Part 4 (1/2)

This poeraphical value, I have quoted at, perhaps, too great length Other poearden-period of Marvell's life are better known His own English version of his Latin poem _Hortus_ contains lovely stanzas:--

”How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays; And their uncessant labours see Crowned froed shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all the flowers and trees do close, To weave the garlands of Repose!

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear?

Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies ofthe plants will grow; Society is all but rude To this delicious solitude

No white nor red was ever seen So areen

What wond'rous life is this I lead!

Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine, and curious peach, Intoon rass

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness;-- The ht its own rese these, Far other worlds, and other seas, Annihilating all that's reen shade”[46:1]

Well known as are Marvell's lines to his Coy Mistress, I have not the heart to omit them, so eminently characteristic are they of his style and huh and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime

We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Should'st rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews

My vegetable love should grow Vaster than eo to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart

For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate

But atnear, And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity

Thy beauty shall nosong; then worinity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all rave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace

Now, therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin likesoul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now, let us sport us while we may; And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our tiuish in his slow-chapt power!

Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness up into one ball; And tear our pleasures with rough strife, Through the iron gates of life!

Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet ill make him run”

Mr Aitken's valuable edition of Marvell's poems and satires can now be had of all booksellers for two shi+llings,[47:1] and with these volumes in his possession the judicious reader will be able to supply his own reflections whilst life beneath the sun is still his Poetry is a personal matter The very canons of criticism are themselves literature

If we like the _Ars Poetica_, it is because we enjoy reading Horace

FOOTNOTES:

[20:1] For an account of Flecknoe, see Southey's _Omniana_, i 105 La of the Essay _A Quakers' Meeting_

[24:1] Grosart, vol iii p 175

[24:2] _See_ preface to _Religio Laici_, Scott's _Dryden_, vol x p

27

[24:3] Jeremy Collier in his _Historical Dictionary_ (1705) describes Marvell, to whoh it is but a few lines) than he does to Shakespeare, ”as to his opinion he was a dissenter” In Collier's opinion Marvell may have been no better than a dissenter, but in fact he was a Churchman all his life, and it was Collier who lived to become a non-juror and a dissenter, and a schismatical bishop to boot

[31:1] _Life of Lord Fairfax_, by CR Markham (1870), p 365