THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE ALD1NE EDITION 
 
 OF THE BRITISH 
 
 POETS 
 
 THE POEMS OF JOHN DEYDEN 
 
 IN FIVE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I
 
 H Robinson sc. 
 
 *•' J/ tsUV&rv
 
 THE POETICAL WORKS OF 
 
 JOHN DRYDEN 
 
 EDITED EY THE REV. RICHARD HOOPER, M. A.. 
 
 IN FIVE VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 NEW EDITION, REVISED 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET 
 
 COVENT GARDEN 
 
 1801
 
 "HISWICK PRESS :—C. WHITTINCHAM AMD CO.. TOOK-. C0UR1 
 t HA] ( i.KV I.ANE.
 
 PR 
 
 i erq i 
 
 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 THE present Edition of Dryden's Poems 
 and Translations is not merely a reissue 
 of the former editions. The text lias been 
 carefully collated with the earliest and best 
 co] lies, and with the exception of the Dramas 
 and the Translation of Virgil, this is now the 
 completest edition of Dryden's Poetical Works. 
 The Life, which was re-written for the last 
 edition, is here reprinted without alteration. 
 While laying no special claim to originality, 
 the writer, by patiently re-investigating facts, 
 lias endeavoured to give a fair and impartial 
 account of the Poet and his Works. In doing 
 this, he has not hesitated to avail himself 
 largely of the labours of his predecessors ; 
 more especially the exhaustive researches of 
 Sir Walter Scott and Malone. 
 
 1105502
 
 CONTENTS. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 P*ge 
 
 Life of Dkydln, by the Reverend Richard Hooper. i 
 
 Upon the Death of Lord Hastings 1 
 
 To his Friend John lloddesdon 5 
 
 Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell C 
 
 Astraja Redux 13 
 
 To his Sacred Majesty 26 
 
 To the Lord Chancellor Hyde 31 
 
 Satire on the Dutch 37 
 
 To her Royal Highness the Duchess 39 
 
 Annus Mirabilis ; the Year of Wonders, 16G6 43 
 
 An Essay upon Satire 105 
 
 Absalom and Achitophel, Part 1 119
 
 THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 BT THE EEV. EICHAED HOOPEE. 
 
 ^^HE orthography of family names in the 17th 
 X century being so loose, it is not surprising 
 that we should find that of Drydcn varying 
 considerably. It would have been unneces- 
 sary to notice this fact, had not Malone asserted 
 that the poet was the first to change the spelling 
 from Driden to Dn/den ; a change which, he tells 
 us, gave offence to Sir Robert Driden, Bart., 
 the then head of the family. It is probable 
 however that Dryden did not originate this change, 
 but merely adhered to an orthography which had 
 been frequently in use before. Thus in the " Ad- 
 mission Book " of Trinity College, Cambridge, p. 
 15, is the entry, "John Driden, Northampton, 
 admissus Pens. Maij 18, 1650, [Tutor] Mr. Temp- 
 lar;" yet in the "Scholars' Register" of the 
 College, under the date October 2, 1G50, we find 
 amongst those adruissi discipuli h Schold West- 
 monasteriens. "Johannes Dn/den, Northampton- 
 iensis." And when his name occurs under less 
 honourable circumstances in the College Books of 
 1652, it is spelt Dn/den. We can hardly suppose 
 that this orthography was adopted upon the au- 
 
 b
 
 K THE LIFE OF DEYDEX. 
 
 thority of a mere youth. Mr. Bell has also found 
 three letters at Canons-Ashby from Erasmus Dry- 
 den, cousin to the poet, written in the year 1656-7, 
 " in which the name is spelt Dn/den, both in the 
 signature and superscription." As an instance, 
 too, of the arbitrary mode of writing names, it 
 may be mentioned that the matriculation of Charles, 
 the poet's eldest son, at Cambridge, is thus en- 
 tered in the " University Register," under June 
 27, 1683, " Carolus Dreiden, Coll. Trim" An- 
 tony Wood and Aubrey both spell it Dreyden, and 
 we occasionally find it printed Drcydon. 
 
 The family of Driden, or Dryden, of Canons- 
 Ashby in Northamptonshire, originally eame from 
 the north of England, where, as well as in the 
 neighbouring counties of Scotland, according to 
 Sir Walter Scott, the name still frequently 
 occurs, though it is not now borne by any fa- 
 milies of distinction. The poet's immediate an- 
 cestor, the first of whom any record can be found, 
 was David Driden (or Dryden), who married the 
 daughter of William Nicholson of Staff-hill, in the 
 county of Cumberland. The eldest son of this 
 marriage — John Dryden — in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, or a little earlier, removed to Nor- 
 thamptonshire, where he married Elizabeth, 
 daughter of Sir John Cope, Knight, and through 
 her acquired the estate of Canons-Ashby. Gos- 
 sipping Antony Wood tells us that John Dryden 
 was a schoolmaster, and that the great Erasmus 
 stood godfather to one of his sons. One of these 
 statements is certainly incorrect, as a mere glance 
 at dates will show ; nor is it very likely that a
 
 T11K LIFE OF DBYDEN. ill 
 
 schoolmaster would have gained the hand of the 
 daughter and heiress of a knightly family. The 
 poet's grandfather was the eldest son of this mar- 
 riage. His name, Erasmus, which long continued 
 in the family, was probably derived from Erasmus 
 Cope, his maternal uncle, who may have been 
 the godson of the famous Erasmus. He was 
 born Dec. 20, 1553, was High Sheriff of Nor- 
 thamptonshire, 40 Eliz., and created a Baronet 
 Nov. 16, 1619. Sir Erasmus Dridcn married 
 Frances, second daughter and co-heiress of William 
 Wilkes of Hodnell, co. Warwick, Esq., by whom 
 he had, with three daughters, three sons, John, 
 William, and Erasmus. John, his heir and suc- 
 cessor in the title and estates, married for his 
 third wife (having previously had no issue) Honor, 
 daughter of Sir Robert Bevile of Chesterton, co. 
 Huntingdon, Knt., and by her (with other child- 
 ren) was the father of John Driden of Chesterton, 
 and Honor Driden. The second son, William, was 
 of Farndon, Northamptonshire ; and the third, 
 Erasmus, of Blakesly near Tichmarsh in the same 
 county, and father of the poet. 
 
 Erasmus Driden married Mary, daughter of the 
 Rev. Henry Pickering, the youngest son of Sir 
 Gilbert Pickering. Mr. Pickering was made 
 Rector of Aldwinckle All Saints, in 1647, and from 
 the date of the preferment we may conjecture was 
 of Puritan principles, for which his family was 
 notorious. The family of Erasmus Driden was 
 very numerous, being no less than fourteen in 
 number. Of these, four were sons, and John, the 
 poet, was the eldest. Erasmus, the second, was a
 
 IV 'IHE LIEE OF DRTDKN. 
 
 grocer in King Street, Westminster, and eventually 
 became the baronet, but did not succeed to the 
 estate of Canons-Ashby upon the death of Sir 
 Erasmus Henry, the poet's son. The third son, 
 Henry, went to Jamaica, where he died ; and 
 James, the fourth, was a tobacconist in London. 
 Mr. Malone has recorded the marriages of six of 
 the daughters. Of these, the youngest — Frances 
 — was the wife of Joseph Sandwell, a tobacconist 
 in Newgate Street, and died Oct. 10, 1736, at the 
 great age of 90. 
 
 It is remarkable that we are not able to as- 
 certain, with any precision, either the date or 
 place of the birth of John Dryden. He himself 
 says, in the postscript to his " Virgil," " The se- 
 venth ^Eneid was made English at Burghley, the 
 magnificent abode of the Earl of Exeter ; in a 
 village belonging to his family I was born." This 
 village is said, by Antony Wood and by common 
 tradition, to b« Aldwinckle All Saints. Malone, 
 however, discovered that Lord Exeter's property 
 was in the neighbouring parish of Aldwinckle St. 
 Peter's. This trifling discrepancy might have 
 been unknown to Dryden, as the parishes are 
 closely contiguous. Another tradition, that he 
 was born in the parsonage-house of Aldwinckle 
 All Saints seems to have originated from the fact 
 of his grandfather having been rector of the parish. 
 But Mr. Pickering was not instituted till 1647, 
 and it is improbable, as Malone conjectures, that 
 he should have been curate there and rented the 
 parsonage-houso fifteen or sixteen years pre- 
 nously.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. V 
 
 The date of the poet's birth is equally uncer- 
 tain. In the preface to his " Fables," written 
 probably at the close of the year 1099, with re- 
 ference to his age, he says, " I have the excuse of 
 an old gentleman, who mounting on horseback be- 
 fore some ladies, when I was present, got up some- 
 what heavily, but desired of the fair spectators that 
 they would count fourscore and eight before they 
 judged him. By the mercy of God, I am already 
 come within twenty years of his number." 1 This 
 would fix his birth at least in the year 1631. His 
 biographers had been content for many years to 
 name the day August 9th, upon the authority of 
 a note written by Pope, and printed in an edition 
 of his works in 1735. This note gives the ori- 
 ginal draught of an epitaph intended for Dryden's 
 monument in Westminster Abbey, erected by 
 Sheffield Duke of Buckinghamshire, but which was 
 changed, as Pope says, " to the plain inscrip- 
 tion now upon it, viz.: J. Dryden, Natus Aug. 9, 
 1631. Mortuus Mail 1, 1701." But, as Malone 
 observes, the present inscription is " J. Dryden, 
 Natus 1632. Mortuus Maii 1, 1700. Joannes 
 Sheffield, Dux Buckinghamiensis, posuit, 1720." 
 
 In the Ashmolean MSS. (No. 243, " Black's 
 Catalogue,") Dryden's birthday is fixed August 
 19th, 1631. From this latter testimony, and 
 Pope's note, we may conclude that there was a 
 floating tradition that Dryden was born in August, 
 
 ' So in a letter to his cousin, Mrs. Steward, dated March 
 4th, 1698-9, he says, "I am still drudging at a "Book of 
 Miscellanyes, which I hope will be well enough ; if otherwise, 
 threescore and seven may be pardoned." These Miscellanies 
 were the "Fables" in question.
 
 VI TUT. LIFE OF DltYDEN. 
 
 1631, but of the day we can arrive at no certain 
 proof. The parish register of Aldwinckle All 
 Saints, previous to 1650, has been lost, so the bap- 
 tism of the poet, if born there, is unrecorded. In 
 later life his adversaries charged him with having 
 been an Anabaptist, but though his family were 
 of puritan principles, there does not appear any 
 probability for this assertion. It is just possible 
 that the Aldwinckle registers might have been 
 mutilated for the purpose of trumping up this 
 accusation ; or, perhaps, their known loss might 
 have suggested the malicious taunt, as the poet 
 could not prove his baptism. From a monument 
 erected to the memory of his father and mother, 
 Erasmus and Mary Dryden, in Tichmarsh Church, 
 by his kinswoman, Mrs. Eliza Creed, in 1722, we 
 learn that the poet received his earlier education 
 in that place, or at Oundle. " We boast that he 
 was bred and had his first learning here ; where 
 he has often made us happie by his kind visits 
 and most delightful conversation." He was very 
 partial to his native county, and his letters record 
 many journeys thither. From thence he was 
 removed to Westminster School, then presided 
 over by the celebrated Doctor Richard Busby. 
 In due time, but in what year it does not appear, 
 he was elected a king's scholar. He ever enter- 
 tained a great regard for his old master. He in- 
 scribes his translation of the " fifth Satire of 
 Persius " to him, and in the postscript to the 
 argument of the " third Satire," he adds, " I re- 
 member I translated this " Satire " when I was 
 a king's scholar at Westminister School, for a
 
 tut: life of dktden. vn 
 
 Thursday night's exercise, and believe that it, and 
 many other of my exercises of this nature in Eng- 
 lish verse, arc still in the hands of my learned 
 master, the Rev. Dr. Busby." It is to be re- 
 gretted that none of these have come down to 
 posterity. While at school he wrote the lines on 
 the " Death of Lord Hastings," published in a 
 volume entitled the " Lachrymse Musarum, the 
 Tears of the Muses. &c. &c, on the Death of the 
 most hopeful Henry Lord Hastings, 1G50." All 
 his biographers have referred to the ridiculous 
 language, and forced conceits, of this the earliest 
 effort of his Muse ; but, though it does not cer- 
 tainly give any indication of the future excellence 
 to which he attained, considering the age at which 
 it was written and the false wit and fashion of the 
 day, it is not worse than many of the productions 
 of the greatest names of the period. He was en- 
 tered at Trinity College, Cambridge, on May 18, 
 1650, under Mr. Templar as Tutor; and on Gth 
 July, 1650, he was matriculated a pensioner of 
 the College ; but as, by a Resolution of the House 
 of Commons, 19th Jan. 1640-1, it was decreed 
 that no subscriptions to religious tests should be 
 required, neither upon his matriculation nor 
 his admission to his B.A. degree in January, 
 1653-4, does his handwriting occur in the Re- 
 gistrar's Books, a blank being left till the Restora- 
 tion, 1660. On the 2nd October, 1650, he was 
 elected a scholar of the College upon the West- 
 minster Foundation. The only record of his un- 
 dergraduate life is not much to his credit, though 
 it shows a state of college discipline which would
 
 Vlil TIIE LIFE OF DETDEJJ. 
 
 be scarcely submitted to at the present day. It 
 would seem that he had incurred the displeasure 
 of one of the authorities, when " it was agreed 
 that Dryden be put out of comons for a fort- 
 night, at least, and that he goe not out of the 
 colledg during the time aforesaid, excepting to 
 sermons, without express leave fro the Master 
 or Vice-master, and that at the end of the fort- 
 night he read a confession of his crime in the 
 hall at dinner-time, at the three Fellows' tables. 
 His crime was his disobedience to the Vice- 
 master, and his contumacy in taking of his punish- 
 ment inflicted by him." 1 When Ave read this, we 
 are almost inclined to believe the somewhat apo- 
 cryphal story of the greater indignity said to have 
 been put upon Milton at his college. In the 
 earlier part of his residence he prefixed a few 
 lines to a work, entitled " Sion and Parnassus ; or 
 Epigrams on several Texts of the Old and New 
 Testaments," by John Hoddesden, published in 
 1650. These are signed " J. Dryden of Trin. 
 C.C." They were first pointed out by Malone. 
 The four opening lines woidd pretend that they 
 were the first poetical effort of the writer, yet 
 we have seen that he had already tried his hand, 
 
 1 The wretched libeller Shadwell, in his " Medal of John 
 liayes," insinuated that Dryden had insulted a nobleman at 
 Trinity by some satirical allusion — 
 
 " At Cambridge first your scurrilous vein began, 
 Where saucily you traduced a nobleman ; 
 Who for that crime rebuked you on the head, 
 And you had been expell'd, had you not fled." 
 It is needless to remark that this, like most of the manv 
 libels on the poet, was most probably a mere lying invention 
 of the scribbler.
 
 tut: life op drydex. me 
 
 and, probably, had been pretty well trained, at 
 Westminster : — 
 
 "Thou bast inspired me with thy spirit, ami I, 
 Who ne'er before could ken of poetry, 
 Am grown so good proficient, I can lend 
 A line in commendation of my friend." 
 
 The versification is inharmonious, and the lan- 
 guage, as usual with commendatory poems of that 
 lay, highly conceited and strained, 
 
 Dryden proceeded at the ordinary period to his 
 B.A. degree (January, 1653-4), but never to that 
 of M.A., which he received from the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury. It has been somewhat unneces- 
 sarily thought by his biographers, that in after-life 
 he entertained an aversion to the University, and 
 in support of this opinion some lines from a " Pro- 
 logue to the University of Oxford" are quoted. 
 But the probability is that these lines were merely 
 intended as a compliment to Oxford for the encou- 
 ragement given to the theatre. In fact, the whole 
 tenour of the Prologue is to this effect, and in 
 concluding he savs : — 
 
 *o 
 
 " If his ambition may those hopes pursue, 
 Who, with religion, loves your arts and you, 
 Oxford to him a dearer name shall be 
 Thau his own mother-University. 
 Thebes did his green, unknowing, youth engage ; 
 He chooses Athens in his riper age." 
 
 The usual mode of quoting the four last lines of 
 the Prologue, without reference to the whole of the 
 preceding matter, would leave the impression upon 
 the reader that he had expressed a positive predi- 
 lection for Oxford over his " mother-University."
 
 X TIIE LIFE OF DRYDF.N. 
 
 But we are afraid that the poet was somewhat in- 
 sincere in his flattery, for what shall we say to the 
 following passage, in a letter to Lord Rochester, 
 concerning at least one of his prologues ? — " 1 
 have sent your Lordship a prologue and an epi- 
 logue, which I made for our players when they 
 went down to Oxford. I hear they have suc- 
 ceeded ; and by the event your Lordship will judge 
 how easy 'tis to pass anything upon an University, 
 and how gross flattery the learned will endure." 
 That he did sometimes look back upon his college- 
 career with gratitude, the following passage from 
 his " Life of Plutarch" (p. 78. ed. 1683) will show : 
 " I read ' Plutarch' in the library of Trinity College, 
 in Cambridge, to which foundation I gratefully 
 acknowledge a great part of my education." 
 
 Shortly after taking his degree he lost his father, 
 who died in June, 1654. Malone supposes hia 
 absence from the University upon this occasion 
 was the cause of his name not appearing amongst 
 the contributors to the "OlivaPacis," a collection of 
 congratulatory addresses to Cromwell on the Peace 
 between England and Holland, printed at Cam- 
 bridge in 1654. We may well be content with 
 the loss, as his poetical effusions at this period of 
 his life are of little or no credit to him. 
 
 By his father's death he succeeded to the small 
 estate of Blakesley, about three miles from Canons- 
 Ashby. Two-thirds, worth about £60 a-year in 
 all, were devised to him ; and the remaining 
 third to his mother, which reverted to him on 
 her death in 1676. His thirteen brothers and 
 sisters were provided for by a separate bequest
 
 TTTE LIFE OF DRYDFN. XI 
 
 of about .£1, 250, and Malone lias entered into 
 minute details of their several legacies and their 
 father's will. Dryden's father was probably a 
 zealous Presbyterian, in common with the rest of 
 his family. The elder brother, Sir John Driden, 
 was a rabid fanatic, and had shamefully desecrated 
 the church of Canons-Ashby. After settling his 
 affairs in Northamptonshire, Dryden appears to 
 have returned to Cambridge, and made it his homo 
 for three years. This does not seem to be the act 
 of one who entertained a dislike to the University. 
 What his pursuits were during these years cannot 
 now be ascertained. They were, however, not 
 entirely dedicated to the severity of the cloister. 
 In his frequent visits to his native county, pro- 
 bably during the sweet summer-tide of the long 
 vacations, he had fallen in love with his cousin, 
 Honor Driden, the daughter of Sir John, the puri- 
 tan baronet of Canons-Ashby. Her principles 
 were possibly not so severe as those of her father, 
 or at least her features were not cast in the same 
 sour and rigid mould. But, in addition to her 
 personal charms, she possessed those of a fortune, 
 and, however much she might have liked Cousin 
 John to flirt with, she does not seem to have 
 treated his more serious advances with favour. 
 Yet she gave him a silver inkstand and writing 
 materials, for which he returned what he doubtless 
 thought a very winning epistle. It is full of forced 
 conceits, and is not over-delicate ; but " such con- 
 ceits," observes Malone, " were at that time not 
 merely pardoned but admired, and with the allu- 
 sion no reader of either sex, however fastidious.
 
 Xll THE LIFE OE DRYDEN. 
 
 was likely to be offended." Tis said, in after 
 years, when her cousin became illustrious, that 
 Miss Honor repented of her haughty cruelty, and 
 was very proud of showing the letter. She never 
 married, but afterwards resided at Chesterton, 
 keeping the house of her brother John, with whom 
 the poet always maintained a most affectionate in- 
 tercourse. Tradition says that it was at Chester- 
 ton that Dryden inscribed the first lines of his 
 "Virgil" with a diamond on a pane of glass. 
 
 In 1657 he settled in London, under the au- 
 spices of his relations, Sir Gilbert Pickering and, 
 probably, Sir John Driden. Sir Gilbert was a 
 hitter and uncompromising puritan, who had sat 
 upon the trial of the unhappy King Charles, though 
 he was not present on the last and fatal day. He 
 was one of Cromwell's privy council, chamberlain 
 of his household, high steward of Westminster, 
 and in 1G58 one of his other House, or House of 
 Lords, as it was called. We have no evidence that 
 Dryden was employed in any public capacity. 
 From an allusion of one of his enemies, it is pro- 
 bable that he was secretary or amanuensis to Sir 
 Gilbert. The many libels, however, that perse- 
 cuted him through life, can hardly be relied upon 
 as creditable proofs on any point. It can scarcely 
 be supposed, from his subsequent conversion to 
 Roman Catholicism, and his attachment to the 
 Stuart dynasty at its fall, that his puritan convic- 
 tions were ever very deeply rooted. A young 
 man, just fresh from college, and entering upon 
 life, might be pardoned for availing himself of 
 those opportunities which his powerful family
 
 Till; LIKE OF DHYDKX. XIII 
 
 interests, and the apparent unlikelihood of an im- 
 mediate change of government, pointed out. When, 
 then, the Protector died in September, 1658, it is 
 not surprising that we find him becoming a candi- 
 date for public fame by publishing some stanzas 
 on the occasion. The first edition of this poem, 
 " printed for William Wilson, and are to be sold in 
 Well-yard, near Little St. Bartholomew's Hospital, 
 1659, 4to." is of extreme rarity. It was reprinted 
 in the same year with others by Waller and Sprat. 
 On these stanzas Mr. Mitford remarks : " The flow 
 of his versification was improved, and his command 
 of poetical language more extended ; but he still 
 confined his ambition to subtleties of thought, 
 quaint allusions, and unexpected combinations of 
 remote images. His ideas are laboured, and his 
 inventions curious. No marks are yet discovered 
 of the luxuriance of early genius, or the overflow 
 of a mind full of poetry." With the Restoration 
 came the end of all Dryden's family influence. 
 Sir Gilbert Pickering seems to have been con- 
 sistent to his principles to the last moment, and it 
 was only through the exertions of Lord Sandwich, 
 his brother-in-law, that he was permitted to retire 
 to Northamptonshire with merely the disqualifi- 
 cation for exercising any civil or military office. 
 
 Dryden was now left to his own resources, and 
 if he be accused of inconsistency and servility in 
 employing his muse to congratulate the restored 
 monarch, we must remember that that incon- 
 sistency was shared with many greater names, 
 nay, perhaps, with more than half the nation. 
 What are we to say to the example of the most
 
 XIV TUE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 illustrious monument of learning that this country 
 can boast ? Cromwell had given great encourage- 
 ment to Brian Walton in his glorious undertaking 
 of the " Polyglot," and that great work was pre- 
 pared with a preface and dedication to the Pro- 
 tector, but, his death intervening, the sheets were 
 cancelled, and a laudatory inscription to Charles II. 
 supplied their place. The editor was rewarded by 
 a royal chaplaincy and a mitre. Waller and Sprat, 
 too, were equally forward in hailing the Restora- 
 tion. We are not surprised at finding the former 
 amongst the panegyrists ; his whole life was in- 
 consistent. Sprat finally reaped a mitre. Dryden, 
 it is said, never owned his Elegy on the Protector 
 in his collected works, though his enemies took 
 care that it should not be forgotten ; it was re- 
 printed in 1681, shortly after the publication of 
 his " Absalom and Achitophel," with some scurril- 
 ous lines attached. The "Astrasa Redux," though, 
 perhaps, an improvement in his versification, is 
 still disfigured by conceits and mythological allu- 
 sions. Mr. Mitford observes, that the frequent 
 use of the verb " do," in its several tenses, occurs 
 in a very displeasing manner in this poem, and, 
 indeed, it was never fully laid aside before it fell 
 under the correcter taste and more fastidious ear 
 of Pope. 
 
 Not aware that his patrimony, though moderate, 
 enabled him to be above the reach of want, his 
 lampooners describe him at this period of his life 
 as labouring for a subsistence as a literary drudge 
 in the employ of Herringman, a publisher of plays 
 and poems in the New Exchange. Had he been
 
 Itlf. LIFE OF DRYDEN. XI 
 
 such, and if he hud supplied prefaces to Herring- 
 man's books, Ave should probably have had some 
 indication of the fact ; but in November, 1GG2, he 
 was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, which 
 would at least show that he had obtained some 
 position in the world. His connection Avith Her- 
 ringman, whatever it might have been, probably 
 introduced him to the acquaintance of Sir Robert 
 Howard, whose sister, the Lady Elizabeth, he sub- 
 sequently married, and to whose poems, published 
 in 16G0 by Herringman, he prefixed some com- 
 mendatory lines. About May or June, 1GG1, he 
 published a " Panegyric to his Sacred Majesty on 
 his Coronation ;" and on New Year's Day, 1G62, 
 addressed a poem to the Lord Chancellor Hyde. 
 In this year (16G2) he also wrote some lines en- 
 titled " A Satire on the Dutch," which were sub- 
 sequently woven into the prologue and epilogue of 
 his play " Amboyna." They are interesting, as 
 being the first specimen of his satirical powers. 
 These scanty productions of his muse would had 
 us to suspect that his time was occupied otherwise 
 than by literature only, but we have not the 
 slightest clue as to what his occupation may have 
 been. A new field, however, was now opening 
 for his talents, and he quickly availed himself of 
 it, and from henceforth adopted literature as his 
 profession. With the restoration of the monarchy 
 were re-opened the gates of the theatre, the latest 
 echoes of whose walls had been called forth by 
 Shirley's muse. Dryden immediately sketched 
 the draught of a tragedy on the fate of the Duke 
 of Guise. " In the year of his Majesty's happy
 
 XVI THE LIFE OE DRTDEN. 
 
 restoration," ho says, " the first play I undertook 
 was the Duke of Guise, as the fairest Avay which 
 ; l he Act of Indemnity had then left us of setting 
 forth the rise of the late rebellion, and by ex- 
 ploding the villanies of it upon the stage, to pre- 
 caution posterit}^ against the like errors." The 
 friends, however, to whose judgment he submitted 
 it, thought his first essay for the stage not wrought 
 with sufficient art to ensure success, and it was 
 consequently laid aside for many years. Unde- 
 terred by this criticism of his friends, Dryden 
 determined once more to try his hand at the 
 drama, and this time with a comedy. The "Wild 
 Gallant" was played in February, 1662-3. It 
 met with no success, and he was compelled to 
 recall it. Quaint Mr. Pepys, who visited the 
 theatre on the 23rd of February, says, " It was ill- 
 acted, and the play so poor a thing as ever I saw 
 in my life almost, and so little answering the 
 name, that from the beginning to the end I coidd 
 not, nor can at this time, tell certainly which was 
 the ' Wild Gallant.' The king did not seem 
 pleased at all the whole play, nor anybody else." 
 Notwithstanding the disapproval of the public, 
 the notorious Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards 
 Duchess of Cleveland, extended her protection to 
 the unfortunate performance, and, through her 
 influence, probably, it was more than once acted 
 at court by the king's own command. For this 
 kindness of the royal favourite, Dryden addressed 
 to her some complimentary lines, which his ene- 
 mies did not forget in after years. In his preface 
 to the play, when published, Dryden confessed
 
 TTTE LIFE OF DRYDEX. XVl'i 
 
 his failure. " It was the first attempt I made 
 in dramatic poetry, and, I find since, a very bold 
 one, to begin with comedy, which is the most 
 difficult part of it. The best apology I can make 
 for it, and the truest, is only this, that you have, 
 since that time, received with applause as bad and 
 as uncorrect plays from other men." It must be 
 obvious that, in a brief memoir like the present, 
 it would be impossible to give detailed criticisms 
 on eight-and-twenty dramas, nor does it seem 
 necessary. The plays of Dryden are confessedly 
 now little read. The offensive looseness of the 
 dialogue, the bombast and the absurdity of many 
 of the characters and positions, have justly thrown 
 them into oblivion, an oblivion from which only 
 a few detached passages deserve to be rescued. 
 Though it is true, as Dr. Johnson says, " of the 
 stage, when he had once invaded it, he kept pos- 
 session for many years, with such a degree of repu- 
 tation as made him at least secure of being heard, 
 whatever might be the final determination of the 
 public," that final decision is such that Dryden's 
 plays, we suspect, would now find few readers, 
 and still fewer spectators, if represented on the 
 stage. It might have been thought that his second 
 ill-success would have at least made him pause 
 before trying his fortune once more, but in the 
 latter part of the j-ear 1663 he appeared again 
 before the public with his " Rival Ladies," a tragi- 
 comedy, in which " the tragic scenes are written 
 in rhyme, while the lighter are formed into blank 
 verse." It was dedicated, on its publication in 
 1664, to the Earl of Orrery, who had himself 
 
 c
 
 XV1I1 THE LIFE OF DEYDFN. 
 
 written several plays in rhyme. In the dedica- 
 tion Dryden warmly defends the use of rhyming 
 verse, an opinion which he lived to retract. It 
 was answered in the following year by Sir Robert 
 Howard, in a preface to a collection of his plays. 
 This reply gave rise to Dryden's celebrated " Essay 
 on Dramatic Poesy," which was in its turn at- 
 tacked by Sir Robert, and Dryden finally rejoined 
 with his defence of the Essay. The " Rival Ladies" 
 seems to have been well received. Pepys, who saw 
 it on the 4th of August, 1G64, calls it " a very 
 innocent and most pretty witty play. I was much 
 pleased with it." It probably tended to redeem 
 the credit of the author of the " Wild Gallant," 
 but it would be difficult to discover either the 
 innocence or pretty wit which so pleased Mr. 
 Pepys. The scene between Hippolito and Amideo 
 (Act iv. sc. 3) is, as Mr. Mitford observes, ludic- 
 rous and absurd. The plot is concluded, not by 
 a skilful combination of events gradually closing 
 and conducting to the development, but by an un- 
 natural transfer of affection in the heroines of the 
 drama suddenly huddled up in the concluding 
 scene. 
 
 All his biographers prior to Mr. Bell were 
 unable to fix with certainty the date of Dryden's 
 marriage. To that gentleman, however, we are 
 indebted for the discovery of the day of this, shall 
 we say auspicious ? event. It was on the 1st of 
 December, 1663, that " John Driden, of St. Clement 
 Danes, in the county of Middlesex, Esq., aged about 
 30yeares, and abatchelor," married, in the parish 
 church of St. Swithin's, London, " Dame Elizabeth
 
 TTIE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XIX 
 
 Howard, of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, in the 
 county aforesaid, aged about 25 yeares, with the 
 consent of her father, Thomas Earle of Berke." 
 The Lady Elizabeth was sister to his friend Sir 
 Robert Howard. The entry of the licence, which 
 is dated " ultimo Novembris, 1663," is in the 
 office of the vicar-general of the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. As Mr. Bell observes, it would be 
 vain to inquire why the marriage took place at 
 St. Swithin's, to which neither party belonged, 
 Dryden being described as of St. Clement Danes, 
 and the lady as a resident of St. Martin's-in-the- 
 Fields. That there were suspicious circumstances 
 about the marriage the many lampoons which per- 
 secuted Dryden through life attest. The character 
 of the Lady Elizabeth does not seem to have been 
 above the reach of scandal. Mr. Mitford calls 
 attention to what he styles a very awkward letter 
 from her to Philip, second Earl of Chesterfield ; 
 and in a scurrilous pamphlet, entitled " Satyr to 
 his Muse, by the author of Absalom and Achi- 
 tophel," 1682, he is described as being " hectored 
 into marriage" by the lady's " brawny brothers," 
 with a not very satisfactory account of the lady 
 herself. Yet we need not attach too much weight 
 to evidence of this sort. The whole life of Dryden 
 is so entangled with the malignity of his enemies, 
 a malignity so entirely arising from envy, and so 
 intense in its persecution, that it not unfrequently 
 defeats its own object. We may passingly notice 
 that in his signature to the affidavit for his licence 
 he writes his name John Driden. The name is 
 spelt Draydon in the marriage register of St.
 
 XX THE LIFE OF DRTDEN. 
 
 Swithin's, but it is in the handwriting of the 
 parish clerk, who has also written the lady's name 
 Haward. It is probable that Dryden did not re- 
 ceive any considerable portion with his wife, as 
 the Earl of Berkshire was poor, considering his 
 rank, and had a large family ; but from a passage 
 in one of his dedications to the Earl of Rochester, 
 he alludes to some property in Wiltshire, which 
 we may suppose was the settlement made upon 
 Lady Elizabeth at her marriage. Under whatever 
 circumstances the marriage may have taken place, 
 it is clear that Dryden frequently visited and stayed 
 at Charlton, his father-in-law's family seat, for 
 from thence he dated his Introduction to the 
 " Annus Mirabilis," in 1666. The match, how- 
 ever, was not productive of much happiness to 
 either party. " It is difficult," says Scott, " for a 
 woman of a violent temper and weak intellects — 
 and such the lady seems to have been — to endure 
 the apparently causeless fluctuation of spirits in- 
 cident to one doomed to labour incessantly in the 
 feverish excitement of the imagination. Uninten- 
 tional neglect, and the inevitable relaxation, or 
 rather sinking of spirit, which follows violent 
 mental exertion, are easily misconstrued into ca- 
 pricious rudeness, or intentional offence ; and life 
 is embittered by mutual accusation, not the less 
 intolerable because reciprocally just. The wife of 
 one who is to gain his livelihood by poetry, or by 
 any labour (if any there be) equally exhausting, 
 must either have taste enough to relish her hus- 
 band's performances, or good nature sufficient to 
 pardon his infirmities. It was Dryden's misfor-
 
 THE LIFE OF BKYDEN. XXI 
 
 tune that Lady Elizabeth had neither the one nor 
 the other ; and I dismiss the disagreeable subject 
 by observing, that on no one occasion, when a sar- 
 casm against matrimony could be introduced, has 
 our author failed to season it with such bitterness 
 as spoke an inward consciousness of domestic 
 misery." 
 
 We have seen that Dryden had long been on 
 terms of intimacy with Sir Robert Howard, his 
 wife's brother. In the beginning of the year 
 1664 appeared the " Indian Queen," the joint 
 production of their pens. What proportion of the 
 play was written by Dryden cannot now be ascer- 
 tained. It is probable he exercised a general 
 supervision of the whole, though Scott thinks the 
 third act shows more immediate marks of his 
 style. It was brought on the stage with great 
 magnificence; and both Evelyn and Pepys speak 
 of the richness of the scenes. It was printed in 
 1665. The success of the " Indian Queen " en- 
 couraged Dryden to write, what can hardly be 
 called a sequel except in name, the tragedy of the 
 " Indian Emperor." The same scenery was used, 
 but there was little connection between the plot 
 of the play and that of its precursor. " Indeed," 
 says Scott, " the whole persons of the ' Indian 
 Queen ' are disposed of by the bowl and dagger 
 at the conclusion of the tragedy, excepting Monte- 
 zuma, who with a second set of characters — the 
 sons and daughters of those deceased in the first 
 part — occupies the stage in the second play." 
 The " Indian Emperor " was acted in the winter 
 of 1664-5, and its success at once placed Dryden
 
 XX M THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 on the pinnacle of his dramatic fame. The " In- 
 dian Emperor " was printed in 1667, under which 
 year we shall again have occasion to notice it. 
 
 In consequence of the Plague which broke out 
 with such alarming violence this year (1665) and 
 the terrific conflagration in the following, which 
 laid the most populous and wealthy part of Lon- 
 don in ashes, no plays were allowed to be ex- 
 hibited. The prohibition extended from May, 
 1665, to Christmas, 1666. Part, at least, of this 
 interval was spent at Charlton, Lord Berkshire's 
 seat in Wiltshire, and was employed on the first 
 poem of any length which he had given to the 
 public. The " Annus Mirabilis," the " Year of 
 Wonders," is dated from Charlton, Nov. 10, 1666, 
 in a letter addressed to Sir Robert Howard, pre- 
 fixed to the publication in 1667. It is one of his 
 most elaborate works, and he himself thought fit, 
 to use Johnson's expression, to " exercise the do- 
 mination of conscious genius by recommending his 
 own performance." Yet, with all the praise that 
 has been bestowed upon it, the metre — following 
 the example of Sir William D'Avenant's " Gondi- 
 bert " — does not to modern ears seem adapted to 
 heroic poetry. The four-line stanza with us is so 
 associated with the elegy, that we can hardly re- 
 concile our minds to its use in more lofty themes. 
 The merits and defects of the poem may be sum- 
 med up in Mr. Mitford's words : " There are lofty 
 allusions connected with mean and minute de- 
 scriptions more adapted to a Gazette than a poem. 
 The sense alternately swells into the bombastic, 
 or descends to the low, and wanders into false
 
 THE LIFE OF DBYDEN. XX111 
 
 allusions and unnatural conceits. There is an ex- 
 travagance in the colouring, and an extravagance 
 in the language, a want of keeping or harmony 
 of style and imagery — elegant similes and noble 
 sentiments being united to the low and technical 
 language of the ledger." But let us not forget 
 with all this that there are some detached pas- 
 sages of great beauty and merit. The prefatory 
 epistle to Sir Robert Howard would show that, at 
 least at present, there had been no interruption 
 of their friendship. But Dryden's leisure at 
 Charlton was not solely occupied with the " Annus 
 Mirabilis." He had prefixed to the " Rival 
 Ladies " an elaborate defence of the use of rhyme 
 against blank verse, which had called forth some 
 remarks from Sir Robert Howard, and now he 
 drew up his famous " Essay on Dramatic Poesy," 
 Avritten, as he states in a short address to the 
 reader, " in the country, without the help of 
 books or advice of friends." The subject is 
 treated in a dialogue between Eugenius, Lisideius, 
 Crites, and Neander, by whom are meant Lord 
 Buckhurst, Sir Charles Sidley, Sir Robert Howard, 
 and the author himself. Dryden's object, he tells 
 us, was " to vindicate the honour of the English 
 poets from the censures of those who unjustly 
 preferred the French before them." The Essay 
 contains the celebrated character of Shakespeare, 
 which, Dr. Johnson observed, " may stand as a 
 perpetual model of encomiastic criticism, a cha- 
 racter so extensive in its comprehension, and so 
 curious in its limitations, that nothing can be 
 added, diminished, or reformed ; nor can the
 
 CX1V THE LIFE OF DETDEN. 
 
 editors or admirers of Shakespeare, in all their 
 emulation of reverence, boast of much more than 
 of having diffused and paraphrased this epitome 
 of excellence, of having changed Dryden's gold 
 for baser metal, of lower value, though of greater 
 bulk." Crites (Sir Robert Howard), throughout 
 the whole dialogue, is made the champion of un- 
 successful opinions. On the publication, there- 
 fore, of the " Essay " in the latter part of the 
 year 1667, it is not surprising that a breach in 
 their friendship should have taken place. Sir 
 Robert immediately availed himself of an oppor- 
 tunity of indicating his opinion in the preface to 
 one of his plays — "The Duke of Lerma" — pub- 
 lished in 1668. This preface, according to Scott, 
 is written in the tone of a man of quality and 
 importance, who is conscious of stooping beneath 
 his own dignity, and neglecting his graver avoca- 
 tions, by engaging in a literary dispute. Dryden, 
 stung with this tone of affected superiority, re- 
 joined with his " Defence of the Essay on Dra- 
 matic Poesy," prefixed to the second edition of 
 the " Indian Emperor," printed in 1668. It is 
 pleasing, however, to record that in after years a 
 reconciliation took place between the brothers-in- 
 law, and the " Defence of the Essay" was can- 
 celled, and a copy of this second edition of the 
 " Indian Emperor," containing it, is now amongst 
 the rarities of literature. Yet the quarrel, whilst 
 it lasted, furnished food for many lampoons to the 
 wits of the day. 
 
 Upon the re-opening of the theatres, the comedy 
 of " Secret Love ; or the Maiden Queen," wus
 
 THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. XXV 
 
 acted. Pepys tells us that ho went to see it on 
 March 2nd, 1666-7: "After dinner, with my 
 wife to the King's House, to see ' The Maiden 
 Queen,' a new play of Dryden's, mightily com- 
 mended for the regularity of it, and the strain 
 and wit ; and the truth is, there is a comical part 
 done by Nell (Gwyn), which is Florimel, that I 
 never can hope ever to see the like done again by 
 man or woman." The play was printed, as the 
 poet informs us, by command of King Charles 
 himself, who graced it with the title of his play, 
 and the plot is even said to have been suggested 
 by his Majesty. Dryden admits that the plot is 
 taken from the romance of " The Grand Cyrus," 
 and in his preface, while doubting " whether an 
 author may be allowed as a competent judge of his 
 own works," upon the whole comes to the con- 
 clusion, that he may depend upon his own opinion. 
 Mr. Pepys tells us he went " to the Change, where 
 I bought ' The Maiden Queen,' a play newly 
 printed, which I like at the King's House so well, 
 of Mr. Dryden's, which he himself, in his preface, 
 seems to brag of, and is indeed a good play." 
 The "Wild Gallant" was now revived, and pro- 
 bably received some support from the growing 
 fame of the author. Having established his re- 
 putation as a successful dramatist, he availed him- 
 self of an offer to enter into an agreement with 
 the King's Theatre, then under the management 
 of Killigrew, to supply it with three plays a year 
 for one share and a quarter out of twelve shares 
 and three-quarters, into which the theatrical 
 stock was divided, which produced him, accord-
 
 XXVI THE LIFE OF DEl'DE.V. 
 
 ing to a curious memorial of the players pre- 
 served by Malone, one year with another, between 
 three and four hundred a year. The memorial in 
 question complains that he did not keep to his 
 agreement, the average number of plays produced 
 being only about half that contracted for ; and, 
 moreover, he had, contrary to express stipulations, 
 furnished the Duke's House with the play of 
 " CEdipus," written in conjunction with Lee. " It 
 would have been well for Dryden's reputation, 
 and, perhaps, not less productive to the company, 
 had the number of his plays been still further 
 abridged ; for, while we admire the facility that 
 coidd produce five or six plays in three years, we 
 lament to find it so often exerted to the sacrifice 
 of the more essential qualities of originality and 
 correctness." It appears strange that the first 
 play that Dryden produced, subsequent to this 
 agreement, should have been brought out at the 
 Duke's Theatre. " Sir Martin Mar-all," a comedy 
 founded upon a translation of Moliere's " L'Etourdi," 
 by the Duke of Newcastle, was acted at the be- 
 ginning of the autumnal season of 1667. Its 
 decided success seems to have been caused by the 
 excellent performance of Nokes in the character of 
 Sir Martin. Pepys says, " It is the most entire 
 piece of mirth, a complete farce from one end to 
 the other, that certainly was ever writ. I never 
 laughed so in all my life, and at very good wit 
 therein, not fooling. The house full, and in all 
 things of mighty content to me." Nokes appears 
 to have been the Liston of the day. Scott sup- 
 poses that the play was acted at the Duke of
 
 TIIK LIFE OF DItYDEN. XXVI I 
 
 York's House at the desire of the Duke of New- 
 castle, or because it was entered in his name. 
 Pepys mentions it as " a play made by my Lord 
 Duke of Newcastle, but, as everybody says, cor- 
 rected by Dryden." It was published in 1668, 
 but without the author's name. 
 
