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And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple, where to sound his name.
Oh! let our voice his praise exalt,
Till it arrive at heaven's vault;
Which, thence (perhaps) rebounding, may
Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.'

Thus sung they, in the English boat,
An holy and a cheerful note;
And all the way to guide the chime,
With falling oars they kept the time."

The Poem on Paradise Lost, which, though it is frequently prefixed to the editions of Milton, still must not be omitted here.

"When I beheld the poet blind, yet bold,
In slender book his vast design unfold,
Messiah crown'd, God's reconcil'd decree,
Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree,
Heav'n, hell, earth, chaos, all; the argument
Held me a while misdoubting his intent,
That he would ruin, (for I saw him strong)
The sacred truths to fable and old song;
So Sampson grop'd the temple's posts in spite,
The world o'erwhelming to revenge his sight.
Yet as I read, soon growing less severe,
I lik'd his project, the success did fear;
Thro' that wide field how he his way should find,
O'er which lame Faith leads Understanding blind;
Lest he'd perplex the things he would explain,
And what was easy he should render vain.

Or if a work so infinite he span'd,.

Jealous I was that some less skilful hand
(Such as disquiet always what is well,
And by ill imitating would excel,)
Might hence presume the whole creation's day
To change in scenes, and show it in a play.
Pardon me, mighty poet, nor despise
My causeless, yet not impious, surmise.
But I am now convinc'd, and none will dare
Within thy labours to pretend a share.

Thou hast not miss'd one thought that could be fit,

And all that was improper dost omit;

So that no room is here for writers left,
But to detect their ignorance or theft.
2 A

VOL. X. PART 11.

That majesty which thro' thy work doth reign
Draws the devout, deterring the profane.
And things divine thou treat'st of in such state
As them preserves, and thee, inviolate.

At once delight and horror on us seize,
Thou sing'st with so much gravity and ease;
And above human flight dost soar aloft,
With plume so strong, so equal, and so soft;
The bird nam'd from that Paradise you sing
So never flags, but always keeps on wing.

Where could'st thou words of such a compass find?
Whence furnish such a vast expense of mind?
Just heav'n thee, like Tiresias, to requite,
Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight.

Well might thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure; While the Town-Bays writes all the while and spells, And, like a pack-horse, tires without his bells. Their fancies like our bushy points appear,

The poets tag them; we for fashion wear.
I too, transported by the mode, offend,

And while I meant to praise thee, must commend.
Thy verse created like thy theme sublime,

In number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme."


"Near this Place

Lyeth the Body of Andrew Marvell, Esq.
A man so endowed by nature

So improved by Education, Study, and Travel.
So consummated by Experience,
That joining the peculiar Graces of Wit and
Learning, with a singular Penetration and
Strength of Judgment, and exercising all
these in the whole course of his Life, with
an unalterable steadyness in the ways of Virtue,

He became the Ornament and
Example of his Age; Beloved by

good Men, feared by bad, admired by all :

Tho' imitated, alas! by few,
And scarce paralleled by any.

But a Tombstone can neither contain his
Character, nor is marble necessary to
transmit it to Posterity; it is engraved

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in the Minds of this Generation and will be
always legible in his inimitable Writings,
:. nevertheless. He having served near
20 years successively in Parliament, and
that with such wisdom, dexterity, integrity,
and courage, as becomes a true Patriot,
The Town of Kingston upon Hull

From whence he was constantly deputed to that
Assembly, lamenting in his Death the Public

Loss, have erected this Monument of

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Heu fragile humanum Genus. Heu terrestria Vana!
Heu quem spectatum confinet Urna Virum!"

We regret that our limits in this number prevent us from doing justice to the remains of Marvel in this article. We, however, propose, in some future number, to resume the consideration of his poetry, and enter upon that of his prose works.


ART. VIII. Resolves; Divine, Moral, and Political.
Eighth Impression, with new and several other Additions, both in
Prose and Verse, not extant in the former Impressions. By
Owen Felltham, Esq. London: Printed for Peter Dring, and
are to be sold at the Sun, in the Poultry, next door to the Rose
Tavern. 1661.

