of the more extensive areas. There is no kind of formation on the Earth’s surface that can be compared with these crater mountains, which indicate that the Moon was at one time a fiery globe convulsed by internal forces which found an outlet in the numerous volcanoes scattered over her surface.

The most remarkable of these volcanic mountains have been named after distinguished men. (1) Copernicus is one of the most imposing; its crater is 56 miles in diameter, and situated at its centre is a mountain with six peaks 2,400 feet in height. The ring by which it is surrounded rises 11,000 feet above the floor of the crater, and consists of terraces believed to have been created by the partial congelation and periodic subsidence of a lake of molten lava which occupied the enclosed area.

(2) Tycho is one of the most magnificent and perfect of lunar volcanoes, and is also remarkable as being a centre from which, when the Moon is full, there radiates a number of bright streaks which extend across the lunar surface, over mountain and valley, through ring and crater, for many hundreds of miles. Their nature is unknown, and nothing resembling them is found on the Earth.Tycho has a diameter of 50 miles and a depth of 17,000 feet. The peak which rises from the floor of the crater attains a height of 6,000 feet, and the rampart consists of a series of terraces which give variety to the appearance of the inner wall. The surface of the Moon round Tycho is honeycombed with small volcanoes.

(3) Clavius is one of the most extensive of the walled plains; it has a diameter of 142 miles and an area of 16,500 square miles. The rocky annulus which surrounds it is very lofty and precipitous, and at one point reaches a height of 17,300 feet. Upwards of 90 craters have been counted within this space, one of the peaks attaining to an elevation of 24,000 feet above the level floor of the plain. It is believed that the lowest depths of this wild and precipitous region are never penetrated by sunlight, they are so overshadowed by towering crag and fell which intercept the solar rays; and, as there is no atmosphere to cause reflection, they are consequently enveloped in perpetual darkness.

(4) Plato has a diameter of about 60 miles and an area of 2,700 square miles; its central peak rises to a height of 7,300 feet. It has an irregular rampart which is broken up into terraces averaging about 4,000 feet high; three cones, each with an elevation of from 7,000 to 9,000 feet, rest on its western border.

(5) Theophilus is the deepest of the visible craters on the Moon. It has a diameter of 64 miles, and the inner edge of the ring risesfrom the level floor to a height ranging from 14,000 to 18,000 feet. A group of mountains occupies the centre of the area, the highest peak of which reaches an elevation of 5,200 feet. Cyrillus and Catharina, two adjacent craters, are each about 16,000 feet deep and connected by a wide valley.

(6) Aristarchus is the brightest spot on the Moon, and appears almost dazzling in the telescope. The crater has a diameter of 42 miles, the centre of which is occupied by a steep mountain. The rampart on the western side rises to a height of 7,500 feet, on the east it becomes a plateau which connects it with a smaller crater called Herodotus. Bright streaks radiate from Aristarchus when there is full moon, and extend for a considerable distance over the surface of the orb.

Though the face of the Moon has been carefully scanned for two centuries and a half, and selenographers have mapped and delineated her features with the utmost accuracy and precision, yet no perceptible change of a reliable character has been perceived to occur on any part of the orb. The surface of the hemisphere directed towards the Earth appears to be an alternation of desert plains, craggy wildernesses, and extinct volcanoes—a region of desolation unoccupied by any living thing, and ‘upon which the light of life has never dawned.’ Owing to the absence of an atmosphere, there is neither diffuse daylight nor twilight on the Moon. Every portion of the lunar surface not exposed to the Sun’s rays is shrouded in darkness, and blackshadows can be observed fringing prominences of silvery whiteness. If the Moon were enveloped in an atmosphere similar to that which surrounds the Earth, the reflection and diffusion of light among the minute particles of watery vapour which permeate it would give rise to a gradual transition from light to darkness; the lunar surface would be visible when not illumined by the direct rays of the Sun, and before sunrise and after sunset, dawn and twilight would occur as upon the Earth. But upon the Moon there is no dawn, and the darkness of night envelops the orb until the appearance of the edge of the Sun’s disc above the horizon, then his dazzling rays illumine the summits and loftiest peaks of the lunar mountains whilst yet their sides and bases are wrapped in deep gloom. Since the pace of the Sun across the lunar heavens is 28 times slower than it is with us, there is continuous sunshine on the Moon for 304 hours, and this long day—equal to about a fortnight of our time—is succeeded by a night of similar duration. As there is no atmosphere overhead to diffuse or reflect the light, the Sun shines in a pitch-black sky, and at lunar noonday the planets and constellations can be seen displaying a brilliancy of greater intensity than can be perceived on Earth during the darkest night. Every portion of the Moon’s surface is bleak, bare, and untouched by any softening influences. No gentle gale ever sweeps down her valleys or disturbs the dead calm that hangs over this world; no cloud ever tempers the fierceglare of the Sun that pours down his unmitigated rays from a sky of inky blackness; no refreshing shower ever falls upon her arid mountains and plains; no sound ever breaks the profound stillness that reigns over this realm of solitude and desolation.