 On the 7th November, 1667, was acted, at the 
 Duke's Theatre also, " The Tempest," an alteration 
 from Shakespeare, the joint production of Dryden 
 and Sir William D'Avenant. This would seem a 
 second breach of contract with Killigrew on Dry- 
 den's part. D'Avenant, however, was manager 
 of the other house, which may account for its 
 appearance there. This alteration of the " Tem- 
 pest " was D'Avenant's last work, and seems, says 
 Scott, to have been undertaken chiefly with a 
 view to give room for scenical decoration. To 
 say that the alterations from the original are 
 gross and tasteless, is to say but very little. " Not 
 one additional beauty," observes Mr. Mitford, " has 
 been inserted, not one felicitous hint improved; 
 but the profound skill and knowledge of nature, 
 for which the original has been justly praised, has 
 been lost sight of by the improvers, who have 
 stripped the spiritual creation of Shakespeare of 
 its sky-tinctured robes, and stifled the wild har- 
 mony of its notes, in order that they might deck 
 it in the artificial finery, and bestow on it the 
 conventional manners, of their grosser times and 
 their degraded theatre." The scenic effect, how- 
 ever, gave it great success. D'Avenant died be- 
 fore the publication of the piece. Dryden's next 
 composition was "An Evening's Love, or the
 
 XXV1I1 TUB LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 Mock Astrologer." It was acted at the King's 
 Theatre, June 12th, 1G68. Pepys, who saw it a 
 few days afterwards, did not like it, and says, that 
 he heard at Herringman's, the bookseller's, that 
 Dryden himself called it but a fifth-rate play. 
 Evelyn also styles it " a foolish plot, and very 
 profane ; it affected me to see how much the stage 
 was degenerated and polluted by the licentious 
 times." It is an imitation of the younger Cor- 
 neille's " Le Feint Astrologue," which in its turn 
 was founded on Calderon's " El Astrologo Fingido." 
 Dryden drew also upon Moliere's " Depit Amour- 
 eux." It was printed with a dedication to the 
 Duke of Newcastle, and a very interesting Preface 
 on the older dramatists. In this preface he de- 
 fends himself on the charge of plagiarism, and 
 quotes the words of the king, who had only de- 
 sired that they who accused Dryden of theft, 
 would steal him such plays as Dryden's. Mr. 
 Bell has observed that Dryden seems to have had 
 great faith in astrology, and resorted to the 
 horoscope to ascertain the destinies of his family. 
 In a letter written to one of his sons at Rome in 
 1697, he says, " Towards the latter end of this 
 month, September, Charles will begin to recover 
 his perfect health, according to his nativity, which, 
 casting it myself, I am sure is true ; and all 
 things hitherto have happened accordingly to the 
 very time I predicted them." When Dryden 
 died, it is said, that the horoscope of his son 
 Charles was found in his pocket-book. It is not 
 very astonishing that a mind so tinctured with 
 credulity should have embraced the tenets of the 
 Church of Rome.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XXIX 
 
 Dryden's next play was " Tyrannic Love, or the 
 Royal Martyr." It was acted towards the end of 
 1668, or beginning of 1669. " Of this play," 
 says Johnson, " he takes care to let the reader 
 know that it was ' contrived and written' in seven 
 weeks. Want of time was often his excuse, or 
 perhaps shortness of time was his private boast in 
 the form of an apology." " This has been with 
 justice considered one of Dryden's characteristic 
 plays, exhibiting the chief features of the heroic 
 system. The personages of the drama are placed 
 in trying perplexities of situation, and amid ex- 
 traordinary combinations of events ; while the 
 movement of the passions and the progressive 
 action of the story are superseded by declamation, 
 or entangled in argument. Sentiments are ex- 
 pressed in language bombastic and extravagant — 
 
 ' Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba.' 
 
 Yet the versification is melodious, the language 
 poetical, the thoughts ingenious, and flashes of 
 purer and nobler feeling occasionally appear ; the 
 tender description, it has been remarked, given by 
 Felicia of her attachment to her children in in- 
 fancy, is exquisitely beautiful."* In the epistle 
 dedicatory to the " Spanish Friar," he confessed 
 to the absurdity of portions of this and another 
 play. " I remember some verses of my own 
 ' Maxim in and Almanzor,' which cry vengeance 
 upon me for their extravagance, and which I wish 
 heartily in the same fire with Statius and Chap- 
 man." "Tyrannic Love" was dedicated to the 
 Duke of Monmouth, to whose duchess the "Indian 
 * Mitford.
 
 XXX THE LIFE OF DRYBEX. 
 
 Emperor" had been previously inscribed. The Duke 
 is compared to an Achilles or Rinaldo, who only 
 wanted a Homer or Tasso to give him his due 
 meed of fame. In the autumn of 1669, and the 
 spring of the following year, were acted the two 
 parts of the " Conquest of Granada." They were 
 received with unbounded applause, and raised the 
 poet, it is said, to a higher point of public esteem 
 than he reached thirty years after by his transla- 
 tion of " Virgil" and his "Fables." Nell Gwynne 
 acted the character of Almahide, and spoke the 
 prologue in the famous broad-brimmed hat which 
 convulsed the king with laughter almost to suffo- 
 cation. The play was printed in 1672, and Dryden 
 prefixed to it an " Essay on Heroic Plays." Two 
 offices, which had been vacant for some time, Avere 
 now conferred on him. Sir William D'Avenant, 
 the poet laureate, had died in 1668, and in August, 
 1670, the post was given to Dryden. The grant 
 bore a retrospect to D'Aven ant's death, and to the 
 office was united that of Historiographer Royal, 
 which had become vacant on the demise of James 
 Howell, in 1666. The patent appointing him to 
 these offices is preserved by Malone, and the lan- 
 guage of it is very honourable to Dryden — " In 
 consideration of the many good and acceptable 
 services by John Dryden, Master of Arts, and 
 eldest sonne of Erasmus Dryden, of Tichmarshe, in 
 the county of Northampton, Esquire, to us hereto- 
 fore done and performed, and taking notice of the 
 learning and eminent abilities of him the said John 
 Dryden, and of bis great skill and elegant style both 
 in verse and prose, &c. &c." Dryden had never
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XXXI 
 
 proceeded to the degree of M.A. at Cambridge, but 
 it was conferred on him by the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury in June, 1G68, and from a copy of the dis- 
 pensation discovered by Malone, it would appear 
 at the kings own request. The salary of the 
 united offices of historiographer and poet laureate 
 was £200, paid quarterly, and when we remember 
 that his share in the theatre was, at the lowest 
 computation, about .£300 a-year, with his little 
 patrimony, and some trifling allowance from the 
 Lady Elizabeth's family, his income at this period 
 of his life was not improbably between £700 and 
 £800 a-year — " a sum," says Scott, " more ade- 
 quate to procure all the comforts, and many of the 
 luxuries of life, than thrice the amount at present." 
 But the burning of the theatre in 1670 greatly in- 
 jured his income in that quarter, and his salary, 
 like all King Charles's household appointments, 
 was very irregularly paid, and therefore his in- 
 come, though in nominal amount adequate enough, 
 was in reality very uncertain. 
 
 But Dryden was now to taste somewhat of the 
 bitters as well as the sweets of his great success 
 and growing reputation. The admiration of the 
 public for heroic plays, as they were styled, called 
 forth the latent jealousy of his rivals into an open 
 attack upon his fame. In the winter of 1671, 
 " The Rehearsal," the joint production of several 
 wits, with Yilliers, Duke of Buckingham, at their 
 head, was acted. Butler, the author of " Hudi- 
 bras," with Sprat, Clifford, and others, is said to 
 have aided Buckingham Almost all Dryden's 
 piays, including those on which he set the highest
 
 XXX11 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 value, and which he had produced with confidence 
 as models of their kind, were parodied in trio 
 " Rehearsal." The attack on heroic plays had 
 heen long meditated, it is supposed even so far 
 back as shortly after the Restoration, or about 
 1664. The principal character was originally de- 
 signed for Sir William D'Avenant, but on his death 
 Dryden was substituted as the hero. The play owed 
 much of its success to the cleverness of the actors. 
 Dryden's dress, manner, and usual expressions were 
 all copied ; and Lacy, the original Bayes, was in- 
 structed to speak after the manner of Dryden's 
 recitation. The play, as might be expected, gave 
 great umbrage to the friends and supporters of 
 Lord Orrery, Sir Robert Howard, and others who 
 had produced heroic plays, but the wit and hu- 
 morous satire soon prevailed, and it met with 
 unbounded success. It has been remarked that 
 Dryden's " Marriage a, la Mode " was alluded to 
 in the dialogue, though not acted or published till 
 the following year ; but it probably had been shown 
 about, as was the custom, in manuscript. 
 
 Though Dryden was, doubtless, stung to the 
 quick with this attack, he did not deign to reply. 
 He acknowledged its cleverness and ability. Years 
 after, when he wrote his dedication to the transla- 
 tion of " Juvenal," he says : " I answered not the 
 ' Rehearsal,' because I knew that the author sate 
 to himself when he drew the picture, and was the 
 very Bayes of his own farce ;" but the fact is, the 
 satire was too true, and we may suspect was too 
 difficult to be replied to. However, he avenged 
 himself with payment it. full when he nainten
 
 THE LIFE OF JlKYDEN. XXX111 
 
 Buckingham asZimri in "Absalom and Achitophel," 
 nine yours after. The name of Mr. Bayes was 
 applied to Uryden henceforth by all the low scrib- 
 blers who teased and annoyed him through life. 
 Great as was the success of the " Rehearsal," it 
 did not banish heroic plays from the stage. Un- 
 willing, perhaps, to be beaten down by his adver- 
 saries, or to confess the power of their satire, or, 
 it may be, as it had already become pretty well 
 known in literary circles, to use a modern phrase, 
 Dryden, in 1G72, exhibited his " Marriage a, la 
 Mode." It is styled a comedy, but Scott con- 
 siders it a tragi-comedy, or rather a tragedy and 
 comedy, the plot and scenes of which are inter- 
 mingled, for they have no natural' connexion with 
 each other. It was dedicated, on its publication 
 in 1673, to the Earl of Rochester. In this dedi- 
 cation Dryden mentions Lord Rochester's, and also 
 the king's, approval of it in MS. before it appeared 
 on the stage, and that it moreover had received 
 some corrections at Rochester's hands. Rochester 
 is addressed in a strain of fulsome adulation, and, 
 from a letter of Dryden's still preserved, seems to 
 have handsomely acknowledged the compliment. 
 Time, however, showed the poet how ill-judged 
 he had been in choice of a patron. 
 
 In the same year (1672) appeared " The Assign- 
 ation, or Love in a Nunnery." It failed, and was 
 driven off the stage, against the opinion, as the 
 author says, of the best judges. It was dedicated, in 
 1673, to Sir Charles Sidley, in a preface full of 
 acrimonious passages referring to the controversies 
 in which the author had been engaged. In 1673 
 
 d
 
 XXXIV THE LIFE OF DIIYDEN. 
 
 ho produced the tragedy of " Amboyna," with the 
 object of inflaming the nation against the Dutch, 
 with whom we were then at war. To the prologue 
 and epilogue were transferred the lines entitled, " A 
 Satire on the Dutch," written some eleven or 
 twelve years before. The play seems to have suc- 
 ceeded on the stage, though Dryden confesses, in 
 his dedication to Lord Clifford of Chudleigh, that 
 it " will scarcely bear a serious perusal, it being 
 contrived and written in a month — the subject 
 barren, the persons low, and the writing not 
 heightened with many laboured scenes." We may 
 accept the author's own criticism ; it is confessedly 
 the very worst play he ever wrote. 
 
 Encouraged by the success of the " Rehearsal," 
 and provoked by the daring epilogue to the second 
 part of " The Conquest of Granada," in which 
 Dryden had asserted the superiority of the drama 
 of the Restoration over that of the age of Shake- 
 speare, an opinion which he somewhat weakly 
 maintains in his " Defence of the Epilogue," a 
 host of pamphleteers now attacked him, and, under 
 the pretence of advocating the injured cause of 
 the elder drama, passed from a virident criticism 
 on his writings to personal reflections on his cha- 
 racter. In his dedication of the " Assignation " 
 to Sidley, Dryden notices these attacks upon him 
 with a supreme degree of contempt. 
 
 In this year (1673), says Johnson, " Dryden 
 seems to have had his quiet much disturbed by 
 the success of the ' Empress of Morocco,' a tragedy 
 written in rhyme by Elkanah Settle." The con- 
 troversy with Settle is an ungrateful subject, but
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XXXV 
 
 as it led to a well-known event in Dryden's life, 
 and is one of the more prominent of the literary 
 quarrels in which he was so frequently engaged, 
 we can hardly pass it over. Rochester and Uryden 
 at this period were on such friendly terms, that 
 the poet had dedicated to his lordship his 
 " Marriage a, la Mode," expressing the greatest 
 gratitude for favours done to his fortune and re- 
 putation. Rochester, we have seen, had hand- 
 somely acknowledged the dedication, which called 
 forth a second tribute of thanks from the poet. 
 But suddenly, and apparently without any other 
 cause than that of the Earl's fickle and jealous 
 temper, this friendly intercourse suffered an irre- 
 coverable shock. Rochester was fond of alter- 
 nately raising and depressing the men of genius 
 whom he chose to patronize, but Scott thinks that 
 this sudden revulsion of feeling towards Dryden 
 was partly attributable to the poet's attachment 
 to Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke 
 of Buckinghamshire, then Rochester's rival in wit 
 and court-favour, and by whom he had been posted 
 as a coward for refusing to fight him. But it does 
 not appear quite clear that this circumstance had 
 then taken place. At all events, Rochester had 
 determined to attempt to lower Dryden in the 
 opinion of the public, and for this purpose made 
 use of Elkanah Settle. Settle had produced his 
 first play, " Cambyses, King of Persia," in 1671, 
 which was acted six nights successively. This 
 run of public favour gave Rochester some pretence 
 for bringing him before the notice of the king. 
 By his efforts, Settle's second play, " The Empress
 
 XXXVI THE LIFE OF DRTDEN. 
 
 of Morocco," was acted with overpowering applause 
 for a month together. To add to Dryden's morti- 
 fication, Rochester had interest enough to have the 
 tragedy first acted at Whitehall by the lords and 
 ladies of the Court. On its first representation 
 there Lord Mulgrave wrote the prologue, and that 
 on the second occasion was contributed by Roches- 
 ter himself; both were spoken by the beautiful 
 Lady Elizabeth Howard. This was the more gall- 
 ing to Dryden, as none of his plays, however more 
 justly entitled to it, both by his situation of poet 
 laureate and from intrinsic merit, had had accorded 
 to them this honour. From the Court the play 
 was transferred to the theatre in Dorset Garden, 
 and received with the applause corresponding to 
 the expectation excited by its favour at Whitehall. 
 Settle, intoxicated with his sudden elevation, and 
 attributing his success to his own merits, published 
 the play with a dedication to the Earl of Norwich, 
 defiantly levelled at the laureate. It was " adorned 
 with sculptures; " the price was two shillings, being 
 double the ordinary charge; and the title announced 
 the writer to be " Elkanah Settle, Servant to his 
 Majesty" an addition which belonged with greater 
 propriety to Dryden.* 
 
 It is to be regretted that Dryden did not treat 
 this triumph of a fool, as Mr. Mitford calls it, with 
 contemptuous silence. The " sculptures," how- 
 ever — as Settle's play was the first that had been 
 embellished with such ornaments — seem to have 
 given him great disturbance ; the advance in the 
 price, the dedication of defiance, were too much 
 
 * Scott.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYHEX. XXXV11 
 
 for his patience, and he united with Shadwell and 
 Crowne in printing some remarks on the "Empress 
 of Morocco." Dr. Johnson has given copious ex- 
 tracts from this criticism, " to which the genius of 
 Dryden could be reduced between rage and terror 
 — rage with little provocation, and terror with 
 little danger." It would have been well for his 
 fame had the pamphlet been suppressed. Settle 
 answered it, says Mr. Mitford, and left his an- 
 tagonist covered with the dust and dirt of a de- 
 grading and injudicious controversy. From this 
 time Rochester became Dryden's avowed enemy, 
 and lost no opportunity of attacking his literary 
 reputation. Nor did Dryden treat these attacks 
 with indifference. It is true that he does not 
 seem to have thought it worth his while to take 
 his revenge on Rochester by name, or any direct 
 allusion — perhaps the recollection of former kind- 
 nesses influenced him — yet a severe censure of the 
 persons of wit and honour about town, in the pre- 
 face to " All for Love," in 1678, seems particularly 
 aimed at him. The malice of Rochester at length 
 culminated in the cruel and cowardly attack on 
 Dryden in Rose Alley, in 1679, which we shall 
 notice under that year. 
 
 In 1674 Dryden published his " State of Inno- 
 cence," a play adapted from Milton's " Paradise 
 Lost," but not intended for stage exhibition. 
 Milton died on the 8th of November, 1674, and 
 Dryden's opera, as he styles it himself, was pub- 
 lished immediately after his death. The two poets 
 had long been acquainted, perhaps even before the 
 Restoration. The great poem of " Paradise Lost,"
 
 XXXVIU TOE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 however, it is well known, was received with 
 coldness on its first publication. " The character 
 of the author, obnoxious for his share in the 
 usurped government ; the turn of language, so 
 different from that of the age ; the seriousness of 
 a subject so discordant with its lively frivolities, 
 gave to the author's renown the slowness of growth 
 with the permanency of the oak."* Aubrey relates 
 a somewhat apocryphal story that Dryden w r aited 
 on the blind bard, and asked his permission to put 
 his great poem into rhyme. " Ay," said Milton, 
 " you may tag my verses if } r ou will." Dennis 
 also tells us " Mr. Dryden at that time knew not 
 half his excellence, as more than twenty years 
 afterwards he confessed to me, and is pretty plain 
 from his writing the ' State of Innocence.'" It is 
 strange that Dryden should have made such a con- 
 fession, w r hen, in his preface, he acknowledges the 
 original to be " undoubtedly one of the greatest, 
 most noble, and sublime poems which either this 
 age or nation has produced." " The composi- 
 tion is addressed to the Princess of Modena, then 
 Duchess of York, in a strain of flattery Avhich 
 disgraces genius, and which it was wonderful 
 that any man that knew the meaning of his 
 own w r ords could use without self-detestation. 
 It is an attempt to mingle earth and heaven, 
 by praising human excellence in the language of 
 religion." f The work was a hasty production, 
 thrown off in a month, and the author gives a very 
 ridiculous reason for its publication : " I was in- 
 duced to it in my own defence, many hundred 
 
 * Scott. t Johnson.
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DltTDEN. XXX! 3 
 
 copies of it being dispersed abroad without my 
 Knowledge or consent ; so that every one gathering 
 new faults, it became at length a libel against 
 me." " These copies," Johnson observes, " as they 
 gathered faults, were apparently manuscript ; and 
 he lived in an age very unlike ours, if many hun- 
 dred copies of fourteen hundred lines were likely 
 to be transcribed. An author has a right to print 
 his own works, and need not seek an apology in 
 falsehood ; but he that could bear to write the 
 dedication, felt no pain in writing the preface." 
 Nat. Lee prefixed some outrageous lines to the 
 publication, in which he compliments Dryden on 
 its being " the best poem that he ever wrought," 
 and talks of his having refined the golden ore of 
 Milton ! We can feel for the extravagances of 
 Lee, but we can hardly tolerate Dryden's self-suffi- 
 ciency in permitting the lines to appear. The 
 only ground upon which Ave can grant any pardon 
 to Dryden for this tasteless perfoi mance is that it 
 called attention to the neglected original, and thus 
 contributed in no slight degree to Milton's fame. 
 Milton, as we have seen, had died before the pub- 
 Ucation of the "State of Innocence," and "we 
 may wish in vain," as Scott says, " to know his 
 opinion; but if tradition can be trusted, he said, 
 perhaps on that undertaking, that Dryden was a 
 good rhymer, but no poet." This opinion of so 
 groat an authority may need attention hereafter. 
 
 We have arrived at an eventful stage in the 
 poet's life, for from henceforth there is a marked 
 change in his taste and composition. In the 
 spring of 1075 was acted " Aureng-zcbe," the
 
 xl TEE LIFE OF DETDF.X. 
 
 last of his so-styled heroic plays. He acknow- 
 ledges in the Prologue that he had " grown weary 
 of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme." Johnson 
 thinks that " Aureng-zebe " has the appearance of 
 being the most elaborate of all his dramas. " The 
 complaint of life (Act iv. sc. 1) is celebrated, 
 and there are many other passages that may be 
 read with pleasure." "Aureng-zebe," on its pub- 
 lication in 1676, was dedicated to Sheffield, Earl 
 of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke of Buckinghamshire. 
 Mulgrave was then a young man of twenty-seven. 
 This dedication, though containing a passage of 
 gross and ill-applied flatter}- to Charles II, is very 
 interesting, as first discovering to us that Dryden 
 entertained a design of writing an epic poem. 
 " Some little hopes," he says, " I have yet re- 
 maining (and those, too, considering my abilities, 
 may be vain) that I may make the world some 
 part of amends for many ill plays, by an heroic 
 poem. Your lordship has long been acquainted 
 with my design, the subject of which you know is 
 great ; the story English, and neither too far dis- 
 tant from the present age. nor too near approach- 
 ing it." He mentions also that he had discussed 
 it with the king and the Duke of York. We learn 
 from the dedication to his "Juvenal," that he hesi- 
 tated between two subjects — King Arthur con- 
 quering the Saxons, or Edward the Black Prince 
 subduing Spain and restoring it to Don Pedro the 
 Cruel. He was discouraged, however, he tells us, 
 by receiving only fair words from King Charles, 
 and by poverty — his little salary being ill-paid, 
 and no prospect of a future subsistence. The
 
 THE LIFE OF DBTDF.X. xli 
 
 burning of the King's Theatre, and the deots con- 
 tracted in rebuilding it, had materially altered 
 his private circumstances for the worse at this 
 period. 
 
 Dryden's next play, " All for Love, or the "World 
 well lost," a tragedy founded on the story of 
 " Antony and Cleopatra," was produced at the 
 Kings House in the winter of 1677-8. He styles 
 it the " only play written for himself, the rest were 
 given to the people." " In my style," he says, 
 " I have professed to imitate the divine Shake- 
 speare ; which that I may perform more freely, I 
 have dismembered myself from rhyme. Not that 
 I condemn my former way, but that this is more 
 proper to my present purpose." He adds : " I 
 hope I may affirm, and without vanity, that, by 
 imitating him, I have excelled myself throughout 
 the play ; and particularly, that I prefer the scene 
 betwixt Antony and Ventidius, in the first act. 
 to anything which I have written in this kind." 
 The criticisms on this play have placed it in the 
 foremost rank of Dryden's dramatic writings. Dr. 
 Johnson specially commends the prologue and epi- 
 logue for their elegance and sprightliness. Scott 
 has given an elaborate review of its merits. It 
 was received with universal approbation, and con- 
 tributed not only to its author's fame, but to his 
 fortune also, as he was permitted the benefit of a 
 third night, in addition to his profits as a sharer 
 with the company. In the same year (167S) he 
 brought out at Dorset Garden a comedy entitled, 
 " Limberham, or the Kind Keeper," It was pro- 
 hibited after the third night. It was designed,
 
 xlii THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 as we are told, against " the crying sin of keep- 
 ing," and, Langbaine informs ns, gave umbrage to 
 the greater part of the town, because it exposed 
 their mode of living. But let us hope that its own 
 gross indelicacy was sufficient cause for its expul- 
 sion. It is not deficient in wit, but its licentious- 
 ness, even in its printed form, is repulsive enough ; 
 and yet we are told that Lord Bolingbroke found, 
 in " the sweepings of Pope's study," a copy in 
 which a pen had been drawn through several ex- 
 ceptionable passages that do not appear in the 
 printed play ! In the winter of this year (1678-9) 
 the tragedy of " CEdipus " appeared at the same 
 theatre, as the joint production of Dryden and Lee. 
 Dryden wrote the first and third acts, and planned 
 the scenes. While giving Dryden every praise for 
 his share in this play, Sir Walter Scott justly ob- 
 serves that the disagreeable nature of the plot 
 forms an objection to its success upon a British 
 stage. There are noble passages, and, as the 
 same critic remarks, " the ghost of Laius can only 
 be paralleled in Shakespeare." It would seem 
 hardly necessary to criticise the adaptation (if we 
 may so term it) of Shakespeare's " Troilus and 
 Cressida," which was acted and published in 1079. 
 " So far as this play," says Scott, " is to be con- 
 sidered as an alteration of Shakespeare, I fear it 
 must be allowed, that our author has suppressed 
 some of his finest poetry, and exaggerated some of 
 his worst faults." Dryden prefixed to this play 
 an excellent discourse on the " Grounds of Criti- 
 cism in Tragedy," in which are laid down some 
 just critical rules, and he does not spare his own
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DBYDEX. 
 
 xliii 
 
 faults. Like all his prefaces and dedications, this 
 cannot be read without pleasure and instruction, 
 but it may be questioned whether the reader 
 would derive much satisfaction from a perusal of 
 the play itself, though Langbaine does specially 
 commend the last scene in the third act as " a 
 masterpiece." 
 
 An event in Dryden's life which marks the close 
 of this year (1G79) must lead us, at the risk of 
 the charge of tediousness, to retrace our steps for 
 a short period, and to interrupt the narrative of 
 his literary productions. It will be remembered 
 that in 1G73 Dryden was on such terms of friend- 
 ship with Rochester, that he dedicated to him his 
 favourite play of " Marriage a la Mode," and that 
 his lordship's reception of the dedication called 
 forth a second acknowledgment of the poet's gra- 
 titude. From some unexplained cause, probably 
 merely from Rochester's capricious and jealous 
 temper, their friendship soon underwent a change. 
 It could hardly have arisen from Dryden's attach- 
 ment to Mulgrave, as Rochester and Mulgrave, 
 though rivals in wit and fashion, were at this 
 period on good terms. Their subsequent quarrel 
 may have aggravated Rochester's ill-feeling to- 
 wards Dryden. To mortify Dryden, Rochester 
 brought forward Elkanah Settle. Through his 
 influence, Settle's play of " The Empress of Mo- 
 rocco" was acted at Whitehall by the lords and 
 ladies of the Court ; Mulgrave contributing a pro- 
 logue on the first appearance, and Rochester him- 
 self that on the second occasion. We have already 
 alluded to the annoyance that Dryden felt at this
 
 xliv TILE LIFE OP DliTDEN. 
 
 elevation of Settle. But the poetaster's triumph 
 was of short duration. He was speedily dethroned 
 to give place to another of Rochester's short-lived 
 favourites. In 1675, through the influence of 
 Rochester, Crowne's masque of " Calisto " was 
 similarly acted at Court. This was even a more 
 severe blow to Dryden, for it was his duty as 
 laureate to write on such occasions. Though in- 
 trinsically unworthy of success, " the splendour of 
 the scenery and dresses, the quality of the per- 
 formers, selected from the first nobility, and the 
 favour of the sovereign, gave ' Calisto ' a run of 
 nearly thirty nights. Dryden, though mortified, 
 tendered his services in the shape of an epilogue, 
 to be spoken by Lady Henrietta Wentworth. But 
 the influence of his enemy (Rochester) was still 
 predominant, and the epilogue of the laureate was 
 rejected."* 
 
 Crowne, in his turn, gave place to one who 
 might have been a more formidable rival to 
 Dryden. In 1676, Otway's "Don Carlos" ap- 
 peared, and the author acknowledges, in his pre- 
 face, that much of its success was owing to 
 Rochester's recommendation to the king. In the 
 same preface there is a defiance to Dryden. Ot- 
 way, however, soon experienced Rochester's fickle- 
 ness, and was grossly insulted and lampooned in 
 the " Session of the Poets." But Rochester did 
 not confine himself to raising up rivals to Dryden. 
 In 1678 he published, anonymously, an imitation 
 of Horace, styled " An Allusion to the Tenth 
 Satire." This was universally recognized as his. 
 
 * Scott.
 
 THE LIFE OF HHVDEN. xlv 
 
 Here ho indirectly attacks Dryden, and satirises 
 his late favourites, Settle, Crowne, and Otway. 
 In the meanwhile Rochester had quarrelled with 
 Mulgravc, and been posted as a coward by the 
 latter. Dryden and Mulgrave were on very friendly 
 terms, and in 1 075 (the year in which " Aureng- 
 zebe" was acted) his lordship had entrusted to the 
 poet the task of revising his "Essay upon Satire." 
 This poem, in which many of the courtiers of the 
 time were severely handled, more especially Sir 
 Car Scrope and Rochester, was not made public 
 till 1679, when several copies were handed about 
 in manuscript. In sending one of these to his 
 friend Henry Saville, Rochester writes : " I have 
 sent you herewith a libel, in which my own share 
 is not the least ; the king having perused it, is in 
 no ways dissatisfied with his. The author is ap- 
 parent Mr. D , his patron my Lord M 
 
 having a panegyric in the midst." It may be 
 questioned whether Dryden did more than correct 
 a few passages in Mulgrave's work, but it woidd 
 seem that Rochester was only too willing to ascribe 
 the authorship to him, and at once formed the 
 design of a revenge, which, astonishing as it may 
 appear at the present day, was not without its 
 precedent in the then state of society. On the 
 18th of December, 1G79, as Dryden w r as returning 
 from Will's Coffee House, through Rose Street, 
 Covent Garden, he was waylaid by a set of hired 
 ruffians, w r ho severely cudgelled him. As might 
 be expected, a reward was offered in the papers of 
 the day for the discovery of the perpetrators. It 
 was pretty well known that Rochester was the
 
 xhi THE LIFE OF DETDEN. 
 
 instigator of this outrage, and another letter of his 
 to Saville, in which, after alluding to " a certain 
 poet," he says, " I will forgive him if you please, 
 and leave the repartee to Black Will with a cudgel" 
 seems to fix the charge upon him. It has been 
 generally supposed the Duchess of Portsmouth 
 (Louise de Querouaille), one of Charles's mis- 
 tresses, joined him in instigating this attack upon 
 Dry den. She certainly must have been greatly 
 exasperated at the severe lines upon her in Mul- 
 grave's " Satire." The Rose Alley ambuscade, in- 
 stead of exciting commiseration towards Dryden, 
 only supplied a new theme for the scurrilities of 
 his enemies. Much to his credit, it does not ap- 
 pear that he condescended to take revenge upon 
 Rochester ; and the grave soon interposed between 
 further quarrels, as Rochester died in July of the 
 following year. Dryden's only allusion to him is 
 in the dedication of the translation of " Juvenal " 
 to Lord Dorset, where, in speaking of " Satire," 
 he says, "In that, an author of your own quality 
 (whose ashes I will not disturb) has given you all 
 the commendation which his self-sufficiency could 
 afford to any man." 
 
 The first publication to which the poet's name 
 appeared, after this incident, was that of a trans- 
 lation of the " Epistles of Ovid," to which he con- 
 tributed an interesting preface, and versions of 
 two of the Epistles (Canace to Macareus, and 
 Dido to^Eneas) ; and a third (Helen to Paris) was 
 written in conjunction with Lord Mulgrave. This 
 work, published in 1680, was his first essay at 
 translation. There had, indeed, appeared a trans-
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DRYDEN. xlvii 
 
 lation of "Appian" in 167'J, the dedication of 
 which to Lord Ossory is signed J. D., and which 
 is usually styled " Dryden's Appian" in catalogues; 
 but Scott supposes this to have been the work of 
 Jonathan Dryden, who, though of Trinity College, 
 Cambridge, and a scholar on the Westminster 
 Foundation, does not seem to have been a relative 
 of the poet. We have no further production of 
 Dryden's in this year (1680) with the exception 
 of two or three prologues to the plays of other 
 writers, in which he banteringly alludes to the 
 so-styled Popish plot which was occupying public 
 attention. The following year (1681), however, 
 was marked by two of his most successful works. 
 " The Spanish Friar," a tragi-comedy, and the 
 celebrated satire of " Absalom and Achitophel," 
 are each in their way landmarks in his literary 
 life. The play, which has been styled one of the 
 happiest and best of Dryden's numerous dramatic 
 efforts, seems to have been acted in the season of 
 1681-2. In his dedication to Lord Haughton, he 
 says he " recommends a protestant play to a pro- 
 testant patron." To criticise it in detail will not 
 be necessary. Those who may desire so to do had 
 better consult Scott's, to us, somewhat too favour- 
 able notice. It was written and acted at a time 
 when the nation was rabid about Oates's supposed 
 plot, and this may account for the tumultuous 
 applause with which it was greeted. That the 
 author of such a work should so soon become a 
 convert to the religion he here, we woidd almost 
 say, libels, is one of those phenomena which sur- 
 pass our comprehension, but for a repetition of
 
 xlviii THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 which we have only to look to the present age. 
 " The Spanish Friar " met with a curious fate. 
 It was the only drama prohibited by James II, 
 after his accession ; and singularly enough, it was 
 the first play represented by order of Queen Mary 
 after the Revolution, and honoured with her pre- 
 sence ; " a choice," says Scott, " of which she had 
 abundant reason to repent, as the serious part of 
 the piece gave as much scope for malicious appli- 
 cation against herself, as the comic against the 
 religion of her father." This remarkable circum- 
 stance is detailed by Malone and Scott, and the 
 reader may turn to their pages to satisfy his 
 curiosity. 
 
 But now we have arrived at a most important 
 period in Dryden's literary career. Hitherto 
 his controversies were merely of a personal cha- 
 racter, arising from the jealousies of his rivals. 
 Now he was about to enter into the political 
 arena, and at one bound to assume that posi- 
 tion as a writer of satire in which he has, never 
 been surpassed, and rarely, if ever, equalled. It 
 will surely be unnecessary to enter into the details 
 of a period of history so well known as that which 
 gave rise to Dryden's celebrated satire. The in- 
 trigues of Monmouth and Shaftesbury for the ex- 
 clusion of the Duke of York's right of succession, 
 the popular excitement at the Duke's avowed Po • 
 pery, aggravated by the late supposed plot, led to 
 continued disputes between the king and the pai - 
 liament on the Exclusion Bill. Shaftesbury in vain 
 endeavoured to persuade the king to conciliate par- 
 liament by a proposal to settle the succession on
 
 THE LIFE OF DRTDF.N. xIlX 
 
 Monmouth. To this Charles would not consent, 
 and on March 28, 1G81, the bill of exclusion was 
 once more brought in and read a first time. The 
 king who had foreseen, and was prepared for, the 
 emergency, instantly dissolved Parliament, and 
 followed up the step by a prosecution of all who 
 had taken an active part in the agitation against 
 the duke. On the 2nd of July Shaftesbury was 
 committed to the Tower on a charge of suborna- 
 tion and treason. The press was busied with 
 hosts of scribblers against the king, the duke, and 
 the ministry ; and their effusions were read and 
 sung and applauded throughout the kingdom. A 
 writer was required on the royal side, especially 
 to prejudice the public mind against Shaftesbury 
 previously to the bill of indictment being preferred. 
 Dryden, by his position as laureate, his talents, and 
 probably his predilections, was well qualified for 
 the task. His friends, too, Ormond, Halifax, and 
 Hyde, Earl of Rochester, were on the royal side ; 
 opposed to it were Buckingham (author of the 
 " Rehearsal "), Shadwell, and Settle. He had 
 conciliated the Duke of York by a prologue on 
 his visiting the theatre at his return from Scot- 
 land, and by the omission of many of the offensive 
 passages in the " Spanish Friar." He now sat 
 down to write the satire of " Absalom and Achi- 
 tophel," and on Nov. 17, 1681, a few days before 
 the bill of indictment against Shaftesbury was pre- 
 sented, it was published. Its success was beyond 
 example, but it did not effect its immediate object. 
 The bill against Shaftesbury was ignored by the 
 grand jury, and the populace received his acquittal
 
 i TIIE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 with shouts of triumph. Dr. Johnson relates that 
 his father, who was a bookseller, told him that 
 its sale exceeded anything in his remembrance, 
 excepting that of Sacheverel's famous Trial. 
 " The allusions which it contained became univer- 
 sally known ; and the allegorical names seemed 
 to be inalienably entailed upon the persons to 
 whom Dry den had assigned them. Not only were 
 they in perpetual use amongst the court poets of 
 the day, but the parable was repeatedly inculcated 
 and preached upon from the pulpit, and echoed 
 and re-echoed in all the addresses of the time." 
 The poem was first published in a folio form, 
 * printed for J. T. (Jacob Tonson), and are to be 
 sold by W. Davis, in Amen Corner." Malone (in 
 a.MS. note to the copy of his 'Prose Works of 
 Dryden,' in the Bodley Library,) thinks Tonson 
 probably concealed his name from an apprehen- 
 sion that Shaftesbury and his partisans might do 
 him some prejudice in his business. But this 
 would have been but a futile precaution, as the 
 authorship was immediately recognised, and Ton- 
 son's initials would have been equally intelligible. 
 Attacks upon Dryden instantly appeared. Though 
 the poem was only published about Nov. 17, 1681. 
 as early as December 10th a miserable Grub-street 
 production, entitled " Towser the Second," sup- 
 posed to be written by Henry Care, sprung up. 
 This was followed on the fourteenth of the same 
 month by " Poetical Reflections on a late poem 
 entitled Absalom and Achitophel, by a Person of 
 Honour," who, according to Antony Wood, was 
 Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. A Nonconformist
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DRY DEN. li 
 
 clergyman (whose name, fortunately for him, is 
 unknown) published about ten days afterwards a 
 pamphlet termed " A Whip for the Fool's Back," 
 and followed it up with the " Key (with the 
 Whip) to open the mystery and iniquity of the 
 poem called Absalom and Achitophel;" and these 
 were subsequently succeeded by " Azariah and 
 Hushai," by Samuel Pordage, a scribbler who had 
 written two dramas and translated a third from 
 Seneca ; and finally our author's old antagonist, 
 Elkanah Settle, appeared with a folio pamphlet of 
 1,500 lines, entitled " Absalom Senior, or Absalom 
 and Achitophel transposed, a poem ;" in which he 
 is said to have been assisted by Sprat. It might 
 seem hardly necessary to mention these scurrilous 
 productions by name, but it may be interesting 
 in a bibliographical point of view ; and, moreover, 
 Dryden himself slightly alluded to Pordage and 
 Settle in his subsequent writings. A second edi- 
 tion of " Absalom and Achitophel " was issued in 
 December, in quarto, and was speedily followed 
 by many more. In this second edition twelve 
 lines were added, mollifying the satire against 
 Shaftesbury by doing justice to his judicial integ- 
 rity, a portion of which deserves to be quoted — 
 
 "Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; 
 The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. 
 In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin 
 With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean ; 
 Unbrib'd, unsought, the wretched to redress ; 
 Swift of dispatch, and easy of access." 
 
 A report was circulated that this addition was 
 made in consequence of Shaftesbury's having con-
 
 lii THE LIFE OF DEYDEX. 
 
 ferred a favour upon Dryden (by placing his son 
 at the Charterhouse) in the interval between the 
 first and second edition of " Absalom and Achito- 
 phel," but this has been satisfactorily refuted. A 
 passage of kind wishes towards Monmouth was 
 also added in the second edition — 
 
 " But, oh that yet he would repent and live ! 
 How easy 'tis for parents to forgive ; 
 With how few fears a pardon might be won, 
 From nature pleading for a darling son ! " 
 
 These, and other passages, in which Dryden has 
 softened the severity of his muse, evince not only 
 the poet's taste and judgment, but that tone of 
 honourable and just feeling which distinguishes a 
 true satire from a libellous lampoon."* So popular 
 was the poem that two Latin versions were speedily 
 published, one by Atterbury, and a second by 
 William Coward, M.D., of Merton College, Oxon, 
 quarto, 1682. In concluding the remarks on this 
 famous satire, it may only be added that Tate 
 (who was probably a competent authority) relates 
 that it was undertaken at the desire of Charles II. 
 and Malone supposes that Dryden was employed 
 on it about nine months. Scott has shown that 
 the application of the Scriptural names to modern 
 history did not originate with Dryden. " Not 
 only had the scheme of a similar poem been con- 
 trived, but the very passage of Scripture adopted 
 by Dryden as the foundation of his parable, had 
 been already applied to Charles and his undutiful 
 son." (See " Absalom's Conspiracy, or the Tragedy 
 of Treason," 1080, and other works, in Scott's 
 
 * Scott.
 
 THE LIFE OF DKYDK.V. liii 
 
 Dryden, vol. ix. p. 199.) To detain the reader by 
 a detailed criticism after Dr. Johnson's well-known 
 remarks, and the equally acute observations of 
 Sir Walter Scott, would be at once useless and im- 
 pertinent. " Absalom and Achitophel " is one of 
 those great national works with which every edu- 
 cated man must be familiar, and he who is ignorant 
 of the episode in history to which it refers would 
 hardly be enlightened by an elaborate analysis of 
 its merits, and the appropriateness of its satire. 
 
