cold, and refused to send for his usual physicians,
'till it was past all remedy, and so in the end, after a fortnight's
sickness, it proved mortal to him.
He was buried in Westminster Abbey, the 3d of August following, near
the ashes of Chaucer and Spenser. King Charles II. was pleased to
bestow upon him the best character, when, upon the news of his death,
his Majesty declared, that Mr. Cowley had not left a better man behind
him in England. A monument was erected to his memory in May 1675, by
George, duke of Buckingham, with a Latin inscription, written by Dr.
Sprat, afterwards lord bishop of Rochester.
Besides Mr. Cowley's works already mentioned, we have, by the fame
hand, A Proposition for the advancement of Experimental Philosophy. A
Discourse, by way of Vision, concerning the Government of Oliver
Cromwel, and several Discourses, by way of Essays, in Prose and Verse.
Mr. Cowley had designed a Discourse on Stile, and a Review of the
Principles of the Primitive Christian Church, but was prevented by
death. In Mr. Dryden's Miscellany Poems, we find a poem on the Civil
War, said to be written by our author, but not extant in any edition
of his works: Dr. Sprat mentions, as very excellent in their kind, Mr.
Cowley's Letters to his private friends, none of which were published.
As a poet, Mr. Cowley has had tribute paid him from the greatest names
in all knowledge, Dryden, Addison, Sir John Denham, and Pope. He is
blamed for a redundance of wit, and roughness of verification, but is
allowed to have possessed a fine understanding, great reading, and a
variety of genius. Let us see how Mr. Addison characterizes him in his
Account of the great English Poets.
Great Cowley then (a mighty genius) wrote,
O'errun with wit, and lavish of his thought;
His turns too closely on the readers press,
He more had pleased us, had he pleased us less:
One glittering thought no sooner strikes our eyes,
With silent wonder, but new wonders rise.
As in the milky way, a shining white
O'erflows the heavens with one continued light;
That not a single star can shew his rays,
Whilst jointly all promote the common blaze.
Pardon, great poet, that I dare to name,
Th' uncumber'd beauties of thy verse with blame;
Thy fault is only wit in its' excess,
But wit like thine, in any shape will please.
In his public capacity, he preserved an inviolable honour and loyalty,
and exerted great activity, with discernment: i
|