A PORTION OF THE MOON’S SURFACEA PORTION OF THE MOON’S SURFACE

As might be expected, Milton makes frequent allusion to the Moon in ‘Paradise Lost,’ and does not fail to set forth the distinctive charms associated with the unrivalled queen of the firmament. The majority of poets would most likely regard a description of evening as incomplete without an allusion to the Moon. Milton has adhered to this sentiment, as may be perceived in the following lines:—

till the Moon,Rising in clouded majesty, at lengthApparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.—iv. 606-609.now reignsFull-orbed the Moon, and with more pleasing light,Shadowy sets off the face of things.—v. 41-43.

till the Moon,Rising in clouded majesty, at lengthApparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.—iv. 606-609.

now reignsFull-orbed the Moon, and with more pleasing light,Shadowy sets off the face of things.—v. 41-43.

The association of the Moon with the nocturnal revels and dances of elves and fairies is felicitously expressed in the following passage:—

or faëry elves,Whose midnight revels, by a forest sideOr fountain, some belated peasant sees,Or dreams he sees, while overhead the MoonSits arbitress, and nearer to the EarthWheels her pale course.—i. 781-86.

In contrast with this, we have Milton’s descriptionof the Moon when affected by the demoniacal practices of the ‘night-hag’ who was believed to destroy infants for the sake of drinking their blood, and applying their mangled limbs to the purposes of incantation. The legend is of Scandinavian origin and the locality Lapland:—

Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when calledIn secret, riding through the air she comes,Lured with the smell of infant blood, to danceWith Lapland witches, while the labouring MoonEclipses at their charms.—ii. 662-66.

In his description of the massive shield carried by Satan, the poet compares it with the full moon:—

his ponderous shieldEthereal temper, massy, large, and round,Behind him cast. The broad circumferenceHung on his shoulders like the Moon.—i. 284-87.

The phases displayed by the Moon in her monthly journey round the Earth, and which lend a variety of charm to the appearances presented by the orb, are poetically described by Milton in the following lines:—

but there the neighbouring Moon(So call that opposite fair star) her aidTimely interposes, and her monthly roundStill ending, still renewing, through mid-HeavenWith borrowed light her countenance triformHence fills and empties, to enlighten the Earth,And in her pale dominion checks the night.—iii. 726-32.

It is interesting to observe how aptly Milton describes the subdued illumination of the Moon’sreflected light, as compared with the brilliant radiance of the blazing Sun, and how the distinguishing glory peculiar to each orb is appropriately set forth in the various passages in which they are described; their contrasted splendour enhancing rather than detracting from the grandeur and beauty belonging to each.

No lovelier planet circles round the Sun than the planet Earth, with her oceans and continents, her mountains, valleys, rivers, lakes, and plains; surrounded by heaven’s azure, radiant with the sunlight of her day and adorned by night with countless sparkling points of gold. This beautiful world, the abode ofMAN, is of paramount importance to us, and is the only part of the universe of which we have any direct knowledge.

The Earth may be regarded as one of the Sun’s numerous family, and is situated third in order from the refulgent orb, round which it revolves in an elliptical orbit at a mean distance of 92,800,000 miles. The Earth is nearest to the Sun at the end of December, and furthest away at the beginning of July; the difference between those distances is 3,250,000 miles—the extent of the eccentricity of the planet’s orbit. The figure of the Earth is that of an oblate spheroid; it is slightly flattened at the poles and bulges at the equator. Its polar orshortest diameter is 7,899 miles, its equatorial diameter is 7,926 miles—greater than the other by 27 miles. The circumference of the Earth at the equator is 24,899 miles, and the total area of its surface is 197,000,000 square miles. Its mean density is 5½ times greater than that of water.