 The grand jury having ignored the bill of high 
 treason against Shaftesbury, he was liberated from 
 the Tower Nov. 24, 1681. To celebrate this 
 event, a medal was struck, bearing the head and 
 name of Shaftesbury, and on the reverse a sun 
 obscured with a cloud rising over the Tower of 
 London, with the date of the acquittal, and the 
 legend, Lcctamur. His partisans ostentatiously 
 wore these, and care was taken that they should 
 be made as general as possible. It might be ex- 
 pected that the author of " Absalom and Achito- 
 phel " would not permit Shaftesbury's popular 
 triumph to be of long duration. It is said, in- 
 deed, that the king himself suggested to Dryden 
 the idea of taking the medal as a subject for his 
 satire, and, on the completion of the poem, re- 
 warded the writer with a hundred broad-pieces. 
 But be this as it may, on March 16, 1681-2, he 
 published anonymously " The Medal, a Satire 
 against Sedition." The personality of the satire 
 was exhaustive ; not a point in Shaftesbury's cha- 
 racter, moral or political, was left uncensured. 
 The severity of the poet, however, betrayed him
 
 liv TIIE LIFE OF DltYDFlJ. 
 
 into many expressions and lines which are pain- 
 fully open to the charge, so often brought against 
 him, of irreverence and profanity. As a satire, it 
 may be perfect, and we do not wish to criticise 
 the abilities of the artist. It has been thought 
 that it hurried to a conclusion the career of its 
 object. The appearance of " Absalom and Achi- 
 tophel," as has been shown, was hailed by a 
 shower of lampoons and low replies, but Dryden 
 does not seem to have thought it worth his notice 
 to answer them. As might be imagined, the 
 " Medal " immediately received its share of scur- 
 rility and abuse, and chiefly from the same au- 
 thors. Pordage came forward with " The Medal 
 Revised;" Hickeringill, now rector of All Saints, 
 Colchester, but a fanatical puritan of Cromwell's 
 day, and notorious for his songs, pamphlets, and 
 sermons, rushed to the attack with " The Mush- 
 room," sent to press the very day on which the 
 " Medal " appeared ; a circumstance on which the 
 author valued himself so highly as to ascribe it to 
 Divine inspiration ! " Dryden's Satire to his 
 Muse " was imputed to Lord Somers, but posi- 
 tively disowned by him in a conversation with 
 Pope. Shadwell's reply is entitled " The Medal of 
 John Eayes," and surpassed in scurrility the most 
 scurrilous of its contemporaries. Dryden had 
 received many provocations from Shadwell, and 
 the venomous personality of this attack from one 
 whom he had once called friend seems to have 
 roused his slumbering vengeance upon his slan- 
 derers. Shadwell was, therefore, selected for sig- 
 nal castigation, and on 4th October, 1682, was
 
 THE LIFE 01" XmYDEN. h 
 
 published, " Mac-Flecknoe ; or, a Hal ire on the 
 True-blue Protestant Poet, T. S. By the Author 
 of Absalom and Aehitophel." It consisted only 
 of one sheet and a half, and was sold for two- 
 pence. This crushing satire was eagerly bought 
 up, and the whole impression is said to have been 
 exhausted in a few days. Richard Flecknoe, from 
 whom the piece takes its title, was an Irish Roman 
 Catholic priest, and so noted as a miserable writer 
 of doggerel, that his name had become almost pro- 
 verbial. He is supposed to have died about 1678. 
 Drydcn represents Shadwell as Mac-Flecknoe, or 
 the son of Flecknoe, and his successor on the 
 throne of dulness. Personal to the last degree as 
 the satire is, and was meant to be, it is no slight 
 merit that it has survived its immediate interest. 
 Its vigour and keenness, its skilful versification, 
 and, if we may so say, its simplicity of object, 
 give it a far superiority over the " Dunciad," and 
 a host of other avowed successors. Shadwell seems 
 to have been more mortified by his misconception 
 of Dryden's representing him as an Irishman than 
 with the real severity of the satire, and he de- 
 clared that Dryden had denied to him that he was 
 the writer of the poem ; but this can hardly be 
 the case. It is possible he might not have avowed 
 its authorship, though that is not probable, as the 
 title too plainly announced it. Mr. Bell has justly 
 observed that posterity has judged too harshly 
 upon Shadwell's merits from the severity of this 
 satire. Coarse and vulgar though he may be, in 
 the lower walks of comedy he excelled even Dry- 
 den himself; and in depicting the manners and
 
 Ivi THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 habits of his day " he brings us more closely ac- 
 quainted with the actual life of the time than 
 those of any other dramatist, with the single ex- 
 ception of Etheredge." Had he not by his insane 
 envy provoked the lash of Dryden, he might have 
 maintained a respectable position amongst the wri- 
 ters of a not very respectable age. But Dryden 
 had not yet done with Shad well. The success of 
 his previous satires of " Absalom and Achito- 
 phel " and the " Medal," now enhanced by " Mac- 
 Flecknoe," was rapidly followed up by a second 
 part of " Absalom and Achitophel." This was 
 published on the 10th November, 1682. The 
 brief interval that had occurred between the pub- 
 lication of " Mac-Flecknoe " and this poem could 
 have hardly given Shadwell time to have recovered 
 from his painful astonishment before he was again 
 impaled with a ten-fold severity. But it is hardly 
 necessary to criticise the second part of " Absa- 
 lom and Achitophel." The chief part of the poem 
 was written, it is said, by Dryden's suggestion, by 
 Nahum Tate, and Dryden contributed but about 
 200 verses, besides a general revision of the 
 whole. It is true that Tate's poem falls far short 
 of the original, but yet it appears to us to have 
 been more harshly judged than it deserves. The 
 subject was worn out, and the times had changed. 
 Still Dryden's portion is as vigorous as ever, and 
 the characters of Shadwell and Settle, as Og and 
 Doeg, are painted " in the liveliest colours that his 
 poignant satire could afford." Tate is so associ- 
 ated with his companion Brady in his attempt to 
 translate, or transfer into rhyme, those most per-
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. lvU 
 
 feet and (as the attempts of all others have proved) 
 most untranslatcable poems, the Psalms, that we 
 are apt to look upon him with contempt. It is 
 the fashion, therefore, to speak of this poem with 
 a sneer at Tate's portion, and a high eulogium of 
 Dryden's more vigorous interpolation. But the 
 lack of popularity that attended its publication is 
 not solely to be attributed to the flatness and 
 mediocrity of Tate ; the subject had lost its fresh- 
 ness. But while Dryden had thus condescended 
 to use the assistance of Tate, he had not himself 
 been idle. In the same month (November, 1682) 
 he published his " Religio Laici," the least popu- 
 lar of all his poems. We may, perhaps, with 
 Scott, more fitly examine the poem when we shall 
 have to contrast it with the " Hind and Panther," 
 a few years later in the poet's life. In the pre- 
 face he professes to have written it for " an inge- 
 nious young gentleman," the translator of Simon's 
 " Critical History of the Old Testament." This 
 probably is a mere excuse, and the real object was 
 political. Religious controversy, as Scott observes, 
 had mingled deeply with the party politics of the 
 reign of Charles II. The nation was divided into 
 the three great parties of Churchmen, Papists, and 
 Dissenters. The king was pressed on the one side 
 by the Duke of York and the Popish party to the 
 most desperate measures, and, on the other, " the 
 popular faction were just not in arms." It ap- 
 pears probable that Dryden availed himself of this 
 opportunity to explain the tenets and defend the 
 character of the National Church, and thus 
 strengthen his royal master's hands ; or it is not
 
 lviii THE LIFE OF DKTDEN. 
 
 impossible that he may have received a royal hint 
 or command, as upon other occasions. Johnson, 
 however, while somewhat extravagantly eulogising 
 the poem, considers it a voluntary effusion. It is 
 not necessary to suppose that the author did not 
 write from conviction, or speak his real senti- 
 ments ; it is probable that Dryden spoke what 
 was his then serious and firm belief; but this does 
 not lessen the impression that the poem was writ- 
 ten for a political purpose. It was received very 
 coldly, and, though Scott mentions a second edi- 
 tion in 1683, which he met with in Mr. Heber's 
 library, it does not appear to have been reprinted 
 during the author's lifetime. Active, however, as 
 he had been this year with his pen in political par- 
 tizanship, he found time to yield to the request of 
 his friend, Nat. Lee, to assist him in a play. Lee 
 had aided Dryden in the Tragedy of " CEdipus," 
 and now claimed the poet's promise of a requital 
 of the obligation. Their united efforts produced 
 the tragedy of the " Duke of Guise." In the 
 vindication of the play, Dryden tells us he had 
 written, so far back as 1602, a drama on the story, 
 which had been privately condemned by his friends, 
 who, while acknowledging the excellence of the 
 subject, found fault with its execution. The state 
 of affairs now, however, seemed so exact a parallel 
 to the history of the " League," that the two poets 
 naturally availed themselves of the story. Yet 
 there were points in the analogy which were likely 
 to be unpleasing to the king, who, as ever, felt 
 great love for Monmouth. The play, therefore, 
 though ready before Midsummer, was not licensed
 
 THE LIFE OF UKYUEN. lix 
 
 for representation for some months. In the mean- 
 while the king had authorized the arrest of Mon- 
 mouth at Stafford, and the Duke of York's in- 
 fluence at Court became daily stronger. At length 
 on Dec. 4, 1682, the " Duke of Guise" was re- 
 presented. It was subsequently printed, with a 
 dedication to Hyde, Earl of Rochester, subscribed 
 by both authors, but evidently the work of Dryden. 
 The play, itself, like the dedication, has a violent 
 political bias. As might be expected, it met with 
 determined resistance from the Whig party, even 
 though the king personally countenanced the re- 
 presentation. Like all Dryden's productions, too, 
 it was attacked by pampnleteers, his old anta- 
 gonist, Shadwell, amongst the rest ; and the poet 
 thought it necessary to reply in a " Vindication of 
 the Duke of Guise," in which he finally took 
 revenge upon his corpulent antagonist. Soon 
 after this he prefixed a preface and a life of 
 the author, to a new translation of Plutarch's 
 Lives, by several hands, the first volume of which 
 wns published in 1G83. It was dedicated to the 
 Duke of Ormond, the Barzillai of " Absalom and 
 Achitophel." Amongst the contributors appears 
 the illustrious name of Somers. The translation, 
 though neither close, accurate, nor elegant, has 
 not, as Mr. Mitford thinks, been superseded by 
 Langhorne's. The late Mr. A. H. Clough, a name 
 familiar to scholars, recently reproduced it in a 
 revised form. Langhorne's Plutarch, spruce and 
 finical as it is, conveys no notion of the original, 
 and is not even comparable to the refreshing and 
 noble version of old Sir Thomas North, in Eliza-
 
 lx THE LIFE OF DETDEN. 
 
 bethan days, who avowedly translated from the 
 French of Amyot. 
 
 About the same time, at the king's express com- 
 mand, he translated Maimbourg's "History of the 
 League," a work designedly composed to draw a 
 parallel between the Huguenots of France and the 
 Leaguers, as both equal enemies of the monarchy. 
 " The comparison," says Scott, " was easily trans- 
 ferred to the sectaries of England, and the asso- 
 ciation proposed by Shaftesbury. The work was 
 published with unusual solemnity of title-page and 
 frontispiece ; the former declaring that the trans- 
 lation was made by his majesty's command, the 
 latter representing Charles on his throne sur- 
 rounded by emblems expressive of hereditary and 
 indefeasible right. In the dedication to the king 
 are expressions of strong party violence, and even 
 ferocity. The forgiving disposition of the king, he 
 says, encouraged the conspirators. Like Antanis, 
 they rise refreshed from a simple overthrow. 
 ' These sons of earth are never to be trusted in 
 their mother element ; they must be hoisted into the 
 air, and strangled.'' " This translation was destined 
 to be the last service that Dryden was to render 
 to his royal master. Charles died, February 6, 
 1684-5. In the meanwhile, to increase his now 
 straitened circumstances, straitened through the 
 non-payment of his salary among other causes, the 
 poet had recourse to the publication of a volume 
 of Miscellanies, consisting of translations of por- 
 tions of Theocritus, Virgil, Horace, united with 
 prologues, epilogues, and some of the most beau- 
 tiful minor poems of the age. The first volume
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. lxl 
 
 of the Miscellanies, published by Tonson, appeared 
 ill 1684, and was followed at various intervals in 
 the poet's life by three others, to which the pub- 
 lisher added two more after Dryden's death. In 
 1715, Tonson published, in six volumes, a new 
 and altered edition, the one now in common use. 
 It is remarkable that the Miscellany appeared 
 without preface or dedication. We will pause at 
 the death of Charles, and endeavour to obtain some 
 insight into the poet's life at this period. A letter 
 to Laurence Hyde, Earl of Rochester, second son 
 of Lord Chancellor Clarendon, written probably 
 at the end of the year 1683, or, as Mr. Bell more 
 correctly conjectures, in the spring of 1684, gives 
 us a painful picture of Dryden's necessities and 
 neglect. Rochester was First Commissioner of 
 the Treasury, and continued such till September, 
 1684. It may, perhaps, be interesting to give the 
 letter in full. 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " I know not whether my Lord Sunderland 
 has interceded with your lordship for half a yeare of 
 my salary ; but I have two other advocates, my ex- 
 treme wants, even almost to arresting, and my ill- 
 health, which cannot be repaired without immediate 
 retireing into the country. A quarter's allowance is 
 but the Jesuit's powder to my disease ; the fit will 
 return a fortnight hence. If I durst, I would plead 
 a little merit, and some hazards of my life from the 
 common enemyes ; my refuseing advantages offered 
 by them, and neglecting my beneficiall studyes for 
 the king's service : but I only thinke I merit not to 
 sterve. I never applyed myselfe to any interest con-
 
 Ixii TIIE LIFE OF DKYDEX. 
 
 trary to your lordship's ; and on some occasions, 
 perhaps not known to you, have not been unservice- 
 able to the memory and reputation of my lord, your 
 father. After this, my lord, my conscience assures 
 me, I may write boldly, though I cannot speake to 
 you. I have three sonns growing to man's estate ; I 
 breed them all up to learning, beyond my fortune ; 
 but they are too hopeful to be neglected, though I 
 want. Be pleased to looke on me with an eye of 
 compassion. Some small employment would render 
 my condition easy. The king is not unsatisfied of 
 me ; the Duke has often promised me his assistance ; 
 and your lordship is the conduit through which they 
 passe; either in the Customes or the Appeals of the 
 Excise, or some other way, meanes cannot be want- 
 ing, if you please to have the will. Tis enough for 
 one age to have neglected Mr. Cowley, and sterved 
 Mr. Butler ; but neither of them had the happiness 
 to live till your lordship's ministry. In the meane 
 time, be pleased to give me a gracious and speedy 
 answer to my present request of halfe a yeare's pen- 
 sion for my necessityes. I am going to write some- 
 what by his majesty's command, and cannot stir into 
 the country for my health and studies, till I secure 
 my family from want. You have many petitions of 
 this nature, and cannot satisfy all ; but I hope, from 
 your goodness, to be made an exception to your 
 general rules, because I am, with all sincerity, 
 " Your lordship's 
 
 " Most obedient humble servant, 
 
 " John Dryden." 
 
 The application, to a certain extent, was suc- 
 cessful, and Mr. Bell publishes for the first time 
 a document, which throws much light on the
 
 TflE LIFE OF 3RYDEX. 
 
 lxiii 
 
 poet's history, and removes some of the suspicion 
 which attaches to his subsequent conversion to 
 Popery. It is a Treasury warrant, signed by 
 Rochester and others, and dated May 6, 1084, ad- 
 dressed to Sir Robert Howard, auditor of the Ex- 
 chequer, authorising the payment to Dryden of 
 £50, one quarter's annuity or pension (as poet 
 laureate) due at Midsummer, 1080, and also the 
 sum of £2o, being one quarter's additional an- 
 nuity by Letters of Privy Seal, due at Lady Day, 
 1080. This document Mr. Bell prints by permis- 
 sion of Mr. Charles Beville Dryden, in whose pos- 
 session it now is. Now it is clear from this paper 
 that there were upwards of four years of the 
 poet's salary as laureate in arrear, and that he 
 had also an annuity of £100 (equally in arrear) 
 granted by Charles. It is to this additional an- 
 nuity that attention should be given. Upon the 
 death of Charles, on Feb. 5, 1684-5, it might 
 have been expected that his successor would not 
 have overlooked the claims of Dryden, to whom 
 he was so greatly indebted, and to whom (as we 
 have seen in the poet's letter to Rochester) he 
 had so often promised assistance. Macaulay, 
 however, discovered that in the new patent to the 
 laureateship, rendered necessary by the demise of 
 the Crown, James had directed that the annual 
 butt of Canary should be discontinued. This was 
 only one of those petty meannesses so character- 
 istic of him. After a whole year's delay, and 
 then probably through the intercession of power- 
 ful friends at Court, Dryden's claims were recog- 
 nized by what was virtually a resumption of the
 
 lxiV THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 annuity granted by Charles. On March 4th, 
 1685-6, letters patent were granted, adding .£100 
 to his pension as laureate and historiographer, on 
 the express ground of his services to the late 
 king, as well as to James. As has been well 
 pointed out, the grant had a retrospective clause, 
 covering the whole arrears from Charles's death, 
 as the first payment was to commence from the 
 25th March preceding. Thus the patent was in 
 reality a renewal of the former lapsed gratuity. 
 Mr. Bell deserves the thanks of Dryden's admirers 
 for thus materially clearing up a point of sus- 
 picion, namely, that Dryden's conversion to Popery 
 was influenced by this pension, as a mark of 
 James's favour. It is needless to refer to Macau- 
 lay's assertion that " finding that if he continued 
 to call himself a Protestant his services would be 
 overlooked, he declared himself a Papist. The 
 king's parsimony instantly relaxed. Dryden was 
 gratified with a pension of £100 a year, and was 
 employed to defend his new religion both in prose 
 and verse." The reader will have seen the. pen- 
 sion preceded the conversion, and was clearly a 
 renewal of an act of Charles instead of a gratuity 
 on the part of James. This is only another in- 
 stance of the untrustworthiness of Macaulay as a 
 historian whenever his political passions are op- 
 posed to facts. But we have delayed too long on 
 a point to which we must shortly recur. Our 
 object was to show that at the death of King 
 Charles, Dryden, to whom his majesty and the 
 Court party were so deeply indebted for aid which 
 no other pen could have afforded, was living at
 
 TUB LIFE OF DKYDEN. lxV 
 
 the pinnacle indeed of fame, but in very straitened 
 circumstances, chiefly from the non-payment of 
 his two salaries. It is not improbable that the 
 expenses of educating his sons, and maintaining 
 his position in society, may have much enhanced 
 his difficulties, yet it cannot be denied that the 
 neglect by his party of a man of such transcendent 
 abilities is a sad reproach to the age. The appli- 
 cation, however, to Government for the small place 
 in the Excise, which was afterwards given by 
 Halifax to Addison, and similar to that held by 
 Locke, does not seem to be very degrading to a 
 man even of Dryden's position. 
 
 The death of Charles cannot be said to have 
 affected Dryden's prospects for worse. The king 
 had, indeed, always treated the poet with kind- 
 ness and promises, but the promises never seem 
 to have been fulfilled by any substantial reward. 
 While incredible sums were lavished out of the 
 public exchequer upon the royal mistresses, the 
 poor paltry stipend of the laureate was left con- 
 siderably in arrear. It is not to be wondered at, 
 then, that the accession of James was hailed by 
 Drydcn, in common with many others, with the 
 hope of better things. His pen had been fre- 
 quently employed in the Duke of York's behalf, 
 and that prince had not unfrequently promised 
 him support. The " Threnodia Augustalis " at 
 once, says Scott, paid a tribute to the memory of 
 the deceased monarch, and decently solicited the 
 attention of his successor. Having said all that 
 was decently mournful over the bier of Charles, 
 he turned his lyrics to a sounding close in praise 
 
 f
 
 \y\r\ THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 of James. The poem, though popular, and running 
 through two editions in 1685, is unworthy of 
 Dryden. He seems to have laboured at it as a 
 task ; it is cold and devoid of feeling ; yet Scott 
 thinks it has been under-rated. In the same year 
 appeared an ode to the memory of Mrs. Anne 
 Killigrew. Dr. Johnson, in one place, compares 
 it to the famous ode on St. Cecilia's Day, and, in 
 another, calls it undoubtedly the noblest ode that 
 our language has ever produced ! But Joseph 
 Warton has pronounced a very different opinion. 
 There may, indeed, be some beautiful images in 
 it, and a few fine lines, but it is greatly disfigured 
 by violent metaphors and absurd conceits. In 
 fact, we may pronounce upon it a criticism which 
 will apply pretty well to all the so-styled Pindarics 
 of the seventeenth century — they have some beau- 
 ties, but many more blemishes, and the writers 
 seem to have considered themselves at liberty to 
 indulge in the wildest extravagances, the most 
 unnatural and forced conceits, and the grossest 
 bad taste. 
 
 The new hopes of Dryden induced him to re- 
 sume the opera of " Albion and Albanius," upon 
 which he had been employed before the death of 
 Charles. Like many of his plays, it had been 
 written with a political design, to celebrate the 
 restoration of the Stuarts, their escape from the 
 Rye-house Plot, and the recent conquest over their 
 Whig opponents. Although the king had died 
 during the rehearsal of the opera, it required but 
 little to alter it. The apotheosis of Albion, and 
 the succession of Albanius to the uncontrolled
 
 T1IK LIFE OF DRYDEN. lwil 
 
 domination of a willing people, adapted it to the 
 new state of things. It was prepared for the 
 stage with great expense, and the music was 
 entrusted to Louis Grabut, the master of the king's 
 band, whom Charles preferred to Purcell. The 
 music was admitted to be very indifferent ; yet 
 Dryden, in the preface to the play, gave great 
 offence by extolling the composer, in a passage 
 which was supposed to contain an oblique reflec- 
 tion on Purcell and other English composers. A 
 strange fatality attended the play. Stopped, as 
 we have seen, by the death of Charles, it had only 
 rim five nights when the news of Monmouth's 
 landing reached London while it was being acted 
 for the sixth time. The audience immediately 
 broke up in consternation, and the piece was never 
 again repeated. It was of no service to the poet's 
 reputation, and he had to encounter the reproaches 
 of disappointed actors, who had lost considerably 
 by the expenses incurred in the representation, and 
 the gibes of angry musicians and hostile poets. 
 Scott, quoting Langbaine, mentions that one sug- 
 gested, with some humour, that probably the lau- 
 reate and Grabut had mistaken their trade ; the 
 former writing the music, and the latter the verse. 
 The opera was first acted on June 3, 1685, and 
 shortly afterwards published. Grabut published 
 the music, with a dedication to James II, in 1687. 
 The period at which we have arrived is the 
 most marked in the poet's life ; for it was shortly 
 after James's accession that Dryden became a con- 
 vert to the Roman Catholic faith. It might be 
 expected that, in an age when political and reli-
 
 Ixvil'i THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 gious feelings were deeply imbued with intense 
 party spirit, such a step on the poet's part would 
 be instantly assailed by his opponents, and the 
 most unworthy motives attributed to him. It is 
 true that he laid himself open to suspicion by 
 avowing his convictions at a juncture when they 
 would be peculiarly grateful to the new king ; for 
 James's sentiments had long been known to all. 
 But the question of Dryden's change of religion 
 has been ably discussed, and the conclusion that 
 impartial examination has arrived at is that, how- 
 ever mistaken he may have been in his views, he 
 was at least sincere and stedfast in his resolution. 
 Much misconception has arisen from the fact of 
 the renewal of his pension by James, which has 
 been treated by many as a reward and new grant 
 for his sudden resolve to embrace the doctrines of 
 the Roman Catholic communion. It has been 
 shown, however, that this grant was antedated to 
 include all the time that had elapsed while his 
 pension had been in abeyance. It would be im- 
 possible to fathom the motives that induce a man 
 to take the course which Dryden adopted. The 
 fact that the author of the " Religio Laici" should 
 so soon write the " Hind and the Panther," may 
 have astonished a past generation, but our own 
 times have exhibited equally unintelligible phases 
 of change. We have seen those who on the one 
 day have written most incontrovertible arguments 
 against the Church of Rome, on the next found in 
 the ranks of her most enthusiastic supporters. It 
 should be remembered, too, that Dryden had been 
 nurtured in Puritan principles, and though ho
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYBE.V. lxiX 
 
 never seems to have had much sympathy with the 
 opinions of his family, it is probable that he had 
 not any true acquaintance with the real principles 
 of the Church of England. This fact is not with- 
 out its significance, when we find the majority of 
 the secessions of the present day consisting of 
 those who, at one period of their lives, held similar 
 extreme views. The illiberality, not to say vul- 
 garity, of Macaulay, in applying to him the term 
 of " illustrious renegade," and saying that " he 
 knew little or cared little about religion," is suffi- 
 ciently confuted by the sincerity and stodfastness 
 with which ho adhered to his new views. He 
 educated his sons strictly in the Romish religion, 
 and sent them to Rome to confirm them in it ; 
 and in two of his letters, which are still in exist- 
 ence, he expresses the satisfaction he had, years 
 after, in his faith. The Lady Elizabeth Dryden 
 had been for some time a Roman Catholic, and 
 though, as Scott observes, she may be acquitted of 
 any share in influencing his determination, yet 
 her new faith necessarily brought into his family 
 persons both able and disposed to do so. His 
 eldest and best beloved son, Charles, is also said 
 to have been a Romanist before his father, and to 
 have contributed to his change. The step once 
 taken, like all new converts, he was zealous for 
 the propagation of his recently-adopted opinions. 
 By an entry in the Stationers' Books, made by 
 Tonson in April, 1686, it appears that he had 
 completed a translation of Varillas' History of 
 Heresies, at the express command of the king. 
 This was never published, and Burnet takes the
 
 IxX THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 credit of having stifled its appearance by his re- 
 marks on the character of Varillas as a historian. 
 One of the first acts of James, on his accession, 
 was the publication of two papers, said to have 
 been found in the strong box of the late king, and 
 in Charles's own handwriting, assigning various 
 reasons to prove that the Church of Rome was the 
 only true Church ; together with another by Anne 
 Hyde, James's first Duchess, stating the grounds 
 of her conversion to the Roman Catholic faith. 
 These were industriously circulated through the 
 kingdom. The learned Stillingfleet stood forward 
 as the champion of the Church of England, in 
 refutation of the arguments of the alleged royal 
 proselytes. In answer to Stillingfleet, appeared 
 " A Defence of the Papers written by the late king, 
 of blessed memory, and Duchess of York, against 
 the Answer made to them. By command. Lond. 
 1686." This was in three parts, and Dryden in- 
 forms us that he was concerned in the last. Its 
 tone was irritating and injudicious, and its argu- 
 ments contemptuous and insulting. Stillingfleet, 
 in his rejoinder, severely chastised the laureate, 
 and did not spare personal invective, for which, 
 indeed, Dryden's own bitterness had given him an 
 opening. Dryden did not again immediately re- 
 ply, but reserved himself for his forthcoming poem 
 of the " Hind and Panther." He was occupied at 
 the same time in translating Bouhours's " Life of 
 St. Francis Xavier," which he dedicated to the 
 Queen. Her majesty had addressed her vows to 
 this saint, according to Dryden, in hopes to secure 
 a Roman Catholic successor to the throne, and the
 
 THE LIFE OP DRYDEN. 1-XX1 
 
 allusion to this fatal insinuation, in the dedication, 
 that the birth of the young prince was owing to 
 the supernatural intercession of St. Francis Xavier, 
 was much insisted on by the Protestants as an 
 argument against the reality of his birth. The 
 work itself is interesting, and, besides the curious 
 details of the life of Xavier himself, there is 
 much interesting information as to the state of 
 India and Japan at the time of his mission. 
 Occupied as he was by his political and polemical 
 discussions, it could not be expected that Dryden 
 could find time for his general poetical studies. 
 In 1685, however, Tonson had published a second 
 volume of miscellanies, entitled "Sylvaa," to which 
 he contributed a critical preface, with various 
 translations from Virgil, Lucretius, and Theocritus, 
 and four Odes of Horace, of which the third of the 
 first book is applied to Lord Roscommon, and the 
 twenty-ninth to Hyde, Earl of Rochester. There 
 are also two poems by Evelyn. But we must re- 
 turn to the celebrated poem of the "Hind and the 
 Panther." This long and laboured production of 
 near two thousand lines had employed Dryden's 
 attention during the year 1G86, and the early part 
 of 1687. It was licensed on the 11th April, 1687, 
 and published a few days after. James's memo- 
 rable " Declaration of Indulgence" had been pro- 
 mulgated on the 4th of April. Dryden declares 
 in his preface that he had written the poem as a 
 voluntary task, and not by any one's suggestion. 
 In this assertion, Scott observes, he may be be- 
 lieved, for although it was the most earnest desire 
 of James to employ every possible mode for the
 
 lxxii THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 conversion of his subjects, there is room to believe 
 that, if the poem had been written under his 
 direction, the tone adopted by Dryden towards 
 the sectaries would have been much more mild. 
 It is a well-known point of history, that in order 
 to procure as many friends as possible to the re- 
 peal of the Test Act and penal laws against the 
 Roman Catholics, James extended indulgence to 
 the puritans and sectarian nonconformists, the 
 ancient enemies of his person, his family, and 
 monarchical establishments in general. Dryden 
 obviously was not in this court secret ; the pur- 
 pose of which was to unite those congregations 
 whom he has described under the parable of bloody 
 bears, boars, wolves, foxes, &c, in a common in- 
 terest with the Hind against the exclusive privileges 
 of the Panther and her subjects. His work was 
 written with the precisely opposite intention of 
 recommending a union between the Roman Ca- 
 tholics and the Church of England. To attain this 
 object, his purpose was to detail, in poetry, the 
 arguments which had led him into the profession 
 of the Romish faith. If, adds Scott, it was under- 
 taken without the knowledge of the Court, it was 
 calculated, on its appearance, to secure the royal 
 countenance and support. Accordingly, as soon 
 as it was published in England, a second edition 
 was thrown off at a printing-house in Holyrood 
 House, Edinburgh, then maintained for the ex- 
 press purpose of disseminating such treatises as 
 were best calculated to serve the Roman Catholic 
 cause. Much exception has been taken to the 
 fable-form of the poem, but candour compels us
 
 TIIK LIFE OP DKYDEX. lxxiii 
 
 to admit that, however clumsy the contrivance, it 
 contains some of the most beautiful lines in the 
 poet's writings. Though we may differ as to the 
 conclusions, the Romish arguments are set forth 
 with great skill, and, if they were not furnished 
 for him, they show Dryden to have acquired a 
 complete mastery over the details of his new faith. 
 Scott has ably criticised the whole poem in his 
 eleventh volume, and to that criticism we may re- 
 fer the reader who would wish to examine in full 
 the history of a poem which, to our minds, may 
 be justly reckoned amongst the finest specimens 
 of English heroic verse, and which perpetually 
 glows with rich imagery clothed in magnificent 
 language. It was not likely that the " Hind and 
 the Panther" would escape ridicule, and, accord- 
 ingly, the author became a more general object of 
 attack than he had been even on the publication 
 of " Absalom and Achitophel." 
 
 On that occasion the offence was given only to 
 a party, now his enemies were far more numerous, 
 including most of his former friends, the Tories of 
 the High Church. Amongst the earliest and most 
 prominent assailants were Charles Montague, after- 
 wards Earl of Halifax, and Matthew Prior, then a 
 student at St. John's College, Cambridge. Their 
 joint production was entitled, " The Hind and 
 Panther transversed, or the City and Country 
 Mouse," and it seems to have been published be- 
 fore 24th October, 1687. Montague is supposed 
 to have written the preface, and Prior to have 
 contributed the greater portion of the work. The 
 parody is founded on the twice-told jest of the
 
 lxxiv THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 " Rehearsal," and its temporary popularity must 
 be attributed rather to its falling in with the tide 
 of public feeling than to any inherent vigour, or 
 even wit. It is said that Dryden was much af- 
 fected by the unkindncss of this satire from two 
 young men to whom he had always been civil. 
 Montague and Prior had probably been frequenters 
 of Will's Coffee-house, where Dryden reigned 
 supreme, and where he had, perhaps, distinguished 
 them amongst the rising young wits ; but, not- 
 withstanding Dean Lockier's testimony, we can 
 hardly suppose that he shed tears at the provo- 
 cation of their satire. He surely had been too 
 much inured to personal attacks. It is possible, 
 as Mr. Mitford observes, that the story has not 
 lost as it has come down to us. Another parodier 
 published " The Revolter, a tragi-comedy, acted 
 between the Hind and Panther and Religio Laici," 
 in which he brings the doctrines of the " Religio 
 Laici" and of the " Hind and Panther" in battle 
 array against each other, and rails at the author 
 of both with the most unbounded scurrility. Four 
 letters by Matthew Clifford, of the Charter-House, 
 (who had been long dead,) containing virulent notes 
 and criticisms on Dryden's plays, were now printed, 
 with a supplementary letter from Tom Brown, en- 
 titled " Reflections on the Hind and Panther," full 
 of low buffoonery. Brown followed up his attack 
 by subsequently (1688-9) publishing " The New 
 Converts exposed ; or Reasons for Mr. Bayes chang- 
 ing his Religion." Another grossly insolent and 
 personal pamphlet was " Religio Laici," or a Lay- 
 man's Faith touching the Supreme and Infallible
 
 THE LIFE OF DItYDEtf. lxXV 
 
 Guide of the Church, hy J. R., a Convert of Mr. 
 Baycs. In Two Letters to a Friend in the Country. 
 Licensed June the 1st, 1688." In fact, Dryden was 
 assailed by a shower of libels from wretched poet- 
 asters and scurrilous satirists, who clamoured 
 against Mr. Bayes and his change of religion. 
 " The cry against our author," adds Scott, " being 
 thus general, we may reasonably suppose that he 
 would have taken some opportunity to exercise his 
 powers of retort upon those who were most active 
 or most considerable among the aggressors, and 
 that Montague and Prior stood a fair chance of 
 being coupled up with Doeg and Og, his former 
 antagonists." But if Dryden entertained any in- 
 tention of retaliation, the Revolution, which crushed 
 his rising prospects, took away both the opportu- 
 nity and inclination. From that period the fame 
 of the " Hind and Panther" gradually diminished, 
 as the controversy between Protestant and Papist 
 gave way to that between Whig and Tory. The 
 poem is said to have been written at Rushton, 
 near Huntingdon, where was an embowered walk, 
 which, from the pleasure the poet took in it, re- 
 tained the name of ' Dryden's Walk,' and here was 
 placed, about the middle of' last century, an urn 
 with the inscription, " In memory of Dryden, who 
 frequented these shades, and is here said to have 
 composed his poem of 'The Hind and Panther.' " 
 The first " Song for St. Cecilia's Day" was written 
 in this year (1687) and, having been set to music 
 by Draghi, an Italian composer, was performed on 
 the 22nd of November, the festival of the saint. 
 Scott truly observes that it has been so completely
 
 lxxvi 
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DRYDEJT. 
 
 eclipsed by the lustre of "Alexander's Feast," 
 that few readers give themselves the trouble of 
 reading it. Yet the first stanza has exquisite 
 merit, and it is perhaps only our intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the second ode that leads us to 
 undervalue the first. But Dryden's pen was now 
 zealously employed in the promulgation of his 
 new faith ; nor did it confine its efforts to poetry. 
 Probably by direction, he translated the " Life 
 of St. Francis Xavier," with a dedication to the 
 queen, who had adopted St. Francis as her tute- 
 lary saint. In this dedication occurs the first 
 hint of the possibility of her majesty giving birth 
 to a son through the intercession of St. Francis 
 Xavier ; and the same miraculous interposition of 
 the saint is specially alluded to in the poem of 
 " Britannia Rediviva," published in June, 1688, 
 within a fortnight after the birth of the prince. 
 The confident expectations of the Roman Catholics 
 that the child would prove a son, and the insinua- 
 tions of the miracle, reacted upon the Protestant 
 party, and founded in their estimation an argu- 
 ment against the reality of the child's birth. 
 However, "on the 10th of June, 1688," says 
 Scott, " the prince was born, under circumstances 
 which ought to have removed all suspicion of im- 
 posture. But these suspicions were too deeply 
 rooted in party prejudices and fears ; and it be- 
 came a distinguishing mark of a true Protestant 
 to hold for spurious the birth of a prince, which 
 took place in the presence of more people than is 
 <illicr consistent with custom or decency." Dry- 
 den, with characteristic enthusiasm, hastened to
 
 THE LIFE OF DKTDEN. l.X.wii 
 
 hail the apparently auspicious event with a new 
 poem, " Britannia Rediviva," in which, observes 
 Johnson, " nothing is very remarkable but the ex- 
 orbitant adulation, and that insensibility of the 
 precipice on which the king was then standing, 
 which the laureate apparently shared with the 
 rest of the courtiers." He might have added that 
 it exhibits a profanity which, as Mr. Bell truly 
 says, shows the indecent lengths into Avhich the 
 Roman Catholics suffered themselves to be be- 
 trayed in the ecstatic fanaticism of the hour. 
 
 Short-lived, however, were the hopes of Dryden 
 and the Romanist party. In Johnson's caustic 
 language, "A few months cured him of contro- 
 versy, dismissed him from Court, and made him 
 again a play-wright and translator." The very 
 event which he had looked to as the crown of his 
 fortunes hastened their fall. The birth of the 
 prince precipitated the long-impending revolution. 
 His religion rendered it impossible for him to re- 
 tain his Court-offices under the new government, 
 and thus in August, 1689, he was deprived of the 
 post of laureate and historiographer, while he had 
 the additional mortification of seeing his old and 
 despised opponent Shadwell installed as his suc- 
 cessor. It is said, upon the authority of Prior, 
 that Dorset, the Lord Chamberlain, feeling com- 
 punction at being compelled to dismiss his friend, 
 made him a compensation by an allowance, equi- 
 valent to his salary, from his private purse. But 
 though Dryden, in his preface to the translation 
 of Juvenal, alludes to Dorset's generosity, there 
 does not seem any truth in Prior's story. On the
 
 IxXVlii THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 contrary, Dryden, rinding his resources so reduced 
 by the loss of his official income, and the expenses 
 of providing for and educating his family increas- 
 ing, was compelled to have recourse once more to 
 the stage, which he had relinquished during the 
 reign of James, with the exception of the repre- 
 sentation of " Albion and Albanius." It is re- 
 markable that the very first play which Queen 
 Mary attended was our author's " Spanish Friar," 
 and we have incidentally mentioned the confusion 
 into which it threw her. Nor could the repre- 
 sentation have been more gratifying to the author, 
 when he reflected that his newly-adopted religion 
 was so severely satirized in the character of Father 
 Dominic. 
 
 The first new dramatic effort of his pen was the 
 tragedy of " Don Sebastian." It was elaborated 
 with much care, " not huddled up in haste," as 
 he is anxious to tell us. It is justly esteemed as 
 the chef-d'eeuvre of his plays. Scott is warm in 
 its praise ; " Shakspeare laid aside," he says, " it 
 will be, perhaps, difficult to point out a play con- 
 taining more animatory incident, impassioned lan- 
 guage, and beautiful description, than ' Don Se- 
 bastian.' The scene betwixt Dorax and the King, 
 had it been the only one ever Dryden wrote, 
 would have been sufficient to insure his immor- 
 tality. I will not dwell on the beauties of this 
 scene. If any one is incapable of relishing it, he 
 may safely conclude that nature has not merely 
 denied him that rare gift — poetical taste — but 
 common powers of comprehending the ordinary 
 feelings of humanity." But notwithstanding this
 
 l'HB LIFE OF DTiYDEN. lxxi.X 
 
 panegyric on a really masterly conception, it must 
 not be overlooked that the play contains most se- 
 rious blemishes. The plot is highly objectionable, 
 and there are expressions which we must consider 
 with abhorrence. The language of Almeyda is 
 too voluptuous to be approved, and the comic- 
 scenes are too broad. The violations of the man- 
 ners of the Mahometans are ridiculous ; and Ad- 
 dison has remarked on the absurdity of putting 
 classical allusions in their mouth, in the Guardian, 
 No. 110. " Collier complains," says Scott, " and 
 with very good reason, that in the character of 
 the mufti, Dryden has seized an opportunity to 
 deride and calumniate the priesthood of every re- 
 ligion, an opportunity which, I am sorry to say, he 
 seldom fails to use with unjustifiable inveteracy." 
 " Don Sebastian" was brought out with great 
 theatrical pomp in 1690. It was, nevertheless, 
 received with coldness, and it was not till it had 
 undergone several retrenchments and alterations 
 that it roso to favour. On its publication in the 
 same year, it was dedicated to Philip Sidney, third 
 Earl of Leicester, brother to Algernon Sidney, a 
 nobleman who, though of Whig principles, had 
 the good taste and courage to look with favour on 
 the degraded laureate. In the preface, Dryden 
 tells us that perhaps " from long disuse of writing" 
 he had made the action too long, and that the play 
 had occupied four hours in the representation. 
 Above twelve hundred lines, however, were "ju- 
 diciously lopped by Mr. Bctterton," which the 
 author restored to their place when the play was 
 printed. He mentions also having introduced
 
 l.WX TIIE LIFE OF DRYDF.X. 
 
 " some newnesses of English, translated from the 
 beauties of modern tongues, as well as from the 
 elegancies of the Latin ; and here and there some 
 old words are sprinkled, which, for their signifi- 
 cance and sound, deserved not to be antiquated ; 
 such as we often find in Sallust amongst the Ro- 
 man authors, and in Milton's ' Paradise' amongst 
 ours ; though, perhaps, the latter, instead of 
 sprinkling, has dealt them with too free a hand, 
 even sometimes to the obscuring of his sense." 
 
 In the same year he produced " Amphitryon," 
 a comedy adapted from Plautus and Moliere, which 
 has been styled " one of the happiest effusions of 
 Dryden's comic muse." Dryden, however, is in- 
 ferior to both his predecessors in the subject, as 
 he has written it down, as it were, to the taste of 
 the seventeenth century, and interlarded it with 
 gratuitous indelicacy. It was well received, and 
 long continued to be acted. Mr. Mitford, who 
 was present at its revival some years since, says 
 that, as taste has grown more capricious, or more 
 refined in modern days, not even the skill and 
 cleverness of the best comic actors could save it 
 from disgrace; the play was heard throughout 
 with impatience and dislike. Malone found 
 amongst Tonson's papers a letter and copy of 
 verses in praise of " Amphitryon," from Mil- 
 bourne, who afterwards attacked Dryden's " Vir- 
 gil" with such asperity. The play was printed and 
 dedicated, Oct. 24, 1690, to Sir William Leveson 
 Gower, another great Whig partisan. Scott thinks 
 this choice of a patron arose from Sir William's con- 
 nexion with the family of Hyde, Earl of Rochester,
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DBYDEN. lxXXl' 
 
 the poet's constant friend, but Drydcn seems to 
 have known him for many years, as he says in 
 the dedication, " the warm remembrance of your 
 noble hospitality to me at Trentham, when some 
 years ago I visited my friends and relations in 
 your country, has ever since given me a violent 
 temptation to this boldness." 
 
