COWLEY. ABRAHAM COWLEY was born in London, in 1618, and died in 1667. His poetical works are divided into four parts-the Miscellaneous, the Love Verses, the Pindaric Odes, and the Davideis. The last was an Epic, of considerable length, on the troubles of David. He was the most popular English poet of his times, and on his death was interred with great pomp in Westminster Abbey. Posterity, however, have not confirmed the opinion of his contemporaries. He was undoubtedly a man of learning, and some genius, but was under the influence of bad taste. The following are among the most favourable specimens which his poems afford. HEAVEN. Sleep on! Rest, quiet as thy conscience, take, Above the subtle foldings of the sky, Above the well-set orbs' soft harmony; Above those petty lamps that gild the night, For there no twilight of the sun's dull ray pure No pale-faced moon does in stolen beams appear, Or with dim tapers scatter darkness there. On no smooth sphere the restless seasons slide, No circling motion doth swift time divide; Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last. THE GRASSHOPPER. Happy insect, what can be And thy verdant cup does fill : "T is filled wherever thou dost tread, Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king! Farmer he, and landlord thou! Thou dost innocently enjoy; Nor does thy luxury destroy. More harmonious than he. Thee country hinds with gladness hear, Thee Phœbus loves, and does inspire; Phœbus is himself thy sire. To thee, of all things upon earth, Life is no longer than thy mirth. Dost neither age nor winter know. But when thou 'st drunk, and danced, and sung Thy fill, the flowery leaves among, (Voluptuous and wise withal, Epicurean animal!) Satiated with thy summer feast, Thou retirest to endless rest. EDMUND WALLER (1605-1687) was a poet of very much the same character as his contemporary Cowley, and both have experienced nearly the same fate. In his old age, he wrote an extended poem of a religious character, entitled Divine Love. He succeeded with this, however, no better than Cowley with his Davideis. His best pieces are those of a light and playful nature, suited to the cast of his mind. Three short specimens are given. Go, LOVELY ROSE Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair! ON A GIRDLE. That which her slender waist confined OLD AGE AND DEATH. The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er, |