"Well, you know who Swinburne was, don't you?"
"Sure thing; he wrote 'The Blessed Damozel.'"
"Snappy work, old man. You came pretty near it, anyhow. Only, don't put that in the exam. You won't get asked many questions about modern writers, so don't worry over them. Perhaps you'll get one on Tennyson. Don't say he lived in the Craigie House on Brattle street, and wrote 'Evangeline,' will you? Now, we might as well open the book, and take a chance anywhere. Here's Milton. Ever hear of him?"
"John Milton, England's greatest epic poet, was the son of a scrivener. He was born in 1608 in Grub Street, London. He lived there till he was sixteen, so it is possible that his youthful eyes may have beheld Shakspeare, his only superior. He—"
"Well, well! Where did you get all this?"
"Wait a minute. Little did his worthy parents realize that their son was destined to write some of the most charming lyrics, the most powerful sonnets, and the greatest epic in the English language, and to lose his sight in—in—oh! I forget what he lost his sight in. But, say, how is that? Learned it this morning, while I was eating breakfast."
"Marvelous! But what was that about Grub Street? This book says Bread Street."
"Yes, that's right—Bread Street. Knew it was something about grub."
"Well, you better cut all that out about the street. You might get mixed again, and put it Pudding Lane. It doesn't make a hit, anyhow. They would rather have some drool about his influence on literature, or something of that sort. They'll probably ask you to contrast 'L'Allegro' with 'Il Penseroso,' or describe his attitude toward the Presbyterians, or—"
"That's all right—I'm there with the goods. 'L'Allegro' describes the care-free life of the happy man—the philosophy falsely attributed to the followers of Epicurus, which is summed up in the maxim, 'Eat, drink and be merry,' more completely described in the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. 'Il Penseroso,' on the other hand, is the thoughtful, sober student by no means to be confounded with the melancholy man, but, on the other hand—oh, I've got that down cold—I can go on that way for three pages."