 In 1691, was performed the opera of " King 
 Arthur, or the British Worthy." It was originally 
 written for the conclusion of the reign of Charles 
 II., and the political masque of" Albion and Alba- 
 nius" was frequently rehearsed before him as the 
 prologue to " King Arthur." The poet had long 
 meditated an epic on the subject of" King Arthur," 
 but he laid it aside, not meeting with sufficient 
 encouragement from his royal patrons. The only 
 result of his thoughts was the present opera. It 
 had, doubtless, originally, a political tendency, 
 but for fear of giving offence to the Government, 
 " I have been obliged," he says, " so much to alter 
 the first design, and take away so many beauties 
 from the writing, that it is now no more what it 
 was formerly, than the present ship of the Royal 
 Sovereign, after so often taking down and altering, 
 is the vessel it was at the first building." We 
 learn also that he felt the difficulty of suiting his 
 poetry to the exigencies of music. Through the 
 influence of his " first and best patroness, the 
 Duchess of Monmouth," the manuscript was pe- 
 rused by Queen Mary, who was pleased to give it 
 her royal approbation. It was acted with great 
 applause, but perhaps no slight part of its success 
 was owing to the music (to use Dryden's own
 
 lxxxii THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 expression) " passing through the artful hands 
 of Mr. Purcell." The dances were composed by 
 Priest, and did not disgrace the music and poetry. 
 " I shall observe," says Mr. Mitford, " if any one, 
 conversant with the poetry of Milton, will atten- 
 tively read this play and ' Don Sebastian,' he will 
 acknowledge that Dryden had now diligently 
 studied the works of that great poet, and trans- 
 planted, with taste and judicious selection, some 
 of his fine combinations of language, and beautiful 
 expressions of thought. The lyrical dialogue be- 
 tween Cupid and the Genius, was in the recollec- 
 tion of Gray, when he wrote the ' Descent of Odin.' " 
 The opera was printed in 1691, with a dedication 
 to the Marquis of Halifax, as the friend of Charles, 
 and to whose cautious policy he ascribes the na- 
 tion's escape from a civil war, which seemed im- 
 pending in the last years of that monarch's reign. 
 " Cleomencs, or the Spartan Hero," a tragedy, 
 was the poet's next effort. On the eve of repre- 
 sentation it was prohibited. " This," observes 
 Scott, " was not very surprising, considering the 
 subject of the play, and Dryden's well-known 
 principles. The history of an exiled monarch so- 
 liciting, in the court of an ally, aid to relieve his 
 country from a foreign yoke, and to restore him 
 to the throne of his fathers, with the account of 
 a popular insurrection undertaken for the same 
 purpose, were delicate themes during the reign of 
 William III. ; at least, when the pen of Dryden 
 was to be employed in them, whose well-known 
 skill at adapting an ancient story to a modern 
 moral had so often been exercised in the cause of
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN". l.XXxiii 
 
 the house of Stuart." It would seem, however, 
 that the influence of Hyde, Earl of Rochester, 
 uncle to the Queen, procured a reversal of this 
 award against a play which was really inoffensive. 
 But notwithstanding the curiosity and excitement 
 which must have arisen from the Chamberlain's 
 prohibition, the play met with an indifferent re- 
 ception, which must be ascribed to the insipidity 
 of the plot. By reason of Dryden's illness, it 
 would seem that half of the last act was entrusted 
 to Southerne for composition. Dryden printed it 
 with a dedication to Lord Rochester. In the pre- 
 face he mentions that he had sketched out the 
 subject seven or eight years previously, and had 
 spoken about it to Lord Falkland at the time ; 
 that he had forgotten this latter circumstance till 
 his lordship did him the good office of represent- 
 ing at court that he knew it had been long ago 
 designed. To the printed copy was also prefixed 
 a " Life of Cleomenes," translated from Plutarch 
 by Creech, " to whom the world," says Dryden, 
 " has been indebted for his excellent version of 
 Lucretius, and I particularly obliged in his trans- 
 lation of Horace." It may here be passingly re- 
 marked, that Dryden's scurrilous libellers con- 
 stantly asserted that, envious of the reputation 
 acquired by Creech in his translation of Lucretius, 
 he urged him to attempt a version of Horace, a 
 task for which he was totally unfit ; and that he 
 afterwards expressed such a contempt for the 
 version as to drive poor Creech to melancholy and 
 suicide. It might appear hardly necessary to re- 
 fute such a calumny, ridiculous as it seems, but
 
 1XXX1V TB.E LIFE OF DEYDEN. 
 
 it was very industriously circulated. The above 
 testimony, however, of Dryden, and the fact that 
 Creech dedicated the second edition of his trans- 
 lation of Horace to Dryden, are surely sufficient 
 proofs of the falsehood of the scandal. " Cleo- 
 menes" was acted and published in 1692, and 
 Dryden specially mentions the acting of Mrs. 
 Barry. We should, perhaps, notice that in a pe- 
 cuniary point, Dryden's return to the drama was 
 attended with little success, for he tells us in the 
 preface to this play, " The subsistence which I had 
 from the former Government is lost ; and the 
 reward I have from the stage is so little, that it 
 is not worth my labour." His last play, " Love 
 Triumphant; or Nature will Prevail,"* a tragi- 
 comedy, was acted in 1693. In a curious letter, 
 preserved by Malone, dated March 1693-4, the 
 writer tells us, " it was damned by the universal 
 cry of the town, nemine contradicente but the 
 conceited poet. He says in his prologue that this 
 is the last the town must expect from him ; he 
 had done himself a kindness, had he taken his 
 leave before." Though written in an ill-natured 
 spirit, there can be no doubt of the truth of this 
 criticism. It is confessedly, with, perhaps, the 
 exception of "Amboyna," the worst of his dramas. 
 Mr. Mitford thinks it not improbable that, in the 
 hard necessities of his later days, he might have 
 produced " a piece written in earlier life, and 
 which had been deservedly neglected by him while 
 
 * Mr. Bell has printed some very interesting letters from 
 Dryden to Walsh, in one of which Dryden mentions that he 
 thought of calling his play "Love Triumphant ; or Nei- 
 ther Side to Blame."
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DKYDFN. LXXXV 
 
 the full vigour and luxuriance of his genius sup- 
 plied him without difficulty." "The plot," he 
 adds, " turns on the indulgence of that incestuous 
 passion on which the genius of Dryden seemed to 
 look without a sufficient consideration of its offen- 
 sive nature." In the dedication to James, fourth 
 Earl of Salisbury, a kinsman of Lady Elizabeth, 
 the poet commends to his care this last production 
 of his dramatic muse with no hint of its want of 
 success on the stage, but rather with a commenda- 
 tion of its proprieties, which might set the critics 
 at defiance. Thus, having held possession of the 
 stage for thirty years, from 1664-94, during which 
 time his fertility of invention had bestowed on it 
 no less than twenty-seven plays, he closed his 
 career as he had commenced it, with ill-success — 
 " a fact," adds Scott, " which may secure the in- 
 experienced author from despondence, and teach 
 him who has gained reputation, how little he 
 ought to presume on its stability." 
 
 The composition of the four plays with which 
 he closed his dramatic career after the Revolution 
 had probably left him little leisure for other lite- 
 rary employment. He had mentioned in his pre- 
 face to Cleomenes that Polybius, a favourite 
 author with him, had been translated, and upon 
 the appearance of the version, which was by his 
 friend Sir Henry Shere, in 1692, he prefixed a 
 character of the author and his writings. In the 
 same year he published, in a folio volume, a trans- 
 lation of Juvenal and Persius. In this work he 
 was assisted by his two sons, Congreve, Creech, 
 Tate, and others. The translations of the first,
 
 l.KXXvi THE LIFE OF DItYDEIT. 
 
 third, sixth, tenth, and fifteenth satires of Juvenal 
 are by his hand. The volume was prefaced by his 
 celebrated Essay on Satire, addressed to Charles 
 Earl of Dorset, the Lord Chamberlain, to whom he 
 was indebted for much personal kindness on losing 
 his office of laureate, though, probably, not to the 
 extent of Prior's story. This essay is one of the 
 most interesting and valuable of his prose works. 
 " The general character," says Johnson, " of this 
 translation will be given, when it is said to pre- 
 serve the wit, but to want the dignity, of the 
 original." He might have added that Dryden 
 seems to have delighted in exceeding the grossness 
 of his author in those satires which fell to his 
 share. The thirteenth, which was the work of 
 Creech, meets with Johnson's approbation on the 
 score of grandeur. The version of Persius appears 
 to him " to have been written merely for wages, 
 in an uniform mediocrity, without any eager en- 
 deavour after excellence, or laborious effort of the 
 mind." " By nature," says Gifford, " Dryden was 
 eminently gifted as a translator of Persius. He 
 had much of his austerity of manner and close- 
 ness of reasoning ; yet, by some unaccountable 
 obliquity, he missed those characteristic qualities 
 so habitual to him, and made the poet flippant 
 and inconsequential." Yet, though now little 
 read, Dryden's translations of Juvenal and Persius 
 contain passages which " will never be excelled." 
 
 Dryden's " critical empire over literature," as 
 Scott styles it, if it had been temporarily in abey- 
 ance by the mischances of his political party, was 
 now completely restored, and he had resumed that
 
 TUE LIFE OF DRY DEN. lx.XXvii 
 
 sort of authority in Will's Coffee-house, to which 
 we had occasion to allude before the Revolution. 
 " His supremacy, indeed, seems to have been so 
 effectually established that a ' pinch out of Dry- 
 den's snuff-box ' was equal to taking a degree in 
 that academy of wit." The asperities engendered 
 by his change of religion had been softened 
 down ; and this, with the growing dislike of all 
 parties to the new Government, brought about a 
 reconciliation between him and some of his kins- 
 men, particularly with his cousin, John Driden, of 
 Chesterton, with whom, from about this period till 
 his death, he lived on terms of uninterrupted 
 friendship. It was, doubtless, the universal fame 
 to which he had now been restored which induced 
 the Earl of Abingdon to engage him to compose a 
 tribute to the memory of his wife, who had died 
 suddenly in a ball-room in her own house, just 
 prepared for an entertainment, on May 31st, 1691. 
 He does not seem to have complied with the re- 
 quest for many months, and mentions as excuse 
 " ill health, some business, and many troubles." 
 The poem, " Eleonora," was published in 1692. 
 Notwithstanding the poet's protest, in the dedica- 
 tion, that he " swam with the tide," and was 
 borne along by the subject, it is evident that the 
 work was essentially a set task. It would seem 
 that he neither knew the lord nor the lady, and 
 though the leading features of the lady's character 
 were doubtless pointed out to him, " the poem," 
 as Scott says, " resembles rather an abstract pane- 
 gyric on an imaginary being than an elegy on a 
 real character." The earl is said to have rewarded
 
 Ixxxviii the life of dkyden. 
 
 the poet with a gift of 500 guineas. In July, 
 1693, appeared a third volume of " Tonson's Mis- 
 cellany." To this Dryden contributed the first, 
 and part of the ninth and sixteenth books of 
 Ovid's Metamorphoses, the Parting of Hector and 
 Andromache, from the Iliad, and a few songs. 
 He prefixed the dedication to Lord Radclyffe, 
 eldest son of the Earl of Derwentwater. From 
 an interesting letter of the poet to Tonson, written 
 from Northamptonshire in August, 1693, it would 
 seem that the bookseller was disappointed in his 
 expectations from Lord Radclyffe's patronage, and 
 from the same letter it appears that the Queen 
 had taken offence at some expressions in the dedi- 
 cation, and had commanded Rymer to attack Dry- 
 den's plays ; but, though the poet " doubted not 
 his malice " from a former hint of Tonson's, it 
 does not seem that the breach ever became wider. 
 With reference to this Miscellany, there is extant 
 an amusing letter from Tonson to Dryden, in 
 which the bookseller makes a most mercantile 
 expostulation with the poet for having offered six 
 hundred lines to another publisher for twenty 
 guineas, and yet giving him only 1446 lines for fifty 
 guineas ! In 1693, Congreve's " Double Dealer " 
 was acted, but with little success. Upon this 
 occasion Dryden addressed him, in the Epistle, 
 " to my dear friend, Mr. Congreve," which con- 
 tains the affecting lines committing the charge of 
 his posthumous fame to him. Congreve, though 
 only twenty-six years of age, had won the esteem 
 of Dryden. In the letter to Tonson, above quoted, 
 Dryden says, " I am Mr. Congreve's true lover,
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 1XXX1X 
 
 and desire you to tell him how kindly I take his 
 often remembrances of me. I wish him all pro- 
 sperity, and hope I shall never lose his affection;" 
 and in the dedication to the third Miscellany ho 
 speaks in the highest terms of Congreve's literary 
 powers. His affection was not misplaced, as Con- 
 greve has left us the well-known beautiful tribute 
 to the memory of his deceased friend, in the 
 preface to the collected edition of Dryden's dra- 
 matic works. Tonson published a fourth volume 
 of Miscellanies in 1694, to which Dryden only 
 contributed a version of the Third Georgic, and an 
 epistle to Sir Godfrey Kneller in return for a copy 
 of the Chandos portrait of Shakespeare. It may 
 be interesting to know that Kneller's picture is now 
 at Wentworth, the scat of Earl Fitz William. It is 
 hardly necessary to remind the reader that the 
 original is now, through the munificence of tho 
 late Earl of Ellesmere, in the National Portrait 
 Gallery ; when Kneller copied it, it was in the 
 possession of Betterton, the actor. Dryden now 
 had resolved to concentrate his energies on tho 
 great task of translating Virgil. In a letter to 
 Walsh, dated December 12th, 1693 (printed by 
 Mr. Bell from the original in the possession of Sir 
 Thomas Phillips) he says : — " I have undertaken 
 to translate all Virgil ; and as an essay, have already 
 paraphrased the Third Georgic as an example ; it 
 will be published in Tonson's next Miscellanies, in 
 Hilary Term. I propose to do it by subscription; 
 having an hundred and two brass cuts with the 
 coat of arms of the subscriber to each cut ; every 
 subscriber to pay five guineas, half in hand ; besides
 
 XC THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 another inferior subscription of two guineas for the 
 rest, whose names are only written in a catalogue 
 printed with the book." In speaking of the diffi- 
 culties of a translation of Virgil, Johnson says : — 
 " All these obstacles Dryden saw, and all these he 
 determined to encounter. The expectation of his 
 work was undoubtedly great : the nation considered 
 its honour as interested in the event. One gave 
 him the different editions of his author, another 
 helped him in the subordinate parts. The argu- 
 ments of the several books were given him by 
 Addison." To Malone's industry, or what Scott 
 styles " pious enthusiasm " we are indebted for 
 the following particulars : " Mr. Gilbert Dolben 
 gave him the various editions of his author ; Dr. 
 Knightley Chetwode furnished him with the life 
 of Virgil, and the preface to the Pastorals ; and 
 Addison supplied the arguments of the several 
 books, and an essay on the Georgics. The first 
 lines of this great poet which he translated, he 
 wrote with a diamond on a pane of glass in 
 one of the windows of Chesterton House, in 
 Huntingdonshire, the residence of his kinsman 
 and namesake, John Driden, Esq.* The version 
 of the first Georgic, and a great part of the last 
 ^Eneid, was made at Denham Court in Bucking- 
 hamshire, the seat of Sir William Bowyer, Bart., 
 and the seventh iEneid was translated at Burghley, 
 the noble mansion of the Earl of Exeter." It ap- 
 pears that there were one hundred and one sub- 
 scribers of the first set, or those who paid five 
 
 * Chesterton House was pulled clown, for the sake of the 
 materials, in 1807,
 
 THE LIFE OF URYDKN. XC1 
 
 guineas, and two hundred and fifty at two guineas 
 each. Besides these, Dryden received from Tonson* 
 fifty pounds for each book of the Georgics and 
 ./Eneid, and probably the same for the Pastorals 
 collectively. Scott has calculated that, deducting 
 the expense of the engravings (though these were 
 only the plates used for Ogilby's Virgil, retouched) 
 and Tonson's charges for the copies delivered to 
 the subscribers, the poet received about =£1200 or 
 £1300, " a trifling sum when compared with what 
 Pope received for the Iliad, which was certainly 
 between =£5000 and £6000, yet great in propor- 
 tion to what the age of Dryden had ever afforded 
 as an encouragement to literature." The real 
 work at the translation commenced, probably, in 
 the spring of 1694, and some of the correspondence 
 between the author and publisher, during its pro- 
 gress, is still extant. In one of these letters Dryden 
 observed that it woidd require seven years to trans- 
 late Virgil exactly, yet the work was accomplished 
 in less than half that time. The Eclogues had been 
 printed in the first Miscellany ; and in their re- 
 translation, the poet availed himself of the labours 
 of some of his co-adjutors, though not to any great 
 extent. The Third Georgic, as we have seen, had 
 been already prepared. The earlier books of the 
 ^Eneid seem to have been translated with rapidity, 
 probably under pecuniary pressure, as three days 
 
 * So says Scott ; but I think it appears clear from Dry den's 
 correspondence with Tonson, that he received £50 upon the 
 completion of every two books, which would reduce the copy- 
 money to £25 a book. See Scott's Dryden, vol. xviii. 
 Letters xii., XV., xix.
 
 XCU THE LIFE OF DBYDEN. 
 
 after the completion of the fourth book, we find 
 him writing to Tonson, " the paying Ned Sheldon 
 the .£50 put me upon this speed ; but I intend not 
 so much to overtoil myself after the sixth book is 
 ended. If the second subscriptions rise, I will take 
 so much the more time, because the profit will 
 encourage me the more ; if not, I must make the 
 more haste ; yet always with as much care as I am 
 able. But, however, I will not fail in my pains 
 of translating the sixth ^Eneid with the same ex- 
 actness as I have performed the fourth, because 
 that book is my greatest favourite." 
 
 At this period of the work, a quarrel arose be- 
 tween the poet and the publisher, which temporarily 
 interrupted a more than ordinarily friendly intimacy. 
 The poet, perhaps, with the true instinct of the 
 genus irritabile, placed more than a mercantile value 
 upon his productions, and felt annoyed at the 
 cautious and calculating steps of the somewhat 
 penurious tradesman, and thus he writes : — " Some 
 kind of intercourse must be carried on betwixt us, 
 while I am translating Virgil. Therefore I give 
 you notice that I have done the seventh iEneid in 
 the country,* and intend, some few days hence, to 
 go upon the eighth. When that is finished, I ex- 
 pect <£50 in good silver, not such as I have had 
 formerly. I am not obliged to take gold, neither 
 will I ; nor stay for it beyond four-and-twenty hours 
 after it is due. . . I thank you for the civility of your 
 last letter in the country ; but the thirty shillings 
 upon every book remains with me. You always 
 
 * At Burghley House, near Stamford, the seat of the Earl 
 of Exeter.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XC111 
 
 intended I should get nothing by the second sub- 
 scriptions, as I found from first to last. And your 
 promise to Mr. Congreve, that you had found a way 
 for my benefit, which was an encouragement to my 
 pains, came at last, for me to desire Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller, and Mr. Closterman, to gather for me. I 
 then told Mr. Congreve that I knew you too well to 
 believe you meant me any kindness ; and he pro- 
 mised me to believe accordingly of you if you did 
 not. But this is past ; and you shall have your 
 
 bargain, if I live and have my health 1 
 
 desire neither excuses nor reasons from you, for I 
 am but too well satisfied already. The notes and 
 prefaces shall be short, because you shall get the 
 more by saving paper." It may be necessary to 
 explain one or two passages in this letter. Con- 
 greve appears (from a former letter) to have been 
 present as a common friend in an interview between 
 Dryden and Tonson, on the terms of the work. 
 Tonson seems to have made some deductions in the 
 collection of the second, or two guinea, subscrip- 
 tions, hence Dryden asked Kneller and Closterman, 
 the portrait-painters of the day, whose intercourse 
 with the higher and wealthier classes of society 
 would give them the opportunity, to collect for him. 
 The ironical sneer, " for the saving of paper," was 
 at Tonson's refusal to make any additional payment 
 for annotations. In a subsequent letter, however, 
 he says — " I am not sorry that you will not allow 
 anything towards the notes, for to make them 
 good would have cost me half a year's time at 
 least." The public, also, may not be sorry at old 
 Jacob's obduracy, as, judging from the specimen of
 
 XC1V THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 the notes to Juvenal and Persius, we have sustained 
 no loss in the omission of those on Virgil. It has 
 been thought that Dryden was much annoyed at 
 this time by a wish on Tonson's part that the 
 great work should be dedicated to King William. 
 This was peremptorily (and much to his honour) 
 refused by the poet. The publisher, however, had 
 evidently hoped that the difficulty might be sur- 
 mounted, as "he had an especial care to make the 
 engraver aggravate the nose of ^Eneas in the plates 
 into a sufficient resemblance of the hooked pro- 
 montory of the deliverer's countenance."* It 
 would be well if he took no more unjustifiable 
 means to further his views ; but Dryden, in a letter 
 to his sons at Rome, says — " I am of your opinion 
 that, by Tonson's means, almost all our letters 
 have miscarried for this last year. But, however, 
 he has missed of his design in the dedication, 
 though he had prepared the book for it ; for in 
 every figure of JEneas, he has caused him to be 
 drawn like King William, with a hooked nose." 
 It is pleasing to find this proof of Dryden's integrity 
 of purpose, political and religious. There are two 
 or three stories current, which, if not apocryphal, 
 may be ascribed to this period. Upon one occa- 
 
 * Scott. This gave rise to the well-known epigram : — 
 
 " Old Jacob, by deep judgment sway'd, 
 To please the wise beholders, 
 Has placed old Nassau's hook-nosed head 
 On young ^Eneas' shoulders. 
 
 " To make the parallel hold tack, 
 Methinks there's little lacking; 
 One took his father pick-a-pack, 
 And t'other sent his packing."
 
 Till'. LIFE OF DKYDEN. XCV 
 
 sion, we arc told, Dryden, incensed at sonic refusal 
 of accommodation on Tonson's part, sent him 
 three oft- quoted coarse lines, descriptive of his 
 personal appearance : — 
 
 " With leering looks, bull-faced, and freckled fair, 
 With two left legs, and Judas-coloured hair, 
 And frowsy pores, that taint the ambient air." 
 
 " Tell the dog," said the poet to the messenger, 
 " that he who wrote these can write more." lint 
 Tonson was perfectly satisfied with the triplet. Dr. 
 Johnson gives another anecdote : " Lord Boling- 
 broke, who in his youth had cultivated poetry, 
 related to Dr. King, of Oxford, that one day when 
 he visited Dryden, they heard, as they were con- 
 versing, another person entering the house. ' This,' 
 said Dryden, ' is Tonson. You will take care not 
 to depart before he goes away, for I have not com- 
 pleted the sheet which I promised him ; and if you 
 leave me unprotected, I must suffer all the rude- 
 ness to which his resentment can prompt his 
 tongue.' " There is certainly an air of improba- 
 bility about this story, for we do not discover from 
 the only source of real information, their corres- 
 pondence, any appearance of rudeness in Tonson, 
 nor, what is more to the purpose, any disposition 
 to timidity on Dryden's part. Whatever may have 
 been the cause of their quarrel, it does not appear 
 to have lasted long, for in a letter mentioning that 
 he had but four more books to finish, the poet 
 contents himself with a growl : " Upon trial I find 
 all of your trade are sharpers, and you not more 
 than others, therefore I have not wholly left you. 
 
 Get the first half of Virgil transcribed as
 
 XCV1 THE LIFE OF DRTDEK. 
 
 soon as you possibly can, that I may put the notes 
 to it ; and you may have the other four books 
 which lye ready for you when you bring the former; 
 that the press may stay as little as it possibly can. 
 
 Having no silver by me, I desire my Lord 
 
 Derby's money, deducting your own. And let it 
 be good, if you desire to oblige me, who am not 
 your enemy, and may be your friend, John Dryden." 
 During the progress of his Virgil, Dryden found 
 time " to borrow two months," as he says, to make a 
 prose translation of Du Fresnoy's " Art of Paint- 
 ing." This work, he tells us, was recommended 
 to him by " many of our most skilful painters, and 
 other artists," who assisted him in those portions 
 which referred to the terms of art. Malone has, 
 with great probability, conjectured that these 
 friends were Sir Godfrey Kneller and Closterman, 
 who had been active in procuring subscriptions for 
 his Virgil. The version was printed in 1695, and 
 Dryden prefixed a " Parallel of Poetry and Paint- 
 ing," the work (as he tells us in the conclusion) of 
 twelve mornings. It was republished in 1716 by 
 Richard Graham, corrected, in those passages where 
 Dryden had erred, by Jervas the painter, and con- 
 taining Pope's beautiful epistle to Jervas. A " Life 
 of Lucian," for a translation of his works by Sir 
 Henry Shere, Walter Moyle, Charles Blount, and 
 others, is also ascribed to this period of Dryden's 
 literary life, but it was probably written a year or 
 two earlier, as he speaks of Blount as living, who, 
 according to Scott, committed suicide in August 
 1603. This version was not published till 1711, 
 and, though he executed no part of the translation,
 
 THE LIFE OF DKYDEX. XCV11 
 
 still retains the title of " Dryden's Lucian." At 
 length, in July, 1G97, the Virgil was published. 
 It had been eagerly expected, and so rapid was 
 the sale, that a second impression was called for 
 early in the next year. " It satisfied," says 
 Johnson, " his friends, and, for the most part, 
 silenced his enemies." There were not wanting, 
 however, some cavillers. Amongst these the most 
 conspicuous were Swift, and Luke Milbourne, a 
 clergyman of Yarmouth. Swift, who was a dis- 
 tant connection of the poet, had been nettled at a 
 criticism of Dryden's on some early efforts of his 
 muse, in which he is said to have remarked, 
 " Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet." Mil- 
 bourne's self-sufficiency has pilloried him for all 
 ages. Swift levelled a bitter sarcasm at the poet 
 for the triple dedication of the Pastorals, Georgics, 
 and JEneid, to three several patrons, Lords Clifford, 
 Chesterfield, and Mulgrave. This " ceconomy of 
 flattery, at once lavish and discreet," as Johnson 
 styles it, has been much animadverted on, but it 
 was a not infrequent custom of the age, and, after 
 all, is not a very great sin against good taste. On 
 this magnificent effort of genius, Pope's verdict on 
 which, " the most noble and spirited translation 
 that I know in any language," stands still unre- 
 versed, it would appear presumptuous to pass a 
 criticism. It may be faulty in many respects, it 
 may be licentious in parts, it may not thoroughly 
 represent the original. It should be remembered 
 (though this ought not to be excused) that it was 
 written under pressure, and that the author had 
 not the finished and exact scholarship of the 
 
 h
 
 XCV111 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 present day, but though many a more accomplished 
 Latinist has attempted the task, it may, without 
 undue partiality, be asserted that the grandeur of 
 " Dryden's Virgil " (as his satirist Swift sneeringly 
 calls it) has never yet been approached. " That 
 book is good in vain," says Johnson, " which the 
 reader throws away. He only is the master, who 
 keeps the mind in pleasing captivity ; whose pages 
 are perused with eagerness, and in hope of new 
 pleasure are perused again ; and whose conclusion 
 is perceived with an eye of sorrow, such as the 
 traveller casts upon departing day. By his pro- 
 portion of this predomination I will consent that 
 Dryden should be tried : of this, which, in oppo- 
 sition to reason, makes Ariosto the darling and 
 the pride of Italy ; of this, which, in defiance of 
 criticism, continues Shakespeare the sovereign of 
 the drama." Some readers may, however, wish 
 to have a critical opinion on this great work, and 
 to such the following remarks of an elegant and 
 accomplished scholar, the late Rev. John Mitford, 
 may not be uninteresting : — 
 
 " Dr. Johnson has spoken of the merits of this 
 translation, though he has not entered into a 
 critical exposition of its beauties; but as it seems 
 to have united the suffrage of the critics, and the 
 approbation of the public, I shall just observe that 
 while I confess it to possess many and various ex- 
 cellencies, while I believe that it has enriched our 
 language with new forms of expression, and new 
 modulations of verse, I do not think that it ade- 
 quately represents the peculiar beauties of the 
 original poem. Dryden docs not seem fully aware
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DRYDEN. XC1X 
 
 of what has been well called ' the rich occonomy ' 
 of Virgil's expression, the exquisite structure and 
 magic of his words, to attain which he has pushed 
 the power of his language to the extreme verge of 
 its structure, and transplanted those graces from 
 its parent tongue which his native idiom did not 
 supply ; nor has Dryden kept in mind, that he who 
 treads in the footsteps of the Roman poet must not 
 deviate without error from the path that has been 
 prescribed.* Hence the grace, the fineness of touch, 
 the tender bloom, of Virgil's language is lost ; and 
 that finished and innate delicacy of taste which 
 seemed instinctively to feel how to arrange the 
 rich materials which it had collected, and which 
 presents all that is appropriate and all that is 
 select ;f which admits no figure into its composi- 
 tion that does not produce the intended effect; 
 this cannot with justice be said to have been suc- 
 cessfully attained by the translator. Almost every 
 epic poem has its own peculiar level from which it 
 rises, its own presiding tone of diction. The style 
 of Virgil is elegant, ornamented, and graceful, 
 giving him scope to make gentle descents on the 
 wing, or occasionally to soar, without unnatural 
 
 * Dryden lias not attended sufficiently to the tenses used 
 by Virgil ; while Pope is particularly defective in rendering 
 the force of the particles used by Homer : indeed, he seems 
 almost entirely to have neglected them, to the great detri- 
 ment of his translation. 
 
 •j- "Virgil's great distinctive excellence is delicacy of sen- 
 timent and expression, joined to the most consummate 
 technical skill, and just feeling in dressing out every cir- 
 cumstance or incident that he employs ; but in the appropri- 
 ation of those incidents or circumstances he is less happy." — 
 P. Knight on Taste, p. 312.
 
 C THE LTFK OF DRYDEN. 
 
 effort, into the higher regions of imaginative 
 creation ; while his language has such a trans- 
 parent and crystal clearness, as to reflect with 
 precision every image deposited within it. In 
 awakening the finer sensibilities, in delineating 
 the movement of the varying passions, in portray- 
 ing the deep emotions of the heart, Dryden always 
 failed, and such power here was imperiously de- 
 manded ; yet we must allow that the general 
 character of his poem is dignified, majestic, and 
 harmonious, that it flows on ' with varied sweet- 
 ness and with varied force,' that it possesses many 
 passages of surprising vigour and energy, and 
 examples of versification splendid and successful. 
 Perhaps, as he himself suspected, he should have 
 chosen an author of a different kind : perhaps, 
 under any skill or talent, our language cannot 
 reflect the exquisite beauties of the original. 
 Certainly it must be said, that no one has yet 
 eclipsed the fame which Dryden has so long 
 enjoyed." 
 
 It may surely be numbered amongst the memo- 
 rabilia of literature that in the same year that he 
 published his Virgil, Dryden composed his immortal 
 Ode for St. Cecilia's da}-, " Alexander's Feast, or the 
 Power of Music." In September, 1697, he writes 
 to his sons at Rome, " I am writing a song for St. 
 Cecilia's Feast, who, you know, is the patroness 
 of music. This is troublesome, and no way beneficial ; 
 but I could not deny the stewards, who came in 
 a body to my house to desire that kindness, one of 
 them being Mr. Bridgeman, whose parents are 
 your mother's friends." Derrick, on the authority
 
 THE LIFB OF IiKVUKX. CI 
 
 of Walter Moyle, says that the Society paid i'lo 
 to Dryden for this Ode. It was set to music by 
 Jeremiah Clarke, one of the stewards, some of 
 wlwsc anthems are still sung in our cathedrals, 
 and whose melancholy suicide is detailed by 
 Malone. It seems that Clarke's composition was 
 not deemed worthy of publication. The musical 
 reader, however, need not be reminded that the 
 " Ode," as set by Handel, waffperformed atCovent 
 ( rarden on February 19, 1735-6, when the receipts 
 amounted to no less than <£450.* From the letter 
 to his sons, above quoted, it would appear that 
 Dryden was occupied some time in writing the 
 Ode, and Dr. Birch tells us (upon authority which 
 cannot now be verified) that he was almost a fort- 
 night " composing and correcting it." On the 
 other hand, the well-known anecdote of St. John's 
 (afterwards Lord Bolingbroke) interview with 
 Dryden would seem to intimate that it was the 
 work of a single night. " Mr. St. John (after- 
 wards Lord Bolingbroke) happening to pay a 
 morning visit to Dryden, whom he always re- 
 spected, found him in an unusual agitation of 
 spirits, even to a trembling. On inquiring the 
 cause, ' I have been up all night,' replied the old 
 bard ; ' my musical friends made me promise to 
 write them an Ode for their Feast of St. Cecilia. 
 I have been so struck with the subject which 
 occurred to me, that I could not leave it till I had 
 completed it: here it is, finished atone sitting.'" 
 Scott has ingeniously endeavoured to reconcile 
 these statements, but we think that Dryden's own 
 
 * See Burney's History of Music, iv. 391.
 
 Cll THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 letter is the better evidence of his long meditation 
 over the subject. The Festival of St. Cecilia was 
 celebrated on November 22, and yet we find the 
 poet telling his sons two months previously of his 
 commencement of the work. It is not improbable 
 that he wrote off the conception in one night, 
 nnd there is every appearance of rapidity in its 
 inspiration ; but that it was completed and finished 
 at one sitting, as the Bolingbroke anecdote would 
 have us believe, is not so clear. One does not like 
 to disturb a pleasing tradition, yet we are afraid 
 that St. John's testimony, on this, as on a former 
 occasion, appears to bear but little evidence of 
 truth. Johnson, who speaks of this Ode as " ex- 
 hibiting the highest flight of fancy, and the exactest 
 nicety of art," and says that " it is allowed to 
 stand without a rival," still fancies that he can 
 find traces of negligence and haste from " some of 
 the lines being without corresponding rhymes ;" a 
 defect which he " never detected but after an ac- 
 quaintance of many years, and which the enthusiasm 
 of the writer might hinder him from perceiving." 
 It is singular that Mr. Bell should assent to this, 
 as he styles it, " curious discovery made by Dr. 
 Johnson." If the reader would carefully examine 
 the poem, it would be found no such defect exists, 
 further than what is perfectly legitimate in the 
 irregularity of a lyric written for musical adapta- 
 tion. Though Clarke's music was not successful, 
 the applause which greeted Dryden's poetry was 
 universal. In a letter to Tonson, of the date, 
 probably, of December. 1007, the poet writes, " I 
 am glad to hear from all hands that my Ode is
 
 TTIF, LIFE OF imYDEN. Clll 
 
 esteemed the best of all my poetry, by all the (own. 
 I thought so myself when 1 writ it; but being old 
 I mistrusted my own judgment. I hope it has 
 done you service, and will do more." From 
 this last sentence it would seem that the Ode was 
 published shortly after its composition, a fact which 
 is corroborated bj* a passage in another letter to 
 Tonson apparently written about the same time, 
 as in both are allusions to the corrections for the 
 second impression of the Virgil. In the latter 
 letter, he says, " Dr. Chetwode claims my promise 
 of the Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, which I desire you 
 to send him (according to the Parliament phrase) 
 forthwith." Notwithstanding this evidence, I 
 cannot discover any impression of the Ode earlier 
 than that printed in the " Fables," 1700. In the 
 letter to his sons, written from Denham Court, in 
 September, 1697, Dryden says, " After my return 
 to town, I intend to alter a play of Sir Robert 
 Howard's, written long since, and lately put by 
 him into my hands ; 'tis called the ' Conquest of 
 China by the Tartars.' It will cost six weeks' 
 study, with the probable benefit of an hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 Howard, probably, gave the play to his brother- 
 in-law for this purpose. Dryden, though he seems 
 to have entered upon the design, never completed 
 it. He writes to Tonson, " I have broken off my 
 studios from the ' Conquest of China,' to review 
 Virgil, and bestowed nine entire days upon him. 
 You may have the printed copy you sent me to- 
 morrow morning, if you will come for it yourself; 
 for the printer is a beast, and understands nothing
 
 CIV TIIE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 1 can say to him of correcting the press." The 
 new edition of the Virgil (the second impression 
 of the folio) appeared in 1698. The " revisal" of 
 Howard's play was never resumed. We are now 
 approaching the last period of the labours of the 
 great poet. On the conclusion of his Virgil and 
 the production of his far-famed Ode, it is said 
 that he turned his eyes to Homer. It is not impro- 
 bable that such might have been the case, as in a 
 letter to Charles Montague, afterwards Earl of 
 Halifax, dated, by Malone, October, 1699, he 
 certainly mentions such an intention. At present, 
 however, he employed himself in the composition 
 of the poems from Chaucer and Boccacio, which 
 were published under the title of the " Fables." 
 Yet the leisure of his last years was not to be un- 
 disturbed by controversy. In 1698, Jeremy Collier, 
 a nonjuring clergyman, and the author of the well- 
 known " Ecclesiastical History," and some volumes 
 of " Essays," published " A Short View of the 
 Immorality of the Stage," and singled out the 
 names of Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Dryden for his 
 animadversions. Coarsely written as Collier's book 
 was, there can be no doubt that it rendered good 
 service to dramatic poetry. Dryden felt the force 
 of the argument against himself, and in the subse- 
 quent preface to his Fables observes, " I shall say 
 the less of Mr. Collier, because in many things he 
 taxed me justly ; and I have pleaded guilty to all 
 thoughts and expressions of mine, which canbe truly 
 argued of obscenity, profaneness, or immorality, 
 and retract them. If he be my enemy let him 
 triumph ; if he be my friend, as I have given him
 
 Til r. LIFE OF DRYDEN. W 
 
 no personal occasion to be otherwise, he will bo 
 glad of my repentance. It becomes me not to 
 draw my pen in the defence of a bad cause, when 
 I have so often drawn it for a good one." It is 
 pleasing to find this retraction on Drydcn's part, 
 although he is somewhat severe on Collier in a 
 subsequent passage. Collier, however, seems to 
 have been pacified by the poet's amende. 
 
 It might appear unnecessary to allude to such an 
 ignoble name as Sir Richard Blackmore, yet as the 
 knight fancied himself equal to break a lance with 
 Dryden, it may suffice to mention that in 1695 he 
 wrote " Prince Arthur, an Epic Poem," with a 
 violent preface against the licentiousness of the 
 modern stage, and some personal reflections on 
 Dryden. This was unnoticed by the poet, till Sir 
 Richard returned to the attack in his " Satire upon 
 Wit," in which he proposed a bank for wit should 
 be established, and that all current literature 
 should be purified, and recoined freed from alloy. 
 In this he was very severe upon Dryden. He 
 therefore received a satirical notice in the preface 
 to the Fables, but a far severer castigation in the 
 last lines the poet ever wrote, to which we shall 
 presently recur. 
 
 From many incidental remarks in the prefaces 
 and dedications of his works, Dryden seems to have 
 always had a great affection for his native county, 
 and to have made periodical visits to his friends. 
 Malone has preserved several letters from the poet 
 to his relatives during the last two years of his 
 life, which give us a pleasing insight of his homely 
 character.
 
 CV1 TUE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 It appears that his son Charles had returned 
 from Rome in ill health, and was received with 
 kindness by his country friends. In a letter to his 
 cousin, Mrs. Steward, of Cotterstock, Northamp- 
 tonshire, dated Candlemas Day (Feb. 2), 1698-9, 
 Dryden writes, " I pass my time sometimes with 
 Ovid and sometimes with our old English poet. 
 Chaucer ; translating such stories as best please 
 my fancy ; and intend, besides them, to add some- 
 what of my own, so that it is not impossible but 
 ere the summer be passed, I may come down to 
 you with a volume in my hand, like a dog out of 
 the water, with a duck in his mouth. As for the 
 rarities you promise, if beggars might be choosers, 
 a part of a chine of honest bacon would please 
 my appetite more than all the marrow puddings ; 
 for I like them better plain, having a very vul- 
 gar stomach." Another letter to the same lady 
 (March 4, 1698-9) acknowledges a welcome 
 present, to which " Cousin Driden of Chesterton 
 added a turkey-hen with eggs, and a good young 
 goose ; besides a very kind letter and the news of 
 his own good health, which I value more than all 
 the rest, he being so noble a benefactor to a poor 
 and so undeserving a kinsman, and one of another 
 persuasion in matters of religion." This letter 
 also mentions the progress of his work : " I am 
 still drudging at a book of Miscellanies, which I 
 hope will be well enough ; if otherwise, threescore 
 years and seven may be pardoned." A few months 
 later (July 14, 1699) he writes to facetious Mr. 
 Samuel Pepys —
 
 TnE LIFE OF DRYDF.N. 0V11 
 
 "Padeon Mio, 
 
 " 1 remember, lust your, when I had the honour 
 of dining with you, you were pleased to recommend 
 to me the character of Chaucer's ' Good Parson.' 
 Any desire of yours is a command to me ; and 
 accordingly I have put it into my English, with 
 such additions and alterations as I thought fit. 
 Having translated as many Fables from Ovid, and as 
 many novels from Boccace, and tales from Chaucer, 
 as will make an indifferent large volume in folio, I 
 intend them for the press in Michaelmas Term next. 
 In the meantime my Parson desires the favour of 
 being known to you, and promises, if you find any 
 fault in his character, he will reform it. Whenever 
 you please, he will wait on you, and for the safer con- 
 veyance, I will carry him in my pocket; who am, 
 "My Padron's most obedient servant, 
 
 " John Dryden." 
 
 The reader might like to see Mr. Pepys' reply. 
 
 " Sir, Friday, July 14, 1699. 
 
 " You truly have obliged mee ; and possibly, in 
 saying so I am more in earnest than you can readily 
 think; as verily hopeing, from this your copy of one 
 ' Good Parson,' to fancy some amends made mee for 
 the hourly offence I beare with from the sight of so 
 many lewd originalls. I shall with great pleasure 
 attend you on this occasion, when ere you'l permit; 
 unless you would have the kindness to double it to 
 mee, by suffering my coach to wayte on you (and 
 who you can gayne mee y e same favour from) hither, 
 to a cold chicken and a sallade any noone after 
 Sunday, as being just stepping into the ayre for 2 
 days, I am, most respectfully, 
 
 "Your hono" 1 and obed" 1 servant. 
 
 " S P "
 
 CV111 THE LIFE OF DRYDE.V. 
 
 There are a few nut ices of the progress of the 
 work in subsequent letters. In October, 1699, is 
 a letter to Charles Montague, enclosing the verses 
 to John Driden of Chesterton. From the tone of 
 this letter Dryden seems anxious to deprecate 
 Montague's displeasure, and to assure him that 
 the poem was not meant to be offensive towards 
 the Government. He tells him that he had taken 
 such pains with the verses that he was afraid that 
 he had " purged them out of their spirit, as our 
 master Busby used to whip a boy so long till he 
 made him a confirmed blockhead." It is in 
 this letter that he says, " my thoughts at present 
 are fixed upon Homer ; and by my translation of 
 the first Iliad,* I find him a poet more according 
 to my genius than Virgil, and consequently hope I 
 may do him more justice in his fiery way of 
 writing, which, as it is liable to more faults, so it 
 is capable of more beauties than the exactness and 
 sobriety of Virgil. Since 'tis for my country's 
 honour, as well as for my own, that I am willing 
 to undertake this task, I despair not of being en- 
 couraged in it by your favour." In a letter to his 
 cousin, Mrs. Steward (November 7, 1699) he 
 writes : " If you desire to hear anything more of 
 my affairs, the Earl of Dorset, and your cousin 
 Montague, have both seen the two poems, to the 
 Duchess of Ormond, and my worthy cousin Driden, 
 and are of opinion that I never writ better. My 
 other friends are divided in their judgments which 
 to prefer ; but the greater part are for those to 
 my dear kinsman, which I have corrected with so 
 
 * Publi>l)cil in the Fables.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRVDKN. C1X 
 
 much care that they will now be worthy of his 
 sight, and do neither of us any dishonour after our 
 death." To the same lady (Thursday, Dec. 14, 
 1 699); " My book is printing, and my bookseller 
 
 makes no haste I am heartily sorry that a 
 
 chargeable office is fallen on my cousin Steward.* 
 But my cousin Driden comforts me, that it must 
 have come one time or other like the small-pox ; 
 and better have it young than old. I hope it will 
 leave no great marks behind it, and that your 
 fortune will no more feel it than your beauty, by 
 the addition of a year's wearing." The " Fables " 
 were published in the beginning of March, 1699 
 (1700), and on the 12th of that month the poet 
 writes to Mrs. Steward : " 'Tis a week since I re- 
 ceived the favour of a letter, which I have not yet 
 acknowledged to you. About that time my new 
 poems were published, which are not come till this 
 day into my hands. They are a debt to you, I 
 must confess ; and I am glad, because they are so 
 unworthy to be made a present. Your sisters, I 
 hope, will be so kind to have them conveyed to 
 you, that my writings may have the honour of 
 waiting on you, which is denied to me. The town 
 encourages them with more applause than anything 
 of mine deserves ; and particularly my cousin 
 Driden accepted one from me so very indulgently, 
 that it makes me more and more in love with him." 
 There is a note of warning at the conclusion of 
 this letter : " I am neither in health, nor do I want 
 afflictions of any kind." The last letter preserved, 
 
 * He was appointed High Sheriff of Northamptonshire in 
 November, 1699
 
 CX THE LIFE OF DKYDEN. 
 
 and probably the last he ever wrote to his cousin, 
 is dated April 11, 1700, three weeks before his 
 death : " The ladies of the town have infected you 
 at a distance ; they are all of your opinion, and 
 like my last book of poems better than anything 
 they have formerly seen of mine. I always thought 
 my verses to my cousin Driden were the best of 
 the whole ; and to my comfort, the town thinks 
 them so ; and he, which pleases me most, is of the 
 same judgment, as appears by a noble present he 
 has sent me, which surprised me, because I did 
 not in the least expect it." 
 
 1 have given these extracts from the poet's own 
 letters as an interesting comment on the progress 
 of his last, and now most popular work. It should, 
 perhaps, have been mentioned that he undertook 
 it by an arrangement (still extant) with Tonson, 
 dated March 25, 1698-9, by which he was to 
 receive 250 guineas in consideration of 10,000 
 verses, and an engagement on Tonson's part to 
 make the sum £300 sterling when the book reached 
 a second impression. Dryden's receipt for £268 
 15*. (250 guineas) dated March 24, 1698-9, and 
 witnessed by his son Charles, is preserved by 
 Malone, and in the body of the receipt he appears 
 to have then given into Tonson's hand " about 
 7500 verses, more or less." The sale of the book 
 was singularly slow, and the second edition was 
 not printed till 1713, when Dryden and all his 
 children were dead ; the additional sum stipu- 
 lated was then paid by Tonson to Lady Sylvius, 
 daughter of one of the Lady Elizabeth Dryden's 
 brothers, for the benefit of the poet's widow, then
 
 THE I.I IF. OF DKl'DEN. CXI 
 
 in a stato of lunacy. The noble volume of " Fables " 
 was dedicated to the last Duke of Ormond, the 
 grandson of the Barzillai of " Absalom and Achit- 
 ophel," and the son of the heroic Earl of Ossory, 
 friends both, and patrons of Dryden's earlier 
 essays. " There is something affecting," continues 
 Scott, " in a connection so honourably maintained ; 
 and the sentiment, as touched by Dryden, is simply 
 pathetic. ' I am not vain enough to boast that I 
 have deserved the value of so illustrious a line ; 
 but my fortune is the greater, that for three 
 descents they have been pleased to distinguish my 
 poems from those of other men ; and have accord- 
 ingly made me their peculiar care. May it be 
 permitted me to say, that as your grandfather and 
 father were cherished and adorned by two succes- 
 sive monarchs, so I have been esteemed and patro- 
 nized by the grandfather, the father, and the son, 
 descended from one of the most ancient, most 
 conspicuous, and most deserving families in 
 Europe.'" 
 
