JOHN, an English poet, son of the rector of Luton, in Bedfordshire, was born in 1667, and educated at Cambridge; after which he took orders, and was presented to the living of Malden, in Bedfordshire. About 1703 he went to London for institution to a larger and more considerable living; but he was stopped for some time by Compton, then bishop of London, on account of four lines of his poem entitled the Choice.

And as I near approach'd the verge of life, Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife) Should take upon him all my worldly care, While I did for a better state prepare.

The parenthesis in these lines were so maliciously represented, that the good bishop was made to believe that Pomfret preferred a mistress to a wife. But he was soon convinced that this representation was the mere effect of malice, as Pomfret at that time was actually married. The opposition which his slanderers had made to him, however, produced its effect; for, being thereby obliged to stay in London longer than he intended, he caught the small-pox, and died of this disease at the age of thirty-five.

He published, in 1699, a volume of his poems with a very modest and sensible preface. Two pieces of his were published after his death by his friend Philalethes; one entitled Reason, and written in 1700, when the disputes about the Trinity ran high; and the other Dies Nostissima, or the Last Epiphany, a Pindaric ode. His versification is not unmusical, but his writings want that force which is necessary to constitute a poet. A dissenting teacher of his name, and who published some rhymes upon spiritual subjects, subjected him to the imputation of fanaticism; but his friend Philalethes has vindicated him from that charge. Pomfret had a very strong tincture of devotion, but no fanaticism, in his composition.

"The Choice," says Dr Johnson, "exhibits a system of life adapted to common notions, and equal to common expectations; such a state as affords plenty and tranquillity, without exclusion of intellectual pleasures. Perhaps no composition in our language has been oftener perused than Pomfret's Choice. In his other poems there is an easy volatility; the pleasure of smooth metre is afforded to the ear, and the mind is not oppressed with ponderous or entangled with intricate sentiment. He pleases many; and he who pleases many must have merit."