The two principal motions performed by the Earth are: (1) Rotation on its axis; (2) its annual revolution round the Sun. The Earth always rotates in the same manner, and in the same direction, from west to east. As the axis of rotation corresponds with the shortest diameter of the planet, it affords strong evidence that the Earth assumed its present shape whilst rapidly rotating round its axis when in a fluid or plastic condition. This would accord with the nebular hypothesis. The ends of the Earth’s axis are called the poles of the Earth; one is the north, the other the south pole. The north pole is directed towards a star in the Lesser Bear called the Pole Star. The south pole is directed to a corresponding opposite part of the heavens. The Earth’s axis is inclined 63° 33' to the plane of the ecliptic, and is always directed to the same point in the heavens. The Earth accomplishes a revolution on its axis in 23 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds mean solar time, which is the length of the sidereal day. This rate of rotation is invariable. At the equator, where the circumference of the globe exceeds 24,000 miles, the velocity of a point on its surface is upwards of 1,000 miles an hour, but, as the poles are approached, the tangentialvelocity diminishes, and at those points it is entirely absent. The Earth accomplishes a revolution of her orbit in 365 days 6 hours 9 minutes; in her journey round the Sun she travels a circuit of 580,000,000 miles at an average pace of 66,000 miles an hour. The Earth has other slight motions calledperturbations, which are produced by the gravitational attraction of other members of the solar system. The most important of these is Precession of the Equinoxes, which is caused by the attraction of the Sun, Moon, and planets, on the protuberant equatorial region of the globe. This attraction has a tendency to turn the Earth’s axis at right angles to her orbit, but it only results in the slow rotation of the pole of the equator round that of the ecliptic, which is occurring at the rate of 1° in 70 years, and will require a period of 25,868 years to complete an entire revolution of the heavens.

The spot on Earth round which is centred the chief interest in Milton’s poem is Paradise, which was situated in the east of Eden, a district of Central Asia. It was here where God ordained that man should first dwell—a place created for his enjoyment and delight. Satan, after his soliloquy on Mount Niphates, directs his way to Paradise, and arrives first in Eden, where he beholds from a distance the Happy Garden—

So on he fares, and to the border comesOf Eden, where delicious Paradise,Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,As with a rural mound, the champain headOf a steep wilderness, whose hairy sidesWith thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,Access denied; and overhead upgrewInsuperable highth of loftiest shade,Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend,Shade above shade, a woody theatreOf stateliest view. Yet higher than their topsThe verdurous wall of Paradise up-sprung;Which to our general sire gave prospect largeInto his nether empire neighbouring round.And higher than that wall, a circling rowOf goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed;On which the Sun more glad impressed his beamsThan in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,When God hath showered the Earth: so lovely seemedThat landskip. And of pure now purer airMeets his approach, and to the heart inspiresVernal delight and joy, able to driveAll sadness but despair. Now gentle gales,Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispenseNative perfumes, and whisper whence they stoleThose balmy spoils.—iv. 131-59.

Satan, having gained admission to the Garden by overleaping the tangled thicket of shrubs and bushes which formed an impenetrable barrier and prevented any access to the enclosure within, he flew up on to the Tree of Life—

Beneath him, with new wonder, now he views,To all delight of human sense exposed,In narrow room Nature’s whole wealth; yea, more!—A Heaven on Earth: for blissful ParadiseOf God the garden was, by Him in the eastOf Eden planted, Eden stretched her lineFrom Auran eastward to the royal towersOf great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,Or where the sons of Eden long beforeDwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soilHis far more pleasant garden God ordained.Out of the fertile ground he caused to growAll trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruitOf vegetable gold; and next to life,Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by—Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill.Southward through Eden went a river large,Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hillPassed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrownThat mountain, as his garden mould, high raisedUpon the rapid current, which, through veinsOf porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn,Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rillWatered the garden; thence united fellDown the steep glade, and met the nether flood,Which from his darksome passage now appears,And now, divided into four main streams,Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realmAnd country whereof here needs no account;But rather to tell how, if Art could tellHow, from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,Boiling on orient-pearl and sands of gold,With mazy error under pendent shadesRan nectar, visiting each plant, and fedFlowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice ArtIn beds and curious knots, but Nature boonPoured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,Both where the morning Sun first warmly smoteThe open field, and where the unpierced shadeImbrowned the noontide bowers.—iv. 205-46.