 Prefixed to the volume, as an introduction to 
 " Palamon and Arcite," were the beautiful verses 
 addressed to the Duchess of Ormond. It is said 
 that the poet received £500 from the Duke and 
 Duchess. Family tradition also mentions that 
 cousin John Driden of Chesterton made a similar 
 gift in requital of the poem addressed to him, 
 though Malone thinks the sum exaggerated, and 
 that the tradition confounded a present made to the 
 poet himself (and styled by him a " noble present ") 
 with a legacy of £500 bequeathed to his son 
 Charles, but which Charles did not live to receive.
 
 CX11 THE LIFE OF DEYDEN. 
 
 It will not be necessary to enter into a detailed 
 criticism of a work so universally known as the 
 " Fables." It is strange, indeed, that, notwith- 
 standing the general applause they met with, and 
 their intrinsic merit, a second edition should have 
 been delayed for so many years. The preface, as 
 usual, is full of interesting matter, and the poet 
 enters into the merits of the several authors from 
 whom he has made selections. It is in this 
 preface that he tells us that Milton had acknow- 
 ledged to him that Spenser was his original, and 
 that Waller owned that he derived the harmony of 
 his numbers from Fairfax's Tasso. Here, too, we are 
 informed of the rapid declension of Cowley's fame, 
 and that he had already ceased to be read. There is 
 also a passing notice of that poet's want of appre- 
 ciation of Chaucer. The comparison between Homer 
 and Virgil, coming from such a pen as Dryden's, is 
 very interesting ; but though he tells us that the 
 vehemence of the elder poet was more suitable to 
 his temper, and that therefore he translated his 
 first book with greater pleasure than any part of 
 Virgil, we cannot regret, judging from the specimen 
 left us, that he was not permitted to complete the 
 task of an entire version of the Iliad. Not less 
 interestingis the parallel between Ovid and Chaucer. 
 The versions of those parts of Ovid Avhich he has 
 given are very beautiful, though it is much to be 
 regretted that he has chosen the revolting tale of 
 " Cinyras and Mvrrha," and indulged in a most 
 unpardonable heightening of the colours of the 
 disgusting details. A similar remark is applicable 
 to " Sigismonda and Guiscardo," from Boccacio, in
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. CX111 
 
 which the character of the heroine is invested 
 with a grossness and indelicacy which are not to 
 be found in the original, prone though Boccaccio be 
 to sin in that way. And yet the poet is careful to 
 tell us that he was not aware that he had wilfully 
 offended on the score of indecency or profaneness. 
 But there is one poem in the " Fables " which is 
 unexceptionable. " The Flower and the Leaf," 
 from Chaucer, is surely one of the sweetest poems 
 in the English language. " The poem of Dryden," 
 says Mr. Godwin, " regarded merely as the ex- 
 hibition of a soothing and delicious luxuriance of 
 fancy, may be classed with the most successful 
 productions of human genius." Dryden himself 
 thought the " Knight's Talc, or Palamon and 
 Arcite," " the noblest of Chaucer's writings, and 
 not much inferior to the ' Ilias ' or the ' iEneis.' " 
 The melodious flow and energy of his own version 
 renders it one of the grandest epics in any language. 
 In his transfusion of Chaucer's ideas into modern 
 verse, it is true he may have lost some of that 
 poet's most beautiful characteristics, nor has he 
 always been successful in the additions which he 
 has made to the original ; but he must be a cynical 
 critic indeed who will not acknowledge the won- 
 drous merits of the " Palamon and Arcite." The 
 lighter tales of the " Cock and the Fox," and the 
 " Wife of Bath's Tale," are rendered with much 
 sprightliness and humour. Of the fables from 
 Boccaccio, the story of " Theodore and Honoria" is 
 beautifully told and enriched, especially in the 
 description of the supernatural horrors of the ap- 
 parition. Nor must we omit the well-known tale of 
 
 i
 
 CX1V THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 " Cymon and Iphigenia," in which is the oft- 
 quoted passage where Dryden describes the sleep- 
 ing nymph, and the effect of her beauty upon the 
 clownish Cymon. We must not dismiss the volume 
 of "Fables" without reminding the reader that 
 here he will find the Ode " Alexander's Feast," 
 and tbe " Character of a good Parson " from 
 Chaucer, written, as we have seen, at the sug- 
 gestion of Pepys. 
 
 The biographer of Dryden has little to record 
 after the publication of the Fables. They appeared 
 early in March, and on April 11, 1700, the poet 
 writes to his cousin, Mrs. Steward : — " I am lame 
 at home, and have not stirr'd abroad this moneth 
 at least." It is probable that he never left his 
 house again, as he died on May 1. But, distracted 
 as he was with pain and troubles, there was to be 
 one more effort of his pen, in -which appeared all 
 the fire and vigour of his best years. " Within this 
 moneth," he continues to his cousin, " there will be 
 play'd, for my profit, an old play of Fletcher's, 
 called the ' Pilgrim,' corrected by my friend Mr. 
 Vanbrook,* to which I have added a new Masque ; 
 and am to write a new prologue and epilogue." 
 The " Secular Masque" was adapted to the ima- 
 gined termination of the Seventeenth Century ; 
 " it being supposed," says Scott, " (as by many in 
 our own time) that the century Avas concluded so 
 soon as the hundredth year commenced, — as if a 
 play was ended at the beginnbig of the fifth act." It 
 contains " a beautiful and spirited delineation of 
 
 * Sir John Vanbrugh. Compare Marlbrook for Marl- 
 borough.
 
 THE LIFE OF DBYDEN. CXV 
 
 the reigns of James I, Charles I, and Charles II, 
 in which the influence of Diana, Mars, and Venus, 
 are supposed to have respectively predominated." 
 It is clear, from the passage to Mrs. Steward 
 above quoted, that the play had not appeared on 
 April 11, and therefore Mr. Bell is wrong in his 
 supposition of its being acted on March 25. It is 
 equally apparent that Dryden must have written 
 the Prologue and Epilogue within twenty days of 
 his death ; and it is a melancholy reflection that 
 his last hours should have been employed in the 
 bitterness of controversy, which had pursued him 
 throughout his poetical career. The Prologue con- 
 tains a severe castigation of Blackmore ; and in the 
 Epilogue, in which Collier is handled with more 
 courtesy, the poet (to use Mr. Bell's words) " in- 
 dignantly casts back upon the court the responsi- 
 bility of having originally infected and debased the 
 stage with its vices." 
 
 The end had now come. The lameness which 
 he mentibns. in his letter to Mrs. Steward, in the 
 beginning df April,.'resulted in erysipelas super- 
 vening upon gout, and this terminated in a gangrene 
 in one of his toes. To prevent mortification, an 
 eminent surgeon, Mr. Hobbes, suggested amputation 
 of the limb, to which Dryden would not consent, 
 observing that he had not long to live in the course 
 of nature, and he was unwilling to prolong life by 
 the chance of a doubtful and painful operation. 
 At three o'clock on Wednesday morning. May 1, 
 1700, he calmly expired. On a monument in Tich- 
 marsh church, Northamptonshire, erected by his 
 relative Mrs. Creed, is the following account of the
 
 CXV1 THE LIFE OF DETDEN. 
 
 last scene: — " When nature could be no longer 
 supported, he received the notice of his approach- 
 ing dissolution with sweet submission and entire 
 resignation to the Divine Will ; and he took so 
 tender and obliging a farewell of his friends as none 
 but he himself could have expressed, of which 
 sorrowful number I was one." 
 
 Apocryphal stories have induced Dryden's bio- 
 graphers to suppose that he died in such indigent 
 circumstances that his family could ill afford to 
 bear the expenses of his funeral. But a little re- 
 flection would show that this could hardly have 
 been the fact ; he had very shortly before his death 
 received considerable sums of money in requital 
 for portions of his last great work, and it is not 
 very probable that his many wealthy relatives, and 
 especially John Driden of Chesterton, with whom 
 he was upon most affectionate terms, would have 
 suffered his remains to have been unhonoured by a 
 decent interment. A public funeral in Westminster 
 Abbey is a very different question. It is difficult 
 to arrive at the exact truth ; but it would appear 
 that very shortly after his death his family consented 
 to the request for a public funeral. In the register 
 of the College of Physicians is the following entry, 
 " May 3, 1700," (that is, two days after his decease) 
 " Comitiis censoriis ordinariis. At the request of 
 several persons of quality, that Mr. Dryden might 
 be carried from the College of Physicians to be in- 
 terred at Westminster, it was unanimously granted 
 by the President and Censors." This entry at once 
 refutes the absurd story of the private funeral being 
 interrupted by the second Lord Jefferies and his
 
 THE LIFE OF DBYDEN. CXV11 
 
 drunken companions. The persons of quality are 
 generally supposed to have been Charles Montague 
 (afterwards Lord Halifax), Dorset, Jefferies, and 
 others, who entered into a subscription for the 
 purpose.* The body was accordingly removed to 
 Physicians' Hall, where it was embalmed, and lay 
 in state till May 13, when Dr. Garth pronounced 
 a Latin oration over it, and, it is said, though 
 apparently upon no sufficient authority, the last 
 Ode of the Third Book of Horace was sung. The 
 procession, attended by nearly fifty carriages, and 
 preceded by a band of music, then moved to West- 
 minster Abbey, and the remains of the poet were 
 deposited in a grave between those of Chaucer and 
 Cowley. 
 
 Dryden died intestate, and his effects were ad- 
 ministered to by his eldest and best-beloved son 
 Charles, the only one in England at the time of his 
 death. His provision for his family may have been 
 slender, but it is evident that they were not left 
 to that abject penury which ill-founded traditions 
 would seem to have fixed upon his memory. The 
 inhabitants of Gerrard Street, Soho, in that day 
 occupied some position in society, and he had lived 
 in the same house (now No. 43) from the period 
 of his marriage ; he had still his little patrimonial 
 estate in Northamptonshire, the tenant of which 
 in Malone's time used to mention the affection with 
 which his grandfather, who rented under Dryden, 
 spoke of the poet : " He was the easiest and the 
 
 * The undertaker's (Russell's) bill for " Mr. Dryden's Fu- 
 neralls," amounting to 45/. 17s., is printed by Malone and 
 Scott.
 
 CXV111 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 kindest landlord in the world, and never raised the 
 rent during the whole time he possessed the estate." 
 He had, moreover, a small property in Wiltshire, 
 the settlement of the Lady Elizabeth on her mar- 
 riage. These, Scott considers, brought in about 
 .£100 a-year ; " enough in those times to support 
 his family in decent frugality." 
 
 Shortly after the poet's death his widow, the 
 Lady Elizabeth, became insane ; in which state she 
 lingered till the summer of 1714, when she died, 
 according to Malone, in her seventy-ninth year. It 
 may be interesting to give a short account of Dry- 
 den's three sons, upon the death of the last of whom 
 his issue became extinct. Charles, the eldest, was 
 born at his grandfather's, the Earl of Berkshire's 
 seat, Charlton, Wiltshire, in 1665. He was educated 
 at Westminster, under Dr. Busby, and elected to 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1683. He wrote a 
 few pieces, detailed by Malone, the more conspicu- 
 ous of which are a Latin poem on Lord Arlington's 
 Gardens, published in the Second Miscellany ; and 
 a version of the Seventh Satire of Juvenal in his 
 father's translation. He became a Roman Catholic, 
 but when it is not clear. About 1692 he went to 
 Italy, and through the interest of his mother's re- 
 lative, Cardinal Howard, was made chamberlain 
 of the household to Pope Innocent XII. ; he re- 
 turned to England in ill-health in 1698, and was 
 present at his father's death, to whose estate, we 
 have seen, he administered. In 1701, Granville 
 gave him the profits of the author's night of an 
 alteration of Shakespeare's " Merchant of Venice." 
 He was drowned in attempting to swim across the 
 Thames, at Datchet, on August 20, 1704.
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. CX1X 
 
 The second son, John, was born in 1667, or 1668, 
 and was also educated at Westminster, from whence 
 he proceeded to Oxford in 1685, where he became 
 a private pupil of the well-known Obadiah Walker, 
 Master of University College. It is probable that 
 through Walker's influence he became a Roman 
 Catholic, and this circumstance may have been the 
 cause of his father's conversion. He followed his 
 brother to Rome, and became his deputy in the 
 Papal household. He wrote a version of the Four- 
 teenth Satire of Juvenal, for his father's translation; 
 and also a comedy entitled, " The Husband his own 
 Cuckold," acted in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields in 1696, 
 for which his father furnished a prologue, and Con- 
 greve the epilogue. According to Scott he travelled 
 through Sicily and Malta in 1700-1, and his journal 
 was printed in 1706 ; but it is remarkable that he 
 " never mentions his father's name, nor makes the 
 least allusion to his very recent death." He died 
 at Rome shortly after this tour. 
 
 Erasmus Henry, the poet's third and youngest 
 son, was born May 2, 1669, and was presented by 
 Charles II. to a nomination at the Charter-houso 
 shortly after the publication of " Absalom and 
 Achitophel." He does not appear to have been 
 at either University, but to have followed his 
 brothers to Rome, where he became captain of the 
 Pope's guards, and remained till his brother John's 
 death. The period of his return to England is not 
 clear; but upon the death of Sir Robert Driden, 
 the poet's cousin, in 1708, he succeeded to the 
 baronetcy, but not to the estate, of Canons-Ashby, 
 which had been devised by Sir Robert to Edward
 
 CXX THE LIFE OF DEYDEN. 
 
 Dryden, the eldest son of the poet's younger brother 
 Erasmus. " Thus," says Scott, " if the author 
 had lived a few years longer, his pecuniary em- 
 barrassments would have been embittered by his 
 succeeding to the honours of his family without 
 any means of sustaining the rank they gave him." 
 Sir Robert's disposal of the estate may have pro- 
 bably originated from his hereditary Puritan dis- 
 like to the Roman Catholic religion. Sir Erasmus 
 Henry Drydon, however, seems to have been the 
 object of his cousin's solicitude, for he resided 
 with Edward Drj-den at Canons-Ashby till his 
 death in 1710. From certain indications in the 
 family papers, Malone infers that the baronet suf- 
 fered from his mother's insanity, and had resigned 
 his affairs into his cousin's hands. Thus in little more 
 than ten years from his death the poet's direct 
 line became extinct. Upon the death of Sir Eras- 
 mus Henry, the title reverted to Erasmus his uncle, 
 the poet's brother, upon whose decease, in 1718, 
 it devolved upon his grandson John (the eldest son 
 of the above-mentioned Edward), in whose person 
 the title and estates were once more rejoined. Sir 
 John Dryden survived all his brothers, and died 
 without issue at Canons-Ashb} - , March 20, 1770. 
 Upon his death the title became extinct ; but the 
 estate was devised to his niece, the daughter of his 
 youngest brother Bevil, who married Mr. John 
 Turner, brother of Sir Gregory Page Turner. Mr. 
 Turner assumed the name of Dryden, and was 
 created a baronet in 1795, and his grandson, Sir 
 Henry Edward Leigh Dryden, is the fourth Baronet 
 of the new creation, and the present representative 
 of the illustrious name of Deydex.
 
 TIIE LIFE OF DBYDEN. CXX1 
 
 There are several portraits of Dryden extant, 
 from which we may form some judgment of his 
 personal appearance. The best known is that by 
 Kneller, painted for Jacob Tonson, and still at 
 Bayfordbury Hall, Herts. He is here represented 
 in his waving grey hair, as he appeared about two 
 years before his death, and Scott thinks that it 
 especially bespeaks the look and features of genius. 
 
 In his earlier youth he seems to have been hand- 
 some and of a pleasing countenance ; but in ad- 
 vancing years he had grown corpulent, and this, 
 coupled with the shortness of his stature, obtained 
 for him the nicknames of " Little Bayes," and 
 " Poet Squab." There is a look of melancholy in 
 his later portraits, probably induced by distress 
 and disappointment. 
 
 His private character is admitted on all hands to 
 have been most amiable. He was kind and affec- 
 tionate in all the relations of domestic life. As 
 Mr. Mitford remarks, a biography of Dryden would 
 be imperfect without the insertion " of the delight- 
 ful character of him that has been so minutely 
 sketched by the affectionate and grateful hand of 
 Congreve, who during the last ten years of his life 
 had lived in close habits of intimacy with him ;" a 
 portrait from the pen of friendship, it is true, " yet, 
 if we consider all the circumstances of Dryden's 
 life, we cannot deem it much exaggerated,"* a 
 portrait " such as adds our love of his manners to 
 our admiration of his genius." f 
 
 " — Mr. Dryden had personal qualities to chal- 
 lenge both love and esteem from all who were truly 
 * Scott. t Johnson.
 
 CXX11 THE LIFE OF DRTDEN. 
 
 acquainted with him. He was of a nature ex- 
 ceedingly humane and compassionate, easily for- 
 giving injuries, and capable of a prompt and sincere 
 reconciliation with those who had offended him. 
 Such a temperament is the only solid foundation 
 of all moral virtues and sociable endowments. 
 His friendship, when he professed it, went much 
 beyond his professions, though his hereditary in- 
 come was little more than a bare competency. As 
 his reading had been extensive, so was he very 
 happy in a memory tenacious of every thing that 
 he read. He was not more possessed of knowledge 
 than communicative of it, but then his communica- 
 tion of it was by no means pedantic, or imposed 
 upon the conversation : but just such, and went so 
 far as by the natural turn of the discourse in which 
 he was engaged, it was necessarily promoted or 
 required. He was extremely ready and gentle in 
 his correction of the errors of any writer, who 
 thought fit to consult him, and felt as ready and 
 patient to admit of the reprehension of others in 
 respect of his own oversights or mistakes. He was 
 of very easy, I may say, of very pleasing access, 
 but somewhat slow, and as it were diffident in his 
 advances to others. He had something in his 
 nature that abhorred intrusion into any society 
 whatever : indeed, it is to be regretted that he 
 was rather blamcable in the other extreme : for by 
 that means he was personally less known, and con- 
 sequently his character will become liable to mis- 
 apprehension and misrepresentation. To the best 
 of my knowledge and observation, he was, of all 
 men that ever I knew, one of the most modest and
 
 THE LIFE OF DRTDEN. CXX111 
 
 the most easily to be discountenanced in his ap- 
 proaches either to his superiors or his equals. As 
 to Mr. Dryden's writings, I shall not take upon me 
 to speak of them : for to say little of them, would 
 not be to do them right, and to say all that I ought 
 to say, would be to be very voluminous. But I 
 may venture to say in general terms, that no man 
 hath written in our language so much and so various 
 matter, and in so various manners so well. Another 
 thing, I may say, was very peculiar to him, which 
 is, that his parts did not decline with his years, 
 but that he was an improving writer to his last, 
 even to near seventy years of age ; improving even 
 in fire and imagination as well as in judgment — 
 witness his Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, and his Fables, 
 his last performances. He was equally excellent 
 in verse and prose. His prose had all the clearness 
 imaginable, together with all the nobleness of ex- 
 pression, all the graces and ornaments proper and 
 peculiar to it, without deviating into the language 
 or diction of poetry. I make this observation only 
 to distinguish his style from that of many poetical 
 writers, who meaning to write harmoniously iD 
 prose, do in truth often write mere blank verse. 
 
 " His versification and his numbers he coidd 
 learn of nobody ; for he first possessed those talents 
 in perfection in our tongue, and they who have 
 best succeeded in them, since his time, have been 
 indebted to his example ; and the more they havo 
 been able to imitate him, the better they have 
 succeeded. 
 
 " As his style in prose is always specifically 
 different from his style in poetry ; so on the other
 
 CXX1V THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 hand, in his poems, his diction is, whenever his 
 subject requires it, so sublime and so truly poetical, 
 that its essence, like that of pure gold, cannot be 
 destroyed. Take his verses and divest them of 
 their rhymes, disjoint them in their numbers, 
 transpose their expressions, make what arrange- 
 ment and disposition you please of his words, yet 
 shall there eternally be poetry, and something 
 which will be found incapable of being resolved 
 into absolute prose, an incontestable characteristic 
 of a truly poetical genius. 
 
 " I will say but one word more in general of his 
 writings, which is, that what he has done in any 
 one species or distinct kind, would have been suf- 
 ficient to have acquired him a great name. If he 
 had written nothing but his prefaces, or nothing 
 but his songs, or his prologues, each of them would 
 have entitled him to the preference and distinction 
 of excelling in his kind." 
 
 One or two observations on the Poet's character 
 may not be unnecessary. 
 
 Though nothing can excuse the licentiousness of 
 his writings, it is pleasing to know that his per- 
 sonal morality was unimpeachable. His many 
 enemies would have been only too glad to have 
 fixed such a stain upon his life. It is strange that 
 a man of such a modest disposition as Dryden 
 undoubtedly was should have prostituted his great 
 talents to the prevailing vices of the age ; but such 
 unhappily was the case. " His works," observes 
 Johnson, " afford too many examples of dissolute 
 licentiousness and abject adulation ; but they were 
 probably, like his merriment, artificial and con-
 
 TITE LIFE OF DRYDEN. CXXT 
 
 strained — the effects of study and meditation, and 
 his trade rather than his pleasure. Of the mind 
 that can trade in corruption, and can deliberately 
 •pollute itself with ideal wickedness, for the sake of 
 spreading contagion in society, I wish not to conceal 
 or excuse the depravity. Such degradation of the 
 dignity of genius, such abuse of superlative abilities, 
 cannot be contemplated but with grief and indig- 
 nation. What consolation can be had, Dryden 
 has afforded by living to repent, and to testify his 
 repentance." This is only partially true. Dry- 
 den expressed his penitence for the licentiousness 
 of his dramas ; but we must remember that not 
 one of his works is exempt from this terrible dis- 
 figurement. His translations from Juvenal, Lucre- 
 tius, Ovid, and Theocritus, seem to have been 
 selected for the most objectionable passages, and 
 treated in language exceeding the indelicacy of the 
 originals. It is surely no palliation to say that 
 this was his trade rather than his pleasure. It is 
 simply unaccountable. And yet it is clear that 
 these gross violations of decency and morality were 
 looked upon with no unfavourable eye by society 
 as it was then constituted ; for the poet writes to 
 his cousin Mrs. Steward : " The ladies of the town 
 have infected you at a distance. They are all of 
 your opinion, and like my last book of poems* 
 better than anything they have formerly seen of 
 mine." And yet in this very volume we find some 
 of the grossest productions of his pen. Strange, 
 then, as it may seem, it is satisfactory to be assured 
 that his private moral character was untainted by 
 * The Fables; published, 1700.
 
 CXXV1 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 the vices and impurity so painfully displayed in 
 his writings. His shy reserve and modesty of 
 demeanour were probably constitutional, as he 
 confesses to his dulness and sluggishness in conver- 
 sation. It is true that he was quite conscious of 
 the greatness of his genius ; but we need not ill- 
 naturedly suppose with Johnson that " he probably 
 did not offer his conversation, because he expected 
 it to be solicited ; and he retired from a cold re- 
 ception, not submissive, but indignant, with such 
 deference of his own greatness as made him unwil- 
 ling to expose it to neglect or violation." Probably 
 from his good birth, and connection with the 
 Howard family, as much as his prominent position 
 in literature, he was admitted into the highest 
 society of the day, — a fact which excited the envy 
 and malignity of his rivals. 
 
 Of his personal habits we know but little. When 
 in London, his mornings were spent in study, and 
 after dining with his family, he usually went to 
 Will's Coffee-house, the resort of the wits of the 
 time. Dr. Johnson tells us, " Of the only two men 
 whom I have found to whom he was personally 
 known, one told me that at the house which he 
 frequented, called Will's Coffee-house, the appeal 
 upon any literary dispute was made to him ; and 
 the other related that his arm-chair, which in the 
 winter had a settled and prescriptive place by the 
 fire, was, in the summer, placed in the balcony, 
 and that he called the two places his winter and 
 his summer seat. This is all the intelligence which 
 his two survivors afforded me ! " The ever-diligent 
 Malonc made the notable discovery that Dryden 
 was a great taker of snuff, which he prepared him-
 
 THE LTFE OF DRYDEN. CXXV11 
 
 self; and :i letter to Tonson certainly countenances 
 the truth of, at least, a part of the discovery, for the 
 poet writes to him to secure "three pounds of snuff, 
 the same of which 1 had one pound from you." 
 
 Dryden was very partial to his native county, 
 Northamptonshire, to which he paid periodical 
 visits, as also to the seats of many of his friends in 
 other counties. Fishing was his favourite pursuit ; 
 and his skill, on one occasion at least, stood him in 
 good stead, for he tells old Jacob Tonson, "I am 
 sleepy all this day, having been obliged to sit up all 
 last night almost, out of civility to strangers who 
 were benighted, and to resign my bed to them ; 
 and if I had not taken a very lusty pike that day, 
 they must have gone supperless to bed, foure ladyes 
 and two gentlemen." 
 
 We have but scanty details of his conversation. 
 It is to be regretted indeed that we do not know 
 more of the private life of one who evidently pos- 
 sessed a sincere and good heart. A few passages 
 in his letters evidence the affection he bore to all 
 his family ; and the sincerity of his convictions on 
 his change of religion is best attested by his un- 
 swerving attachment to his new faith, while the 
 unworthy motives which were so long attributed to 
 him have been entirely refuted by the discoveries 
 of his latest and very excellent biographer, Mr. 
 Robert Bell. 
 
 Few great writers have been so ably criticised as 
 Dryden ; and the verdict of successive generations 
 has placed him conspicuous in the foremost rank of 
 English poets. If he be somewhat deficient in crea- 
 tive genius, he is unsurpassed, and probably unsur- 
 passable, in the wondrous vigour and strength which
 
 C XXVI 11 TIIE LIFE OF DKTDEN. 
 
 grasps and bears along everything wi th it. Accord- 
 ing to Dr. Johnson, he had " a mind very compre- 
 hensive by nature, and much enriched with acquired 
 knowledge. His compositions are the effects of a 
 vigorous genius operating upon large materials. 
 The power that predominated in his intellectual 
 operations was rather strong reason than quick 
 sensibility. Upon all occasions that were presented 
 he studied rather than felt, and producod sentiments 
 not such as nature enforces,but meditation supplies. 
 Dryden's was not one of the gentle bosoms. He is, 
 therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often 
 pathetic." But surely his vigorous tone of thought, 
 the nervous grandeur of his versification, and his 
 complete mastery of language, make ample amends 
 for his want of sensibility. Who can forget that it 
 
 was — 
 
 " Dryden taught to join 
 The varying verse, the full resounding line, 
 The long majestic march, and energy divine"? 
 
 "Of Dryden's works," observes Johnson, " it was 
 said by Pope that he ' could select from them better 
 specimens of every mode of poetry than any other 
 English writer could supply.' Perhaps no nation 
 ever produced a writer that enriched his language 
 with such a variety of models. To him we owe the 
 improvement, perhaps the completion, of our metre, 
 the refinement of our language, and much of the 
 correctness of our sentiments. By him we were 
 taught ' sapere et fari,' to think naturally and ex- 
 press forcibly. Though Davies has reasoned in rhyme 
 before him, it may perhaps be maintained that he 
 was the first who joined argument with poetry. 
 He showed us the true bounds of a translator's
 
 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN'. CXX1X 
 
 liberty. What was said of Rome, adorned by Au- 
 gustus, may be applied, by an easy metaphor, to 
 English poetry embellished by Dryden : 'Latcritiam 
 invenit, marmoream reliquit ; ' ' He found it brick,* 
 and he left it marble.' " 
 
 Of Johnson's parallel between Dryden and Pope, 
 in his Life of the latter poet, it may be said that ho 
 who is unacquainted with it cannot lay any preten- 
 sion to a knowledge of English literature, and has 
 yet an exquisite delight in store for him. 
 
 To multiply quotations in praise of Dryden, or to 
 write criticisms on him whose fame is imperishable, 
 and can neither suffer by detraction nor be raised 
 by eulogy, appears at once needless and imperti- 
 nent. The following passages, however, cited by 
 Mr. Mitford, are more than ordinarily interesting : 
 " The English tongue, as it stands at present, is 
 greatly his (Dryden's) debtor. He first gave it 
 regular harmony and discovered its latent powers. 
 It was his pen that formed the Congreves, the 
 Priors, and the Addisons, who succeeded him ; and, 
 had it not been for Dryden, we never should have 
 known a Pope, at least in the meridian lustre he 
 now displays. But Dryden's excellencies as a writer 
 were not confined to poetry alone. There is in his 
 prose writings an ease and elegance that have never 
 yet been so well united in works of taste or cri- 
 ticism." f "Dryden's versification," says Arm- 
 strong, $ " I take to be the most musical that has 
 yet appeared in rhyme: round, sweet, pompous, 
 spirited, and various, it flows with such a happy 
 
 * Rather, " rubble." t Goldsmith's Bee, p. 288. 
 
 J Essays, p. 1C2. 
 
 k
 
 CXXX THE LIFE OF DRYDEN. 
 
 volubility, such an animated and masterly negli- 
 gence, as, I am afraid, will not soon be excelled. 
 From the fineness of his ear, his prose, too, is per- 
 haps the sweetest, the most mellow and sonorous, 
 that the English language has yet produced." 
 Little more need be added. The beauty of his 
 imagery and the rich melody of his verse, the power 
 which makes itself felt, are not the only charac- 
 teristics of Dryden's writings. His purely Anglo- 
 Saxon idiom is of great value in a philological view 
 at the present day, when so many innovations are 
 being introduced to the deterioration of our lan- 
 guage ; and no works could be better studied, apart 
 from their licentiousness, for the formation of style, 
 than those of " glorious John." 
 
 The following tribute, from the pen of'one whose 
 masculine intellect could well appreciate the merits 
 of his great master, may fitly close our page : — 
 
 " Here let me bend, great Dryden, at thy shrine, 
 Thou dearest name to all the tuneful Nine! 
 What if some dull lines in cold order creep, 
 And with his theme the poet seems to sleep? 
 Still, when his subject rises proud to view, 
 With equal strength the poet rises too. 
 With strong invention, noblest vigour fraught, 
 Thought still springs up, and rises out of thought; 
 Numbers ennobling numbers in their course, 
 In varied sweetness flow, in varied force ; 
 The powers of genius, and of judgment join, 
 And the whole art of poetry is thine." * 
 
 * Churchill.
 
 UPON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS.* 
 
 Must noble Hastings immaturely die, 
 
 The honour of his ancient family, 
 
 Beauty and learning thus together meet, 
 
 To bring a winding for a wedding sheet? 
 
 Must virtue prove death's harbinger? must she, 
 
 With him expiring, feel mortality ? 
 
 Is death, sin's wages, grace's now ? shall art 
 
 Make us more learned, only to depart ? 
 
 If merit be disease ; if virtue death ; 
 
 To be good, not to be ; who'd then bequeath 10 
 
 Himself to discipline? who'd not esteem 
 
 Labour a crime ? study self-murder deem ? 
 
 Our noble youth now have pretence to be 
 
 Dunces securely, ignorant healthfully. [praise, 
 
 Rare linguist, whose worth speaks itself, whose 
 
 Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise : 
 
 Than whom great Alexander may seem less : 
 
 Who conquer'd men, but not their languages. 
 
 * Son of Ferdinand, Earl of Huntingdon : he died before 
 his father in 1649. being then in hi* twentieth year, and on 
 the day preceding that which had been appointed for the cele- 
 bration of his marriage. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE POEMS 
 
 In his mouth nations spake ; his tongue might be 
 
 Interpreter to Greece, France, Italy. 20 
 
 His native soil was the four parts o' the earth ; 
 
 All Europe was too narrow for his birth. 
 
 A young apostle ; and with reverence may 
 
 I speak 't, inspir'd with gift of tongues, as they. 
 
 Nature gave him, a child, what men in vain sa 
 
 Oft strive, by art though further'*}, to obtain. 
 
 His body was an orb, his sublime soul 
 
 Did move on virtue's and on learning's pole : 
 
 Whose regular motions better to our view, 
 
 Than Archimedes' sphere, the heavens did shew. 
 
 Graces and virtues, languages and arts, 
 
 Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts. 
 
 Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear 
 
 Scatter'd in others ; all, as in their sphere, 
 
 Were fix'd, and conglobate in his soul ; and thence 
 
 Shone through his body, with sweet influence ; 
 
 Letting their glories so on each limb fall, 
 
 The whole frame render'd was celestial. 
 
 Come, learned Ptolemy, and trial make, 
 
 If thou this hero's altitude canst take : 40 
 
 But that transcends thy skill ; thrice happy all, 
 
 Could we but prove thus astronomical. 
 
 Liv'd Tycho now, struck with this ray, which shone 
 
 More bright i'the morn', than others beam at noon, 
 
 He'd take his astrolabe, and seek out here 4; 
 
 35 Were fix'd, and conglobate in his soul] This word is 
 used in the second book of Lucretius, ver. 153, in the 
 same sense. 
 
 •Sed complexa meant, inter se conque globata.' 
 
 John Warton.
 
 OF DRYDF.N. 
 
 What new star 'twas did gild our hemisphere. 
 Replenish 'd then with such rare gifts as these, 
 Where was room left for such a foul disease ? 
 The nation's sin hathdrawn that veil, which shrouds 
 Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds. 50 
 Heaven would no longer trust its pledge ; but thug 
 Recall'd it; rapt its Ganymede from us. 
 Was there no milder way but the small-pox, 
 The very filth'ness of Pandora's box ? 
 So many spots, like neeves, our Venus' soil ? w 
 One jewel set off with so many a foil? 
 Blisters with pride swell'd, which through's flesh 
 
 did sprout 
 Like rose-buds, stuck i' the lily skin about. 
 Each little pimple had a tear in it, 
 To wail the fault its rising did commit : 60 
 
 Which, rebel like, with its own lord at strife, 
 Thus made an insurrection 'gainst his life. 
 Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin, 
 The cabinet of a richer soul within ? 
 No comet need foretell his change drew on, 65 
 Whose corpse might seem a constellation. 
 O ! had he died of old, how great a strife [life ! 
 Had been, who from his death should draw their 
 Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er 
 Seneca, Cato, Numa, Caesar, were ! 70 
 
 Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this 
 A universal metempsychosis. 
 Must all these aged sires in one funeral 
 Expire ? all die in one so young, so small ?
 
 4 THE POE.MS 
 
 Who, had he liv'd his life out, his great fame 74 
 Had swoll'n 'bove any Greek or Roman name. 
 But hasty winter, with one blast, hath brought 
 The hopes of autumn, summer, spring, to nought. 
 Thus fades the oak i' the sprig, i' the blade the corn ; 
 Thus without young, this Phoenix dies, new born. 
 Must then old three-legg'd grey-beards with their 
 
 gout, 
 Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three ages out ? 
 Time's offals, only fit for the hospital ! 
 Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal ! 
 Must drunkards, lechers spent with sinning, live 
 With such helps as broths, possets, physic give? 
 None live, but such as should die? shall we meet 
 With none but ghostly fathers in the street? 
 Grief makes me rail : sorrow will force its way ; 
 And show 'rs of tears tempestuous sighs best lay. 
 The tongue may fail ; but overflowing eyes 
 Will weep out lasting streams of elegies. 
 But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone, 
 Now thy belov'd, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, 
 Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply 95 
 
 Med'cines, when thy balm was no remedy, 
 With greater than Platonic love, wed 
 His soul, though not his body, to thy bed : 
 Let that make thee a mother ; bring thou forth 
 The ideas of his virtue, knowledge, worth ; ioo 
 Transcribe the original in new copies ; give 
 Hastings o' the better part : so shall he live 
 In's nobler half; and the great grandsire be
 
 OF DRYDEN. 5 
 
 Of an heroic divine progeny : 
 
 An issue, which to eternity shall last. 105 
 
 Yet but the irradiations which he cast. 
 
 Erect no mausoleums : for his best 
 
 Monument is his spouse's marble breast.* 
 
 TO HIS FRIEND JOHN IIODDESDON, 
 
 ON HIS DIVINE EPIGRAMS. t 
 
 Thdu hast inspir'd me with thy soul, and I 
 Who ne'er before could ken of poetry, 
 Am grown so good proficient, I can lend 
 A line in commendation of my friend. 
 Yet 'tis but of the second hand ; if ought a 
 
 There be in this, 'tis from thy fancy brought. 
 Good thief, who dar'st, Prometheus-like, aspire, 
 And fill thy poems with celestial fire : 
 
 * The verses on Lord Hastings in the ' Lachrymae Musa- 
 rum,' are subscribed 'Johannes Dryden. Scholae Westm. 
 alumnus.' — It appears from a note of the editor's, that they 
 were sent at a late period in the year (1649), after a great 
 part of the book was printed off, and when it was just ready for 
 publication. Malone. 
 
 t Mr. Hoddesdon's poetical effusions were published in 8vo. 
 1650, under the title of ' Sion and Parnassus, or Epigrams 
 on several texts of the Old and New Testament.' To this 
 book is prefixed the author's engraved portrait, ' .<Etat. 18.' 
 by which it appears that he and Dryden were nearly of the 
 same aire. M.
 
 6 THE POF.MS 
 
 Enliven'd by these sparks divine, their rays 
 Add a bright lustre to thy crown of bays. 10 
 
 Young eaglet, who thy nest thus soon forsook, 
 So lofty and divine a course hast took 
 As all admire, before the down begin 
 To peep, as yet, upon thy smoother chin ; 
 And, making heaven thy aim, hast had the grace 
 To look the Suu of Righteousness i' th' face. 
 What may we hope, if thou goest on thus fast, 
 Scriptures at first ; enthusiasms at last ! 
 Thou hast commenc'd, betimes, a saint ; go on, 
 Mingling diviner streams with Helicon, «i 
 
 That they who view what Epigrams here be, 
 May learn to make like, in just praise of thee. 
 Reader, I've done, nor longer will withhold 
 Thy greedy eyes ; looking on this pure gold 
 Thou'lt know adult 'rate copper, which, like this, 
 Will only serve to be a foil to his. 
 
 HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF 
 OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL. 
 I. 
 
 And now 'tis time; for their officious haste, 
 Who would before have borne him to the sky, 
 Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, 
 Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly.
 
 ii. OK DRY DEN. 7 
 
 Though our best notes are treason to his fume, i 
 Join'd with the loud applause of public voice; 
 Since heaven, what praise we offer to his name, 
 Hath render'd too authentic by its choice. 
 
 Though in his praise no arts can liberal be, 
 Since they, whose muses have the highest rlown, 
 Add not to his immortal memory, 
 But do an act of friendship to their own. 
 
 Yet 'tis our duty, and our interest too, 
 Such monuments as we can build to raise ; 
 Lest all the world prevent what we should do, is 
 And claim a title in him by their praise. 
 
 How shall I then begin, or where conclude, 
 To draw a fame so truly circular ? 
 For in a round what order can be shew'd, 
 Where all the parts so equal perfect are ? «o 
 
 His grandeur he deriv'd from heaven alone ; 
 For he was great, ere fortune made him so : 
 And wars, like mists that rise against the sun, 
 Made him but greater seem, not greater grow. 
 
 No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, ss 
 
 But to our crown he did fresh jewels bring ; 
 Nor was his virtue poison'd soon as born, 
 With the too early thoughts of being king. 
 
 Fortune (that easy mistress to the young, 
 
 But to her ancient servants coy and hard) 3u
 
 3 THE POEMS tx . 
 
 Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, 
 When she her best-lov'd Pompey did discard. 
 
 He, private, marVd the fault of others' sway, 
 And set as sea-marks for himself to shun : 
 Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray ?5 
 By acts their age too late would wish undone. 
 
 And yet dominion was not his design ; 
 We owe that blessing, not to him, but heaven. 
 Which to fair acts unsought rewards did joir , 
 Rewards, that less to him than us were given. 40 
 
 Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, 
 First fought to inflame the parties, then to poise : 
 The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor; 
 And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise. 
 
 War, our consumption, was their gainful trade : 
 We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain ; 
 He fought to end our fighting, and essay 'd 
 To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. 
 
 M By acts their age tuo late would wish undone] Infectum 
 volet esse, dolor quod suaserit et mens. Hor. I. Ep. ii. 
 1. 60. J. W. 
 
 48 To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein] The loyal- 
 ists supposed that by this line Dryden meant to allude to 
 Cromwell's murder of his sovereign. Thus in ' The Laureat,' 
 or ' Jack Squabb's History in a little drawn, Down to his 
 evening, from his early dawn,' ver. 21 — 25. 
 
 ' Nay, had our Charles, by heaven's severe decree, 
 Keen found, and murther'd in the royal tree, 
 Even thou hadst prais'd the fact ; his father slain, 
 Tliou call'st but gently breathing of a vein.' fl'
 
 xm. OF DRYDEN. 9 
 
 Swift and resistless through the land he past, 
 Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue, so 
 And made to battles such heroic haste, 
 As if on wings of victory he flew. 
 
 He fought secure of fortune as of fame : 
 Till, by new maps, the island might be shown, 
 Of conquests, which he strew'd where'er he came, 
 Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown. 
 
 His palms, t hough under weights they did not stand , 
 Still thriv'd ; no winter could his laurels fade : 
 Heaven in his portrait show'd a workman's hand, 
 And drew it perfect, yet without a shade. ri<> 
 
 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, 
 Which war had banish'd, and did now restore : 
 Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air, 
 To seat themselves more surely than before. 
 
 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes; fo 
 
 And treacherous Scotland to no interest true, 
 Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose 
 Her land to civilize, as to subdue. 
 
 Nor was he like those stars which only shine, 
 When to pale mariners they storms portend : 70 
 He had his calmer influence, and his mien 
 Did love and majesty together blend. 
 
 Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe ; 
 And naturally all souls to his did bow, 
 As wands of divination downward draw, 75 
 
 And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow.
 
 IU THE POEMS xx . 
 
 When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove, 
 
 He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield ; 
 
 Successful councils did him soon approve 
 
 As fit for close intrigues, as open field. <w 
 
 To suppliant Holland he vouchsafed a peace, 
 Our once bold rival of the British main, 
 Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease, 
 And buy our friendship with her idol, gain. 
 
 Fame of the asserted sea through Europe blown, 
 Made France and Spain ambitious of his love ; 
 Each knew that side must conquer he would own; 
 And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. 
 
 No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embrac'd, 
 Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd : 
 His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast; 
 Though Indian mines were in the other laid. 
 
 When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right : 
 For though some meaner artist's skill were shown 
 In mingling colours, or in placing light; 95 
 
 \et still the fair designment was his own. 
 
 96 designment'] He has borrowed this word from Spenser, 
 F. Q. ii. xi. 10. 
 
 ' 'Gainst which the second troupe dessignment makes :' 
 
 That is, plot. Dryden, however, uses it simply for design 
 or plan. It should be added, that dessignment is the reading 
 of Spenser's 2nd edition ; as the first reads, without perspi 
 cuity, assignment. Todd.
 
