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Fed with nourishment divine,

The dewy morning's gentle wine, etc.—

are probably his best in this style. But he himself thought that the ODE was the form in which he most excelled; and he published a volume of odes called Pindariques. But, though much admired by his contemporaries, they could never have been felt to be poetry. The ode entitled The Muse, thus begins:

Go, the rich Chariot* instantly prepare;

The Queen, my Muse, will take the air;
Unruly Phansie with strong Judgment brace,
Put in nimble-footed Wit,

Smooth-fac'd Eloquence joyn with it,
Sound Memory with Invocation place,
Harness all the winged race.

Let the Postillion Nature mount, and let
The Coachman Art be set, etc., etc.

66

Dr. Johnson classes him with what he calls the " metaphysical poets," and among these "undoubtedly the best." But, though he is much smoother and more clever," he has not a tenth part of the thinking power of Dr. Donne. he was not read.

Pope tells us that even in his time

Who now reads Cowley? If he pleases yet,
His moral pleases, not his pointed wit.

Forgot his Epic, nay Pindaric, art,

But still I love the language of his heart.

This means that his epic poem, The Davideïs and his Pindarique Odes were quite forgotten, but that his Essays, in which he speaks in a frank and good-natured way of himself, were still read. The following is perhaps his best attempt at the sustained style. The lines are from his poem To the Royal Society,* and are in praise of Bacon:TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY.

From words, which are but Pictures of the Thought

(Though we our thoughts from them perversely drew),
To things, the Minds right object, he it brought,1
Like foolish Birds to painted Grapes we flew ;
He sought and gather'd for our use the True;

*The capitals and italics, etc., are in the original edition, published by H. Herringman, at the sign of the Blue Anchor, in the New Exchange.

And when on heaps the chosen Bunches lay,
He presst them wisely the Mechanick 2 way,
Till all their Juyce did in one Vessel joyn,
Ferment into a Nourishment Divine,

The thirsty Souls refreshing Wine.
Who to the life an exact Piece would make,
Must not from others Work a Copy take;

4

No, not from Rubens 3 or Vandike;
Much less content himself to make it like
Th' Ideas, and the Images which lye
In his own Fancy, or his Memory.

No, he before his sight must place
The Natural and Living Face;

The real object must command

Each Judgment of his Eye, and Motion of the Hand.
From these and all long Errors 5 of the way,

In which our wandering Predecessors went,
And like th' old Hebrews many years did stray

In Desarts but of small extent,6

Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last,

The barren Wilderness he past,

Did on the very border stand

Of the blest promis'd Land,

And from the Mountains top of his exalted Wit,"
Saw it himself, and shew'd us it.

But life did never to one man allow

Time to discover Worlds, and Conquer too;
Nor can so short a line Sufficient be
To fathom the vast depths of Natures Sea!
The work he did we ought t' admire,
And were unjust, if we should more require
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' Exces
Of low Affliction, and high Happiness.
For who on things remote can fix his sight,

8

That's always in a Triumph or a Fight? 9

6. JOHN BUNYAN (1628-1688), "the wicked tinker of Elstow," has perhaps had as great an influence on the character of the English language as Shakspeare or Tyndale. He served, when a lad, in the Parliamentary army; and, after his conversion in 1655, joined the sect of the Baptists, among whom he became a celebrated preacher. At the Restoration, he was convicted of frequenting and

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holding conventicles; and was imprisoned for twelve years in Bedford jail. Here he supported himself by making tagged laces; and kept up the vigour of his mind, and delighted and edified countless generations by writing The Pilgrim's Progress. After his release, he was chosen pastor of the Baptists at Bedford. He had a wonderful power of reconciling differences; and it was on a journey to bring together an estranged father and a rebellious son, that he caught the severe cold and inflammation of which he died. The astonishing power of imagination, which has given pleasure to so many in the Pilgrim's Progress, was to himself a source of the greatest pain. "It rendered his youth miserable, by its ungovernable activity in creating images of fear. At times, he was as full of terrible apprehensions as a horse in a forest at midnight. He would turn aside from a house under the strength of a sudden apprehension that it would fall upon him.” Bunyan's style is the style of the "old unpolluted English language;" but it is not correct to say, as Macaulay has said, that "his vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common people." His vocabulary is, in truth, the vocabulary of the English Bible. The elder D'Israeli styles him "The Spenser of the people;" and Mr. Shaw calls him "the greatest master of allegory that ever existed." The charm of his style is to be looked for in the earnest and real character of the man, in his strong and ardent feeling, and in his thoroughgoing belief in the truths he was writing about. His style is homely and, earnest, because he felt like a sincere country Englishman; and, though vernacular, it is never vulgar, because the dignity of his subject raised him above mere personality. The description of Christian and Hopeful in the hands of Giant Despair gives a fair idea of his manner.

GIANT DESPAIR AND THE PILGRIMS.

Now, Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence: so when he was gone to bed, he told his wife what he had done, to wit, that he had taken a couple of prisoners and cast them into his dungeon, for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best to do2 further to them. So she asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither3 they were bound: and he told her. Then she counselled him; that when he arose in the morning, he should beat them without mercy. So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes down into the dungeon to them; and there first falls to rating them, as if they were dogs;

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