Milton’s description of Paradise is not less remarkable in its way than the lurid scenes depicted by him in Pandemonium. The versatility of his poetic genius is nowhere more apparent than in thecharming pastoral verse contained in this part of his poem. The poet has lavished the whole wealth of his luxuriant imagination in his description of Eden and blissful Paradise with its ‘vernal airs’ and ‘gentle gales,’ its verdant meads, and murmuring streams, ‘rolling on orient-pearl and sands of gold;’ its stately trees laden with blossom and fruit; its spicy groves and shady bowers, over which there breathed the eternal Spring.

In Book IX. Satan expresses himself in an eloquent apostrophe to the primitive Earth, over which he previously wandered for seven days—

O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferredMore justly, seat worthier of gods, as builtWith second thoughts, reforming what was old!For what God, after better, worse would build?Terrestrial Heaven, danced round by other Heavens,That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps,Light above light, for thee alone, as seems,In thee concentring all their precious beamsOf sacred influence! As God in HeavenIs centre, yet extends to all, so thouCentring receiv’st from all those orbs; in thee,Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears,Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birthOf creatures animate with gradual lifeOf growth, sense, reason, all summed up in Man,With what delight I could have walked thee round,If I could joy in aught—sweet interchangeOf hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crowned,Rocks, dens, and caves.—ix. 99-118.

Though it is impossible to regard the Earth as possessing the importance ascribed to it by the ancient Ptolemaists; nevertheless, our globe is agreat and mighty world, and appears to be one of the most favourably situated of all the planets, being neither near the Sun nor yet very far distant from the orb; and although, when compared with the universe, it is no more than a leaf on a tree in the midst of a vast forest; still, it is not the least important among other circling worlds, and unfailingly fulfils the part allotted to it in the great scheme of creation.

This is the beautiful morning and evening star, the peerless planet that ushers in the twilight and the dawn, the harbinger of day and unrivalled queen of the evening. Venus, called after the Roman goddess of Love, and also identified with the Greek Aphrodite of ideal beauty, is the name by which the planet is popularly known; but Milton does not so designate it, and the name ‘Venus’ is not found in ‘Paradise Lost.’ The ancients called it Lucifer and Phosphor when it shone as a morning star before sunrise, and Hesperus and Vesper when it became visible after sunset. It is the most lustrous of all the planets, and at times its brilliancy is so marked as to throw a distinct shadow at night.

Venus is the second planet in order from the Sun. Its orbit lies between that of Mercury and the Earth, and in form approaches nearer to a circle than that of any of the other planets.It travels round the Sun in 224·7 days, at a mean distance of 67,000,000 miles, and with an average velocity of 80,000 miles an hour. Its period of rotation is unknown. By the observation of dusky spots on its surface, it has been surmised that the planet completes a revolution on its axis in 23¼ hours; but other observers doubt this and are inclined to believe that it always presents the same face to the Sun. When at inferior conjunction Venus approaches nearer to the Earth than any other planet, its distance then being 27,000,000 miles. Its greatest elongation varies from 45° to 47° 12'; it therefore can never be much more than three hours above the horizon before sunrise, or after sunset. Venus is a morning star when passing from inferior to superior conjunction, and during the other half of its synodical period it is an evening star. The planet attains its greatest brilliancy at an elongation 40° west or east of the Sun—five weeks before and after inferior conjunction. It is at these periods, when at its greatest brilliancy, that it casts a shadow at night.

Though so pleasing an object to the unaided eye, Venus, when observed with the telescope, is often a source of disappointment—this is on account of its dazzling brilliancy, which renders any accurate definition of its surface impossible. Sir John Herschel writes: ‘The intense lustre of its illuminated part dazzles the sight, and exaggerates every imperfection of the telescope; yet we see clearly that its surface is not mottled over withpermanent spots like the Moon; we notice in it neither mountains nor shadows, but a uniform brightness, in which sometimes we may indeed fancy, or perhaps more than fancy, brighter or obscurer portions, but can seldom or never rest fully satisfied of the fact.’ It is believed that the surface of the planet is invisible on account of the existence of a cloud-laden atmosphere by which it is enveloped, and which may serve as a protection against the intense glare of the sunshine and heat poured down by the not far-distant Sun. Schröter, a German astronomer, believed that he saw lofty mountains on the surface of the planet, but their existence has not been confirmed by any other observer. The Sun if viewed from Venus would have a diameter nearly half as large again as when seen from the Earth; it is therefore probable that the planet is subjected to a much higher temperature than what is experienced on our globe.