 ^ xx OF DIIY DF.X. 
 
 11 
 
 For from all tempers he could service draw ; 
 The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew, 
 And, as the confidant of Nature, saw 
 How she complexions did divide and hrew. 100 
 
 Or he their single virtues did survey, 
 By intuition, in his own large breast, 
 Where all the rich ideas of them lay, 
 That were the rule and measure to the rest. 
 
 When such heroic virtue heaven sets out, 105 
 
 The stars, like commons, sullenly obey ; 
 Because it drains them when it comes about, 
 And therefore is a tax they seldom pay. 
 
 From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, 
 Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend; 110 
 Since their commencement to his arms they owe, 
 If springs as high as fountains may ascend. 
 
 He made us freemen of the continent, 
 Whom nature did like captives treat before ; 
 To nobler preys the English lion sent, 115 
 
 And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. 
 
 That old unquestion'd pirate of the land, 
 
 Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard ; 
 
 113 He made us freemen, $c] We may be said to have been 
 made freemen of the continent by the taking of Dunkirk, 
 winch was wrested from the Spaniards by the united forces 
 of France and England, and delivered up to the latter in the 
 beginning of HS58. Derrick.
 
 12 THE POEMS 
 
 XXAI 
 
 And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand, 
 Although an Alexander were her guard. 1:0 
 
 By his command we boldly cross'd the line, 
 And bravely fought where southern stars arise ; 
 We trac'd the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine, 
 And that which brib'd our fathers made our prize. 
 
 Such was our prince ; yet own'd a soul above 125 
 The highest acts it could produce to show : 
 Thus poor mechanic arts in public move, 
 Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go. 
 
 Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less, 
 But when fresh laurels courted him to live : 130 
 He seem'd but to prevent some new success, 
 As if above what triumphs earth could give. 
 
 His latest victories still thickest came, 
 
 As near the centre motion doth increase ; 
 
 Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name, in 
 
 Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease. 
 
 But first the ocean as a tribute sent 
 
 The giant prince of all her watery herd ; 
 
 And the isle, when her protecting genius went, 
 
 Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferr'd. 11c 
 
 No civil broils have since his death arose, 
 But faction now by habit does obey ; 
 And wars have that respect for his repose, 
 As winds for halcyons, when they breed at sea. 
 
 1=0 Although an Alexander, 3fc] At this time Alexander 
 VII sat in the papal chair. D.
 
 XXXV1J. 
 
 OF OUYDIiN. 1 > 
 
 His ashes in a peaceful uin shall rest, iu 
 
 His name a great example stands, to show 
 How strangely high endeavours may be blest, 
 Where piety and valour jointly go. 
 
 ASTR.T.A REDUX. 
 
 ft POEM 
 
 ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF IMS SACRED 
 
 MAJESTY CHARLES II. 1600. 
 
 Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna. Vikg. 
 
 The last great age foretold by sacred rhymes 
 Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times 
 Roll round again. 
 
 Now with a general peace the world was blest, 
 
 While ours, a world divided from the rest, 
 
 A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far 
 
 Than arms, a sullen interval of war : [skies, 
 
 Thus when black clouds draw down the lab'ring 
 
 Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies, 
 
 A horrid stillness first invades the ear, 
 
 And in that silence we the tempest fear. 
 
 1 Now uith a general'] Waller, as well as Dryden, al- 
 tered his sentiments, and changed his notes, on the Resto- 
 ration ; and when the king hinted to him the inferiority of 
 his second poem to the former, answered, ' Poets, Sir, suc- 
 ceed better in fiction than in truth.' What notice Charles 
 took, of Dryden's Astrsea we are ignorant. Dr. Joseph 
 Warton. 
 
 s
 
 ji Til E POEMS 
 
 The ambitious Swede, like restless billows tost, 
 On this hand gaining what on that he lost, u 
 Though in his life he blood and ruin breath'd, 
 To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeath'd. 
 And heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate, 
 For France and Spain did miracles create ; 
 Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, is 
 As nature bred, and interest did increase. 
 We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride 
 Must grow a lily to the lily's side, 
 While our cross stars denied us Charles his bed, 
 Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed. 
 For his long absence church and state did groan , 
 Madness the pulpit, faction seiz'd the throne : 
 Fxperienc'd age in deep despair was lost, 
 To see the rebel thrive, the loyal crost : a 
 
 Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been, 
 Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen ; 
 We thought our sires, not with their own content, 
 
 52 Madness the pulpit] From the numerous sermons 
 preached before the parliament, particularly from 1G40 to 
 lfi50, a variety of curious examples might be adduced to 
 prove the justness of Dryden's assertion. And who can 
 wonder at this assertion, when he is told that notifications of 
 the following kind were affixed on walls and door posts : 
 • On such a day such a brewer's clerk exerciseth ; such a 
 tailor eipoundeth ; such a waterman teacheth !' See the 
 Preface to Featly's Dippers Dipt, 4to. 1647. For a minute 
 account of the ravings and rantings of many of the preachers 
 before the parliament, the reader is referred to a collection of 
 extracts from their discourses, entitled Evangelium Armatum, 
 printed soon after the Restoration of King Charles II. T.
 
 Of I) KYI) EN. 
 
 15 
 
 Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. 
 Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt, 
 Who ruin'd crowns would coronets exempt. 30 
 For when by their designing leaders taught 
 To strike at power which for themselves they sought, 
 The vulgar, gull'd into rebellion, arm'd ; 
 Their blood to action by the prize was warm'd. 
 The sacred purple then and scarlet gown, a 
 
 Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown. 
 Thus when the bold Typhoeus scal'd the sky, 
 And forc'd great Jove from his own heaven to fly, 
 (What king, what crown from treason's reach is 
 If Jove and Heaven can violated be?) [free, 
 
 The lesser gods, that shar'd his prosperous state, 
 All suffer'd in the exil'd Thunderer's fate. 
 The rabble now such freedom did enjoy, 
 As winds at sea, that use it to destroy : 
 Blind as the Cyclop, and as wild as he, w 
 
 They own'd a lawless savage liberty. 
 Like that our painted ancestors so priz'd, 
 Ere empire's arts their breasts had civiliz'd. 
 How great were then our Charles his woes, who 
 Was forc'd to suffer for himself and us ! [thus 
 He, toss'd by fate, and hurried up and down, 
 Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, 
 Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age ; 
 But found his life too true a pilgrimage. 
 Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, .',5 
 
 His manly courage overcame his fate. 
 His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast,
 
 16 THE POEMS 
 
 Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. 
 As souls reach heaven while yet in bodies pent. 
 So did he live above his banishment. go 
 
 That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes 
 Within the water, mov'd along the skies. 
 How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind, 
 With full-spread sails to run before the wind ! 
 But those that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go, 65 
 Must be at once resolv'd and skilful too. 
 He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent, 
 But stay'd and suffer'd fortune to repent. 
 These virtues Galba in a stranger sought, 
 And Piso to adopted empire brought. 70 
 
 How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, 
 That must his sufferings both regret and bless ? 
 For when his early valour Heaven had crost ; 
 And all at Worcester but the honour lost ; 
 Forc'd into exile from his rightful throne, 75 
 
 He made all countries where he came his own ; 
 And viewing monarchs' secret arts of sway, 
 A royal factor for his kingdoms lay. 
 Thus banish'd David spent abroad his time, 
 When to be God's anointed was his crime ; 80 
 And when restor'd, made his proud neighbours rue 
 Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. 
 Nor is he only by afflictions shown 
 To conquer others realms, but rule his own : 
 Recovering hardly what he lost before, a.' 
 
 His right endears it much ; his purchase more. 
 Inur'd to suffer ere he came to reign,
 
 OF DllYDfcjN. 17 
 
 No rash procedure will his actions stain : 
 
 To business ripen'd by digestive thought, 
 
 His future rule is into method brought: 90 
 
 As they who first proportion understand, 
 
 With easy practice reach a master's hand. 
 
 Well might the ancient poets then confer 
 
 On Night the honour'd name of Counseller, 
 
 Since struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, 
 
 We light alone in dark afflictions find. 
 
 In such adversities to sceptres train'd, 
 
 The name of Great his famous grandsire gain'd ; 
 
 Who yet a king alone in name and right, 
 
 With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; 
 
 Shock'd by a Covenanting League's vast powers, 
 
 As holy and as catholic as ours : 
 
 Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, 
 
 Her blows not shook but riveted his throne. 
 
 Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, io» 
 
 No action leave to busy chronicles : 
 Such, whose supine felicity but makes 
 In story chasms, in epoches mistakes ; 
 O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, 
 Till with his silent sickle they are mown. no 
 
 Such is not Charles his too too active age, 
 
 111 Charles his too too active age] Original edition. Der- 
 rick prints, ' Such is not Charles' too too active age.' 
 
 See also before, ver. 49. Too too active age, was an an- 
 cient formulary. So in 11. Parrot's Springes for Woodcocks, 
 l"2mo. Lond. 1613, Epigram 133, Lib. 1. 
 
 ' tis knowne her iesting's too too evill.' 
 
 And even in prose, as in Penri's Exhortation vnto t)u 
 VOL. I. C
 
 ',?• THE POEMS 
 
 Which, govern'd by the wild distemper'd rage 
 Of some black star infecting all the skies, 
 Made him at his own cost like Adam wise. 
 Tremble, ye nations, who secure before 115 
 
 Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we 
 
 bore; 
 Rous'd by the lash of his own stubborn tail, 
 Our lion now will foreign foes assail. 
 With alga who the sacred altar strews? 
 To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes : i*j 
 A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain, 
 A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main : 
 For those loud storms that did against him roar 
 Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore. 
 Yet as wise artists mix their colours so, i«s 
 
 That by degrees they from each other go : 
 Black steals unheeded from the neighb'ring white. 
 Without offending the well-cozen'd sight : 
 So on us stole our blessed change; while we 
 The effect did feel, but scarce the manner see. 
 Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny 
 To flowers that in its womb expecting lie, 
 
 Gouernours, $<c. of Wales, 1588, p. 51. 'The case is too 
 too manifest.' Too too for eic.eedlns. is also used in the Lan- 
 cashire dialect. I venture to add part of P. Fletcher's welt- 
 drawn character of Lasciviousness personified, Purp. hi. 
 edit. 1633, p. 90. 
 
 ' Broad were his jests, wilde his uncivil sport ; 
 
 His fashion too too fond, and loosly light : 
 
 A long love-lock, on his left shoulder plight, 
 
 Like to a woman's hair, well shew'd a wo.nsn's sprite.' T.
 
 UF DRTDEN. 10 
 
 Do seldom their usurping power withdraw, 
 But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw. 
 Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away, 
 But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day. 
 Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive, 
 But what we could not pay for, freely give. 
 The Prince of peace would like himself confer 
 A gift unhop'd, without the price of war : ho 
 
 Tet, as He knew His blessing's worth, took care, 
 That we should know it by repeated prayer ; 
 Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles 
 
 from thence, 
 As heaven itself is took by violence. 
 Booth's forward valour only serv'd to show us 
 He durst that duty pay we all did owe : 
 The attempt was fair ; but heaven's prefixed hour 
 Not come : so like the watchful travellour 
 That by the moon's mistaken light did rise, 
 Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes. i*s 
 'Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose 
 Those real bonds false freedom did impose. 
 
 145 Booth's forward valour, &c] In 1659, Sir George 
 Booth assembled a considerable body of men for the king's 
 service in Cheshire, and possessed himself of Chester, 
 Chick-castle, and several other places, being joined by the 
 Earl of Derby, Lord Kilmurray, Sir Thomas Middleton, 
 Major-general Egerton, with other loyal gentlemen, who en- 
 countering with Lambert, general of the parliament's forces, 
 were entirely routed at Winnington-bndge, near Northwich, 
 in Cheshire, and most of the principal people made pri- 
 soners. 1).
 
 20 THE POEMS 
 
 The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scene, 
 
 Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean, 
 
 To see small clues draw vastest weights along, 
 
 Not in their bulk but in their order strong. 
 
 Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore 
 
 Smiles to that changed face that wept before. 
 
 With ease such fond chimaeras we pursue, 
 
 As fancy frames for fancy to subdue : 160 
 
 But when ourselves to action we betake, 
 
 It shuns the mint like gold that chymists make. 
 
 How hard was then his task ! at once to be 
 
 What in the body natural we see ! 
 
 Man's architect distinctly did ordain ids 
 
 The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, 
 
 Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense ; 
 
 The springs of motion from the seat of sense. 
 
 Twas not the hasty product of a day, 
 
 But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170 
 
 He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, 
 
 Would let him play awhile upon the hook. 
 
 Our healthful food the stomach labours thus, 
 
 At first embracing what it straight doth crush. 
 
 Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude, 175 
 
 While growing pains pronounce the humours crude: 
 
 Deaf to complaints they wait upon the ill, 
 
 Till some safe crisis authorise their skill. 
 
 Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear, 
 
 To 'scape their eyes whom guilt hd^ taught to fear, 
 
 And guard with caution that polluted nest, 
 
 Whence Legion twice before was dispossest :
 
 OF URYDEN. 21 
 
 Once sacred house ; which when they enter'd in, 
 They thought the place could sanctify a sin ; 
 Like those that vainly hop'd kind heaven would 
 
 wink, IBS 
 
 While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink. 
 And as devouter Turks first warn their souls 
 To part, before they taste forbidden bowls : 
 So these, when their black crimes they went about, 
 First timely charm'd their useless conscience out. 
 Religion's name against itself was made ; 
 The shadow serv'd the substance to invade : 
 Like zealous missions, they did care pretend 
 Of souls in show, but made the gold their end. 
 Th' incensed powers beheld with scorn from high 
 A heaven so far distant from the sky, [ground, 
 Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the 
 And martial brass, belie the thunder's sound. 
 'Twas hence at length just vengeance thought it fit 
 To speed their ruin by their impious wit. 200 
 
 Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain, 
 Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain. 
 Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate, 
 Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate. 
 Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set, 005 
 
 A virtuous shame within us to beget. 
 For by example most we sinn'd before, 
 And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore. 
 But since reform'd by what we did amiss, 
 We by our suff'rings learn to prize our bliss : 210 
 Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
 
 22 THE TOEMS 
 
 Were long the may-game of malicious arts, 
 When once they find their jealousies were vain, 
 With double heat renew their fires again. 
 'Tvvas this produc'd the joy that hurried o'er eia 
 Such swarms of English to the neighb 'ring shore, 
 To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made 
 So rich amends for our impoverish 'd trade. 
 Oh had you seen from Schevelin's barren shore, 
 (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) 
 Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring 
 True sorrow, Holland to regret a king ! 
 While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, 
 And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied. 
 Thewav 'ring streamers, flags, and standard out, lit 
 The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout ; 
 And last, the cannons' voice that shook the skies, 
 And, as it fares in sudden ecstasies, 
 At once bereft us both of ears and eyes. 
 The Naseby, now no longer England's shame, 2io 
 But better to be lost in Charles his name, 
 (Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets) 
 Receives her lord : the joyful London meets 
 The princely York, himself alone a freight ; 
 The Swift-sure groans beneath great Gloster's 
 
 weight : cis 
 
 Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these 
 He that was born to drown might cross the seas. 
 Heaven could not own a Providence, and take 
 The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake. / 
 The same indulgence Charles his voyage blesYd,
 
 OF DRY DIN. 23 
 
 Which in his right had miracles confess'd. 24' 
 The winds that never moderation knew, 
 Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew : 
 Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge 
 Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of their 
 
 charge. 
 The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear, 
 In richer azure never did appear; 
 Proud her returning Prince to entertain 
 With the submitted fasces of the main. 
 
 And welcome now, great monarch, to your own; 
 
 Behold th' approaching cliffs of Albion : 
 
 It is no longer motion cheats your view, 
 
 As you meet it, the land approacheth you. 
 
 The land returns, and, in the white it wears, 
 
 The marks of penitence and sorrow bears. ess 
 
 But you, whose goodness your descent doth show, 
 
 Your heavenly parentage and earthly too ; 
 
 By that same mildness, which your father's crown 
 
 Before did ravish, shall secure your own. 
 
 Not tied to rules of policy, you find 2fio 
 
 Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind. 
 
 Thus, when the Almighty would to Moses give 
 
 A sight of all he could behold and live ; 
 
 A voice before His entry did proclaim 
 
 Long-suffering, goodness, mercy, in His name. 365 
 
 Your power to justice doth submit your cause, 
 
 Your goodness only is above the laws ; 
 
 Whose rigid letter, while pronoune'd by you,
 
 24 THE POEMS 
 
 Is softer made. So winds that tempests brew, 
 When through Arabian groves they take their flight, 
 Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite. 
 And as those lees that trouble it, refine 
 The agitated soul of generous wine : 
 So tears of joy, for your returning, spilt, 
 Work out, and expiate our former guilt. 2ir> 
 
 Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand, 
 Who, in their haste to welcome you to land, 
 Chok'd up the beach with their still growing store, 
 And made a wilder torrent on the shore : 
 While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past delight, 
 Those, who had seen you, court a second sight; 
 Preventing still your steps, and making haste 
 To meet you often, wheresoe'er you past. 
 How shall I speak of that triumphant day, 
 When you renew'd th' expiring ponap of May ! 
 (A month that owns an interest m your name : 
 You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.) 
 That star that at your birth shone out so bright, 
 It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light, 
 Did once again its potent fires renew, e<jo 
 
 Guiding our eyes to find and worship you. 
 And now Time's whiter series is begun, 
 Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run : 
 Those clouds, that overcast your morn, shall fly, 
 Dispell'd to farthest corners of the sky. 295 
 
 Our nation with united interest blest, 
 Not now content to poise, shall sway the rest. 
 Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
 
 Or DRYDEN. 25 
 
 But, like die sea, in boundless circles How. 
 Your much-lov'd fleet shall, with a wide command, 
 Besiege the petty monarchs of the land : 
 And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down, 
 Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown. 
 Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free, 
 Our merchants shall no more adventurers be: 
 Nor in the farthest east those dangers fear, 
 Which humble Holland must dissemble here. 
 Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes ; 
 For what the powerful takes not he bestows : 
 And France, that did an exile's presence fear, 
 May justly apprehend you still too near. su 
 
 At home the hateful names of parties cease, 
 And factious souls are wearied into peace. 
 The discontented now are only they, 
 Whose crimes before did your just cause betray : 
 Of those your edicts some reclaim from sins, 
 But most your life and blest example wins. 
 Oh happy prince, whom heaven hath taught the way 
 By paying vows to have more vows to pay ! 
 Oh happy age ! Oh times like those alone, 3cu 
 By fate reserv'd for great Augustus' throne ! 
 When the joint growth of arms and art foreshow 
 The world a monarch, and that monarch you.
 
 26 THE I'OEMS 
 
 TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. 
 
 A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION. 
 
 In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, 
 When life and sin one common tomb had found, 
 The first small prospect of a rising hill 
 With various notes of joy the ark did fill : 
 Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd, 
 It left behind it false and slippery ground ; 
 And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd, 
 Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd. 
 Thus, royal sir, to see you landed here, 
 Was cause enough of triumph for a year : to 
 
 Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat, 
 Till they at once might be secure and great : 
 Till your kind beams, by their continu'd stay, 
 Had warm'd the ground, and call'd the damps away. 
 Such vapours, while your powerful influence dries, 
 Then soonest vanish when they highest rise. 
 Had greater haste these sacred rites prepar'd, 
 Some guilty months had in your triumphs shar'd : 
 But this untainted year is all your own ; 
 Your glories may without our crimes be shown. 
 We had not yet exhausted all our store, 
 When you refresh'd our joys by adding more : 
 As heaven, of old, dispens'd celestial dew, 
 You gave us manna, and still give us new. 
 
 Now our sad ruins are remov'd from sight, 15
 
 OF DRYDEN. 27 
 
 The season too comes fraught with new delight : 
 Time seems not now beneath his years to stoop, 
 Nor do his wings with sickly feathers droop : 
 Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy spring, 
 And open'd scenes of flowers and blossoms bring, 
 To grace this happy day, while you appear, 
 Not king of us alone, but of the year. 
 All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart : 
 Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part : 
 Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim, 35 
 And heaven this day is feasted with your name. 
 Your cavalcade the fair spectators view 
 From their high standings, yet look up to you. 
 From your brave train each singles out a prey, 
 And longs to date a conquest from your day. 10 
 Now charg'd with blessings while you seek repose, 
 Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close : 
 And glorious dreams stand ready to restore 
 The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. 
 Next to the sacred temple you are led, 45 
 
 Where waits a crown for your more sacred head : 
 How justly from the church that crown is due, 
 Preserv'd from ruin, and restor'd by you! 
 The grateful choir their harmony employ, 
 Not to make greater, but more solemn joy. so 
 Wrapt soft and warm your name is sent on high, 
 As flames do on the wings of incense fly : 
 Music herself is lost, in vain she brings 
 Her choicest notes to praise the best of kings : 
 Her melting strains in you a tomb have found, 55
 
 28 THE POEMS 
 
 And lie like bees in their own sweetness drown'd. 
 
 He that brought peace, all discord could atone, 
 
 His name is music of itself alone. 
 
 Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, 
 
 And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread 
 
 Through the large dome ; the people's joyful sound , 
 
 Sent back, is still preserv'd in hallow'd ground ; 
 
 Which in one blessing mix'd descends on you ; 
 
 As heighten'd spirits fall in richer dew. 
 
 Not that our wishes do increase your store, 65 
 
 Full of your self you can admit no more ; 
 
 We add not to your glory, but employ 
 
 Our time, like angels, in expressing joy. 
 
 Nor is it duty, or our hopes alone, 
 
 Create that joy, but full fruition : 70 
 
 We know those blessings, which we must possess, 
 
 And judge of future by past happiness. 
 
 No promise can oblige a prince so much 
 
 Still to be good, as long to have been such. 
 
 A noble emulation heats your breast, 75 
 
 And your own fame now robs you of your rest. 
 
 Good actions still must be maintain'd with good, 
 
 As bodies nourish'd with resembling food. 
 
 You have already quench'd sedition's brand ; 
 
 And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land. 
 
 The jealous sects, that dare not trust their cause, 
 
 So far from their own will as to the laws, 
 
 You for their umpire and their synod take, 
 
 And their appeal alone to Caesar make. 
 
 Kind heaven so rare a temper did provide,
 
 Or uKYDEN. 29 
 
 That guilt repenting might in it confide. 
 Among our crimes oblivion may be set ; 
 But 'tis our king's perfection to forget. 
 Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes 
 From milder heavensyou bring without their crimes, 
 Your calmness does no after-storms provide, 
 Nor seeming patience mortal anger hide. 
 When empire first from families did spring, 
 Then every father govern'd as a king : 
 But you, that are a sovereign prince, allay y? 
 Imperial power with your paternal sway. 
 From those great cares when ease your soul un- 
 bends, 
 Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends : 
 Born to command the mistress of the seas, 
 Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire 
 Hither in summer evenings you repair [please. 
 To taste the fraicheur of the purer air : 
 Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves, 
 With Caesar's heart that rose above the waves. 
 More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays ; 
 No loyal subject dares that courage praise. io£ 
 In stately frigates most delight you find, 
 Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind. 
 What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence, 
 When even your pleasures serve for our defence. 
 Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide, 
 Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide: 
 Here in a royal bed the waters sleep ; 
 When tir'd at sea, within this bay they creep.
 
 30 
 
 THE POEMS 
 
 Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects, 115 
 So safe are all things which our king protects. 
 From your lov'd Thames a blessing yet is due, 
 Second alone to that it brought in you ; 
 A queen, near whose chaste womb, ordain'd by fate, 
 The souls of kings unborn for bodies wait. 120 
 It was your love before made discord cease: 
 Your love is destin'd to your country's peace. 
 Both Indies, rivals in your bed, provide 
 With gold or jewels to adorn your bride. 
 This to a mighty king presents rich ore, 125 
 
 While that with incense does a god implore. 
 Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose, 
 This must receive a crown, or that must lose. 
 Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old, 
 Are answers sought, and destinies foretold : 130 
 Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows, 
 And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs. 
 Your subjects, while you weigh the nation's fate, 
 Suspend to both their doubtful love or hate: 
 Choose only, sir, that so they may possess, 1-55 
 With their own peace their children's happiness.
 
 OF DRYOI'.N. 31 
 
 TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE,' 
 
 PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 16G2. 
 MY LORD, 
 
 While flattering crowds officiously appear, 
 To give themselves, not you, a happy year ; 
 And by the greatness of their presents prove 
 How much they hope, but not how well they love; 
 The Muses, who your early courtship boast, s 
 Though now your flames are with their beauty lost, 
 Yet watch their time, that, if you have forgot 
 They were your mistresses, the world may not : 
 Decay'd by time and wars, they only prove 
 
 * Edward, Earl of Clarendon, to whom this poem is ad- 
 dressed, having followed the fortune of the king, was ap- 
 pointed secretary of state at Bruges, and constituted lord high 
 chancellor of England on the demise of Sir Richard Lane. 
 He was confirmed in this last post at the Restoration, when 
 lie was also chosen chancellor of the university of Oxford, in 
 the room of the Duke of Somerset, and created Baron Hin- 
 don, Viscount Cornbury, and Earl of Clarendon. 
 
 He was too honest for a court ; his plain dealing and in- 
 tegrity ruined him ; the king, abandoned to pleasure, was 
 impatient of admonition, and Hyde was not sparing of it : 
 this paved the way for his disgrace. He was prosecuted 
 with great acrimony by the Earl of Bristol, who impeached 
 him in the House of Peers. Finding his party too weak to 
 support him, he retired to Rouen, where he died in 1674. 
 He is said to have been concerned in selling Dunkirk to the 
 French. He was an able lawyer, a great statesman, and an 
 elegant writer. J).
 
 3c the poems 
 
 Their former beauty by your former love ; 
 And now present, as ancient ladies do, 
 That courted long, at length are forc'd to woo. 
 For still they look on you with such kind eyes, 
 .As those that see the Church's sovereign rise; 
 From their own order chose, in whose high state 
 They think themselves the second choice of fate- 
 When our great monarch into exile went, 
 Wit and religion suffer'd banishment. 
 Thus once, when Troy was wrapp'd in fire and smoke, 
 The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook ; 
 They with the vanquish'd prince and party go, 
 And leave their temples empty to the foe. 
 At length the Muses stand, restor'd again 
 To that great charge which nature did ordain , 
 And their lov'd Druids seem reviv'd by fate, 25 
 While you dispense the laws, and guide the state. 
 The nation's soul, our monarch, does dispense, 
 Through you, to us his vital influence ; 
 You are the channel, where those spirits flow, 
 And work them higher, as to us they go. 30 
 
 In open prospect nothing bounds our eye, 
 Until the earth seems join'd unto the sky : 
 So in this hemisphere our utmost view 
 Is only bounded by our king and you : 
 Our sight is limited where you are join'd, 33 
 
 And beyond that no farther heaven can find. 
 So well your virtues do with his agree, 
 That, though your orbs of different greatness be, 
 Yet both are for each other's use dispos'd,
 
 OF DRYDEN. 33 
 
 His to inclose, and yours to be inclos'd. »o 
 
 Nor could another in your room have been, 
 Except an emptiness had come between. 
 Well may he then to you his cares impart, 
 And share his burden where he shares his heart. 
 In you his sleep still wakes ; his pleasures find 45 
 Their share of business in your laboring mind. 
 So when the weary sun his place resigns, 
 He leaves his light, and by reflection shines. 
 
 Justice, that sits and frowns where public laws 
 Exclude soft mercy from a private cause, 50 
 
 In your tribunal most herself does please; 
 There only smiles because she lives at ease ; 
 And, like young David, finds her strength the 
 
 more, 
 When disencumber'd from those arms she wore. 
 Heaven would our royal master should exceed 55 
 Most in that virtue, which we most did need ; 
 And his mild father (who too late did find 
 All mercy vain but what with power was join'd) 
 His fatal goodness left to fitter times, 
 Not to increase, but to absolve our crimes : 60 
 But when the heir of this vast treasure knew 
 How large a legacy was left to you, 
 (Too great for any subject to retain) 
 He wisely tied it to the crown again : 
 Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, 
 As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their 
 While empiric politicians use deceit, [ore. 
 
 Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat; 
 
 vol. 1. D
 
 34 THE POEMS 
 
 You boldly show that skill which they pretend 
 And work by means as noble as your end ; 70 
 Which should you veil, we might unwind the clue, 
 As men do nature, till we came to you. 
 And as the Indies were not found, before 
 Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore, 
 The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd, 75 
 Whose guilty sweetness first their world betray 'd ; 
 So by your counsels we are brought to view 
 A rich and undiscover'd world in you. 
 By you our monarch does that fame assure, 
 Which kings must have, or cannot live secure : 
 For prosp'rous princes gain their subjects' heart, 
 Who love that praise in which themselves have 
 By you he fits those subjects to obey, [part. 
 
 As heaven's eternal monarch does convey 
 His power unseen, and man, to his designs 86 
 By his bright ministers the stars, inclines. 
 Our setting sun from his declining seat 
 Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat : 
 And, when his love was bounded in a few, 
 That were unhappy that they might be true, y<> 
 Made you the favourite of his last sad times, 
 That is a suff'rer in his subjects' crimes : 
 Thus those first favours you received were sent, 
 Like heaven's rewards in earthly punishment. 
 Yet fortune, conscious of your destiny, 95 
 
 E'en then took care to lay you softly by ; 
 
 87 Our setting stm] Charles I. employed him in writing 
 some of his declarations Dr J. W.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 35 
 
 And wrapp'd your fate among her precious things, 
 Kept fresh to be unfolded with your king's. 
 Shown all at once you dazzled so our eyes, 
 As new-born Pallas did the gods surprise ; mo 
 When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing 
 
 wound, 
 She struck the warlike spear into the ground ; 
 Which sprouting leaves did suddenly inclose, 
 And peaceful olives shaded as they rose. 
 
 How strangely active are the arts of peace, 105 
 Whose restless motions less than war's do cease! 
 Peace is not freed from labour but from noise ; 
 And war more force, but not more pains employs : 
 Such is the mighty swiftness of your mind, 
 That, like the earth's, it leaves our sense behind, 
 While you so smoothly turn and roll our sphere, 
 That rapid motion does but rest appear. 
 For. as in nature's swiftness, with the thron^ 
 Of flying orbs while ours is borne along. 
 All seems at rest to the deluded eye, iw 
 
 Mov'd by the soul of the same harmony, 
 So, carried on by your unwearied care, 
 We rest in peace, and yet in motion share. 
 Let envy then those crimes within you see, 
 From which the happy never must be free ; 120 
 Envy, that does with misery reside, 
 The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride. 
 Think it not hard, if at so cheap a rate 
 You can secure the constancy of fate, 
 Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem,
 
 36 THE POEMS 
 
 By lesser ills the greater to redeem. 
 Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call, 
 But drops of heat, that in the sunshine fall. 
 You have already wearied fortune so, 
 She cannot farther be your friend or foe ; 130 
 
 But sits all breathless, and admires to feel 
 A fate so weighty, that it stops her wheel. 
 In all things else above our humble fate, 
 Your equal mind yet swells not into state, 
 But. like some mountain in those happy isles, 1.15 
 Where in perpetual spring young nature smiles, 
 Your greatness shows : no horror to affright, 
 But trees for shade, and flowers to court the sight : 
 Sometimes the hill submits itself a while 139 
 
 In small descents, which do its height beguile ; 
 And sometimes mounts, but so as billows play, 
 Whose rise not hinders but makes short our way. 
 Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know, 
 Sees rolling tempests vainly beat below; 
 And, like Olympus' top, th' impression wears 1+5 
 Of love and friendship writ in former years. 
 Yet, uninipair'd with labours, or with time, 
 Your age but seems to a new youth to climb. 
 Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget, 
 
 139 Sometimes tlie hill submits itself a while 
 In small descents] 
 
 ' qua se subdu;ere colles 
 
 Incipiunt, mollique jugura demittere clivo.' 
 
 Virgil, Eel. ix. 8. J. W. 
 149 Thus heavenly] Dr. Johnson is of opinion, that ' in this 
 poem he seems to have collected all his powers.' I should
 
 OF DRYDEN. 37 
 
 And measure change, but share no part of it. 150 
 And stiil it shall without a weight increase, 
 Like this new-year, whose motions never cease. 
 For since the glorious course you have begun 
 Is led by Charles, as that is by the sun, 
 It must both weightless and immortal prove, 155 
 Because the centre of it is above. 
 
 SATIRE ON THE DUTCH. 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662.* 
 
 As needy gallants, In the scrivener's hands, 
 Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd 
 
 lands; 
 The first fat buck of all the season's sent, 
 And keeper takes no fee in compliment ; 
 The dotage of some Englishmen is such, 5 
 
 To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch, 
 They shall have all, rather than make a war 
 With those, who of the same religion are. 
 The Straits, the Guiney-trade, the herrings too ; 
 Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. 10 
 
 lament if this were true. But then he adds, ' He has con- 
 cluded with lines of which I think not myself obliged to tell 
 the meaning.' Dr. J. W. 
 
 * This poem is no more than a prologue a little alteied, 
 prefixed to our author's tragedy of Amboyna. 1).
 
 38 THE POEMS 
 
 Some are resolved not to find out the cheat, 
 But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat. 
 What injuries soe'er upon us fall, 
 Yet still the same religion answers all. 
 Religion wheedled us to civil war, [spare. 
 
 Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would 
 Be gull'd no longer ; for you'll find it true, 
 They have no more religion, faith ! than you. 
 Interest's the god they worship in their state, 
 And we, I take it, have not much of that. so 
 
 Well monarchies may own religion's name, 
 But states are atheists in their very frame. 
 They share a sin ; and such proportions fall, 
 That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all. 
 Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty, 25 
 
 And that what once they were, they still would be. 
 To one well-born th' affront is worse and more, 
 When he's abus'd and baffled by a boor. 
 With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do ; 
 They've both ill nature and ill manners too. 30 
 Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; 
 For they were bred ere manners were in fashion : 
 And their new commonwealth has set them free 
 Only from honour and civility. 
 Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, 33 
 
 Than did their lubber state mankind bestride. 
 Their sway became 'em with as ill a mien, 
 As their own paunches swell above their chin. 
 Yet is their empire no true growth but humour, 
 And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour
 
 OF DRYDEN. 39 
 
 As Cato, fruits of Afric did display ; «i 
 
 Let us before our eyes their Indies lay : 
 All loyal English will like him conclude; 
 Let Caesar live, and Carthage be subdu'd. 
 
 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS,* 
 
 ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE 
 
 DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665, AND ON 
 
 HER JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH. 
 
 When for our sakes your hero you resign'd 
 To swelling seas, and every faithless wind ; 
 When you releas'd his courage, and set free 
 A valour fatal to the enemv ; 
 You lodg'd your country's cares within your breast, 
 (The mansion where soft love should only rest :) 
 
 " As Cato, &c] Compare the Annus Mirabilis, stan. 173. 
 
 " As once old Cato in the Roman fight, 
 
 The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold." T. 
 
 44 and Carthage'] The very words and allusion by Lord 
 Shaftesbury, in his famous speech against the Dutch. 
 
 * The lady to whom our author addresses this poem was 
 daughter to the great Earl of Clarendon. The Duke of York 
 had been some time married to her, before the affair was 
 known either to the king his brother, or to her iatner. She 
 died in March, 1671, leaving issue one son, named Edgar,
 
 40 THE POEMS 
 
 And, ere our foes abroad were overcome, 
 The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home. 
 Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide ! 
 Four honour gave us what your love denied : 10 
 And 'twas for him much easier to subdue 
 Those foes he fought with, than to part from you 
 That glorious day, which two such navies saw, 
 As each unmatch'd might to the world give law. 
 Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, 15 
 Held to them both the trident of the sea : 
 The winds were hush'd,the waves in ranks were cast, 
 As awfully as when God's people past : 
 Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow, 
 These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. 
 Then with the duke your highness rul'd the day: 
 While all the brave did his command obey, 
 The fair and pious under you did pray. 
 How powerful are chaste vows ! the wind and tide 
 You brib'd to combat on the English side. «5 
 
 Thus to your much-lov'd lord you did convey 
 
 and three daughters, Katherine, Mary, and Ann. The two 
 latter lived to sit on the British throne ; the two former 
 survived their mother but a short time. Bishop Burnet tells 
 us, that she was a woman of knowledge and penetration, 
 friendly and generous, but severe in her resentments. D. 
 
 26 your much-lov'd lord] James, notwithstanding, had 
 many mistresses. Lady Dorchester, says Lord Orford, 
 Vol. IV. p. 319, 4to. said wittily, she wondered for what 
 James II._chose his mistresses. We are none of us hand- 
 some, and if we had wit, he has not enough to discover it. 
 And once meeting the Duchess of Portsmouth and Lady
 
 OF DRYDEN. 41 
 
 An unknown succour, sent the nearest way. 
 New vigour to his wearied arms you brought, 
 (So Moses was upheld while Israel fought) 
 While, from afar, we heard the cannon play, 30 
 Like distant thunder on a shiny day. 
 For absent friends we were asham'd to fear, 
 When we consider'd what you ventur'd there. 
 Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore, 
 But such a leader could supply no more. 35 
 
 With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn, 
 Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. 
 Fortune and victory he did pursue, 
 To bring them as his slaves to wait on you. 
 Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame, 40 
 
 And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame. 
 Then, as you meant to spread another way, 
 By land your conquests, far as his by sea, 
 Leaving our southern clime, you march'd along 
 The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupids strong. 
 Like commons the nobility resort, 
 In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court : 
 To welcome your approach the vulgar run, 
 Like some new envoy from the distant sun, 
 And country beauties by their lovers go, so 
 
 Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show. 
 So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen, 
 
 Orkney, the favourite of King William, at the drawing-room 
 of George I. she exclaimed, " Good God ! who would have 
 thought that we three should have met together here !' 
 
 Dr. J. W.
 
 42 POEMS OF DRYDEK 
 
 Her feather'd subjects all adore their queen, 
 And while she makes her progress through the East, 
 From every grove her numerous train's increast : 
 Each poet of the air her glory sings, [wings. 
 
 And round him the pleas'd audience clap their 
 
 46 her glory sings] The Duchess of York, says Burnet, 
 •»vas an extraordinary woman. She had great knowledge, and 
 a lively sense of things, but took state on her rather too much. 
 She wrote well, and had begun the duke's life, of which she 
 showed me a volume. She was bred to great strictness in 
 religion, practised secret confession, and Morley was her 
 confessor. Dr. J W.
 
 43 
 
 ANNUS MIRABILIS; 
 THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL POEM. 
 
 TO THE 
 
 METROPOLIS OF GREAT BRITAIN, 
 
 THE MOST RENOWNED AND LATE FLOURISHING CITY OF 
 
 LONDON, IN ITS REPRESENTATIVES THE LORD 
 
 MA v OR AND COURT OF ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND 
 
 COMMON COUNCIL OF IT.* 
 
 As perhaps I am the first who ever presented a work of this 
 nature to the metropolis of any nation ; so it is likewise 
 consonant to justice, that he who was to give the first ex- 
 ample of such a dedication should begin it with that city, 
 which has set a pattern to all others of true loyalty, invin- 
 cible courage, and unshaken constancy. Other cities have 
 been praised for the same virtues, but I am much deceived 
 if any have so dearly purchased their reputation ; their fame 
 has been won them by cheaper trials than an expensive, 
 though necessary war, a consuming pestilence, and a more 
 consuming fire. To submit yourselves with that humility 
 to the judgments of Heaven, and at the same time to raise 
 yourselves with that vigour above all human enemies ; to be 
 combated at once from above and from below, to be struck 
 
 * This dedication has been left out in all editions of the poem 
 but the first. To me there appears in it an honest unfeigned 
 warmth and a love for the king, which compensates for any thing 
 that may have dropped from our author's pen in his verses on 
 Cromwell's death ; however, we submit this opinion under correc- 
 tion to the judicious reader. D-
 
 44 
 
 down and to triumph : I know not whether such trials have 
 been ever paralleled in any nation : the resolution and suc- 
 cesses of them never can be. Never had prince or people 
 more mutual reason to love each other, if suffering for each 
 other can endear affection. You have come together a pair 
 of matchless lovers, through many difficulties ; he, through 
 a long exile, various traverses of fortune, and the inter- 
 position of many rivals, who violently ravished and with- 
 held you from him : and certainly you have had your share 
 in sufferings. But Providence has cast upon you want of 
 trade, that you might appear bountiful to your country's 
 necessities ; and the rest of your afflictions are not more the 
 effects of God's displeasure (frequent examples of them 
 having been in the reign of the most excellent princes) than 
 occasions for the manifesting of your Christian and civil 
 virtues. To you therefore this Year of Wonders is justly 
 dedicated, because you have made it so. You, who are to 
 stand a wonder to all years and ages, and who have built 
 yourselves an immortal monument on your own ruins. 
 You are now a phoenix in her ashes, and, as far as huma- 
 nity can approach, a great emblem of the suffering Deity : 
 but Heaven never made so much piety and virtue to leave it 
 miserable. I have heard,.indeed, of some virtuous persons 
 who have ended unfortunately, but never of any virtuous 
 nation : Providence is engaged too deeply, when the cause 
 becomes so general ; and I cannot imagine it has resolved 
 the ruin of that people at home, which it has blessed abroad 
 with such successes. I am therefore to conclude, that your 
 sufferings are at an end ; and that one part of my poem has 
 not been more a history of your destruction, than the other 
 a prophecy of your restoration. The accomplishment of 
 which happiness, as it is the wish of all true Englishmen, 
 so is it by none move passionately desired than by, 
 The greatest of your admirers. 
 
 And most humble of your servants, 
 
 John Dryden.
 
 45 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, 
 
 in a letter 
 
 to the hon. sir robert howard 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I am so many ways obliged to you, and so little able to re- 
 turn your favours, that, like those who owe too much, I can 
 only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not 
 only been careful of my fortune, which was the effect of 
 your nobleness, but you have been solicitous of my repu- 
 tation, which is that of your kindness. It is not long since 
 I gave you the trouble of perusing a play for me, and now, 
 instead of an acknowledgment, I have given you a greater, 
 in the correction of a poem. But since you are to bear this 
 persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a 
 martyr ; you could never suffer in a nobler cause. For I 
 have chosen the most heroic subject which any poet could 
 desire : I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the 
 beginning, progress, and successes, of a most just and ne- 
 cessary war : in it, the care, management, and prudence of 
 our king; the conduct and valour of a royal admiral, and 
 of two incomparable generals ; the invincible courage of 
 our captains and seamen ; and three glorious victories, the 
 result of all. After this, I have, in the fire, the most de- 
 plorable, but withal the greatest, argument that can be 
 imagined : the destruction being so swift, so sudden, so 
 vast, and miserable, as nothing can parallel in story. The 
 former part of this poem, relating to the war, is but a due 
 expiation for my not serving my king and country in it. 
 All gentlemen are almost obliged to it; and I know no 
 reason we should give that advantage to the commonalty of 
 England, to be foremost in brave actions, which the noblesse 
 of France would never suffer in their peasants. I should 
 not have written this but to a person who has been ever 
 forward to appear in all employments, whither his honour 
 and generosity have called him. The latter part of my 
 poem, which describes the fire, I owe, first to the piety and
 
 46 
 
 fatherly affection of our monarch to his Miffeiing subjects ; 
 and, in the second place, to the courage, loyalty, and mag- 
 nanimity of the city ; both which were so conspicuous, that 
 I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. 1 
 have called my poem Historical, not Epic, though both the 
 actions and actors are as much heroic as any poem can 
 contain. But since the action is not properly one, nor that 
 accomplished in the last successes, I have judged it too 
 bold a title for a few stanzas, which are little more in number 
 than a single Iliad, or the longest of the ^Eneids. For this 
 reason (I mean not of length, but broken action, tied too 
 severely to the laws of history) I am apt to agree with those, 
 who rank Lucan, rather among historians in verse, than 
 Epic poets : in whose room, if I am not deceived, Silius 
 Italicus, though a worse writer, may more justly be ad- 
 mitted. *I have chosen to write my poem in quatrains, or 
 stanzas of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever 
 judged them more noble, and of greater dignity, both for 
 the sound and number, than any other verse in use amongst 
 us ; in which I am sure I have your approbation. The 
 learned languages have certainly a great advantage of us, in 
 not being tied to the slavery of any rhyme ; and were less 
 constrained in the quantity of every syllable, which they 
 might vary with spondees or dactyls, besides so many other 
 helps of grammatical figures, for the lengthening or abbre- 
 viation of them, than the modern are in the close of that one 
 syllable, which often confines, and more often corrupts, the 
 sense of all the rest. But in this necessity of our rhymes, I 
 have always found the couplet verse most easy, though not 
 so proper for this occasion : for there the woik is sooner at 
 an end, every two lines concluding tho labour of the poet ; 
 but in quatrains he is to carry it farther on, and not only so, 
 but to bear along in his head the troublesome sense of font 
 lines together. For those who write correctly in this kind, 
 must needs acknowledge, that the last line of the stanza is 
 to be considered in the composition of the first. Neither can 
 we give ourselves the liberty of making any part of a verse 
 for the sake of rhyme, or concluding with a word which is 
 
 * Dryden certainly soon changed his opinion, since he never 
 after practised the manner of versification he has here praised : 
 but we shall find it always his way to assure us, that his present 
 mode of writing is best. Conscious of his own importance, he 
 soared above control ; and when he composed a poem, he set it 
 up as a standard of imitation, deducing from it rules of criticism, 
 the practice of which he endeavoured to enforce, till either through 
 intei est or fancy he was induced to change his opinion. V.
 
