Through these rude lines there flashes forth, like fire through a thick dull grating, a powerful conception--one which Milton has borrowed and developed--that of the Evil One feeling in his dark bosom jealousy at young Man, almost overpowering his hatred to God; and another conception still more striking, that of the devil's thorough conviction that all his plans and thoughts are entirely known by his great Adversary, and are counteracted before they are formed-- 'Thus perceive I that he knoweth my mind.' Compare this with Milton's lines-- 'So should I purchase dear Short intermission, bought with double smart. _This knows_ my Punisher; therefore as far From granting he, as I from begging peace.' Caedmon saw, without being able fully to express, the complex idea of Satan, as distracted between a thousand thoughts, all miserable--tossed between a thousand winds, all hot as hell--'pale ire, envy, and despair' struggling within him--fury at man overlapping anger at God--remorse and reckless desperation wringing each other's miserable hands--a sense of guilt which will not confess, a fear that will not quake, a sorrow that will not weep, a respect for God which will not worship; and yet, springing out of all these elements, a strange, proud joy, as though the torrid soil of Pandemonium should flower, which makes 'the hell he suffers seem a heaven,' compared to what his destiny might be were he either plunged into a deeper abyss, or taken up unchanged to his former abode of glory. This, in part at least, the monk of Whitby discerned; but it was reserved for Milton to embody it in that tremendous figure which has since continued to dwindle all the efforts of art, and to haunt, like a reality, the human imagination.