sial pamphlets,
which seldom live beyond their generation, says: "There is indeed an
exception, when a great genius undertakes to expose a foolish piece; so
we still read Marvell's answer to Parker with pleasure, though the book
it answers be sunk long ago."

Perhaps, in the entire compass of our language, there is not to be found
a finer piece of satirical writing than Marvell's famous parody of the
speeches of Charles II., in which the private vices and public
inconsistencies of the King, and his gross violations of his pledges on
coming to the throne, are exposed with the keenest wit and the most
laugh-provoking irony. Charles himself, although doubtless annoyed by
it, could not refrain from joining in the mirth which it excited at his
expense.

The friendship between Marvell and Milton remained firm and unbroken to
the last. The former exerted himself to save his illustrious friend from
persecution, and omitted no opportunity to defend him as a politician and
to eulogize him as a poet. In 1654 he presented to Cromwell Milton's
noble tract in _Defence of the People of England_, and, in writing to the
author, says of the work, "When I consider how equally it teems and rises
with so many figures, it seems to me a Trajan's column, in whose winding
ascent we see embossed the several monuments of your learned victories."
He was one of the first to appreciate _Paradise Lost_, and to commend it
in some admirable lines. One couplet is exceedingly beautiful, in its
reference to the author's blindness:--

"Just Heaven, thee like Tiresias to requite,
Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight."

His poems, written in the "snatched leisure" of an active political life,
bear marks of haste, and are very unequal. In the midst of passages of
pastoral description worthy of Milton himself, feeble lines and hackneyed
phrases occur. His _Nymph lamenting the Death of her Fawn_ is a finished
and elaborate piece, full of grace and tenderness. _Thoughts in a
Garden_ will be remembered by the quotations of that exquisite critic,
Charles Lamb. How pleasant is this picture!

"What wondrous life is this I lead!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;