"Thus departed that blessed soul, whose losse I have great reason to bewaile, and many others in time will be sensible of. But my particular comfort is in his dying words, that God will be a husband to the widow. And that which may comfort others as well as me, is (what a Reverend Divine * wrote to a friend concerning his death), that our losse is gain to him, who could not live in a worse age, nor dye in a better time. "And here again, I humbly beg the readers pardon. For I cannot expect but to be censured by some for writing thus much, and by others for writing no more. To both which my excuse is, my want of ability and judgment in matters of this nature. I was more averse (indeed) from meddling with the petition, then any other thing I have touched upon: lest (perhaps) it should be thought to savour a little of revenge; but God is my witnesse I had no such intention. My only aim and scope was, to fulfill the desires and commands of my dying husband who wished all his friends to take notice, and make it known, that as he was trained up and lived in the true Protestant religion, so in that religion he dyed. "URSULA QUARLES." * The same who wrote the letter immediately following the Life. b A Letter from a learned Divine, upon the News of the Death of Mr. QUArles. QUARLES. POSTSCRIPT. "My worthy Friend Mr. HAWKINS, "I received your letter joyfully, but the news (therein contained) sadly and heavily; it met me upon my return home from Sturbridge, and did work on myself and wife; I pray God it may work kindly on us all. We have lost a true frind; and were the losse only mine or your's, it were the lesse; but thousands have a losse in him; yea, the generations which shall come after will lament it. But our losse is gain to him, (who could not live in a Let us enworse age, nor die in a better time). deavour, like good gamesters, to make the best we may of this throw, cast us by the hand of God's good providence, that it may likewise prove gain to us: which will be, if in case we draw neerer unto him, and take off our hearts from all earthly hopes and comforts; using this world as if we used it not; so shall we rejoyce as if we rejoyced not in their using, and mourn as if we mourned not in the parting with them, "Your assured Friend, "NEHEMIAH ROGERS. "Essex, Sept. 12, 1644,” xix Further Account of Quarles, and of his Writings. [From HEADLEY'S "Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry *, vol. i. lx.] "IT is the fate of many to receive from posterity that commendation which, though deserved, they missed during their lives; others, on the contrary, take their full complement of praise from their con *The work above referred to, is the production of a very extraordinary young man, who died in the year 1788. It was published in two octavo volumes, in 1787; and, as if a prophetic spirit had dictated the design of the frontispiece, there is inscribed on a monumental tablet of antique form, the following motto-"NON OMNIS MORIAR." The year following, Mr. Headley died; but his name and his talents will never perish, as long as there shall remain one spark of taste and erudition in the bosom of Englishmen. This publication, which is dedicated to Wm. Windham, Esq. M. P. and which is now exceedingly rare, was the third in our country, after those of Hayward and Mrs. Cooper, that laid claim to the merit of exciting in the public mind a curiosity to peruse the poetry of our ancestors. It is not only greatly superior to all preceding works of the kind, but has not, in my humble estimation, been surpassed by any subsequent similar efforts. The "Introduction," which follows the "Preface," contains a rapid, but mas temporaries, and gain nothing from their successors; a double payment is rarely the lot of any one. In every nation, few indeed are they, who, allied as it terly review of the English school of poetry, up to the period when Headley wrote: and the "Biographical Sketches" which precede the Specimens, are written in a style peculiarly neat and animated. The second volume was published with some erudite and interesting "Notes" to both volumes, and with a 66 Supplement." The typographical part is unworthy of the publication. The author of this delightful Selection of " Ancient English Poetry," was one of the pupils of the learned Dr. PARR, and was afterwards a member of Trinity College, Oxford. Before he was twenty years old, he published a volume of poems of uncommon merit: but which, notwithstand. ing repeated inquiries and researches, I have never been fortunate enough to meet with. They bear, however, a high character with competent judges. Headley is described to me, by those "who knew him well," as having been a young man of extraordinary taste and talent; as possessing a delicacy of sentiment, and an acuteness of feeling, known only to those chosen few on *How admirable is his comparison of the modern with the old school of English poetry! "To a process not very dissimilar to this," says he, “I am inclined to attribute the frequent lifelessness of modern poetry; which too often resembles an artificial nosegay, the colours of which, though splendid, are yet taudry, and heightened far beyond the modesty of nature, without any pretensions to fragrance; while that of a century and half back, appears as a garland, fresh from the gardens of nature, and still moist and glittering with the dews of the morning." P. xxv. were to immortality, can boast of a reputation sufficiently bulky and well-founded to catch, and to detain the eye of each succeeding generation as it rises. whom Nature bestows her choicest gifts, and in whom Genius kindles her purest fire. Modest, reserved, studious, contemplative, yet enthusiastic; he loved to wander alone by "haunted stream," and 'midst "sylvan shades,” to indulge that peculiar train of ideas which led him, through the works of creation, to hold converse with his Creator; thus realizing, as it were, the beautiful fiction of the Poet: To noon-tide shades incontinent he ran, Where purls the brook with sleep-inviting sound, Yet not in thoughtless slumber were they past; And mark'd the clouds that drove before the wind, *Thomson's "Castle of Indolence," Canto 1. st. lviii-ix. |