Will no one tell me what she sings? Or is it some more humble lay, Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain Whate'er the theme the maiden sung. ANDREW MARVELL. Born 1620-Died 1678. Andrew Marvell is little known as a poet, but th poetry which he left, is, according to Mr. Campbell, worthy of higher consideration than has been bestowed upon it. He lived in the time of Oliver Cromwell, and was a sincere republican, but he held a seat in the British parliament after the restoration of the Stuarts, and is remarkable for the independence and honesty with which he avowed his sentiments. He had visited foreign countries, had studied and meditated much: thus his conversation was adorned with original thought and various knowledge; and as his manners were simple but polished, he was in his private intercourse singularly agreeable. Charles H. once met with this respectable man, and being struck with him, thought he would be a valuable acquisition to the royalists.-To gain Marvell's favour the King sent him a present of money, which was refused, and Mr. Marvell giving a rational and dignified exposition of his sentiments, preferred his poverty with integrity to the favour of princes. This excellent man loved poetry, and vindicated Milton when his character was aspersed. His religious sentiments, like those of Milton, were in favour of liberty, and he sympathized with those who were compelled to emigrate to foreign lands that they might enjoy freedom of conscience. In 1620, the famous emigration to New-England took place. One year before that time a small company of religious persons, who were not permitted to worship God in England in the manner which seemed to them right, removed to the Bermuda islands. These islands are in a healthful and pleasant climate, but they have never had many inhabitants-still the first English who went thither, anticipated much satisfaction in their retreat. Mr. Marvell wrote a song which may be supposed to express the grateful emotions of these voyagers as they entered their desired haven. THE EMIGRANTS. Where the remote Bermudas ride, What should we do but sing his praise, And yet far kinder than our own? · Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks, That lift the deep upon their backs. He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage. He gave us this eternal spring, He hangs in shades the orange bright, He cast (of which we rather boast) Oh! let our voice his praise exalt, Till it arrive at heaven's vault : Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may, Thus sung they, in the English boat, An holy and a cheerful note; POETRY FOR SCHOOLS. 307 HENRY VAUGHAN. "Henry Vaughan was a Welsh gentleman, born on the banks of the Uske, in Brecknockshire, who was bred to the law, but relinquished it for the profession of physic." The extraordinary beauty of Vaughan's poetry makes it desirable that the few remains of it which follow should become popular. EARLY RISING AND PRAYER. When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should Serve God before the world; let him not go Shrowd in their births; the crown of life, light, truth, Which must be carried on, and safely may : THE TIMBER. Sure thou didst flourish once, and many springs, And still a new succession sings and flies, Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot, Towards the old and still enduring skies, While the low violet thrives at their root. * THE RAINBOW. Still young and fine, but what is still and in view |