mayor of Hull, and died May 8, 1706. The eldest of Mr. Nettleton's children was the late Robert Nettleton, a Russia merchant, in London, who was Marvell's great nephew. He died the 25th of July, 1774, aged 81, and was buried in Camberwell church-yard.

There are two original Portraits of Marvell; One of which his greatnephew, Mr. Nettleton, presented to the British Museum, where it is still preserved. Underneath this portrait is the following inscription, "Robert Nettleton, of London, Merchant, in the year 1764, presented to the Museum this ORIGINAL Portrait of Andrew Marvell, Esq., his grand uncle, to be preserved and placed among the strenuous asserters of the constitution, laws, and liberties of England." The engraving given with this part of our book is taken from the original in the British Museum.

The late Mr. Hollis had in his possession the other original portrait of Marvell, which was bought for him of Mr. F. Billam, of Leeds, by means of Mr. Boydell, the engraver, and was formerly in the possession of Ralph Thoresby, the Antiquary. Mr. Hollis, in a Letter to his friend, in reference to this portrait says, "If Marvell's picture does not look so lively and witty, as you might expect, it is from the chagrin and awe he had of the Restoration, then just effected. Marvell's picture was painted when he was 41 years of age, that is, in 1661, with all the sobriety and decency of the then departed Commonwealth.”

In 1771, Captain Thompson presented a Copy of the Portrait in the British Museum to the Trinity House, at Hull, which they placed in their Council Chamber, accompanied with the following character, by Captain Thompson, who appears to have been an enthusiastic admirer of the patriot."

ANDREW MARVELL, ESQUIRE, "Was the unshaken friend of England, Liberty, and Magna Charta, who to the highest ability, natural and acquired, joined the purest and most unsullied virtue; and a magnanimity not to be shaken by the foes of freedom. His wit was the scourge of 'mitred dulness,' and royal folly; the lures of corruption he scorned with manly steadiness, and vested with the armour of truth, he bid defiance to oppression. Amidst the cobwebs of poverty, and need, he maintained his honour and honesty, and rejected the pageantry of a court, as much as the venal temptations of a minister. He preferred virtue and a garret, to meanness and the star-chamber, and gave up the viands of a king, for health, peace, and a crust. Places, pensions, bribes, lucre, and reversions, he left for such, whose prostituted hearts could sell and betray their country. In vain did the treasury pour forth her golden tides; in spite of every temptation, even in the most fretting need and indigence, he stood uncorrupted, the colossian champion of liberty and independence; and made the

minions of lust and folly tremble under the burnished canopy of the throne. And yet, alas! all these patriot virtues were insufficient to guard him against the jesuitical machinations of the state; for what vice and bribery could not influence, was perpetrated by poison. Thus fell one of the first characters of this kingdom, or of any other; a greater, Rome, Sparta, Athens, Carthage, could not boast! he was an honest man, a real patriot, and an incorruptible senator."

The following character of Marvell, is supposed to have been written by Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham :

"While lazy prelates lean'd their mitred heads
On downy pillows, lull'd with wealth and pride,
(Pretending prophecy, yet nought foresee,)
MARVELL, this island's watchful sentinell,
Stood in the gap, and bravely kept his post :
When courtiers lewd in wine and riot slept;
'Twas he th' approach of Rome did first explore,
And the grim monster arbitrary power,

The ugliest giant ever trod the earth,

That, like Goliah, march'd before the host.
Truth, wit, and eloquence, his constant friends,
With swift dispatch he to the main guard sends;
Th' alarum strait their courage did excite,
Which check'd the haughty foes bold enterprize,
And left them halting between hope and fear.
He, like the sacred Hebrew leader, stood
The peoples surest guide and prophet too,
Athens may boast her virtuous Socrates,
The chief amongst the Greeks for moral good,
And Rome her orator, whose fam'd harangues
Foil'd the debauch'd Anthony's designs;

We him; and with deep sorrows wail his loss:
But whether fate or t untwin'd his thread,
Remains in doubt.

Fame's lasting register

Shall leave his name enroll'd, as great as those

Who at Philippi for their country bled."

MR. CHARLES CHURCHILL has the following lines on the character of Marvell :

"Tho' Sparta, Athens, and immortal Rome,
Adorn'd with laurels ev'ry patriot's tomb;
Tho' to their fames the sweetest poets sung,
And Brutus' virtue lives on Plutarch's tongue;
Tho' both the classic chissel and the pen,
Engrav'd the noblest acts of noblest men;
Yet shall our MARVELL'S spotless virtue rise,
And shine a constellation in the skies. ;
Shall shine the formost of the patriot band,
A guiding beacon to his native Land;

And teach succeeding children of the north,
To imitate his manners and his worth;

Inspire his kinsmen with his patriot flame,

And raise his HULL above the Roman name."