In a note by the late M. Gilchrist, upon some verses, written by Felltham, to the memory of Ben Jonson, we find the following observation: "It seems something remarkable, that nothing should be known of a book so popular as Felltham's Resolves has always been, beyond the bare circumstances related by Oldys in his MS. notes on Langbaine, of his father, Thomas Felltham, being a Suffolkman, and that Owen was one of three children." It is, indeed, remarkable, and yet so literally the case, that Mr. Cumming, the latest editor of the Resolves, who, we believe, during the fourteen years that elapsed between the first and second editions of his reprint, sought, with unwearied diligence, for further particulars of Felltham, was not able to add a single fact of importance to this brief record of

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his author's private history. But the assertion, that the "Resolves have always been popular," is only partially correct. It is true, they had passed through twelve editions previous to 1709, but another century had nearly elapsed ere an attempt was made to awaken public attention in their favour, by a small compilation, entitled "The Beauties of Owen Felltham," containing a selection from twenty or thirty of the Essays. The work itself was then fast gliding into oblivion, when accident threw into the way of Mr. James Cumming, a gentleman connected with Indian affairs, who had the taste to discover the merit of Felltham's lucubrations, and the spirit to rescue them from the neglect to which they had well-nigh fallen a prey.He published an edition of the Resolves, (with some account of the author and his writings) in 1806, and a subsequent one in 1820, with the addition of a selection from the poetry of Felltham.

As two impressions of this re-publication have appeared, we are bound to assume, that it has met with fair encouragement; but we have seldom seen it ourselves in the hands of general readers, and we cannot help suspecting that our review will introduce it to the notice of many who never even heard of the name of Owen Felltham.

The Resolves, in all the editions, we believe, except the first, consist of two parts, styled Centuries; but the first edition contains the latter part only, composed by the author when in his eighteenth year, and revised by him afterwards. Both parts comprise a series of Essays, on subjects connected with religion, morality, and the conduct of life; and they appear to have been termed Resolves,-because, at the conclusion of each Essay, the author generally forms resolutions founded on his own precepts, having, as he states in his early Preface, written and published his Reflections," not so much to please others as profit himself." In this direct personal application, they differ from the "Essays, Civil and Moral," of Lord Bacon, to which they otherwise bear a frequent resemblance in manner, and still more in matter, the subjects of a great many of the Resolves being the same as those treated on by the illustrious writer

The following is the list of editions given by Mr. Cumming, of which we have only seen the 7th and 8th:

1st edition, date uncertain, 12mo | 8th edition 2d and 3rd



. 1628







6th 7th


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alluded to. The style of Owen Felltham is not always equal. He is occasionally prolix; his illustrations are two multipled; and his language is sometimes loose and familiar. He likewise participates in the antithetical and punning propensity of Arthur Warwick, as in the passage-" It is from where there is no judgement, that the heaviest judgment comes." But his general style is nervous and appropriate; rather close and pointed than diffusive, though at times really eloquent. His phrases are such as, to use his own words, "are expressively pertinent, which lead the mind to something beside the naked truth."He is prodigal of metaphor and quotation, and has, perhaps, on that account, been accused of pedantry; but, surely, if to quote at all from ancient writers be allowable, such allusions as the following add both force and interest to the maxims they are intended to support.

"I like of Solon's course, in comforting his constant friend; when, taking him up to the top of a turret, overlooking all the piled buildings, he bids him think, how many discontents there had been in those houses since their framing,-how many are, and how many will be; then, if he can, to leave the world's calamities, and mourn but for his own. To mourn for none else were hardness and injustice. To mourn for all, were endless. The best way is, to uncontract the brow, and let the world's mad spleen fret, for that we smile in woes.

"Silence was a full answer in that philosopher; that being asked what he thought of human life,-said nothing, turned him round, and vanished."

How delicate and how appropriate is the Scriptural metaphor of St. Bernard, in the succeeding extract.

"Meditation is the soul's perspective glass; whereby, in her long remove, she discerneth God, as if he were nearer hand. I persuade no man to make it his whole life's business. We have bodies as well as souls; and even this world, while we are in it, ought somewhat to be cared for. As those States are likely to flourish, where execution follows sound advisements; so is man, when contemplation is seconded by action. Contemplation generates; action pro-. pagates. Without the first, the latter is defective; without the last, the first is but abortive, and embryous. Saint Bernard compares contemplation to Rachel, which was the more fair; but action to Leah, which was the more fruitful. I will neither always be busy, and doing; nor ever shut up in nothing but thought. Yet, that which some would call idleness, I will call the sweetest part of my life; and that is, my thinking. Surely, God made so many varieties in his creatures, as well for the inward soul, as for the outward senses; though he made them primarily for his own free-will and glory. He was a monk of an honester age, that being asked how he could endure that life, without the pleasure of books, answered-The nature of the

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