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bewildered, and the thread of his poetry wants unravelling. He enters into the analysis of a sense instead of painting its effects, he pourtrays the existence of the mental faculties, instead of forming a character. His works are

full of thought and reflection; but his thoughts are not always perspicuous, and his reflections are too abstracted. Here and there his muse in her wilfulness throws aside her artificial costume, and then he is natural, tender, and fanciful. He had not the power of evoking living forms from the depths of his imagination, and enduing them with the high and deep passions-he dealt not with the world of substance, but left others to celebrate human actions, while he speculated upon human sensations. He loved to contemplate the mind and its mysterious operations, and regarded them with the pensive attention of a philosopher, separating them from the material body by which they were sustained, until he almost forgot the link which binds the animal to the spiritual life of man. Hence it is that while his reflections have sentiment and harmony, his persons are deficient in the common impulses of mankind. He wrote songs to an imaginary mistress, he composed a long poem on plants in elegant Latin, and sang the exploits of David in heroic strains; but the uniform character of the poet's mind is visible in all his songs are gallant compliments, but have little of the genuine devotion of real affection-his books of plants are replete with fanciful descriptions and florid but unempassioned verse—and his Davidëis wants that nerve, plot, and construction which alone could give it vigor and

reality. Cowley was among the first of our authors who composed in the irregular Pindaric metres; but he was not always judicious in their application, and is guilty of many lines that are very inharmonious, although he has whole poems full of music-such are his Anacreontics. We all from childhood remember the chirping little Ode to the grasshopper, and the following imitation of the Grecian's tipsy logic in praise of wine has much of the spirit of the original:

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Cowley's Hymn to Light has all his peculiarities, but it has also all his merits. It rises at times to the verge of sublimity, but occasionally trembles from its 'pride of

place.' It commences with a glorious personification. Light no longer appears a mere immaterial essence, or a subtle fluid pervading and streaming over nature; but it beams before us like an angel, with joy on its countenance and freedom on its wings. The poem is too long to quote entire, but I have culled a few of its best stanzas:

I.

First born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
From the old Negro's darksome womb!

Which, when it saw the lovely child,

The melancholy mass put on kind looks and smil'd.

III.

Hail! active Nature's watchful life and health!

Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!

Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee!

Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom he!

VII.

Thou in the moon's bright chariot, proud and gay,

Dost thy bright wood of stars survey,

And all the year dost with thee bring

Of thousand flow'ry lights thine own nocturnal spring.

IX.

Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn

The humble glow-worms to adorn,

And with those living spangles gild

(O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the field.

XIII.

At thy appearance, Grief himself is said

To shake his wings, and rouse his head;
And cloudy Care has often took

A gentle beamy smile reflected from thy look.

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Through the soft ways of heav'n, and air, and sea,

Which open all their pores to thee,

Like a clear river thou dost glide,

And with thy living stream through the close channels slide.

Cowley was well versed in the poetry and philosophy of the ancients, and has scattered classical allusions and expressions throughout his works with a profuse hand. If he had neither the calm dignity of the Grecian, nor the power or polish of the Roman authors, he occasionally carried their spirit into his productions; and even in his least sustained and most labored poems, there is evidence

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of a chaste imagination educated after pure models, but deficient in that lore which is to be drawn from the of real and active life.

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SIR WILLIAM WALLER was related to Hampden and Cromwell, and played a conspicuous part in the political drama of the stormy period in which he lived. He was a man of brilliant and lively accomplishments, with an easy flow of wit at his command, and those engaging manners which purchase a ready popularity. In parliament his speeches were elegant and happy, and remarkable both for their eloquence and moderation. Such a character was at best but an uncertain ally of the stern and enthusiastic beings with whom by circumstance he was united. He deprecated the ultra views of the Independents, and was the champion of the Presbyterian party; was even concerned in unsuccessful measures for the restoration of the King, but vindicated the influence and the cause of the Protector during the Commonwealth. He was however among the first to greet the new Monarch on his return to England, and abandon those principles which before he had successfully advocated.

Waller's poetry is celebrated for its fluency and melody. He wrote at his leisure, as his fancy dictated, and threw off his lines with the negligent ease of one to whom literature was but an amusement. His stanzas have not the appearance of being studied; they are gracefully modulated, and the ideas they contain flung together

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