His first appearance in that sphere, was in the year 1659, when in concert with Mr. Waller, and Mr. Dryden, he printed a Pindarique Ode, to the Memory of the most renowned Prince, Oliver, Lord Protector, &c. printed in quarto, which he dedicated to the reverend Mr. Wilkin's, then warden of Wadham-College; by whose approbation and request, it was made public, as the author designed it only for a private amusement. This was an unfavourable circumstance for our author, as it more particularly shews the fickleness of his disposition in state-matters, and gave him less credit with those parties he afterwards espoused.
His next production in poetry, was an Ode on the Plague of Athens; which happened in the second year of the Pelopponesian war, first described by Thucydides, afterwards by Lucretius: This Mr. Sprat dedicated to his worthy and learned friend, Dr. Walter Pope. The performance stood the test of the severest critics; and in the opinion of the best judges, the manner of his great original was judiciously imitated. Soon after this, he proceeded to give the public a specimen of his abilities in another kind, and succeeded with the greatest applause; which was his Observations on Monsieur de Serbiere's Voyage into England, written to Dr. Wren, professor of astronomy in Oxford; printed in octavo, in the year 1665.
Mr. Sprat in the beginning of his letter acquaints the Dr. with the motives of his engaging with Monsieur Serbiere, 'Having now (says he) under my hands, the history of the Royal-Society, it will be in vain for me to try to represent its design to be advantageous to the glory of England, if my countrymen shall know, that one who calls himself a member of that society, has escaped unanswered in the public disgraces, which he has cast on our whole nation.'—In this performance Mr. Sprat has given an undeniable proof, that the strength and solidity of an English pen, is infinitely superior to the gallant air of a French author, who is sprightly without propriety, and positive without truth.
About two years after, 1667, our author published his incomparable History of the Royal Society of London, for the improvement of natural knowledge; a work which has acquired him very great reputation, and has ranked him with the most elegant and polite writers of that age. Soon after this, Mr. Sprat lost his amiable and much esteemed friend Mr. Abraham Cowley, who by his will recommended to the care of his reverend friend, the revising of all his works that were printed, and the collecting of those papers which he had designed for the press. This truth Mr. Sprat faithfully discharged, and to the new edition of Mr. Cowley's Works, he prefixed an account of his life and writings, addressed to Mr. Martin Clifford. Happy is it for a good man, when he has such a friend to close his eyes: This is a desire peculiar to all, and the portion of few to enjoy.
For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd;
Left the warm precincts of the chearful day,
Nor cast one longing lingring look behind.
On some warm breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb, the voice of nature cries,
Awake! and faithful to her wonted fires[1].
This life of Cowley, by Dr. Sprat has been esteemed one of the most elegant compositions in our language; there are several extracts from it in our account of the life of that amiable Poet.
These are the most material performances of Dr. Sprat: a man, who was early introduced into an elevated station in life, which he held not without enemies to his dying moments. Villiers duke of Buckingham was his first patron, who notwithstanding his fickleness, and inconsistent levity, never forsook him; a circumstance which has induced many to believe, that that nobleman owed much to the refinement of our author; and that his Rehearsal had never been so excellent, nor so pungent a satire, had it not first passed under Dr. Sprat's perusal.
This learned prelate died of an apoplexy, May the 20th, 1713, at his episcopal feat in Bromly in Kent, in the 79th year of his age; and was interred in the Abbey-Church of Westminster.
As he lived esteemed by all his acquaintance, as well as the clergy of his diocese, so he died regretted by them, and indeed by all men of taste; for it is the opinion of many, that he raised the English tongue to that purity and beauty, which former writers were wholly strangers to, and which those who have succeeded him, can but imitate[2].