“Cambridge... for Seven Years” 1625–1632God. Provocatively, the comparison with the prophet Elijah forced to flee from
King Ahab and Queen Jezebel seems to invite application to Charles and his Ro-
man Catholic Queen Henrietta Maria. Elegy IV acknowledges Milton’s debt to his
former tutor for leading him to the classical Muses, and displays it with allusions to
Aeolus, Medea, Jason, Alcibiades, Socrates, Alexander, Achilles, Phoenix and more.
He also invokes the topics of friendship – “This man is more to me than one half of
my soul” – and ends by taking on the role of moral counsellor, a stance sanctioned
by the genre but yet a remarkable reversal of roles vis-à-vis his teacher: “Remember
to hope:... Triumph over your misfortunes with sheer greatness of spirit. Do not
doubt that some day you will enjoy happier times and be able to see your home
again” (ll. 123–6).^38 In an accompanying prose letter dated March 26, Milton thanked
Young belatedly for the gift of a Hebrew Bible, and professed to “rejoice and
almost exult” that this “Father” and “best of Teachers” has now become an equal
friend.^39
That spring Milton was in London on two occasions (May 25 and June 11, and
perhaps for the interval between those dates) to sign legal documents along with his
father. One was for the purchase of property in St Martin in the Fields, the other for
a loan to Richard Powell earning annual interest of £24 which Milton senior made
payable to his son, to give him some long-term financial security.^40 Elegy VII was
probably written that spring; the subject is an amorous springtime adventure in
London.^41 This Latin poem rings comic changes on that very common Ovidian
topic, Cupid’s vengeance on one who claims to be impervious to his arrows.
Reprising Elegy I, the speaker again delights in watching bevies of beautiful girls,
but this time Cupid makes him fall painfully in love with one of them at first sight,
using a characteristic Ovidian strategy:
Losing no time he swung on the girl’s eyelashes, then on her mouth, then jumped
between her lips, then perched on her cheek – and wherever the nimble archer landed
(alas for me) he hit my defenceless breast in a thousand pieces. In an instant passions I
had never felt before entered my heart – I burned inwardly with love: my whole
being was aflame. (ll. 69–74)^42Then the lady vanishes, leaving the grieving but still chaste speaker unsure whether
to seek relief or bask in his delightful misery. This very literary story may or may
not have a basis in life experience, but it casts some light on the young Milton’s
imagination of erotic feeling. Throughout, the speaker directs lighthearted irony
against himself: he loses the girl because he is too love-struck to make contact with
her, and at the end he both wants and does not want release from his delicious
pain.^43 The elegy adopts Ovid’s anti-sentimentality, but avoids his frank sensuality.
While Milton was writing these Latin poems he may also have produced (or
revised) his very skillful English translation of Horace’s “Ad Pyrrham” (Ocles I.5),
spoken by an experienced man who has forsworn love and who predicts sorrow for