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but to some his life would be burdensome; so we shall find none so miserable, but we shall hear of another that would change calamities.

MORNING AND EVENING PRAYER.

Though prayer should be the key of the day, and the lock of the night, yet I hold it more needful in the morning, than when our bodies do take their repose. For howsoever sleep be the image or shadow of death,-and when the shadow is so near, the substance cannot be far,-yet a man at rest in his chamber is like a sheep impenned in the fold; subject only to the unavoidable and more immediate hand of God: whereas in the day, when he roves abroad in the open and wide pastures, he is then exposed to many more unthought-of accidents, that contingently and casually occur in the way: retiredness is more safe than business: who believes not a ship securer in the bay, than in the midst of the boiling ocean? Besides, the morning to the day, is as youth to the life of a man: if that be begun well, commonly his age is virtuous otherwise, God accepts not the latter service, when his enemy joys in the first dish. Why should God take thy dry bones, when the devil hath sucked the marrow out?

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WHILE Andrew Marvell was the leading prose wit of the reign of Charles II., Samuel Butler was the author of the best burlesque poem in the language. He was born at Strensham, in Worcestershire, in 1612. It cannot be ascertained whether he enjoyed a university education or not; but his writings show that his scholarship, however acquired, was both varied and profound. In early life he was employed as a clerk to the county magistrate of Worcestershire, where he enjoyed ample leisure for reading and meditation; and afterwards, in the household of the Countess of Kent, where he had the use of an ample library, which he did not fail to improve. Hence, he went into the employment of Sir Samuel Luke, one of Cromwell's officers, where he saw much of the unfavorable side of the Puritans; and here, it is supposed, he first conceived the idea of his satirical epic upon them. The first part of the poem was published three years after the Restoration; and though it was the delight of the court, and quoted everywhere and in all circles, the poet reaped nothing but empty praise. In 1664, the second part was published, but still no pecuniary reward was received from the court, for whom he chiefly wrote, and to whose gratification he chiefly contributed. It was not till 1678 that the third part appeared, and in 1680 he died, and so poor was he, that he was buried at the sole expense of a friend, in a churchyard. after a place in Westminster Abbey had been refused. But what gratitude, or any noble feeling could be expected from Charles II., or any of his licentious court?

The poem of Hudibras" is unique in European literature. It was evi

dently suggested by the adventures of Don Quixote; for as Cervantes sent forth his hero upon a chivalrous crusade to right wrongs, and redress grievances, in order to bring the institution of chivalry, of which he claims to be the personification, into contempt; so Sir Hudibras, claiming to be a representative of the true Presbyterian character, goes forth "a colonelling," against all those popular sports, of which the Puritans of the day had such a holy horror, to make this sect appear in the most ridiculous light. But the Puritan of Butler is an aggravated caricature, rather than a faithful portrait;' and though the poem possesses "an excess of wit, rhymes the most original and ingenious, and the most apt and burlesque metaphors, couched in an easy, gossiping, colloquial metre; yet it would be as impossible to read Hudibras to an end at once, as to dine on cayenne or pickles. It administers no food to the higher and more permanent feelings of the human mind. The moral comes to be felt to be without dignity, the wit without gayety or relief, the story lagging and flat. Even the rhymes, amusing as they are, become, after a time, like the repetitions of a mimic, tiresome and stale."

DESCRIPTION OF HUDIBRAS.

When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why;

1 The following, on the character of the Puritans, is taken from an article on Milton in the 42d vol of the Edinburgh Review; an article which, for its truth and eloquence, stands first among the writings of "the great essayist of the age"-T. B. Macaulay.

"The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior beings and eternal interests. Not content with acknowledging, in general terms, an overruling Providence, they habitually ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection nothing was too minute. To know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the great end of existence. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they felt assured that they were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses not made with hands; their diadems crowns of glory which should never fade away! On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and pries's, they looked down with contempt: for they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime language; nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of a mightier hand.

"The Puritan, indeed, was made up of two different men; the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion; the other, proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He prostrated himself in the dust before his Maker: but he set his foot on the neck of his king. In his devotional retirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and tears. People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans and their whining hymns, might laugh at them. But those had little reason to laugh who encountered them in the hall of debate or in the field of battle. These fanatics brought to civil and military affairs a coolness of judgment, and an immutability of purpose, which some writers have thought inconsistent with their religious zeal, but which were, in fact, the necessary effects of it. The intensity of their feelings on one subject made them tranquil on every other. One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, ambition and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and pleasure its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things of this world.

→Such we believe to have been the character of the Puritans. We perceive the absurdity of their manners. We dislike the sullen gloom of their domestic habits. We acknowledge that the tone of their minds was often injured by straining after things too high for mortal reach: and we know that In spite of their hatred of popery, they too often fell into the worst vices of that bad system, intole rance and extravagant austerity. Yet, when all circumstances are taken into consideration, we do not hesitate to pronounce them a brave, a wise, an honest, and a useful boay.”

