Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room, Far from all resort of mirth, What worlds or what vast regions hold Or what (though rare) of later age But, O sad Virgin, that thy power That owned the virtuous ring and glass; Thus, night, oft see me in thy pale career, Till civil-suited morn appear, Not tricked and frounced as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt, * Chaucer. But kercheft in a comely cloud, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, And let some strange mysterious dream And, as I wake, sweet music breathe But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light: There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstacies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Till old experience do attain These pleasures, Melancholy, give, SONNET. ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near; And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure even To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which time leads me, and the will of Heaven; All is, if I have grace to use it so, As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye. SONNET. ON HIS BLINDNESS. WHEN I consider how my life is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, SONNET. TO HIS FRIEND CYRIAC SKINNER. CYRIAC, this three-years-day these eyes, though clear, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain ma SONNET. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, ANDREW MARVELL. Born 1620-Died 1678. A CHARACTER in all respects, private, literary, and patriotic, so uncommonly excellent and noble as that of Marvell, can rarely be met with, either in the annals of history or the record of poetical biography. He was educated at Cambridge, and afterwards travelled over a considerable part of Europe, and for some time was secretary to the English Embassy at Constantinople. He was one of Milton's most intimate friends, the champion of his reputation, and his assistant for nearly two years in his office of Latin Secretary to the Protector. He defended the principles of freedom in his prose writings with great vigor of eloquence and liveliness of humour. He mingled a playful exuberance of fancy and figure not unlike that of Burke, with a keenness of sarcastic wit, which has been imitated, but rarely equalled in the writings of Swift. From the year 1660 till his death he sat in parliament as one 46 dance in the House of Commons," says the poet Campbell, was uninterrupted, and exhibits a zeal in parliamentary duty that was never surpassed. Constantly corresponding with his constituents, he was at once earnest for their public rights and for their local interests. After the most fatiguing attendances, it was his practice to send them a minute statement of public proceedings, before he took either sleep or refreshment. Though he rarely spoke, his influence in both houses was so considerable, that when Prince Rupert, who often consulted him, voted on the popular side, it used to be said that the prince had been with his tutor. He was one of the last members who received the legitimate stipend for attendance, and his grateful constituents would often send him a barrel of ale as a token of their regard. "The traits that are recorded of his public spirit and simple manners give an air of probability to the popular story of his refusal of a court-bribe. Charles the second, having met with Marvell in a private company, found his manners so agreeable, that he could not imagine a man of such complacency to possess inflexible honesty; he accordingly, as it is said, sent his lordtreasurer Danby to him the next day, who, after mounting several dark stair-cases, found the author in a very mean lodging, and proffered him a mark of his majesty's consideration. Marvell assured the lord-treasurer that he was not in want of the king's assistance, and humorously illustrated his independence by calling his servant to witness that he had dined for three days successively on a shoulder of mutton; at the same time giving a dignified and rational explanation of his motives to the minister." His poetical productions are few, but they display a fancy lively, tender, and elegant; "there is much in them that comes from the heart warm, pure, and affectionate." THE EMIGRANT'S SONG. WHERE the remote Bermudas ride, What should we do but sing his praise, Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks, Safe from the storms, and prelates' rage. |