Cowley retired to these premises at Chertsey, in Surrey, a few years before his death, which took place here in 1667, in his 49th year. The premises are called the Porch House, and were for many years occupied by the late Richard Clark, Esq., Chamberlain of London, who died a short time since. Mr. Clark, in honour of the Poet, took much pains to preserve the premises in their original state, kept an original portrait of Cowley, and had affixed a tablet in front, containing Cowley's Latin Epitaph on himself. In the year 1793, it was supposed that the ruinous state of the house rendered it impossible to support the building, but it was found practicable to preserve the greater part of it, to which some rooms have been added. Mr. Clark also placed a tablet in front of the building where the porch stood, with the following inscription:--"The _Porch_ of this House, which projected ten feet into the highway, was, in the year 1792, removed for the safety and accommodation of the public. "Here the last accents flowed from Cowley's tongue." We received the substance of this information from the venerable Mr. Clark himself, in the year 1822, about which time there appeared, in the _Monthly Magazine_, a view of the original premises, from a drawing by the late Mr. Samuel Ireland. The above view was taken by a Correspondent, in the summer of 1828, and represents the original portion of the mansion. Cowley's study is here pointed out, being a closet in the back part of the house, towards the garden. How delightfully must COWLEY have passed his latter days in the rural seclusion of Chertsey! How he must have loved that earthly paradise--his garden--who could write thus for his epitaph: From life's superfluous cares enlarg'd, His debt of human toil discharg'd, Here COWLEY lies, beneath this shed, To ev'ry worldly interest _dead_; With decent poverty content; His hours of ease not idly spent; To fortune's goods a foe profess'd, And, hating wealth, by all caress'd 'Tis sure he's _dead_; for, lo! how small A spot of earth is now his all! O! wish that earth may lightly lay, And ev'ry care be far away! Bring flow'rs, the short-liv'd roses bring, To _life deceased_ fit offering! And sweets around the poet strow, Whilst yet with life his ashes glow. Again: Sweet shades, adieu! here let my dust remain, Covered with flowers, and free from noise and pain; Let evergreens the turfy tomb adorn, And roseate dews (the glory of the morn) My carpet deck; then let my soul possess The happier scenes of an eternal bliss. Then, too, the delightful chapter _Of Gardens_ which he addressed to the virtuous John Evelyn.