When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears;
When gospel-trumpeter, surrounded
With long-car'd rout, to battle sounded;
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,

Was beat with fist instead of a stick ;'
Then did Sir Knight2 abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling.

A wight he was, whose very sight would
Entitle him mirror of knighthood,
That never bow'd his stubborn knee3
To any thing but chivalry,

Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade.
But here some authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise or stout;
Some hold the one, and some the other,
But, howsoe'er they make a pother,
The difference was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool:
We grant, although he had much wit,
H' was very shy of using it,

As being loath to wear it out,

And therefore bore it not about;
Unless on holidays or so,

As men their best apparel do.

Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek

As naturally as pigs squeak;

That Latin was no more difficile4

Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle.

HIS LOGIC.

He was in logic a great critic,
Profoundly skill'd in analytic:

He could distinguish, and divide

A hair 'twixt south and south-west side;
On either which he would dispute,
Confute, change hands, and still confute:
He'd undertake to prove, by force
Of argument, a man's no horse;
He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,
And that a lord may be an owl;

A calf an alderman, a goose a justice,
And rooks committee-men and trustees.
He'd run in debt by disputation,

And pay with ratiocination:

1 The speaking of a stick as one word, with the stress upon a, heightens the burlesque, and concequently is rather an excellency than a fault.

Butler's hero, Sir Samuel Luke, was not only a colonel in the parliament army, but also Scoutmaster-General in the counties of Bedford, Surrey, &c.

* That is, he kneeled to the king when he knighted him, but seldom upon any other occasion.

+ Sancho Panza says of Don Quixote, "that he is a main scolard, Latins it hugely, and talks his own mother tongue as well as one of your Tarsity Doctors'

All this by syllogism true,

In mood and figure he would do.
For rhetoric, he could not ope

His mouth, but out there flew a trope:
And when he happen'd to break off
In th' middle of his speech, or cough,
H' had hard words ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by;
Else when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talk'd like other folk;
For all a rhetorician's rules

Teach nothing but to name his tools.
But when he pleased to show't, his speech,
In loftiness of sound, was rich;

A Babylonish dialect,

Which learned pedants much affect;
It was a party-color'd dress

Of patch'd and piebald languages;

'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian heretofore on satin;

It had an odd promiscuous tone,

As if h' had talk'd three parts in one;

Which made some think, when he did gabble
Th' had heard three laborers of Babel,

Or Cerberus himself pronounce

A leash of languages at once.

HIS MATHEMATICS.

In Mathematics he was greater
Than Tycho Brahe1 or Erra Pater;2
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale;3
Resolved by sines and tangents straight
If bread or butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o' th' day
The clock does strike, by algebra.

HIS METAPHYSICS.

Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher,
And had read every text and gloss over;
Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath,
He understood b' implicit faith:
Whatever sceptic could inquire for,
For every why he had a wherefore;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms could go;
All which he understood by rote,
And, as occasion served, would quote;
No matter whether right or wrong;
They might be either said or sung.

1 Tycho Brahe was an eminent Danish mathematician.

? By Erra Pater, it is thought that Butler alluded to one William Lilly, a famous astrologer of those times.

As a justice of the peace, he had a right to inspect weights and measures.

His notions fitted things so well,

That which was which he could not tell,
But oftentimes mistook the one

For th' other, as great clerks have done.
He knew what's what,' and that's as high
As metaphysic wit can fly:

He could raise scruples dark and nice,
And after solve 'em in a trice;

As if divinity had catch'd

The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd;
Or, like a mountebank, did wound,
And stab herself with doubts profound,
Only to show with how small pain
The sores of Faith are cured again;
Although by woful proof we find
They always leave a scar behind.

HIS APPAREL.

His doublet was of sturdy buff,
And though not sword, yet cudgel-proof,
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,
Who feared no blows but such as bruise.
His breeches were of rugged woollen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen;2
To old King Harry so well known,
Some writers held they were his own:
Though they were lined with many a piece
Of ammunition bread and cheese,
And fat black-puddings, proper food
For warriors that delight in blood:
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry victuals in his hose,
That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise;
And when he put a hand but in

The one or t'other magazine,

They stoutly on defence on't stood,

And from the wounded foe drew blood.

Such are a few specimens of Butler's wit as displayed in his poetry. The same vein runs through his prose works, which were not published till a considerable time after his death. We can give but one specimen:

A SMALL POET

Is one that would fain make himself that which nature never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own whimsies. He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small stock, and no credit. He believes it is invention enough to find out other men's wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or company, he makes bold with as his own. This he

A ridicule on the senseless questions in the common systems of logic, as, quid est quid whence ume the common proverbial expression of he knows what's what, to denote a shrewd man.

Boulogne was besieged by King Henry VIII., July 14, 1544, and surrendered in September.

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