In prose, Cowley is uniformly excellent. The prefaces to his poems, especially his defence of sacred song in the prefix to the 'Davideis,' his short autobiography, the fragments of his letters which remain, and his posthumous essays, are all distinguished by a rich simplicity of style and by a copiousness of matter which excite in equal measure delight and surprise. He had written, it appears, three books on the Civil War, to the time of the battle of Newbury, which he destroyed. It is a pity, perhaps, that he had not preserved and completed the work. His intimacy with many of the leading characters and the secret springs of that remarkable period,--his clear and solid judgment, always so except when he was following the Daedalus Pindar upon waxen Icarian wings, or competing with Dr Donne in the number of conceits which he could stuff, like cloves, into his subject-matter,--and the bewitching ease and elegance of his prose style, would have combined to render it an important contribution to English history, and a worthy monument of its author's highly-accomplished and diversified powers. THE CHRONICLE, A BALLAD. 1 Margarita first possess'd, If I remember well, my breast, Margarita first of all; But when a while the wanton maid With my restless heart had play'd, Martha took the flying ball. 2 Martha soon did it resign To the beauteous Catharine: Beauteous Catharine gave place (Though loth and angry she to part With the possession of my heart) To Eliza's conquering face. 3 Eliza till this hour might reign, Had she not evil counsels ta'en: Fundamental laws she broke And still new favourites she chose, Till up in arms my passions rose, And cast away her yoke. 4 Mary then, and gentle Anne, Both to reign at once began; Alternately they sway'd, And sometimes Mary was the fair, And sometimes Anne the crown did wear, And sometimes both I obey'd. 5 Another Mary then arose, And did rigorous laws impose; A mighty tyrant she! Long, alas! should I have been Under that iron-sceptred queen, Had not Rebecca set me free. 6 When fair Rebecca set me free, 'Twas then a golden time with me: But soon those pleasures fled; For the gracious princess died In her youth and beauty's pride, And Judith reign'd in her stead. 7 One month, three days, and half an hour, Judith held the sovereign power: Wondrous beautiful her face, But so weak and small her wit, That she to govern was unfit, And so Susanna took her place. 8 But when Isabella came, Arm'd with a resistless flame, And the artillery of her eye, Whilst she proudly march'd about, Greater conquests to find out, She beat out Susan by the bye. 9 But in her place I then obey'd Black-eyed Bess, her viceroy made, To whom ensued a vacancy. Thousand worst passions then possess'd The interregnum of my breast. Bless me from such an anarchy!