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been overrated by Pope and other writers. His principal claim to commendation is, that by his "closeness of thoughtand nervousness of language, he has brushed away the rust of languid and ineffective redundancies, which have obstructed the popularity of men with more native genius than himself." These are the words of Hallam, in his observations on this poet. The critical judgment of Dr. Johnson on Denham's merits is comprised in the following extract:"Cooper's Hill,' if it be maliciously inspected, will not be found without its faults. The digressions are too long, the morality too frequent, and the sentiments sometimes such as will not bear a rigorous inquiry. The four lines which, since Dryden has commended them, almost every writer for a century past has imitated, are generally known:

Oh, could I flow like thee, and make thy stream

My great example, as it is my theme!

Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong, without rage; without o'erflowing, full.

"The lines are in themselves not perfect; for most of the words, thus artfully opposed, are to be understood simply on one side of the comparison, and metaphorically on the other; and if there be any language which does not express intellectual operations by material images, into that language they cannot be translated. But so much meaning is comprised in so few words; the particulars of resemblance are so perspicaciously collected, and every mode of excellence separated from its adjacent fault by so nice a line of limitation; the different parts of the sentence are so accurately adjusted; and the flow of the last couplet is so smooth and sweet; that the passage, however celebrated, has not been praised above its merit. It has beauty peculiar to itself, and must be numbered among these felicities which cannot be produced at will by wit and labour, but must arise unexpectedly in some hour propitious to poetry.

"Denham appears to have been one of the first that understood the necessity of emancipating translation. from the drudgery of counting lines and interpreting single words. How much this servile practice obscured the clearest, and deformed the most beautiful parts of

the ancient authors, may be discovered by a perusal of our earlier versions; some of them the works of men well qualified not only by critical knowledge, but by poetical genius, who yet, by a mistaken ambition of exactness, degraded at once their originals and themselves. Denham saw the better way, but has not pursued it with great success. His versions of Virgil are not pleasing; but they taught Dryden to please better. His poetical imitation of Tully on 'Old Age' has neither the clearness of prose nor the sprightliness of poetry. The strength of this poet,' which Pope so emphatically mentions, is to be found in many lines and couplets, which convey much meaning in few words, and exhibit the sentiment with more weight than bulk.”

ABRAHAM COWLEY.
BORN, 1618; DIED, 1667.

To him no author was unknown,
Yet what he wrote was all his own,
Horace's wit, and Virgil's state,

He did not steal but emulate!

And when he would like them appear,
Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear.

Thy fault is only wit in its excess;
But wit like thine in any shape will please.

Sir John Denham.

Addison.

THIS distinguished English poet was born in Fleetstreet, London, in 1618. His father was a grocer, and died before the birth of his son Abraham. His mother encountered great difficulties in giving him a liberal education, but ultimately succeeded in procuring his admission into Westminster School as a King's scholar. His poetical genius developed itself at a very early period. At the age of fifteen he published a collection of verses, entitled "Poetical Blossoms," which obtained considerable notice, as possessing more than ordinary merit. It has been frequently observed, that accidental circumstances have a powerful influence in directing the mind to some particular study or pursuit. Cowley has given an account of what first led him to cultivate

the poetical art. He says: "I believe I can tell the particular little chance that filled my head with such chimes of verses, as have never left ringing there. I remember when I began to read, and to take pleasure in it, there was wont to lie in my mother's parlour, I know not by what accident, for she herself never in her life read any book but of devotion-but there was wont to lie Spenser's works. This I happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories of the knights, and giants, and monsters, and brave houses which I found everywhere (though my understanding had little to do with all this), and, by degrees, with the tinkling of the rhyme and dance of the numbers, so that I think I had read him all over before I was twelve years old."