 47 
 
 not current English, or using the variety of female rhymes ; 
 all which our fathers practised : and for the female rhymes, 
 they are still in use amongst other nations; with the Italian 
 in every line, with the Spaniard promiscuously, with the 
 French alternately ; as those who have read the Alarique, 
 the Pucelle, or any of their later poems, will agree with me. 
 And besides this, they write in Alexandrines, or verses of 
 six feet; such as amongst us is the old translation. of Homer, 
 by Chapman : all which, by lengthening of their chain, 
 makes the sphere of their activity the larger. I have dwelt 
 too long upon the choice of my stanza, which you may re- 
 member is much better defended in the preface to Gondi- 
 bert ; and therefore I will hasten to acquaint you with my 
 endeavours in the writing. In general I will only say, I 
 have never yet seen the description of any naval fight in the 
 proper terms which are used at sea ; and if there be any 
 such, in another language, as that of Lucan in the third of 
 his Pharsalia, yet I could not avail myself of it in the Eng- 
 lish ; the terms of art in every tongue bearing more of the 
 idiom of it than any other words. We hear indeed among 
 our poets, of the thundering of guns, the smoke, the dis- 
 order, and the slaughter ; but all these are common notions. 
 And certainly, as those who, in a logical dispute, keep in 
 general terms, would hide a fallacy, so those who do it in 
 any poetical description, would veil their ignoranc 
 
 Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, 
 Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, Poeta salutor? 
 
 For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the sea, yet I 
 have thought it no shame to learn ; and if I have made some 
 few mistakes, it is only, as you can bear me witness, because 
 I have wanted opportunity to correct them ; the whole poem 
 being first written, and now sent you from a place where I 
 have not so much as the converse of any seaman. Yet 
 though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more 
 than recompensed by the pleasure. I found myself so warm 
 in celebrating the praises of military men, two such espe- 
 cially as the Prince and General, that it is no wonder if 
 they inspired me with thoughts above my ordinary level. 
 And I am well satisfied that, as they are incomparably the 
 best subject I ever had, excepting only the Royal Family, 
 so also, that this I have written of them is much better than 
 what I have performed on any other. I have been forced to 
 help out other arguments ; but this has been bountiful to 
 me : they have been low and barren of praise, and I have
 
 48 
 
 exalted them, and made them fruitful ; but here — Omnia 
 sponte sua reddit justissima tellus. I have had a large, a fair, 
 and a pleasant field ; so fertile that without my cultivating, 
 it has given me two harvests in a summer, and in both op- 
 pressed the reaper. All other greatness in subjects is only 
 counterfeit ; it will not endure the test of danger ; the great- 
 ness of arms is only real ; other greatness burdens a nation 
 with its weight ; this supports it with its strength. And as 
 it is the happiness of the age, so it is the peculiar goodness 
 of the best of kings, that we may praise his subjects without 
 offending him. Doubtless it proceeds from a just confidence 
 of his own virtue, which the lustre of no other can be so 
 great as to darken in him ; for the good or the valiant are 
 never safely praised under a bad or a degenerate prince. 
 But to return from this digression to a farther account of my 
 poem ; I must crave leave to tell you, that as I have endea- 
 voured to adorn it with noble thoughts, so much more to 
 express those thoughts with elocution. The composition of 
 all poems is, or ought to be, of wit ; and wit in the poet, or 
 wit-writing (if you will give me leave to use a school-dis- 
 tinction) is no other than the faculty of imagination in the 
 writer, which, like a nimble spaniel, beats over and ranges 
 through the field of memory, till it springs the quarry it 
 hunted after ; or, without metaphor, which searches over all 
 the memory for the species or ideas of those things which it 
 designs to represent. Wit written is that which is well de- 
 fined, the happy result of thought, or product of imagination. 
 But to proceed from wit, in the general notion of it, to the 
 proper wit of an heroic or historical poem, I judge it chiefly 
 to consist in the delightful imaging of persons, actions, pas- 
 sions, or things. It is not the jerk or sting of an epigram, 
 nor the seeming contradiction of a poor antithesis, (the de- 
 light of an ill-judging audience in a play of rhyme) nor the 
 gingle of a more poor Paranomasia ; neither is it so much 
 the morality of a grave sentence, affected by Lucan, but 
 more sparingly used by Virgil ; but it is some lively and apt 
 description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets 
 before your eyes the absent object as perfectly and more de- 
 lightfully than nature. So then the first happiness of the 
 poet's imagination is properly invention, or finding of the 
 thought ; the second is fancy, or the variation, deriving, or 
 moulding of that thought, as the judgment represents it 
 proper to the subject ; the third is elocution, cr the art of 
 clothing and adorning that thought, so found and varied, iu 
 apt, significant, and sounding words : the quickness of the
 
 49 
 
 imagination is seen in the invention, the fertility in the 
 fancy, and the accuracy in the expression. For the two first 
 of these, Ovid is famous amongst the poets ; for the latter, 
 Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affec- 
 tions of the mind, either combating between two contrary 
 passions, or extremely discomposed by one. His words 
 therefore are the least part of his care ; for he pictures natuie 
 in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is in- 
 consistent. This is the proper wit of dialogue or discourse, 
 and consequently of the drama, where all that is said is to 
 be supposed the effect of sudden thought; which, though it 
 excludes not the quickness of wit in repartees, yet admits not 
 a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or 
 use of tropes, or in fine any thing that shows remoteness of 
 thought or labour in the writer. On the other side, Virgil 
 speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, 
 but in his own : he relates almost all things as from himself, 
 and thereby gains more liberty than the other, to express his 
 thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figu- 
 ratively, and to confess as well the labour, as the force of 
 his imagination. Though he describes his Dido well and 
 naturally, in the violence of her passions, yet he must yield 
 in that to the Myrrha, the Biblis, the Althaea, of Ovid ; fot 
 as great an admirer of him as I am, 1 must acknowledge, 
 that if I see not more of their souls than I see of Dido's, at 
 least 1 have a greater concernment for them : and that con- 
 vinces me, that Ovid has touched those tender strokes more 
 delicately than Virgil could. But when action or persons 
 are to be described, when any such image is to be set before 
 us, how bold, how masterly are the strokes of Virgil ! We 
 see the objects he presents us with in their native figures, in 
 their proper motions ; but so we see them, as our own eyes 
 could never have beheld them so beautiful in themselves. 
 We see the soul of the poet, like that universal one of whicr 
 he speaks, informing and moving through all his pictures : 
 
 Totamqne infnsa per artus 
 
 Mens agitat molem, et niagiio se corpuie miscet. 
 
 We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus 
 breathing beauty upon her son tineas. 
 
 lnmenqiie juventa" 
 
 Pnrpiireum, et la^tos oculis alH.nat honorei: 
 Quale manna arldutit Ebori decus, ant uhi flavo 
 Argentina Pariuve lapis cirenndatur auro.' 
 VOL. 1 E
 
 50 
 
 See his Tempest, his Funeral Sports, his Combat of Turnus 
 and ;Eneas : and in his Georgics, which I esteem the di- 
 vinest part of all his writings, the Plague, the Country, the 
 Battle of the Bulls, the Labour of the Bees, and those many 
 other excellent images of nature, most of which are neither 
 great in themselves, nor have any natural ornament to bear 
 them up : but the words wherewith he describes them are so 
 excellent, that it might be well applied to him, which was 
 said by Ovid, Muteriam superabat opus : the very sound of 
 his words has often somewhat that is connatural to the sub- 
 ject ; and while we read him, we sit, as in a play, beholding 
 the scenes of what he represents. To perform this, he made 
 frequent use of tropes, which you know change the nature of 
 a known word, by applying it to some other signification ; aud 
 this is it which Horace means in his epistle to the Pisos : 
 
 • Dixeris egre£;i£, notnm si callida rerbum 
 Reddiderit juuetura novum' 
 
 But I am sensible I have presumed too far to entertain you 
 with a rude discourse of that art, which you both know so 
 well, and put into practice with so much happiness. Yet 
 before I leave Virgil, I must own the vanity to tell you, and 
 by you the world, that he has been my master in this poem : 
 I have followed him every where, I know not with what suc- 
 cess, but I am sure with diligence enough : my images are 
 many of them copied from him, and the rest are imitations of 
 him. My expressions also are as near as the idioms of the 
 two languages would admit of in translation. And this, sir, 
 I have done with that boldness, for which I will stand ac- 
 countable to any of our little critics, who, perhaps, are no 
 better acquainted with him than I am. Upon your first pe- 
 rusal of this poem, you have taken notice of some words, 
 which I have innovated (if it be too bold for me to say re- 
 fined) upon his Latin; which, as I offer not to introduce 
 into English prose, so I hope they are neither improper, nor 
 altogether inelegant in verse ; and, in this, Horace will a^ain 
 defend me. 
 
 ' Et nova, fictaque nuper, habebunt verba fidem, si 
 Graico fonte cadaut, parce detorta' 
 
 The inference is exceeding plain : for if a Roman poet 
 might have liberty to coin a word, supposing only that it was 
 derived from the Greek, was put into a Latin termination, and 
 that lie used this liberty but seldom, and with modesty ; how 
 much more justly may I challenge that privilege to do if
 
 51 
 
 with the same prerequisites, from the best and most judicious 
 of Latin writers? In some places, where either the fancy or 
 the words were his, or any others, I have noted it in the 
 margin, that I might not seem a plagiary; in others I have 
 neglected it, to avoid as well tediousness, as the affectation 
 of doing it too often. Such descriptions or images well 
 tvrought, which I promise not for mine, are, as I have said, 
 the adequate delight of heroic poesy ; for they beget admira- 
 tion, which is its proper object ; as the images of the bur- 
 lesque, which is contrary to this, by the same reason beget 
 laughter : for the one shows nature beautified, as in the pic- 
 ture of a fair woman, which we all admire ; the other shows 
 her deformed, as in that of a lazar, or of a fool with distorted 
 face and antique gestures, at which we cannot forbear to 
 laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though 
 the same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the 
 Historic and Panegyric, which are branches of it, yet ji 
 several sort of sculpture is to be used in them. If some if 
 them are to be like those of Juvenal, Stantes in curribus 
 /Emiliani, heroes drawn in their triumphal chariots, and in 
 their full proportion ; others are to be like that of Virgil, 
 Spirantia moltius tzra : there is somewhat more of softness 
 and tenderness to be shown in them. You will soon find I 
 write not this without concern. Some, who have seen a 
 paper of verses, which I wrote last year to her Highness the 
 Duchess, have accused them of that only thing I could de- 
 fend in them. They said, I did humi serpere, that I wanted 
 not only height of fancy, but dignity of words, to set it off. 
 I might well answer with that of Horace, Nunc non erat his 
 locus; L knew I addressed them to a lady, and accoidingly 
 I affected the softness of expression, and the smoothness of 
 measure, rather than the height of thought ; and in what I 
 did endeavour, it is no vanity to say I have succeeded. I 
 detest arrogance ; but there is some difference betwixt that 
 and a just defence. But I will not farther bribe your can- 
 dour or the reader's. I leave them to speak for me ; and, if 
 they can, to make out that character, not pretending to a 
 greater, which I have given them.* 
 
 And now, sir, 'tis time I should relieve you from the 
 tedious length of this account. You have better and more 
 profitable employment for your hours, and I wrong the public 
 to detain you longer. In conclusion, I must leave my poem 
 
 » Sit the preceding poem, which in the original edition of tht 
 Annus Mirabilin occurs iu this place. J. W,
 
 52 
 
 to you with all its faults, which I hope to find fewer in the 
 printing by your emendations. I know you are not of the 
 number of those, of whom the younger Pliny speaks ; Nee 
 sunt parum multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant : I 
 am rather too secure of you on that side. Your candour in 
 pardoning my errors may make you more remiss in correct- 
 ing them ; if you will not withal consider that they come into 
 the world with your approbation, and through your hands. I 
 beg from you the greatest favour you can confer upon an ab- 
 sent person, since I repose upon your management what is 
 dearest to me, my fame and reputation ; and therefore I hope 
 it will stir you up to make my poem fairer by many of your 
 blots ; if not, you know the story of the gamester who mar- 
 ried the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the 
 portion, christened all her children by his surname, that if, in 
 conclusion, they must beg, they should do so by one name, 
 as well as by the other. But since the reproach of my faults 
 will light on you, 'tis but reason I should do you that justice 
 to the readers, to let them know, that if there be any thing 
 tolerable in this poem, they owe the argument to your choice, 
 the writing to your encouragement, the correction to your 
 judgment, and the care of it to your friendship, to which he 
 must ever acknowledge himself to owe all things, who is, 
 
 Sir, 
 1 he most obedient, and most 
 
 Faithful of vour Servants, 
 
 John Dryden. 
 
 From Charlton in Wiltshire, 
 Nov. 10, lCWi
 
 53 
 
 ANNUS MIRABILIS, 
 THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 16G6. 
 
 I. 
 
 In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, 
 Crouching at home and cruel when abroad : 
 Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own ; 
 Our king they courted, and our merchants aw'd. 
 
 Trade, which like blood should circularly flow, 5 
 Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost : 
 Thither the wealth of all the world did £0, 
 And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast. 
 
 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat ; 
 In eastern quarries ripening precious dew : 10 
 For them the Idumsean balm did sweat, 
 And in hot Ceilon spicy forests grow. 
 
 The sun but seem'd the labourer of their year ; 
 Each waxing moon supplied her wat'ry store, 
 To swell those tides, which from the line did beai 
 Their brim-full vessels to the Belgian shore. 
 
 Thus, mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long, 
 And swept the riches of the world from far ; 
 
 10 In eastern quarries, &c] Precious stones at first are 
 dew, condensed and hardened by the warmtli of the sun, or 
 subterranean fires. Orig. ed. 1667. 
 
 14 Each waxing, &c] According to their opinion, who 
 think that great heap of waters under the Line is depressed 
 into tides by the moon, towards the Poles. Orig. ed.
 
 54 TrIE POEMS ". 
 
 Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong : 
 And this may prove our second Punic war. 
 
 What peace can be, where both to one pretend ? 
 (But they more diligent, and we more strong) 
 Or if a peace, it soon must have an end ; 
 For they would grow too powerful were it long. 
 
 Behold two nations then, engag'd so far, 2J 
 
 That each seven years the fit must shake each land : 
 Where France will side to weaken us by war, 
 Who only can his vast designs withstand. 
 
 See how he feeds th' Iberian with delays, 
 To render us his timely friendship vain : 30 
 
 And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, 
 He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. 
 
 Such deep designs of empire does he lay 
 O'er them, whose cause he seems to take in hand ; 
 And prudently would make them lords at sea, 35 
 To whom with ease he can give laws by land. 
 
 This saw our king ; and long within his breast 
 His pensive counsels balanc'd to and fro : 
 He griev'd the land he freed should be oppress'd, 
 And he less for it than usurpers do. 40 
 
 His generous mind the fair ideas drew 
 Of fame and honour, which in dangers lay; 
 Where wealth, like fruit on precipices, grew, 
 Not to be gather'd but by birds of prey. 
 59 th' Iberian] The Spaniard. Orig. e<l.
 
 XII. OF DRYDEV. 
 
 r>r> 
 
 The loss and gain each fatally were great; 43 
 And still his subjects call'd aloud for war ; 
 But peaceful kings, o'er martial people set, 
 Each other's poise and counterbalance are. 
 
 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, 
 Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain ; 
 Yet judg'd, like vapours that from limbecs rise, 
 It would in richer showers descend again. 
 
 At length resolv'd t' assert the wat'ry ball, 
 He in himself did whole Armadoes bring : 
 Him aged seamen might their master call, 55 
 And choose for general, were he not their king. 
 
 It seems as every ship their sovereign knows, 
 His awful summons they so soon obey ; 
 So hear the scaly herd when Proteus blows, 
 And so to pasture follow through the sea. Go 
 
 To see this fleet upon the ocean move, 
 Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies ; 
 And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, 
 For tapers made two glaring comets rise. 
 
 58 So hear the scaly herd] The first edition erroneously has 
 here. T. 
 
 49 v;hen Proteus blows] 
 
 • Cceruleus Proteus immania ponti 
 
 Armenia, et magnas pascit sub gurgile phocas.' Virg. 
 
 Orig. ed. 
 M Angels drew wide the curtains of the shies] This line 
 seems indebted to Sir P. Sidney's Astiophel and Stella : 
 
 ' Phoebus drew wide the curtaines of the skies.' T. 
 u two glaring comets rise] A comet was seen first on the
 
 56 THE POEMS 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Whether they unctuous exhalations are, fis 
 
 Fir'd by the sun, or seeming so alone : 
 Or each some more remote and slippery star, 
 Which loses footing when to mortals shown. 
 
 Or one, that bright companion of the sun, 
 Whose glorious aspect seal'd our new-born king ; 
 And now, a round of greater years begun, 71 
 
 New influence from his walks of li^rht did brine. 
 
 Victorious York did first, with fam'd success, 
 To his known valour make the Dutch give place: 
 Thus Heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, 
 Beginning conquest from his royal race. ?6 
 
 But since it was decreed, auspicious king, 
 In Britain's right that thou shouldstwed the main, 
 Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, 
 And therefore doom'd that Lawson should be slain. 
 
 14th of December, 1664, which lasted almost three months ; 
 and another the 6th of April, 1665, which was visible to us 
 fourteen days. Appendix to Sherburn's Translation of Ma- 
 nilius, p. 211. D. 
 
 71 And now, a round of greater years begun~] 
 
 ' Magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo.' Virg. 
 
 J. W. 
 
 80 And therefore doom'd, &c] Sir John Lawson was bo/n 
 at Hull of but mean parentage, and bred to the sea ; he was 
 for some time employed in the merchant's service, whicli he 
 left for that of the Parliament, in which he soon got a ship, 
 and afterwards carried a flag under Monk ; with him he co- 
 operated in the restoration of the king ; for which good reason 
 he received the honour of knighthood at the Hague. He .tea-
 
 xxi. OF DRYDEN. 57 
 
 Lawson amongst the foremost met his tate, 
 Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament : 
 Tims as an offering for the Grecian state, 
 He first was kill'd who first to battle went. 
 
 Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expir'd, hs 
 To which his pride presum'd to give the law: 
 The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retir'd, 
 And all was Britain the wide ocean saw. 
 
 To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, 
 Where by our dreadful cannon they lay aw'd : 
 So reverently men quit the open air, 
 Where thunder speaks the angry gods abroad. 
 
 * And now approach'd their fleet from India, fraught 
 With all the riches of the rising sun : g\ 
 
 And precious sand from southern climates brought, 
 The fatal regions where the war begun. 
 
 Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, 
 Their way-laid wealth to Norway 's coasts they bring: 
 
 lously supported our claim to the sovereignty of the sea, and 
 quarrelled with De Ruyter, the Dutch admiral, for being 
 backward in acknowledging it, an accident that partly occa- 
 sioned the Dutch war. In the action here celebrated he was 
 rear-admiral of the red, and acted immediately under his 
 Royal Highness. His death was occasioned by a musket- 
 ball, that wounded him in the knee, and he was not taken 
 proper care of. We find him characterised honest, brave, 
 loyal, and one of the most experienced seamen of his time. D 
 
 85 Their chief] The admiral of Holland. Orip. eJ. 
 
 * The attempt at Berghen. Orig. ed. 
 
 M southern climates] Guinea. Orig. ed.
 
 58 Til E POEMS 
 
 XXV2. 
 
 There first the North's cold bosom spices bore, 
 And winter brooded on the eastern spring. 100 
 
 By the rich scent we found our perfum'd prey, 
 Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in covert lie ; 
 And round about their murdering cannon lay, 
 At once to threaten and invite the eye. 
 
 Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, 
 The English undertake th' unequal war : 
 Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, 
 Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare. 
 
 These fight like husbands, but like lovers those : 
 These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy: 
 And to such height their frantic passion grows, 
 That what both love, both hazard to destroy. 
 
 Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball, 
 And now their odours arm'd against them fly : 
 Some preciously by shatter'd porcelain fall, 115 
 And some by aromatic splinters die. 
 
 And though by tempests of the prize bereft. 
 In heaven's inclemency some ease we find : 
 Our foes we vanquished by our valour left, 
 And only yielded to the seas and wind. 120 
 
 Nor wholly lost we so deserv'd a prey ; 
 For storms, repenting, part of it restor'd : 
 Which as a tribute from the Baltick sea, 
 The British ocean sent her mighty lord.
 
 XXXII. 
 
 OF DKYDFN. 59 
 
 Go, mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain ics 
 For wealth, which so uncertainly must come : 
 When what was brought so far, and with such pain, 
 Was only kept to lose it nearer home. 
 
 The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, 
 Prepar'd to tell what he had pass'd before, km 
 Now sees in English ships the Holland coast, 
 And parents' arms, in vain, stretch'd from the shore. 
 
 This careful husband had been long away, 
 Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn ; 
 Who on their fingers learn'd to tell the day 135 
 On which their father promis'd to return. 
 
 Such are the proud designs of human-kind, 
 And so we suffer shipwreck every where! 
 Alas ! what port can such a pilot find, 
 Who in the night of fate must blindly steer ! 140 
 
 The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill, 
 Heaven, in his bosom, from our knowledge hides: 
 And draws them in contempt of human skill, 
 Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides. 
 
 Let Munster's prelate ever be accurst, us 
 
 ,37 Such are, &c] From Petronius. Si bene calculum 
 ponas, ubique fit naufragium. Orig. ed. 
 141 The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill] 
 Prudens futuri temporis, exitum 
 Caliginosa nocte premit deus. J. W. 
 
 115 Let Munster's prelate, &c] The famous Bernard 
 Vanghalen, bishop of Munster, excited by Charles, marched
 
 60 THE POEMS 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 In whom we seek the German faith in vain : 
 Alas ! that he should teach the English first, 
 That fraud and avarice in the church could reign ! 
 
 Happy, who never trust a stranger's will, 
 Whose friendship's in his interest understood ! 1:0 
 Since money given but tempts him to be ill, 
 When power is too remote to make him good. 
 
 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove ; 
 The rest at gaze, without the lists did stand : 
 And threat'ning France, plac'd like a painted Jove, 
 Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand. 
 
 That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, 
 Who envies us what he wants power t' enjoy ; 
 Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, 
 And weak assistance will his friends destroy. 160 
 
 * Offended that we fought without his leave, 
 He takes this time his secret hate to show : 
 Which Charles does with a mind so calm receive, 
 As one that neither seeks nor shuns his foe. 
 
 With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: 
 France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave. 
 
 twenty thousand men into the province of Overyssell, under 
 the dominion of the republic of Holland, where he committed 
 great outrages, acting rather like a captain of banditti than 
 the leader of an army. D. 
 
 148 the German faith] Tacitus saith of them, Nullos mor- 
 tal ium fide aut armis ante Germanos esse. Oiig. ed. 
 * War declared by France. Orig. ed.
 
 XLiu. OF DRYDEN. 61 
 
 But when with one three nations join to figlit, 
 They silently confess that one more brave. 
 
 Lewis had chas'd the English from his shore ; 
 But Charles the French as subjects does invite : 
 Would heaven for each some Solomon restore, 
 Who, by their mercy, may decide their right ! 
 
 Were subjects so but only by their choice, 
 And not from birth did forc'd dominion take, 
 Our prince alone would have the public voice; 175 
 And all his neighbours' realms would deserts make. 
 
 He without fear a dangerous war pursues, 
 Which without rashness he began before : 
 As honour made him first the danger choose, 
 So still he makes it good on virtue's score. ieo 
 
 The doubled charge his subjects' love supplies, 
 VVho, in that bounty, to themselves are kind : 
 So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise, 
 And in his plenty their abundance find. 
 
 * With equal power he does two chiefs create, iws 
 Two such as each seem'd worthiest when alone ; 
 Each able to sustain a nation's fate, 
 Since both had found a greater in their own. 
 
 Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, 
 Yet neither envious of the other's praise ; 190 
 
 • Prince Ilupert and Duke of Albemarle, sent to sea. 
 
 Orig. ed.
 
 62 THE TOE.MS xi ix. 
 
 Their duty, faith, and int'rest too the same, 
 Like mighty partners equally they raise. 
 
 The prince long time had courted fortune's love, 
 But once possess'd did absolutely reign : 
 Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, 195 
 And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. 
 
 The duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain, 
 That Carthage, which he ruin'd, rise once more; 
 And shook aloft the fasces of the main, 
 To fright those slaves with what they felt before. 
 
 Together to the wat 'ry camp they haste, 
 Whom matrons passing to their children show : 
 Infants' first vows for them to heaven are cast, 
 And future people bless them as they go. 
 
 With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, 205 
 T' infect a navy with their gawdy fears ; 
 To make slow fights, and victories but vain : 
 But war, severely, like itself, appears. 
 
 Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, 
 They make that warmth in others they expect ; 
 Their valour works like bodies on a glass, 
 And does its image on their men project. 
 
 204 future people] Eiamina infantium futurusque jwpulus. 
 Plin. Jun. in Pan. ad Traj. Orig. ed. 
 
 205 With them no riotous pomp] Dryden follows his great 
 master, Milton, in making riotous only two syllables. — Again, 
 in st. 59, elephant is contracted in like manner. Other ex- 
 amples of this kind occur. T.
 
 MV. 
 
 OF DR. YD EN. 63 
 
 *Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, 
 In number, and a fam'd commander, bold : 
 The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, 215 
 Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold. 
 
 The Duke, less numerous, but in courage more, 
 On wings of all the winds to combat flies : 
 His murdering guns a loud defiance roar, 
 And bloody crosses on his flag-staffs rise. c?o 
 
 Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight, 
 Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air : 
 Th' Elean plains could boast no nobler sight, 
 When struggling champions did their bodies bare. 
 
 Borne eacb by other in a distant line, 225 
 
 The sea-built forts in dreadful order move : 
 So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, 
 But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove. 
 
 Now pass'd, on either side they nimbly tack ; 
 Both strive to intercept and guide the wind : tm 
 And, in its eye, more closely they come back, 
 To finish all the deaths they left behind. 
 
 On high-rais'd decks the haughty Belgians ride, 
 Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go : 
 
 * Duke of Albemarle's battle, first day. Orig. ed. 
 S2a Tti Elean, &c] Where the Olympic games were cele- 
 brated. Orig. ed. 
 ,JK binds nnjix'd] From Virgil : 
 
 ' Credas innare revulsas 
 
 Cycladas,' &c. Orig. ed.
 
 64 THE TOEMS 
 
 LI. 
 
 Such port the elephant bears, and so defied ?v> 
 By the rhinoceros her unequal foe. 
 
 And as the built, so different is the fight; 
 Their mounting shot is on our sails design'd : 
 Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light, 
 And through the yielding planks a passage find. 
 
 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, 
 Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives : 
 All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, 
 He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves. 
 
 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought ; 
 But he, who meets all danger with disdain, 
 E'en in their face his ship to anchor brought, 
 And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. 
 
 At this excess of courage, all amaz'd, 
 The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw : 2io 
 With such respect in enter'd Rome they gaz'd, 
 Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw. 
 
 And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, 
 Here Trojan chiefs advanc'd, and there the Greek ; 
 Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, 
 And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. 
 
 Meantime his busy mariners he hastes, 
 His shatter'd sails with rigging to restore , 
 And willing pines ascend his broken masts, 
 Whose lofty heads rise higher than before. *6o
 
 lxvi. OF DRYDEN. 66 
 
 Straight to the Dutcli he turns his dreadful prow, 
 More fierce th' important quarrel to decide : 
 Like swans, in long array his vessels show, 
 Whose crests advancing do the waves divide. 
 
 They charge, recharge, and all along the sea 265 
 They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet. 
 Berkley alone, who nearest clanger lay, 
 Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet. 
 
 The night comes on, we eager to pursue 
 The combat still, and they asham'd to leave : 270 
 Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, 
 And doubtful moonlight did our rage deceive. 
 
 In th' English fleet each ship resounds with joy, 
 And loud applause of their great leader's fame : 
 In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy, 275 
 And, slumb'ring, smile at the imagin'd flame. 
 
 Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, 
 Stretch'd on their decks like weary oxen lie : 
 
 367 Berkley alone, &c] Among othei remarkable passages 
 in this engagement, the undaunted resolution of vice-admiral 
 Berkley was particularly admired. He had many men killed 
 on board him, and though no longer able to make resistance, 
 yet would obstinately continue the fight, refusing quarter to 
 the last. Being at length shot in the throat with a musket- 
 ball, he retired to his cabin, where, stretching himself on a 
 great table, he expired ; and in that posture did the enemy, 
 who afterwards took the ship, find tire body covered with 
 blood. D. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 60 the roEMS 
 
 r.xxi. 
 
 Faint sweats all down their mighty members run ; 
 Vast bulks which little souls but ill supply. jso 
 
 Tn dreams they fearful precipices tread : 
 Or, shipwreck'd, labour to some distant shore : 
 Or in dark churches walk among the dead ; 
 They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more. 
 
 *The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, 285 
 Till from their maintop joyful news they hear 
 Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies, 
 And in their colours Belgian lions bear. 
 
 Our watchful general had discern'd from far 
 This mighty succour, which made glad the foe : 
 He sigh'd, but, like a father of the war, 
 His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow. 
 
 His wounded men he first sends off to shore, 
 Never, till now, unwilling to obey : [plore, 
 
 They not their wounds, but want of strength de- 
 And think them happy who with him can stay. 
 
 Then to the rest, Rejoice, said he. to-day; 
 In you the fortune of Great Britain lies: 
 
 280 Vast bulks which little souls but ill supply'] So Milton, 
 in the spirited speech which he gives to Samson as an ansv/ei 
 to the cowardly language of the giant Harapha, 5am. Agon. 
 rer. 1237: 
 
 Go, baffled coward ! lest I run upon thee,, 
 Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, 
 And with one buffet lay thy structure low, &c. T. 
 • Second day's battle. Orig. ed.
 
 IX2V1. 
 
 OF DttYDEN. 67 
 
 Among so brave a people, you are they 
 
 Whom heaven has chose to fight for such a prize. 
 
 If number English courages could quell, 
 We should at first have shunn'd, not met, our foes : 
 Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell : 
 Courage from hearts, and not from numbers, grows. 
 
 He said, nor needed more to say : with haste 305 
 To their known stations cheerfully they go ; 
 And all at once, disdaining to be last, 
 Solicit every gale to meet the foe. 
 
 Nor did th' encourag'd Belgians long delay, 
 But bold in others, not themselves, they stood : 
 So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, 
 But seem'd to wander in a moving wood. 
 
 Our little fleet was now engag'd so far, 
 That, like the sword-fish in the whale, they fought : 
 The combat only seem'd a civil war, 315 
 
 Till through their bowels we our passage wrought. 
 
 Never had valour, no not ours, before 
 Done ought like this upon the land or main. 
 Where not to be o'ercome was to do more 
 Than all the conquests former kings did gain. 3?o 
 
 The mighty ghosts of our great Harrys rose, 
 And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, 
 To see this fleet among unequal foes, [rise. 
 
 By which fate promis'd them their Charles should
 
 fi3 THE POEMS 
 
 i.xxxn. 
 
 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, 325 
 And raking; chace-guns through our sterns they 
 
 send : 
 Close by, their fire-ships, like jackals, appear, 
 Who on their lions for the prey attend. 
 
 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on : 
 Such vapours once did fiery Cacus hide : 330 
 
 In these the height of pleas'd revenge is shown, 
 Who burn contented by another's side. 
 
 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, 
 Deceiv'd themselves, or to preserve some friend, 
 Two grappling iEtnas on the ocean meet, 335 
 And English fires with Belgian flames contend. 
 
 Now, at each tack, our little fleet grows less; 
 And, like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main ; 
 Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, 
 While they lose cheaper than the English gain. 340 
 
 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, 
 Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, 
 And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd, 
 Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind ? 
 
 The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, 
 And sees the groves no shelter can afford, 
 With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, 
 Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird. 
 
 A mono; the Dutch thus Alhemarle did fare : 
 
 lie could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly ; 350
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 OF DRYDEN, 69 
 
 Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, 
 Like falling Csesar, decently to die. 
 
 Yet pity did his manly spirit move, 
 To see those perish who so well had fought ; 
 And generously with his despair he strove, 355 
 Resolv'd to live till he their safety wrought. 
 
 Let other muses write his prosperous fate, 
 Of conquer'd nations tell, and kings restor'd : 
 But mine shall sing of his eclips'd estate, 
 Which, like the sun's, more wonders does afford. 
 
 He drew his mighty frigates all hefore, 
 On which the foe his fruitless force employs : 
 His weak ones deep into his rear he bore 
 Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise. 
 
 His fiery cannon did their passage guide, 363 
 
 And following smoke obscur'd them from the foe : 
 Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, 
 By flaming pillars, and by clouds, did go. 
 
 Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat, 
 But here our courages did theirs subdue ; 370 
 
 So Xenophon once led that fam'd retreat, 
 Which first the Asian empire overthrew. 
 
 The foe approach'd, and one for his bold sin 
 Was sunk ; as he that touch'd the ark was slain : 
 The wild waves master'd him and suck'd him in, 
 And smiling eddies dimpled on the main.
 
 70 THE POEMS xcv. 
 
 This seen, the rest at awful distance stood ; 
 As if they had been there as servants set 
 To stay, or to go on, as he thought good, 
 And not pursue but wait on his retreat. son 
 
 So Libyan huntsmen, on some sandy plain, 
 From shady coverts rous'd, the lion chase : 
 The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain, 
 And slowly moves, unknowing to give place. 
 
 But if some one approach to dare his force, 335 
 He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round ; 
 With one paw seizes on his trembling horse, 
 And with the other tears him to the ground. 
 
 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night ; 
 Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore ; 
 
 384 And slowly moves] The simile is Virgil's : 
 
 ' Vestigia retro 
 
 Improperata refert,' &c. Orig. ed. 
 386 He swings his tail] The metre of this line, perhaps, in- 
 troduced swings instead of the more emphatic word swinge 1 ;, 
 applied to a lion enraged by Chapman, in his Ca;s. and 
 Pompey, 1607 : 
 
 ' And then his sides he swinges with his sterne.' 
 And by Sylvester, Du Bart. p. 205, 4to. ed. 
 
 ' Then often swinging with his sinewie traine,' &c. 
 Milton, in a line of admirable effect, has applied the word 
 to the old dragon, who, 
 
 ' Wroth to see his kingdom fail, 
 Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.' 
 
 Ode Nativ. st. 18. 
 Waller also describes the 'tail's impetuous swinge' of the 
 whale, Batt. Summ.lsl. c. iii. T.
 
 MIL 
 
 OF DRYDEN. . 7 J 
 
 And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, 
 Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore. 
 
 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, 
 Where while her beams like glittering silver play, 
 Upon the deck our careful general stood, 
 And deeply mus'd on the succeeding day. 
 
 That happy sun, said he, will rise again, 
 Who twice victorious did our navy see : 
 And I alone must view him rise in vain, 
 Without one ray of all his star for me. <wo 
 
 Yet like an English general will I die, 
 And all the ocean make my spacious grave : 
 Women and cowards on the land may lie, 
 The sea's a tomb that's proper for the brave. 
 
 Restless he pass'd the remnants of the night, 405 
 Till the fresh air proclaim'd the morning nigh : 
 
 191 weary waves] From Statius Sylv. 
 
 ' Nee trucibus fluviis idem sonus : occidit horror 
 ^Equoris, antennis maria acclinata quiescunt.' 
 
 Orig. ed. 
 390 succeeding day] The 3rd of June, famous for two former 
 victories. Orig. ed. 
 
 m Yet like an English general will I die, 
 And all the ocean make my spacious grave : 
 Women and cowards on the land may lie, 
 The sea's a tomb that's proper for the brave] 
 This speech contains nearly the same words that the Duke 
 of Albemarle spoke in a council the evening before the battle, 
 in which he fought with amazing intrepidity, and all that de- 
 termined resignation here implied. D.
 
 72 THE POEMS 
 
 em. 
 
 And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, 
 With paler fires beheld the eastern sky. 
 
 *But now, his stores of ammunition spent, 
 His naked valour is his only guard; 410 
 
 Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, 
 And solitary guns are scarcely heard. 
 
 Thus far had fortune power, here forc'd to stay, 
 Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife : 
 This, as a ransom, Albemarle did pay 415 
 
 For all the glories of so great a life. 
 
 For now brave Rupert from afar appears, 
 Whose waving streamers the glad general knows : 
 With full spread sails his eager navy steers, 
 And every ship in swift proportion grows. 420 
 
 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, 
 And from that length of time dire omens drew 
 Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, 
 Who never fought three days, but to pursue. 
 
 Then, as an eagle, who with pious care 4« 
 
 Was beating widely on the wing for prey, 
 To her now silent eyry does repair, 
 And finds her callow infants forc'd away. 
 
 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, 
 The broken air loud whistling as she flies : 430 
 She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, 
 And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries. 
 
 • Third day. Orig. ed.
 
 CIX. 
 
 OF DRY DEN. 73 
 
 With such kind passion hastes the prince to fight, 
 And spreads his flying canvass to the sound ; 
 Him, whom no danger, were he there, could fright, 
 Now, absent, every little noise can wound. 
 
 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, 
 And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain ; 
 And first the martlet meets it in the sky, 
 And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train. 
 
 With such glad hearts did our despairing men 
 Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet ; 
 And each ambitiously would claim the ken, 
 That with first eyes did distant safety meet. 
 
 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, 
 To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield ; 
 Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, 
 And sheets of lightning blast the standing field. 
 
 Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand 
 And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay, 450 
 Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, 
 And seamen with dissembled depths betray. 
 
 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd 
 This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, 
 And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, 
 To tempt his courage with so fair a bait. 
 
 But he, unmov'd, contemns their idle threat, 
 Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight : 
 His cold experience tempers all his heat, 
 And inbred worth does boasting valour slight. 460
 
 74 THE POEMS ex vi. 
 
 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, 
 And he the substance not th' appearance chose ; 
 To rescue one such friend he took more pride, 
 Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes. 
 
 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, 
 Rupert and Albemarle together grow ; 
 He joys to have his friend in safety found, 
 Which he to none but to that friend would owe. 
 
 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, 
 Now long to execute their spleenful will ; 470 
 And, in revenge for those three days they tried, 
 Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still. 
 
 *Thus reinfore'd, against the adverse fleet, 
 Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way : 
 With the first blushes of the morn they meet, 475 
 And bring night back upon the new-born day. 
 
 His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, 
 And his loud guns speak thick like angry men : 
 It seem'd as slaughter had been breath'd all night, 
 And death new pointed his dull dart again. 480 
 
 The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew, 
 And matchless courage, since the former fight : 
 Whose navy like a stiff-stretch'd cord did show, 
 Till he bore in and bent them into flight. 
 
 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends 
 H is open side, and high above him shows : 
 
 • Fourth day's battle. Orig. ed.
 
 C X X 1 1 1 - 
 
 01 DRYDtN. 75 
 
 Upon the rest at pleasure he descends 
 
 And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows. 
 
 Behind, the general mends his weary pace 
 And sullenly to his revenge he sails : 490 
 
 So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, 
 And long behind his wounded volume trails. 
 
 The increasing sound is borne to either shore, 
 And for their stakes the throwing nations fear : 
 Their passions double with the cannons' roar, 495 
 And with warm wishes each man combats there. 
 
 Ply'd thick and close as when the fight begun, 
 Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away ; 
 So sicken waning moons too near the sun, 
 And blunt their crescents on the edge of day. 500 
 
 And now reduc'd on equal terms to fight, 
 Their ships like wasted patrimonies show ; 
 Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, 
 And shun each others shadows as they grow. 
 
 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest 505 
 Two giant ships, the pride of all the main ; 
 Which with his one so vigorously he press'd, 
 And flew so home they could not rise again. 
 
 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, 
 In vain upon the passing winds they call : 510 
 The passing winds through their torn canvass play, 
 And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.
 
 7G 1'IIE POEMS cxxix. 
 
 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, 
 Dreadful as day let in to shades below ; 
 Without, grim death rides barefac'd in their sight, 
 And urges entering billows as they flow. 
 
 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, 
 Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore : 
 All three now helpless by each other lie, 
 And this offends not, and those fear no more. sco 
 
 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain 
 A course, till tir'd before the dog she lay : 
 Who, stretch'd behind her, pants upon the plain, 
 Past power to kill, as she to get away. 
 
 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey ; 
 His warm breath blows her flix up as she lies ; 
 She, trembling, creeps upon the ground away, 
 And looks back to him with beseeching eyes. 
 
 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, 
 Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on; 53c 
 For what they to his courage did refuse, 
 By mortal valour never must be done. 
 
 This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, 
 And warns his tatter'd fleet to follow home : 
 Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, 533 
 Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome. 
 
 M * a triumph not to be o'ercome] From Horace : 
 
 ' quos opimus 
 
 Fallere ct effugere est triumphus.* Orig, ed.
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 OF DUYDF.N. 77 
 
 The general's force, as kept alive by fight, 
 Now, not oppos'd, no longer can pursue : 
 Lasting till heaven had done his courage right ; 
 When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew. 
 
 He casts a frown on the departing foe, 
 And sighs to see him quit the watery field : 
 His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, 
 For all the glories which the fight did yield. 
 
 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, 5i5 
 He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch ; 
 He only does his conquest disavow, 
 And thinks too little what they found too much. 
 
 Return'd, he with the fleet resolv'd to stay ; 
 No tender thoughts of home his heart divide ; 550 
 Domestic joys and cares he puts away ; [guide. 
 For realms are households which the great must 
 
 As those who unripe veins in mines explore, 
 On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, 
 Till time digests the yet imperfect ore, 535 
 
 And know it will be gold another day : 
 
 So looks our monarch on this early fight, 
 Th' essay and rudiments of great success : 
 Which all-maturing time must bring to light, 
 While he, like heaven, does each day's labour bless. 
 
