the freedom which he loved, for a lodging in a
court off the Strand, where, enduring unutterable temptations, flattered
and threatened, he more than realized the stories of Roman virtue.

The poet Mason has made Marvel the hero of his 'Ode to Independence,'
and thus alludes to his incorruptible integrity:--

'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.'

Marvel, by opposing the ministry and its measures, created himself many
enemies,[C] and made himself very obnoxious to the government, yet
Charles II. took great delight in his conversation, and tried all means
to win him over to his side, but in vain; nothing being ever able to
shake his resolution. There were many instances of his firmness in
resisting the offers of the Court, in which he showed himself proof
against all temptations.

We close our eyes upon this peaceful dwelling of the heroic senator, and
imagine ourselves in the reign of the second Charles, threading our way
into that 'court off the Strand,' where Marvel ended his days. We enter
the house, and climbing the stairs even to the second floor, perceive
the object of our warmest admiration. He is not alone, though there is
no possibility of confounding the poet with the courtier. Andrew Marvel
is plainly dressed, his figure is strong, and about the middle size, his
countenance open, and his complexion of a ruddy cast; his eyes are of a
soft hazel color, mild and steady; his eyebrows straight, and so
flexible as to mould without an effort into a satirical curve, if such
be the mind's desire; his mouth is close, and indicative of firmness;
and his brown hair falls gracefully back from a full and noble forehead.
He sits in an upright and determined manner upon an uneasy-looking
high-backed chair. A somewhat long table intervenes between him and his
visitor; one end of it is covered with a white cloth, and a dish of cold
meat is flanked by a loaf of bread and a dark earthenware jug. On the
opposite end is placed a bag of gold, beside which lies the
richly-embroidered glove which the cavalier with whom he is conversing
has flung off. There is strange contrast in the attitude of the two men.
Lord Danby lounges with the ease of a courtier and the grace of a
gentleman upon a