To Lucasta going to the Wars and To Althea from Prison are both, I believe, from Lovelace's Lucasta (1645).
[XXI]
First printed by Captain Thomson, Works (1776), from a copy he held, on what seems excellent authority, to be in Marvell's hand. The true title is A Horatian Ode on Cromwell's Return from Ireland (1650). It is always ascribed to Marvell (whose verse was first collected and printed by his widow in 1681), but there are faint doubts as to the authorship.
[XXII]
Poems (1681). This elegant and romantic lyric appears to have been inspired by a passage in the life of John Oxenbridge, of whom, ‘religionis causa oberrantem,’ it is enough to note that, after migrating to Bermudas, where he had a church, and being ‘ejected’ at the Restoration from an English cure, he went to Surinam (1662–67), to Barbadoes (1667), and to New England (1669), where he was made pastor of ‘the First Church of Boston’ (1670), and where he died in 1674. These details are from Mr. Grosart's Marvell (1875), i. 82–85, and ii. 5–8.
[XXIII]
Dryden's second Ode for Saint Cecilia's Day, Alexander's Feast, or the Power of Sound, as it is called, was written and printed in 1697. As it was designed for music (it was set by Jeremiah Clarke), the closing lines of every strophe are repeated by way of chorus. I have removed these repetitions as impertinent to the effect of the poem in print, and as interrupting the rushing vehemency of the narrative. The incident described is the burning of Persepolis.
[XXIV]
Written early in 1782, in memory of Robert Levett: ‘an old and faithful friend,’ says Johnson, and withal ‘a very useful and very blameless man.’ Excepting for the perfect odes of Cowper (post, pp. [85], [86]), in these excellent and affecting verses the ‘classic’ note is audible for the last time in this book until we reach the Iphigeneia of Walter Savage Landor, who was a lad of seven at the date of their composition. They were written seventeen years after the publication of the Reliques (1765), and a full quarter century after the appearance of The Bard (1757); but in style they proceed from the age of Pope. For the rest, the Augustan Muse was an utter stranger to the fighting inspiration. Her gait was pedestrian, her purpose didactic, her practice neat and formal: and she prosed of England's greatest captain, the victor of Blenheim, as tamely as himself had been ‘a parson in a tye-wig’—himself, and not the amiable man of letters who acted as her amanuensis for the nonce.