contra, it is said that he was "much beloved by the gentry." Probably none of the gentry were present when he thus gave way to his temper. In 1648, the year of Cromwell's triumph and the beginning of the Commonwealth, being a royalist, he was turned out of his living, and went to London, where he had better company, but less to live on. Here he published a collection of short poems (many of them gems), which he named "Hesperides," because they were written in the west.* His religious poems he published under the title, "Noble Numbers." As a lyrical poet, Herrick stands unrivalled by any of his contemporaries, and, as many critics think, by any English writer. His songs, "Gather ye roses while ye may," "To Blossoms," and "To Daffodils," find a place in every collection and will never grow out of date. Herrick lived to be eighty-three years old; a circumstance very remarkable when it is remembered that no other poet of note, born about the same time or within the thirty years following, lived much beyond middle life, except George Wither, who died at the good old age of seventy-nine.t Thomas Carew (1589-1639) wrote many pretty lyrics, of which those best known are the two following: Ask me no more where Jove bestows When June is past, the fading rose, etc. He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, etc. Most of his poems, however, though graceful, do not rise above mediocrity. They were great favorites at the court of Charles I. Sir John Suckling (1609-42), a younger poet, was also * Hesperia was the old Greek name for any unknown land lying to the westward. + Carew died at 50; Quarles at 52; Herbert at 39; Suckling at 32; Denham at 53; Crashaw at 37; Lovelace at 40. read and quoted by the same gay set of pleasure-lovers. He had a lively fancy and some humor, the latter quality showing itself in his "Ballad on a Wedding," where he describes the impressions made on a rustic by the sight of London festivities; and in his lines beginning: Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prythee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Sir John, an exception to most of the poets of his time, was born to a fortune, but this did not save him from adversity when his hour came. Two accounts exist of his probable end; one says that he committed suicide on being driven from England in 1641 on account of his loyalty to the king, and the other that his death was owing to the malice of a servant who had robbed him, and, wishing to delay pursuit, left a penknife in Sir John's boot which inflicted a wound in the heel causing his death. Either way, it was a tragic end for one who had been the centre of a brilliant society and noted for his wit, gayety and liberality. A stanza from the "Ballad on a Wedding" will give an idea of its quality. The countryman is describing the bride: Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: Is half so fine a sight. The song quoted before is from one of Suckling's dramas. We can not better close the list of "cavalier poets" than with the name of Richard Lovelace (1618-58), a type of the entire class. Of extraordinary personal beauty, with a university education, living a gay, thoughtless, social life until his loyalty to Charles I. brought him into trouble, we follow him through many vicissitudes until we see him dying, poor, neglected and dissipated, in an alley near Shoe Lane. Lovelace, being an ardent royalist, was selected by the county of Kent to deliver a petition to the Long Parliament praying that the king might be restored to his rights. For this he was thrown into prison, where he wrote the beautiful song entitled "To Althea, from Prison," in which occur the lines: Stone walls do not a prison make Nor iron bars a cage. He was released on heavy bail, and spent his fortune in vain efforts to help the royal cause. When this became hopeless he left his country and took service in the French army, being wounded in the battle of Dunkirk. It was before setting out on this enterprise that he wrote the exquisite lines "To Lucasta,” (his lady-love), excusing himself for leaving her. We give the last verse: Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore: I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more! Alas! A false rumor that he had died of his wounds reached the ears of his Lucasta (Lucy Sacheverell), and she married another person. On his return to England he was again imprisoned. Released after the king's death, but disappointed in his love, shorn of his fortune, and broken in health and spirits, he sank miserably into the grave, a sad contrast to his brilliant early prime. In considering these "minor poets," we must keep in mind, as a grim background to a variegated picture, the condition of the times they lived in; times of political upheaval, revolt against misgovernment, civil war, the beheading of a king, the establishment of parliamentary supremacy followed by a dictatorship, and the final restoration of monarchy in a modified and limited form. The wonder is, not that there was so little intellectual activity during those troublesome years, but that there was so much; especially as the triumphant party, the Puritans, were quite out of sympathy with such trivial matters as secular poetry. They chanted the Psalms as they marched to battle; but sentiment they looked upon as a snare of the devil. Yet the bold, freedom-loving Englishmen kept on in their way, refusing to be carried away by bigoted enthusiasm or awed to silence by fear of the consequences of their utterances. CHAPTER XIX. SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY POETS, CONTINUED. N trying to preserve some order of time among writers of a century whose different parts were so widely separated in interest by the period of the Commonwealth and the years of struggle preceding it, the clearest method has seemed to be the grouping together of those most known and talked about at the same time. William Davenant (1606-68) wrote a long, tedious poem called "Gondibert," but is better known by his efforts to revive the drama, which had languished under the Puritan Commonwealth. He is regarded as the connecting link between the Elizabethan dramatists and those of Charles II.'s time. He was imprisoned for being a royalist, but when he was released he returned to his old business as play-writer and theatre manager, and actually contrived to have plays acted even in the face of the strict Puritan laws, by blending music with them and calling them operas. Italian opera had lately been introduced into France, where it had become very popular; and Davenant's, although but a far-away imitation of it, passed muster as a. musical entertainment. He After the Restoration, Davenant was again in favor. had been made poet-laureate in 1637, on the death of Ben Jonson; this office was now restored to him, and he was appointed manager of a company called "The Duke of York's Players." In his patent a clause was inserted, stating that "Whereas the women's parts in plays have hitherto been acted by men in the habits of women, at which some have taken offence; we do permit and give leave for the time to come that all women's parts be acted by women on the stage." It is said that Davenant's life was saved by the intercession of Milton under the Puritan rule, and also that the former returned the favor after the accession of Charles II. when the greater poet was a fugitive. The anecdotes may or may not be true; but it is pleasant to fancy these political opponents meeting on the common ground of interest in literature and treating one another as brothers. Davenant seems to have regarded blank verse not as a rhythmic and splendid structure of words, having all the charm of poetry without the melodious fetters of rhyme, but as a mere dividing up of poor prose into wretched and formless lengths. Here is a specimen: How did the governors of the Severe house digest the employment my Request did lay upon their gravities? Think of this awkward balderdash, as the work of a poet-laureate! Edmund Waller (1605-87) wrote many pretty songs"Go, lovely rose," "To a Girdle," and some others; but his character does not command our respect, and its shallowness shows itself in his writings. He could be equally flattering to King and Protector; and when Charles II. laughingly told him that his verses on the death of Cromwell were better than the address of congratulation to himself on his accession, the writer met him with the ready |