In 1636 he was elected a Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge, where he soon attained to distinction as a young man of taste, persevering application, and extensive acquirements. He again appeared in print as the author of a pastoral comedy, which was acted before the University by the members of Trinity College. In consequence of the turbulence of the times, he was removed, with some others, from Cambridge, for his loyalty to the king, to St. John's College, Oxford, where he continued to follow his literary pursuits, and indulge in the composition of poetry. His zeal in the royal cause led to his being employed in the service of the King, in several important situations. At the time of the civil war his services were still more valuable, for when Queen Henrietta was obliged to leave England and return to France, he accompanied her and filled the office of Secretary to the Earl of St. Albans; and during an absence of ten years from his native country, he was employed in confidential missions for the Royal Family. In 1656 he returned to England, and was immediately arrested by the Cromwell party as a suspected spy, imprisoned, and obliged to find bail to a considerable amount. On his release he adopted the medical profession, and employed his leisure hours in preparing several of his most important works for the press.

He submitted quietly to the government of

Cromwell, and at his death went to France, where he remained until the Restoration. The party of Charles II., to which Cowley had consistently and honestly adhered, made him an ungrateful return. On a false charge of disloyalty which was preferred against him, he was refused an important situation under the government which had been repeatedly promised to him. By the influence of some friends who esteemed his character, appreciated his integrity, and held his talents in high estimation, he at length succeeded in obtaining the lease of a farm at Chertsey, held under the Queen, and which produced a competency of about £300 a year. This enabled him to procure, what he most desired, the pleasures of a country life. He did not, however, live long to enjoy the sweets of rural solitude. He died in 1667, and was interred in Westminster Abbey.

Dr. Sprat, who wrote an interesting account of his life, and who was his intimate friend, does justice to his character, and to his abilities as a writer. King Charles II., who had basely deserted him, pronounced his eulogy by declaring, that "Mr. Cowley had not left a better man behind him in England." "At the time of his death," says Dr. Aikin in his sketch of his life, "Cowley certainly ranked as the first poet in England; for Milton lay under a cloud, nor was the age qualified to appreciate him; and although a large portion of Cowley's celebrity has vanished, there still remains enough to raise him to a considerable rank among the British poets. As a prose writer, particularly in the department of essays, there are few who can compare with him in elegant simplicity." The memoir of Cowley, by Dr. Johnson, is extremely interesting, and contains a critical review of the poet's principal works. Of his occasional poems, his "Hymn to Light," which has appeared in several collections of poetry, is composed in an elevated strain. He seldom touched upon sacred topics; but the little he did compose of a serious character deserves to be remembered, and is full of original thought. Many of his pieces are light, sprightly, and some of a comic nature, very questionable

as to their tendency. His verses on the "Grasshopper" are simple and beautiful: they will be found in our Selections from the Poets.

In the "Biographical Sketches selected from 'The Saturday Magazine'" there is a brief and interesting summary of Cowley's life. The writer makes the following judicious observations on his personal and literary character:-"Cowley is invariably represented as having possessed the most sweet and amiable disposition. He was also deeply impressed with religious feelings, and is said to have particularly abhorred the abuse of Scripture by licentious raillery, which he called 'not only the meanest kind of wit, but the worst sort of ill manners.' In the latter part of his life he contemplated a work of inquiry into the original principles of the primitive church of Christ; but he did not live to execute it. Indeed, like many others, Cowley appears to have done least, when his command of time was the greatest. Of his 'Davideis,' which was begun early in life, and was designed to have consisted of twelve books, he completed only four. And the whole history of his latter years gives a strong confirmation (if confirmation were needed) of the important truths, that leisure is apt to degenerate into listlessness and inactivity; and that the rubs and crosses, from which no condition of human existence is exempt, are only felt the more painfully by him, who, while he possesses the sensitive temperament of genius, does not fortify himself against them by strenuous occupation, and by an active and useful life passed among his fellows.

"In his days of industry and exertion Cowley wrote and published much, both in Latin and in English, and in various kinds of poetry, epic, lyrical, elegiac, and didactic. His genius was of the highest order. With profound and varied learning he combined an extraordinary vigour and fertility of imagination; and he astonishes us with the multiplicity and exuberance, sometimes with the happiness of his images, reminding us not a little, though in a different kind of composition, of his own contemporary, Jeremy Taylor, and, in later days, of Mr. Burke. His misfortune was, that he lived in

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