MR. MASON, in his sweet and elegant Ode to Independency, thus alludes to Marvell :

In awful poverty his honest muse

Walks forth vindictive through a venal land;

In vain corruption sheds her golden dews,

In vain oppression lifts her iron hand;

He scorns them both, and arm'd with truth alone,
Bids lust and folly tremble on the throne."

The following beautiful and tender letter, which was written by Marvell to SIR JOHN TROTT, on the death of his son, we think worthy a place at the end of this memoir :

HONOURED SIR,

I have not that vanity to believe, if you weigh your late loss by the common balance, that any thing I can write to you should lighten your resentments; nor if you measure things by the rules of Christianity, do I think it needfull to comfort you in your duty, and your son's happiness. Only having a great esteem and affection for you, and the grateful memory of him that is departed being still green and fresh upon my spirit, I cannot forbear to enquire, how you have stood the second shock, at your sad meeting of friends in the country. I know that the very sight of those who have been witnesses of our better fortune, doth but serve to reinforce a calamity. I know the contagion of grief, and infection of tears; and especially when it runs in a blood.

* Alluding to Marvell's castigation of Parker, before mentioned.

I

And I myself could sooner imitate than blame those innocent relentlings of nature, so that they spring from tenderness only, and humanity, not from an implacable sorrow. The tears of a family may flow together like those little drops that compact the rainbow, and if they be placed with the same advantage towards heaven, as those are to the sun, they too, have their splendour; and like that bow, while they unbend into seasonable showers, yet they promise that there shall not be a second flood. But the dissoluteness of grief-the prodigality of sorrow-is neither to be indulged in a man's self, nor complyed with in others. If that were allowable in these cases, Eli's was the reddyest way, and highest compliment, of mourning, who fell back from his seat, and broke his neck. But neither does that precedent hold: for though he had been chancellor, and in effect King of Israel, for so many years (and such men value, as themselves, their losses at a higher rate than others), yet, when he heard that Israel was overcome, that his two sons, Hophni and Phineas, were slain in one day, and saw himself so without hope of issue, and, which embittered it further, without succession to the government, yet he fell not till the news that the ark of God was taken. pray God that we may never have the same parallel perfected in our publick concernments. Then we shall need all the strength of grace and nature to support us. But on a private loss, and sweetened with so many circumstances as yours, to be impatient, to be uncomfortable, would be to dispute with God. Though an only son be inestimable, yet it is, like Jonah's sin, to be angry at God for the withering of his shadow. Zipporah, though the delay had almost cost her husband his life, yet when he did but circumcise her son, in a womanish peevishness reproached Moses as a bloody husband. But if God take the son himself, but spare the father, shall we say that he is a bloody God? He that gave his own Son, may he not take ours? It is pride that makes a rebel; and nothing but the overweening of ourselves, and our own things, that raises us against Divine Providence. Whereas, Abraham's obedience was better than sacrifice. And if God please to accept both, it is indeed a farther tryal, but a greater honour. I could say over upon this beaten occasion, most of those lessons of morality and religion, which have been so often repeated, and are as soon forgotton. We abound with precept, but we want examples. You, sir, that have all these things in your memory, and the clearness of whose judgment is not to be obscured by any greater interposition, should be exemplary to others in your own practice. 'Tis true, it is a hard task to learn and teach at the same time. And where yourselves are the experiment, it is as if a man should dissect his own body, and read the anatomy lecture. But I will not heighten the difficulty, while I advise the attempt. Only, as

in difficult things, you would do well to make use of all that may strengthen and assist you; the word of God, the society of good men, and the books of the ancients: there is one way more, which is, by diversion, business, and activity, which are also necessary to be used in their season. But I, who live to so little purpose, can have little authority, or ability to advise you in it.

From your very affectionate friend

and most humble servant,

ANDREW MARVELL.

The following selection from the poems of Marvell we give, not as being the best, but because they are amongst the shortest of his poetical effusions:

THE EMIGRANTS.

[These stanzas are supposed to be sung by a party of those voluntary exiles for conscience sake, who, in a profligate age, left their country, to enjoy religious freedom in regions beyond the Atlantic. The scene is laid near Bermudas, or Summer Islands, as they are now called.]

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride,
In ocean's bosom unespy'd;

From a small boat that row'd along,
The list'ning winds receiv'd this song.

"What should we do but sing his praise,
That led us through the wat'ry maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown,

And yet far kinder than our own.

Where He the huge sea-monsters racks,
That lift the deep upon their backs;
He lands us on a grassy stage,

Safe from the storms, and prelates' rage.
He gave us this eternal spring,
Which here enamels every thing;
And sends the fowls to us in care,
On daily visits thro' the air.

He hangs in shades the orange bright,
Like golden lamps in a green night,
And does in the pomegranates close,
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.
He makes the figs our mouths to meet,
And throws the melons at our feet;
But apples plants of such a price,
No tree could ever bear them twice.
With cedars chosen by his hand,
From Lebanon, He stores the land.
And makes the hollow seas, that roar,
Proclaim the ambergrease on shore.