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Andrew Marvell, whose life was illustrious, and whose death appears to have been equivocal, is described by Dr. Granger, "as of a middling stature, pretty strong set, roundish faced, cherry cheeked, hazel eyed, brown haired." We are told also in the Biographical History, "that he was in conversation very modest, and of very few words." There was a portrait of him, painted in 1661, in the possession of the late Thomas Hollis, esq. of Lincoln's Inn, F.R. and A.S.S. who was a great admirer of his character, independence, and talents. Basire executed a print after this, in 1776, and it is observed of the original, "that if it does not look so lively and witty, it is from the chagrin and awe he had of the restoration, just then effected." The clerical whiskers adorn the upper lip, and the countenance' possesses rather a sombrous appearance: in short, according to one who esteem ed him greatly, "he is exhibited when he was forty-one, in all the sobriety and decency of the then departed commonwealth "
In point of language many of his compositions are penned in a majestic style; although at times he could assume the burlesque, and was considered by his contemporaries, as one of the wittiest and most humorous writers of that day. In Latin too, as well as English, he wrote with great facility and eloquence; and it was he who drew up the state
so many with cruelty, as we must do, if we admit without examination, the many accounts which history hands down to us on this subject. Impartial justice in judgeing fairly of our common nature requires as to pause and doubt.—(B. M. M.)
papers, during the protectorate under the inspection of Milton. It was he also who penned the Parliamenti Angliæ Declaratio."
Marvell was more eminent for his virtues and his talents, than for his wealth. Ile, however left behind him a small patrimonial estate, on which, and the honourable allowance from his constituents, paid after the manuer of ancient times, he subsisted with credit; for having but few wants, he was neither extravagant or expensive. As he was the last representative in this country who received pay from those he represented, so he appears to have been the only one, who was ever buried at their expense; the corporation of Hull having ordered fif ty pounds to be issued for that purpose, September 30, 1678.
His body was interred in the church of St. Giles' in the fields; and in 1688, a monument was erected there to his memory by the town of Kingston-upon-Hull, with an epitaph, at once expressive of "their grief and gratitude." This having been torn down by the zealous royalists, another inscription was placed at the expense of one of his relatives, of which the following are the concluding lines:
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ANDREW
As a strenuous assertor of the constitution.
THE EVILS OF MENDICITY, AND THE
to see the verses on the pretty incident of the dove's alighting on Shakespeare's statue. Of whatever na
HE utility of a system, which ture and disposition the animal had combines labour with been, he might have been presented port, is apparent, as practically as a symbol of Shakespeare. The and beneficially brought into effect gravity and deep thought of the by the plan of houses of industry.- bird of wisdom: the sublime flight "A prince of Liege, in order to canof the eagle to the starry regions, cel all at once the wrong side of his and the throne of Jove: the pensive spiritual account, bequeathed on his song of the nightingale, when she death-bed, his whole fortune, which shuns the noise of folly, and sooths was very large, to the poor, appoint- the midnight visionary: the pert ing the magistrates of Liege his ad- jackdaw, that faithfully repeats the ministrators. The consequence is, chit chat of the market or the shop: that of all the beggars and the sky-lark, that soaring seems to bonds in the Netherlands, Liege is sing to the denizens of the air, and now the common receptacle. It is set her music to the tone of beings no uncommon thing for an army of of another region-would all assort five or six thousand of these people with the genius of universal Shaketo invest the house of the chief maspeare." gistrate, and threaten to extirpate him, and all his generation, with fire and sword, if he does not instantly make a pecuniary distribution. The gentleman from whom I have this account, and who is a person of sense and veracity, resided some time in Liege, and to give an idea of the multitude of beggars that swarm in the streets of the town, told me further, that one day in walking half a mile, he gave away, to professed beggars, not less than fifty-eight pieces of money." [Letters of James Beattie, L.LD. lately published. The one whence this anecdote was extracted, bears date in 1774.]
Mrs. Montague, in a letter to Dr. Beattie, on hearing that some verses had been made on a dove alighting on the statue of Shakespeare, erected by Garrick, at Stratford-upon-Avon, remarks," I wish much
The Emperor Napoleon, in order language, and to simplify the acquire to give its proper weight to the French ment of useful knowledge, has ordered that all exercises and thesis in the universities throughout France, French; and that a knowledge of shall be performed and written in Latin and Greek shail, in no department of his government, be deemed a qualification for degrees, ranks, or offices, either political, medical, legal or clerical. The prescriptions of physicians are to be in French, and the service of the church is no longer to be performed except in the vernacular tongue.
The above alterations constitute a part of the great plan of simplification, which is at present making its way in the world, slowly but surely, notwithstanding the obloquy and prejudices which according to the present fashion of the times are
thrown on all improvements. "The learned languages," will be less prized, as the stock of present intellect is increased. The times are changed since knowledge was secluded from vulgar gaze in the Greek and Latin languages. They resembled the monasteries in which the votaries of learning at its revival kept retired. Now philosophy is
gradually accustoming herself to dwell among men. She is deserting the cloister, and taking up her abode "6 in swarming cities vast," and amid "assembled men" in the various waiks of life.
We might condescend to receive advantage even from French improvements.
LOVELIER than the roses flush, More touching than soft music's charms, Is timid woman's feeling blush, When aught the conscious soul alarms. O Nature thou, and thou alone, Can'st soften, melt us, or refine, One genuine touch each heart must own; Th' enchanting blush is truly thine. 'Tis love's own cloquence! which speaks Directly from, and to the heart, Portraying on the modest cheeks, What trembling lips dare not impart. For love cold reasoning still disdains, Nor waits for words his power to shew, But rushes potent through the veins, Triumphant on the face to glow. Bright harbinger from feeling's source! Morn's crimson glow, eve's tints are fine, We feel, we own their beauty's force, But ah, we feel them not like thine! Thou speak'st from moral beauty's store, Speak'st truth and virtue in the heart, And sentiments deep in its core, That language, weak, can ne'er impart. O glowing thoughts, and feelings warm! Ye that the sacred blush inspire, Quit not, O never quit this form, Lest virtue languish and expire.
Though fortune still has past my door,
Nor o'er past sorrows do I mourn;
Put say, Eliza, could'st thou bear,
Would tears not often dim thine eye,
To watch that mild benignant eye,
I see that cheek where roses blew,
I mark the witty prompt reply;
Poor boy! no father's eye meets thine,
THE BOY AND THE BUTTERFLY.
From flower to flower the fickle thing
He hopes to make the prize his own;
And now his hopes to tantalize,
He steals and with his hat he tries
But all in vain each art and wile
At last the flutterer he espies,
MELANCHOLY MOMENTS. "O madam, there are moments in which we live years: moments that steal the roses
from the cheek of health, and plantest furrows in the brow of care."
WHEN jostling with a world of care,
"O that I had wings like a dove,
And the weary are at rest."
"O that I had wings like a dove, There would I flee away, and be at rest.”
BY A PRISONER.
AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN TOWN BY YER, AUTHOR OF THE "FLEECE." HAVE my friends in the town, in the gay busy town.
Forgot such a man as J. Dyer?-Or heedless despise they, or pity the clown, Whose bosom no pageantries fire.
No matter-no matter-content in the shades
(Contented?-why ev'ry thing charms me.)
Fall in tunes all adown the green steeps, ye cascades,
"Till hence rigid virtue alarms me.
"Till outrage arises, or misery needs
The swift the intrepid avenger, 'Till sacred religion, or liberty bleeds,
Then mine be the deed, and the danger. Alas! what a folly!-what wealth and do