In these satires Marvell poured out all the wrath of a
Puritan upon the evils of his day. Marvell's satires were so
witty and so outspoken that once or twice he was in danger of
punishment because of them. But once at least the King himself
saved a book of his from being destroyed, for by every one "from
the King down to the tradesman his books were read with great
pleasure."* Yet he had many enemies, and when he died suddenly
in August, 1678, many people though that he had been poisoned.
He was the last, we may say, of the seventeenth-century lyric
poets.
*Burnet.
Besides the lyric writers there were many prose writers in the
seventeenth century who are among the men to be remembered. But
their books, although some day you will love them, would not
interest you yet. They tell no story, they are long, they have
not, like poetry, a lilt or rhythm to carry one on. It would be
an effort to read them. If I tried to explain to you wherein the
charm of them lies I fear the charm would fly, for it is
impossible to imprison the sunbeam or find the foundations of the
rainbow.
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