A clergyman fathered Andrew Marvell, a parliamentarian. John Donne and George Herbert associated him. He befriended John Milton, a colleague.
The family moved to Hull, where people appointed his father as lecturer at church of Holy Trinity, and where grammar school educated the young Marvell. A secondary school in the city is now named after him.
The introduction describes Marvell as a 'twentieth century poet' in the sense it was only at this point that his poetry got a readership, but I'd have to say he qualifies as a twenty-first century poet in that he had a breakdown in his late teens, converted to Catholicism, ran away to Europe, before coming back and tossing it all aside to wax on and on about a authoritarian strongman. There must be thousands as we speak either in Berlin or already back in London/New York who have no idea their bit is as old as the hills. Something quite comforting about knowing there's nothing new under the sun.
Poetry itself serviceable, some of it very nice indeed.