The phases of Venus are similar to those exhibited by the Moon, and are caused by a change in position of the illumined hemisphere of the planet with regard to the Earth. At superior conjunction the whole enlightened disc of the planet is turned towards the Earth, but is invisible by being lost in the Sun’s rays. Shortly before or after it arrives at this point, its form is gibbous, the illumined portion being less than a circle but greater than a semi-circle. At its greatest elongation west or east of the Sun the planet resembles the Moon in quadrature—a half moon—and betweenthose points and inferior conjunction it is visible as a beautiful crescent. It becomes narrower and sharper as it approaches inferior conjunction, until it resembles a curved luminous thread prior to its disappearance at the conjunction. After having passed this point it reappears on the other side of the Sun as the morning star.

It would be only natural to imagine that this peerless orb, the most beautiful and lustrous of the planets, upon which men have gazed with longing admiration, and designated the emblem of ‘all beauty and all love,’ should have impressed Milton’s poetical imagination with its charming appearance, and stimulated the flow of his captivating muse. He addresses the orb as

Fairest of Stars, last in the train of night,If better thou belong not to the dawn,Sure pledge of day, that crown’st the smiling mornWith thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphereWhile day arises, that sweet hour of prime.—v. 166-70.

In these lines the poet alludes to Venus as the morning star.

In the other passages in his poem Milton associates the planet sometimes with the morning and at other times with the evening—

His countenance, as the Morning Star that guidesThe starry flock.—v. 708-709.Or if the Star of Evening and the MoonHaste to thy audience, Night with her will bringSilence, and Sleep listening to thee will watch.—vii. 104-106.And hence the morning planet gilds her horns.—vii. 366.The Sun was sunk and after him the StarOf Hesperus, whose office is to bringTwilight upon the Earth, short arbiterTwixt day and night.—ix. 47-50.and bid haste the Evening StarOn his hill top to light the bridal lamp.—viii. 519-20.

His countenance, as the Morning Star that guidesThe starry flock.—v. 708-709.

Or if the Star of Evening and the MoonHaste to thy audience, Night with her will bringSilence, and Sleep listening to thee will watch.—vii. 104-106.

And hence the morning planet gilds her horns.—vii. 366.

The Sun was sunk and after him the StarOf Hesperus, whose office is to bringTwilight upon the Earth, short arbiterTwixt day and night.—ix. 47-50.

and bid haste the Evening StarOn his hill top to light the bridal lamp.—viii. 519-20.

Milton knew of the phases of Venus and was aware that at certain times the planet was visible in the telescope as a beautiful crescent. The line in which he mentions her as gilding her horns is an allusion to this appearance of Venus.

The beautiful cluster of the Pleiades or Seven Sisters has been regarded with hallowed veneration from time immemorial. The happy influences believed to be shed down upon the Earth by those stars and their close association with human destinies have rendered them objects of almost sacred interest among the different races of mankind. In every region of the globe and in every clime, among civilised nations and savage fetish-worshipping tribes, the same benign influences were ascribed to the stars which form this interesting group.

In Greek mythology they were known as the seven daughters of Atlas and Pleione. Different versions are given of their fate. By some writers it is said they died from grief in consequence of the death of their sisters, the Hyades, or on account ofthe fate of their father, who, for treason, was condemned by Zeus to bear on his head and hands the vault of heaven, on the mountains of north-west Africa which bear his name. According to others they were the companions of Diana, and, in order to escape from Orion, by whom they were pursued, the gods translated them to the sky.

All writers agree in saying that after their death or translation they were transformed into stars. Their names are Alcyone, Electra, Maia, Merope, Sterope, Taygeta, and Celaeno. The seventh Atlantid is said to be the ‘lost Pleiad,’ but it can be perceived without difficulty by a person possessing good eyesight. In the book of Job there is a beautiful allusion to the Pleiades (chap. xxxviii.) when God speaks out of the whirlwind and asks the patriarch to answer Him—

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