 Heaven ended not the first or second day, 
 Yet each was perfect to the work design'd : 
 God and kings work, when they their work survey, 
 A passive aptness in all subjects find.
 
 78 THE POEMS cxi.n. 
 
 * In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, 565 
 His plenteous stores do season'd timber send : 
 Thither the brawny carpenters repair, 
 And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend. 
 
 With cord and canvass from rich Hamburgh sent, 
 His navies molted wings he imps once more ; 570 
 Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, 
 And English oak, sprung leaks and planks, restore. 
 
 All hands employ'd the royal work grows warm : 
 Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, 
 Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm, 
 And some on bells of tasted lilies play. 
 
 With glewy wax some new foundation lay 
 
 Of virgin combs, which from the roof are hung : 
 
 Some arm'd within doors upon duty stay, 
 
 Or tend the sick, or educate the young. 580 
 
 So here some pick out bullets from the sides, 
 Some drive old okum through each seam and rift : 
 Their left hand does the calkin^-iron £uide. 
 The rattling mallet with the right they lift. 
 
 With boiling pitch another near at hand, 585 
 
 From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops: 
 
 * His majesty repairs the fleet. Orig. ed. 
 
 570 wings he imps'] See Mr. Warton's note on Milton's 
 15th Sonnet, 'to imp their se rpent- w ings :' where he observes 
 that the expression occurs in poets much later than Milton. 
 The latest, whom I have hitherto found using this old poeticaJ 
 expression, is Shadwell, by whom it is employed towards the 
 end of his hahella. T
 
 CXLV1I1. 
 
 OF DRYDEN. 79 
 
 Which well paid o'er, the salt sea waves withstand, 
 And shakes them from the rising beak in drops. 
 
 Some the gall'd ropes with dawby marling bind, 
 Or searcloth masts with strong tarpawling coats;. 
 To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, 
 And one, below, their ease or stiffness notes. 
 
 Our careful monarch stands in person by, 
 His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore : 
 The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, 
 And ball and cartrage sorts for every bore. 
 
 Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men, 
 And ships which all last winter were abroad ; 
 And such as fitted since the fight had been, 
 Or new from stocks were fall'n into the road. 6>o 
 
 The goodly London in her gallant trim, 
 (The phoenix, daughter of the vanish'd old), 
 Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, 
 And on her shadow rides in floating gold. 
 
 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind, 605 
 And sanguine streamers seem the flood to fire : 
 The weaver charm'd with what his loom design'd, 
 Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire. 
 
 With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, 
 Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow 
 laves : 610 
 
 Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, 
 She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.
 
 80 THE POEMS 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 This martial present, piously design'd, 
 The loyal city give their best-lov'd king : 
 And, with a bounty ample as the wind, fiis 
 
 Built, fitted, and maintained, to aid him bring. 
 
 By viewing nature, nature's handmaid, art 
 Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow : 
 Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, 
 Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow. 
 
 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, 
 A useless drift, which rudely cut within, 
 And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, 
 And cross some rivulet passage did begin. 
 
 In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, 625 
 
 And untaught Indian, on the stream did glide : 
 Ere sharp-keel'd boats to stem the flood did learn, 
 Or fin-like oars did spread from either side. 
 
 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, 
 When from lost empire he to exile went, 630 
 
 And with the golden age to Tyber steer'd, 
 Where coin and first commerce he did invent. 
 
 Rude as their ships was navigation then ; 
 No useful compass or meridian known ; 
 Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, 
 And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone. 
 
 Of all who since have used the open sea, 
 
 Than the bold English none more fame have won ■
 
 cr.xi. 
 
 OF DRYDEN. 81 
 
 Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high way, 
 They make discoveries where they see no sun. 
 
 But what so long in vain, and yet unknown, 
 By poor mankind's benighted wit is sought, 
 Shall in this age to Britain first be shown, 
 And hence be to admiring nations taught. 
 
 The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow, <?u 
 We, as arts' elements, shall understand, 
 And as by line upon the ocean go, 
 Whose paths shall be familiar as the land. 
 
 Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce,* 
 By which remotest regions are allied ; 6* 
 
 Which makes one city of the universe ; 
 Where some may gain, and all may be supplied. 
 
 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, 
 And view the ocean leaning on the sky: 
 From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, 
 And on the lunar world securely pry. 
 
 This I foretell from your auspicious care,f 
 Who great in search of God and nature grow; 
 
 * By a more exact knowledge of longitudes. Orig. ed. 
 
 t Apostrophe to the lloyal Society. Orig. ed. 
 
 * 58 great in search] Alludes to the Royal Society. 
 
 Dr. J. IV. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE POEMS clxiv. 
 
 Who best your wise Creator's praise declare, 
 Since best to praise his works is best to know. 
 
 O truly royal ! who behold the law 
 And rule of beings in your Maker's mind : 
 And thence, like limbecs, rich ideas draw, 
 To fit the levell'd use of human-kind. 
 
 But first the toils of war we must endure, 6fi5 
 And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas. 
 War makes the valiant of his right secure, 
 And gives up fraud to be chastis'd with ease. 
 
 Already were the Belgians on our coast, 070 
 
 Whose fleet more mighty every day became 
 By late success, which they did falsely boast, 
 And now by first appearing seem'd to claim. 
 
 Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, 
 
 They knew to manage war with wise delay : 675 
 
 Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, 
 
 And by their pride their prudence did betray. 
 
 Nor staid the English long ; but well supplied, 
 Appear as numerous as th' insulting foe : 
 The combat now by courage must be tried, Cho 
 And the success the braver nation show. 
 
 There was the Plymouth squadron now come in, 
 Which in the Straits last winter was abroad ; 
 Which twice on Biscay's working bay had been. 
 And on the midland sea the French had aw'd
 
 r-LXXJI. 
 
 OF DRYDES. 83 
 
 Old expert Allen, loyal all along, 686 
 
 Fam'd for his action on the Smyrna fleet : 
 And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song, 
 While music numbers, or while verse has feet. 
 
 Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight ; 690 
 Who first bewitch'd our eyes with Guinea gold : 
 As once old Cato in the Roman sight 
 The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold. 
 
 With him went Sprag, as bountiful as brave, 
 Whom his high courage to command had brought : 
 Harman, who did the twice-fir'd Harry save, 
 And in his burning ship undaunted fought. 
 
 Young Hollis on a muse by Mars begot, 
 Born, Caesar-like, to write and act great deeds : 
 
 688 Old expert Allen, &c] Sir Thomas Allen was admiral 
 of the white. D. 
 
 690 Holmes, the Achates of the, &c] Sir Robert Holmes 
 was rear-admiral of the white, called the Achates from his 
 eagerness to support the general. Achates was the faithful 
 companion of iEneas. For an illustration of the two last 
 lines of this stanza, see our notes to the Satire on the 
 Dutch. 2). 
 
 694 With him went Sjrrag, &c] Sir Edward Sprag served 
 under Sir Jeremiah Smith, who carried the blue flag : he 
 was drowned passing from one ship to another, in a fight 
 with Van Tromp, on the eleventh of August, 1672, bearing 
 the character of a gallant officer, and an accomplished gen- 
 tleman. D. 
 
 605 his high courage'} The courage haut of Spenser and 
 our elder poets, which Dryden no doubt had in mind. T.
 
 84 THE POEMS clxxvi. 
 
 Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, 700 
 
 His right hand doubly to his left succeeds. 
 
 Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell, 
 Whose deeds some nobler poem shall adorn : 
 And though to me unknown, they sure fought well, 
 Whom Rupert led, and who were British born. 
 
 Of every size a hundred fighting sail, 
 So vast the navy now at anchor rides, 
 That underneath it the press'd waters fail, 
 And with its weight it shoulders off the tides. 
 
 Now, anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, 
 That heaven, and earth, and the wide ocean rings : 
 A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, 
 And rests in those high beds his downy wings. 
 
 The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, 
 And durst not bide it on the English coast : 715 
 Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, 
 And there lay snares to catch the British host 
 
 So the false spider, when her nets are spread, 
 Deep ambush'd in her silent den does lie : 
 And feels far off the trembling of her thread, 720 
 Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly. 
 
 Then if at last she find him fast beset, 
 
 She issues forth, and runs along her loom : 
 
 She joys to touch the captive in her net, 
 
 And drag the little wretch in triumph home. 7«J
 
 ;j xxxil. 
 
 OF DRYDEN. 85 
 
 The Belgians hop'd that, with disorder'd haste, 
 Our deep-cut keels upon the sands might run : 
 Or, if with caution leisurely were past, 
 Their numerous gross might charge us one by one. 
 
 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, 730 
 And swelling tide that heav'd them from below, 
 O'er the blind flats our warlike squadrons move, 
 And with spread sails to welcome battle go. 
 
 It seem'd as there the British Neptune stood, 
 With all his hosts of waters at command, 735 
 
 Beneath them to submit th' officious flood ; 
 And with his trident shov'd them off the sand. 
 
 To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, 
 And summon them to unexpected fight ; 
 They start like murderers when ghosts appear, 
 And draw their curtains in the dead of night. 
 
 Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet,* 
 The midmost battles hasting up behind : 
 Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, 
 And hear their thunder rattling in the wind. 715 
 
 At length the adverse admirals appear ; 
 The two bold champions of each country's right 
 Their eyes describe the lists as they come near, 
 And draw the lines of death before they fight. 
 
 * Second battle. Oris, e.d.
 
 86 TNfc l'OEMS CtXXXVTH. 
 
 The distance judg'd for shot of every size, 750 
 The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires : 
 The vigorous seaman every porthole plies, 
 And adds his heart to every gun he fires ! 
 
 Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, 
 For honour, which they seldom sought before : 
 But now they by their own vain boasts were tide 
 And forc'd, at least in show to prize it more. 
 
 But sharp remembrance on the English part 
 And shame of being match'd by such a foe, 
 Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, 760 
 And seeming to be stronger makes them so. 
 
 Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, 
 Which did two generals' fates, and Caesar's bear: 
 Each several ship a victory did gain, 
 As Rupert or as Albemarle were there. ifc 
 
 Their batter'd Admiral too soon withdrew, 
 Unthank'd by ours for his unfinish'd fight : 
 But he the minds of his Dutch masters knew, 
 Who call'd that providence which we call'd flight. 
 
 Never did men more joyfully obey, 
 
 Or sooner understood the sign to fly : 
 
 With such alacrity they bore away, 
 
 As if to praise them all the States stood by. 
 
 701 And seeming to be stronger makes them so] 
 
 ' Possunt, quia posse videntur.' Virg. 
 
 Orip. ed.
 
 est i.-. 
 
 OF DRYDEN. 87 
 
 O famous leader of the Belgian fleet, 
 Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, 
 As Varro timely flying once did meet, 
 Because he did not of his Rome despair. 
 
 Behold that navy, which a while before 
 Provok'd the tardy English to the fight ; 
 Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, 7»o 
 As larks lie dar'd to shun the hobby's flight. 
 
 Whoe'er would English monuments survey, 
 In other records may our courage know : 
 But let them hide the story of this day, 
 Whose fame was blemish'd by too base a foe. 
 
 Or if too busily they will inquire 7afi 
 
 Into a victory which we disdain ; 
 Then let them know, the Belgians did retire 
 Before the patron saint of injur'd Spain. 
 
 788 the Belgians did retire 
 
 Before the patron saint of injur'd Spain'] 
 
 The victory was completed on the twenty-fifth day of July, 
 a day sacred to St. James the Great, patron of Spain, which 
 nation our author calls injur'd, inasmuch as the Hollanders 
 had rebelled against King Philip II. being aided by Queen 
 Elizabeth : and the next stanza refers to this transaction, for 
 which the poet supposes us now to have atoned. The mo- 
 narchy mentioned in the 199th stanza is Spain, with which 
 Queen Elizabeth had been long at variance, when, in our 
 author's opinion, we overlooked the growing power of France 
 and Holland, which merited much more our attention. D. 
 
 789 patron saint] St. James, on whose day this victory was 
 gained. Orig. ed.
 
 8$ THE POEMS cxcvm. 
 
 Repenting England this revengeful day 79c 
 
 To Philip's manes did an offering bring : 
 England, which first, by leading them astray, 
 Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her king. 
 
 Our fathers bent their baneful industry, 
 To check a monarchy that slowly grew ; 795 
 
 But did not Erance or Holland's fate foresee, 
 Whose rising power to swift dominion flew. 
 
 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, 
 
 And wander after pathless destiny ; 
 
 Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, 
 
 In vain it would provide for what shall be. 
 
 But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go, 
 And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; 
 Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, 
 And him detesting a Batavian fleet. 803 
 
 Now on their coasts our conquering navy rides, 
 Waylays their merchants, and their land besets; 
 Each day new wealth without their care provides ; 
 They lie asleep with prizes in their nets. 
 
 So, close behind some promontory lie sto 
 
 The huge leviathans to attend their prey ; 
 And give no chase, but swallow in the fry, 
 Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. 
 
 7I " Philip's manes'] Philip the Second, of Spain, against 
 whom the Hollanders rebelling, were aided by Queen Eliza- 
 beth. Orig. ed.
 
 CCIV . OF DRYDEN. 89 
 
 •Nor was this all ; in ports and roads remote, 
 Destructive fires among whole fleets we send ; 
 Triumphant flames upon the water float, 
 And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. 
 
 Those various squadrons, variously design'd, 
 Each vessel freighted with a several load, 
 Each squadron waiting for a several wind, bv, 
 All find but one, to burn them in the road. 
 
 Some bound for Guiney, golden sand to find, 
 Bore all the gawds the simple natives wear : 
 Some, for the pride of Turkish courts design'd, 
 For folded turbans finest Holland bear. m* 
 
 Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom, 
 And into cloth of spungy softness made, 
 Did into France or colder Denmark doom, 
 To ruin with worse ware our staple trade. 
 
 Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, 830 
 
 Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest; 
 And, as the priests who with their gods make bold, 
 Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest. 
 
 + But ah ; how insincere are all our joys ! [stay : 
 Which, sent from heaven, like lightning make no 
 Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, 
 Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way. 
 
 » Burning of the fleet in the Vly, by Sir Robert Holmes. 
 
 Orig. ed. 
 t Transition to the fire of London. Orig. ed. 
 837 Or grief, sent post, &c] It is the same sentiment in 
 Milton's Samson Agonistes, ver. 1538 :
 
 90 THE POEMS ccx. 
 
 S well'd with our late successes on the foe, 
 Which France and Holland wanted power to cross, 
 We urge an unseen fate to lay us low, ato 
 
 And feed their envious eyes with English loss. 
 
 Each element his dread command obeys, 
 Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown ; 
 Who, as by one he did our nation raise, 
 So now he with another pulls us down. si6 
 
 Yet London, empress of the northern clime, 
 By a high fate thou greatly didst expire : 
 Great as the world's, which, at the death of time, 
 Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire ! 
 
 As when some dire usurper heaven provides, eso 
 To scourge his country with a lawless sway; 
 His birth perhaps some petty village hides, 
 And sets his cradle out of fortune's way. 
 
 Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, 
 And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on : 85b 
 
 His prince surpris'd at first no ill could doubt, 
 And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known. 
 
 ' For evil news rides post, while good news bates.' 
 Milton's however is the closer imitation of Statius, as I have 
 elsewhere observed : 
 
 ' Spargitur in turmas solito pernicior index 
 Cum iugenda refert.' T. 
 
 948 Great as the world's, which, at the death of time 
 Must Jail, and rise a nobler frame by Jire] 
 
 ' Quum mare, quum tellus, correptaque regia coeli, 
 Ardeat,' &c. Ovid. Grig. ed.
 
 coxv. 
 
 OF DRYDEN. 91 
 
 Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, 
 Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred, 
 From thence did soon to open streets aspire, j$6o 
 And straight to palaces and temples spread. 
 
 The diligence of trades and noiseful gain, 
 And luxury more late, asleep were laid : 
 All was the night's ; and in her silent reign 
 No sound the rest of nature did invade. 8fi5 
 
 In this deep quiet, from what source unknown, 
 Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose ; 
 And first few scattering sparks about were blown, 
 Big with the flames that to our ruin rose. 
 
 Then in some close-pent room it crept along, 870 
 And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed ; 
 Till th' infant monster, with devouring strong, 
 Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head. 
 
 Now like some rich or mighty murderer, 
 Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold ; 
 Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear, 
 And dares the world to tax him with the old. 
 
 So scapes th' insulting fire his narrow jail, 
 And makes small outlets into open air : 
 There the fierce winds his tender force assail, 880 
 And beat him downward to his first repair. 
 
 The winds, like crafty courtezans, withheld 
 
 His flames from burning, but to blow them more : 
 
 888 like crafty, &c] Haec arte tractabatcupidum vimm, ut 
 illius animum inopia accenderet. Orig. ed.
 
 92 THE POEMS 
 
 CCXXII. 
 
 And every fresh attempt he is repell'd 
 
 With faint denials weaker than before. bb3 
 
 And now, no longer letted of his prey, 
 He leaps up at it with enrag'd desire : 
 O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, 
 And nods at every house his threatening fire. 
 
 The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, 
 With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice : 
 About the fire into a dance they bend, 
 And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice. 
 
 Our guardian angel saw them where they sate 
 Above the palace of our slumbering king; 895 
 He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to fate, 
 And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing. 
 
 At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze 
 Call'd up some waking lover to the sight ; 
 And long it was ere he the rest could raise, 900 
 Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night. 
 
 The next to danger, hot pursu'd by fate, 
 Half-cloth'd, half-naked, hastily retire : 
 And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, 
 For helpless infants left amidst the fire. 905 
 
 Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near ; 
 Now murmuring noises rise in every street ; 
 The more remote run stumbling with their fear, 
 And in the dark men justle as they meet.
 
 CCXXVTil. 
 
 OF DRY DEN. 93 
 
 So weary bees in little cells repose ; 9>o 
 
 But if night- robbers lift the well-stor'd hive, 
 A humming through their waxen city grows, 
 And out upon each others wings they drive. 
 
 Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day : 
 Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire : 91a 
 Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play ; 
 And some more bold mount ladders to the fire. 
 
 In vain ; for from the East a Belgian wind 
 His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent; 
 The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind, 
 And forward with a wanton fury went. 
 
 A key of fire ran all along the shore, 
 
 And lighten'd all the river with a blaze : 
 
 The waken'd tides began again to roar, 
 
 And wondering fish in shining waters gaze. gu 
 
 Old father Thames rais'd up his reverend head, 
 But fear'd the fate of Simois would return : 
 Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed, 
 And shrank his waters back into his urn. 
 
 The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross : 
 To either hand his wings he opens wide : 
 He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, 
 And plays his longing flames on th' other side 
 
 *' a And lighten'd all the river with a blaze] 
 
 • Sigaea igni freta lata relucent.' Virg. 
 
 Orig. ed
 
 94 THE POEMS 
 
 ccxxxiv. 
 
 At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take ; 
 Now with long necks from side to side they feed : 
 At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake, 
 And a new colony of flames succeed. 
 
 To every nobler portion of the town 
 
 The curling billows roll their restless tide : 
 
 In parties now they straggle up and down, 940 
 
 As armies, unoppos'd, for prey divide. 
 
 One mighty squadron with a side-wind sped, 
 Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste, 
 By powerful charms of gold and silver led, 
 The Lombard bankers and the Change to waste. 
 
 Another backward to the Tower would go, 
 And slowly eats his way against the wind : 
 But the main body of the marching foe 
 Against th' imperial palace is design'd. 
 
 Now day appears, and with the day the king, 
 Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest : 
 Far off the cracks of falling houses ring, 
 And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast. 
 
 Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke 
 With gloomy pillars cover all the place ; 955 
 
 Whose little intervals of night are broke 
 By sparks, that drive against his sacred face. 
 
 More than his guards his sorrows made him known, 
 And pious tears, which down his cheeks did shower 
 The wretched in his grief forgot their own ; jito 
 So much the pity of a king has power.
 
 CCXI.l. 0F I>'tVl)EN. 
 
 95 
 
 He wept the flames of what lie lov'd so well, 
 
 And what so well had merited his love : 
 
 For never prince in grace did more excel, 
 
 Or royal city more in duty strove. 965 
 
 Nor with an idle care did he behold : 
 Subjects may grieve, but monarchs must redress; 
 He cheers the fearful and commends the bold, 
 And makes despairers hope for good success. 
 
 Himself directs what first is to be done, «rc 
 
 And orders all the succours which they bring: 
 The helpful and the good about him run, 
 And form an army worthy such a king. 
 
 He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, 
 
 That, where it seizes, all relief is vain : 973 
 
 And therefore must unwillingly lay waste 
 
 That country, which would else the foe maintain. 
 
 The powder blows up all before the fire : 
 Th' amazed flames stand gather'd on a heap ; 
 And from the precipice's brink retire, 9&» 
 
 Afraid to venture on so large a leap. 
 
 Thus fisrhtimj; fires a while themselves consume, 
 But straight like Turks, forc'd on to win or die, 
 They first lay tender bridges of their fume, 
 And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly. 9«-' 
 
 Part stays for passage, 'till a gust of wind 
 Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet:
 
 96 THE POEMS ocxi.ru.. 
 
 Part creeping under ground their journey blind, 
 And climbing from below their fellows meet, 
 
 Thus to some desert plain, or old wood-side, goo 
 Dire night-hags come from far to dance their round ; 
 And o'er broad rivers on their fiends they ride, 
 Or sweep in clouds above the blasted ground. 
 
 No help avails : for, hydra-like, the fire 
 Lifts up his hundred heads to aim his way : 995 
 And scarce the wealthy can one half retire, 
 Before he rushes in to share the prey. 
 
 The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud : 
 Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more : 
 So void of pity is th' ignoble crowd, 1000 
 
 When others ruin may increase their store. 
 
 As those, who live by shores, with joy behold 
 Some wealthy vessel split or stranded nigh ; 
 And from the rocks leap down for shipwreck'd gold. 
 And seek the tempest which the others fly : 1008 
 
 So these but wait the owners' last despair, 
 And what's permitted to the flames invade ; 
 
 1002 As those, who live by shores, &c] The gallant Sir 
 Cloudesley Shovel was barbarously murdered on the coast of 
 Cornwall, as he swam on shore, by a woman, who was in- 
 cited to the barbarous act by the sight of a ring, which he 
 wore on his finger. This is related on the authority of the 
 late Lord Peterborough, who told it to Sir John Mordaunt, 
 who related it to the late Dr. Shipley, bishop of St. Asaph. 
 
 J.W.
 
 CCUii. OF MKYDEN. 97 
 
 E'en from their jaws they hungry morsels tear, 
 And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade. 
 
 The days were all in this lost labour spent ; 1010 
 And when the weary king gave place to night, 
 His beams he to his royal brother lent, 
 And so shone still in his reflective light. 
 
 Night came, but without darkness or repose, 
 A dismal picture of the general doom ; 1015 
 
 Where souls distracted when the trumpet blows, 
 And half unready with their bodies come. 
 
 Those who have homes, when home they do repair, 
 To a last lodging call their wandering friends : 
 Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care, 
 To look how near their own destruction tends. 
 
 Those who have none, sit round where once it was, 
 And with full eyes each wonted room require : 
 Haunting the yet warm ashes of the place, 
 As murder'd men walk where they did expire. 
 
 Some stir up coals and watch the vestal fire, 
 Others in vain from sight of ruin run ; 
 And, while through burning labyrinths they retire, 
 With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun. 
 
 The most in fields like herded beasts lie down, 
 To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor ; 
 And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, 
 Sad parents watch the remnants of their store. 
 vol. 1. H
 
 98 THE POEMS OCLIX. 
 
 While by the motion of the flames they guess 
 What streets are burning now, and what are near, 
 An infant waking to the paps would press, 
 And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear. 
 
 No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, 
 Whose praise th' afflicted as their comfort sing : 
 E'en those, whom want might drive to just despair, 
 Think life a blessing under such a king. 
 
 Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, 
 Out-weeps a hermit, and out-prays a saint : 
 All the night long he studies their relief, io*» 
 
 How they may be supplied, and he may want. 
 
 God, said he, thou Patron of my days,* 
 Guide of my youth in exile and distress ! 
 
 Who me unfriended brought'st by wondrous ways, 
 The kingdom of my fathers to possess : 
 
 Be thou my Judge, with what unwearied care 
 
 1 since have labour'd for my people's good ; 
 To bind the bruises of a civil war, 
 
 And stop the issues of their wasting blood. 
 
 Thou, who hast taught me to forgive the ill, 
 And recompense, as friends, the good misled : 
 If mercy be a precept of thy will, 
 Return that mercy on thy servant's head. 
 
 Or if my heedless youth has stept astray, 
 Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand ; 
 
 * King's prayer. Orig. ed.
 
 CCLXVI. 
 
 OF DK.YDEN. 99 
 
 On me alone thy just displeasure lay, 1060 
 
 But take thy judgments from this mourning land. 
 
 We all have sinn'd, and thou hast laid us low, 
 As humble earth from whence at first we came : 
 Like flying shades before the clouds we show, 
 And shrink like parchment in consuming flame. 
 
 O let it be enough what thou hast done ; 
 When spotted deaths ran arm'd thro' every street, 
 With poison'd darts which not the good could 
 
 shun, 
 The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet. 
 
 The living few, and frequent funerals then, 1070 
 Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place : 
 And now those few, who are return'd again. 
 Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. 
 
 O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, 
 
 Or bind thy sentence unconditional : loss 
 
 But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, 
 
 And in that foresight this thy doom recall. 
 
 Thy threat'nings, Lord, as thine thou mayst re- 
 But, if immutable and fix'd they stand, [voke : 
 Continue still thyself to give the stroke, io» 
 
 And let not foreign foes oppress thy land. 
 
 Th' Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire 
 Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword ; 
 And bad him swiftly drive th' approaching fire 
 From where our naval magazines were stor'd.
 
 100 THE POEMS rci.xs.ll. 
 
 The blessed minister his wings display'd, 
 And like a shooting star he cleft the night : 
 He charg'd the flames, and those that disobey'd 
 He lash'd to duty with his sword of light. 
 
 The fugitive flames, chastis'd, went forth to prey 
 On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd ; 
 By which to heaven they did affect the way, 
 Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard. 
 
 The wanting orphans saw with wat'ry eyes 
 Their founders' charity in dust laid low ; 1095 
 
 And sent to God their ever-answer'd cries, 
 For he protects the poor, who made them so. 
 
 Nor could thy fabric, Paul's, defend thee long, 
 Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise . 
 Though made immortal by a poet's song; uno 
 And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. 
 
 The daring flames peep'd in, and saw from far 
 The awful beauties of the sacred quire: 
 But, since it was profan'd by civil war, 
 Heaven thought it fit to have it purg'd by fire. 
 
 Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, 
 And widely opening did on both sides prey : 
 This benefit we sadly owe the flame, 
 If only ruin must enlarge our way. 
 
 And now four days the sun had seen our woe< : 
 Four nights the moon beheld th' incessant fire :
 
 OCI.XXIX. 
 
 OF DRYDF.N. 101 
 
 It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, 
 And farther from the feverish north retire. 
 
 In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode, 
 The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie. 1115 
 Not daring to behold their angry God ; 
 And a hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. 
 
 At length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye, 
 And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast: 
 He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, nco 
 And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. 
 
 A hollow crystal pyramid he takes, 
 
 In firmamental waters dipt above; 
 
 Of it a broad extinguisher he makes 
 
 And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove. 
 
 The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, 
 Or full with feeding sink into a sleep : 
 Each household genius shows again his face, 
 And from the hearths the little lares creep. 
 
 Our king this more than natural change beholds; 
 With sober joy his heart and eyes abound : 
 To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, 
 And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. 
 
 As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth, 
 A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain ; us:. 
 
 And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, 
 And straight the green fields laugh with promis'd 
 grain :
 
 102 THE POEMS 
 
 CCLXXXV. 
 
 By such degrees the spreading gladness grew 
 In every heart which fear had froze before : 
 The standing streets with so much joy they view, 
 That with less grief the perish'd they deplore. 
 
 The father of the people open'd wide 
 His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed : 
 Thus God's anointed God's own place supplied, 
 And fill'd the empty with his daily bread. 1:45 
 
 This royal bounty brought its own reward, 
 And in their minds so deep did print the sense ; 
 That if their ruins sadly they regard, 
 'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him thence. 
 
 But so may he live long, that town to sway, 1150 
 Which by his auspice they will nobler make, 
 As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, 
 And not their humble ruins now forsake. 
 
 They have not lost their loyalty by fire ; 
 Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, 1155 
 That from his wars they poorly would retire, 
 Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. 
 
 Not with more constancy the Jews of old, 
 
 By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent, 
 
 Their royal city did in dust behold, 1160 
 
 Or with more vigour to rebuild it went. 
 
 ■& v 
 
 The utmost malice of their stars is past, 
 
 And two dire comets, which havescourg'd the town
 
 ct:xcii. 
 
 OF DRYDKN. 103 
 
 In their own plague and fire have breath'd the last, 
 Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. n65 
 
 Now frequent trines the happier lights among, 
 And high rais'd Jove, from his dark prison freed, 
 Those weights took off that on his planet hung, 
 Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed. 
 
 Methinks already, from this chymic flame, 1170 
 I see a city of more precious mould : 
 Rich as the town which gives the Indies name, 
 With silver pav'd, and all divine with gold. 
 
 Already labouring with a mighty fate, 
 She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, 
 And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, 
 Which heaven will to the death of time allow. 
 
 More great than human now, and more august, 
 Now deified she from her fires does rise : 
 Her widening; streets on new foundations trust, 
 And, opening, into larger parts she flies. 
 
 Before, she like some shepherdess did show, 
 Who sat to bathe her by a river's side ; 
 Not answering to her fame, but rude and low, 
 Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride. 
 
 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, 
 From her high turrets, hourly suitors come : 
 The east with incense, and the west with gold, 
 Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom.
 
 104 
 
 THE POEMS CCxcviit. 
 
 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, ny* 
 Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train ; 
 And often wind, as of his mistress proud, 
 With longing eyes to meet her face again. 
 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, 
 The glory of their towns no more shall boast, 1193 
 And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers join, 
 Shall find her lustre stain'd, and traffic lost. 
 
 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, 
 And touches on our hospitable shore, 
 Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, 
 Shall here unlade him, and depart no more. 
 
 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, 
 The wealth of France or Holland to invade : 
 The beauty of this town without a fleet, 
 From all the world shall vindicate her trade. 12ns 
 
 And, while this fam'd emporium we prepare, 
 The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, 
 That those, who now disdain our trade to share, 
 Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast. 
 
 Already we have conquer'd half the war, mu 
 
 And the less dangerous part is left behind : 
 Our trouble now is but to make them dare, 
 And not so great to vanquish as to find. 
 
 Thus to the eastern wealth through storms we go. 
 But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more r 
 A constant trade-wind will securely blow, 
 And gently lay us on the spicy shore.
 
 f F PR VPVN 
 
 105 
 
 AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE/ 
 
 BY MR. DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE. 
 
 How dull, and how insensible a beast 
 
 Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest ! 
 
 Philosophers and poets vainly strove 
 
 In every age the lumpish mass to move : 
 
 But those were pedants, when compar'd with these, 
 
 Who know not only to instruct but please. 
 
 Poets alone found the delightful way, 
 
 Mysterious morals gently to convey 
 
 In charming numbers ; so that as men grew 
 
 Pleas'd with their poems, they grew wiser too. 10 
 
 Satire has always shone among the rest, 
 
 * This piece was written in 1679, and handed about in 
 manuscript some time before it made its appearance in print. 
 It is supposed to have occasioned the beating Mr. Dryden 
 received in Rose-street, Covent-garden, of which notice is 
 taken in his life. The earl of Mulgrave's name has been al- 
 ways joined with Dryden's, as concerned in the compo- 
 sition ; and that nobleman somewhere takes notice, that 
 Dryden 
 
 Was prais'd and beaten for another's rhymes. 
 
 It is not improbable, that Rochester's character was drawn 
 by his lordship, who held him in high contempt, after his 
 behaving in a very dastardly manner when he challenged 
 him. How, indeed, Lord Mulgrave came to subscribe to so 
 disagreeable a picture of himself, is hard to divine. D.
 
 106 THE POEMS 
 
 And is the boldest way, if not the best, 
 
 To tell men freely of their foulest faults ; 
 
 To laugh at their vain deeds, and vainer thoughts. 
 
 In satire too the wise took different ways, is 
 
 To each deserving its peculiar praise. 
 
 Some did all folly with just sharpness blame, 
 Whilstotherslaugh'dand scorn'dthem into shame. 
 
 But of these two, the last succeeded best, 
 
 As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest. 20 
 
 Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides, 
 
 And censure those, who censure all besides; 
 
 In other things they justly are preferr'd ; 
 
 In this alone methinks the ancients err'd ; 
 
 Against the grossest follies they declaim; u 
 
 Hard they pursue, but bunt ignoble game. 
 
 Nothing is easier than such blots to hit, 
 
 And 'tis the talent of each vulgar wit : 
 
 Besides 'tis labour lost ; for who would preach 
 
 Morals to Armstrong, or dull Aston teach ? .•?>) 
 
 'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball, 
 
 Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall. 
 
 But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find, 
 
 Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind; 
 
 That little speck which all the rest does spoil, 35 
 
 To wash oflf that would be a noble toil ; 
 
 Beyond the loose writ libels of this age, 
 
 Or the forc'd scenes of our declining stage ; 
 
 Above all censure too, each little wit 
 
 Will be so glad to see the greater hit ; •* 
 
 Who judging better, though concern 'd the most.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 
 
 107 
 
 Of such correction will have cause to boast. 
 
 In such a satire all would seek a share. 
 
 And every fool will fancy he is there. 
 
 Old story-tellers too must pine and die, 45 
 
 To see their antiquated wit laid hy ; 
 
 Like her, who miss'd her name in a lampoon, 
 
 And grieved to find herself decay'd so soon. 
 
 No common coxcomb must be mention'd here : 
 
 Nor the dull train of dancing sparks appear : 50 
 
 Nor fluttering officers who never fight ; 
 
 Of such a wretched rabble who would write ? 
 
 Much less halfwits : that's more against our rules : 
 
 For they are fops, the other are but fools. 
 
 Who would not be as silly as Dunbar? 55 
 
 As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr ? 
 
 The cunning courtier should be slighted too, 
 
 Who with dull knavery makes so much ado; 
 
 Till the shrewd fool, by thriving too too fast, 
 Like TEsop's fox becomes a prey at last. Co 
 
 Nor shall the royal mistresses be nam'd, 
 
 Too ugly, or too easy to be blam'd ; 
 With whom each rhyming fool keeps such a pother, 
 They are as common that way as the other : 
 Yet, sauntering Charles between his beastly brace 
 Meets with dissembling still in either place, 
 Affected humour, or a painted face. 
 
 61 Nor shall the royal mistresses be nam'd] About the time 
 of the writing this poem, the king, if we may rely upon 
 Bishop Burnet's authority, divided all his spare time between 
 the Duchess of Portsmouth and Nell Gwin. D.
 
 108 THE POEMS 
 
 In loyal libels we have often told him, 
 
 How one has jilted him, the other sold him : 
 
 How that affects to laugh, how this to weep ; 70 
 
 But who can rail so long as he can sleep ? 
 
 Was ever prince by two at once misled, 
 
 False, foolish, old, ill-natur'd, and ill-bred? 
 
 Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that race 
 
 Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place; 75 
 
 At council set as foils on Danby's score, 
 
 To make that great false jewel shine the more; 
 
 Who all that while was thought exceeding wise, 
 
 Only for taking pains and telling lies. 
 
 But there's no meddling with such nauseous men; so 
 
 Their very names have tired my lazy pen : 
 
 'Tis time to quit their company, and choose 
 
 Some fitter subject for a sharper muse. 
 
 First, let's behold the merriest man alive 
 Against his careless genius vainly strive ; 85 
 
 Quit his dear ease, some deep design to lay, 
 'Gainst a set time, and then forget the day : 
 Yet he will laugh at his best friends, and be 
 J ust as good company as Nokes and Lee. 
 But when he aims at reason or at rule, 90 
 
 He turns himself the best to ridicule. 
 Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit, 
 Show him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit ; 
 That shadow of a jest shall be enjoy'd, 
 Though he left all mankind to be destroy 'd. j5 
 
 69 As Nokes and Lee] These were two celebrated come- 
 dians in Charles the Second's reign. D.
 
 OF PR YUEN 
 
 J 09 
 
 So cat transform'd sat gravely and demure, 
 
 Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself secure; 
 
 But soon the lady had him in her eye, 
 
 And from her friend did just as oddly fly. 
 
 Reaching above our nature does no good ; »oo 
 
 We must fall back to our old flesh and blood ; 
 
 As by our little Machiavel we find 
 
 That nimblest creature of the busy kind, 
 
 His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes ; 
 
 Yet his hard mind, which all this bustle makes, 
 
 No pity of its poor companion takes. 
 
 What gravity can hold from laughing out, 
 
 To see him drag his feeble legs about, 
 
 Like hounds ill-coupled ? Jowler lugs him still 
 
 Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's ill. 
 
 'Twere crime in any man but him alone, 
 
 To use a body so, though 'tis one's own : 
 
 Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, 
 
 That whilst he creeps his vigorous thoughts can soar : 
 
 Alas ! that soaring to those few that know, 115 
 
 Is but a busy groveling here below. 
 
 So men in rapture think they mount the sky, 
 
 Whilst on the ground th' intranced wretches lie : 
 
 So modern fops have fancied they could fly. 
 
 As the new earl with parts deserving praise, 120 
 
 And wit enough to laugh at his own ways ; 
 
 Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights, 
 
 Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights ; 
 
 Striving against his quiet all he can, 
 
 For the fine notion of a busy man. !«
 
 I 10 THE POEMS 
 
 And what is that at best, but one, whose mind 
 Is made to tire himself and all mankind ? 
 For Ireland he would go ; faith, let him reign ; 
 For if some odd fantastic lord would fain 
 Carry in trunks, and all my drudgery do, no 
 
 I'll not only pay him, but admire him too. 
 But is there any other beast that lives, 
 Who his own harm so wittingly contrives? 
 Will any dog that has his teeth and stones 
 Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones, 13s 
 
 To turn a wheel? and bark to be employ'd, 
 While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd? 
 Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, 
 Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame. 
 Though satire nicely writ with humour stings 
 But tlvose who merit praise in other things ; 
 Yet we must needs this one exception make. 
 And break our rules for silly Tropos' sake ; 
 Who was too much despis'd to be accus'd, 
 And therefore scarce deserves to be abus'd ; . ».. 
 Rais'd only by his mercenary tongue, 
 For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong. 
 As boys on holidays let loose to play, 
 Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way ; 
 Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 150 
 Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress : 
 So have I mighty satisfaction found, 
 To see his tinsel reason on the ground : 
 To see the florid fool despis'd, and know it, 
 By some who scarce have words enough to show it:
 
 OF DRYDEN. Ill 
 
 For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker 
 The finer, nay sometimes the wittiest speaker : 
 But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence 
 Should be acquired by such little sense ; 
 For words and wit did anciently agree, 160 
 
 And Tully was no fool, though this man be : 
 At bar abusive, on the bench unable, 
 Knave on the woolsack, fop at council table. 
 These are the grievances of such fools as would 
 Be rather wise than honest, great than good. 
 
 Some other kind of wits must be made known, 
 Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone ; 
 Fxcess of luxury they think can please, 
 And laziness call loving of their ease: 
 To live dissolv'd in pleasures still they feign, 170 
 Though their whole life's but intermitting pain : 
 So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen, 
 We scarce perceive the little time between : 
 Well-meaning men who make this gross mistake, 
 And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake ; 175 
 Each pleasure has its price, and when we pay 
 Too much of pain, we squander life away. 
 
 Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat, 
 Married, but wiser puss ne'er thought of that : 
 
 178 I7ttu Dorset, purring like, &c] Charles, Earl of Dor- 
 set, about this time forty years of age, was one of the best 
 bred men of his time. He was a lord of the bed-chamber, 
 and sent several times with compliments, or on short em- 
 bassies, to France, for the king could not bear to be long 
 without him : he was a most munificent patron ; learningaiul 
 genius were sure of his protection ; and when our author was
 
 1 12 THE POEMS 
 
 And first he worried her with railing rhyme, mi 
 Like Pembroke's mastiffs at his kindest time ; 
 
 deprived of the bays, he allowed him the laureat's annual 
 stipend out of his own private purse. Arthur Mainwaring, 
 Mr. Prior, and many other men of abilities, owed to him 
 their being advanced and provided for. Nor was he less 
 brave than polite and learned ; for he attended the Duke of 
 York as a volunteer in the first Dutch war, and by his cool- 
 ness, courage, and conduct, showed himself a worthy repre- 
 sentative of his many illustrious ancestors. The night before 
 the famous battle, in which the Dutch Admiral Opdam was 
 blown up, he made a celebrated song, with the greatest com- 
 posure, beginning, 
 
 To you fair ladies now at land, 
 We men at sea indite, &c. 
 
 No man had more ease or good humour ; his conversation 
 was refined and sprightly : he had studied books and men 
 deeply, and to good purpose ; he was an excellent critic, and 
 good poet, with a strong turn to satire, for which he is thus 
 highly complimented in the State Poems, vol. i. p. 200. 
 ' Dorset writes satire too, and writes so well, 
 O great Apollo ! let him still rebel. 
 Pardon a muse which does, like his, excel, 
 Pardon a muse which does, with art, support 
 Some drowsy wit in our unthinking court.' 
 He wrote with severity, but that severity was always justly 
 pointed, and Lord Rochester calls him 
 
 ' The best good man, with the worst natur'd muse.' 
 
 His fust wife, the Countess Dowager of Falmouth, had 
 proved a barren wife. Of her having been a teeming widow I 
 am ignorant. His second wife, whom he married in 1685, was 
 daughter to the Earl of Northampton, and mother to the pre- 
 sent Duke of Dorset. He was principally concerned in 
 bringing about the revolution ; was lord-chamberlain to King 
 William and Queen Mary ; chosen a knight of the garter in
 
 OF DRYDEN. 
 
 J13 
 
 Then for one night sold all his slavish life, 
 A teeming widow, but a barren wife ; 
 Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, 
 He lugg'd about the matrimonial load ; iss 
 
 Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he, 
 Has ill restor'd him to his liberty ; 
 Which he would use in his old sneaking way, 
 Drinking all night and dozing all the day ; 
 Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times 19a 
 Had fam'd for d.ulness in malicious rhymes. 
 Mulgrave had much ado to scape the snare, 
 
 1691, and several times appointed one of the regents, when 
 the affairs of Europe demanded the absence of the king-. He 
 died at Bath in 1706, aged 69, lamented by every class ol 
 people, and the most opposite parties. Mr. Pope gives him 
 these lines : 
 
 ' Dorset, the grace of courts, the muse's pride, 
 Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died.' D. 
 
 190 Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times 
 Had fam'd for dulness in malicious rhymes] 
 
 Edward Howard, Esq. a gentleman of the Berkshire 
 family, consequently related to Sir Robert Howard. He 
 wrote four plays, called, 1st. The Man of Newmarket, a 
 comedy. 2nd. Six Days' Adventure; or, The New Utopia. 
 a comedy. 3rd. The Usurper, a tragedy. 4th. Women's 
 Conquest, a tragi-comedy : but none of them succeeded on 
 the stage, nor procured him any reputation. He also pub- 
 lished an epic poem, called the British Princes, for which 
 he was severely ridiculed by all the wits of his age : Lord 
 Piochester, Lord Dorset, Mr. Waller, the Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, Dr. Spratt, Lord Vaughan, published lampoons upon 
 it, most of them printed in the six volumes of Miscellanies 
 published by Dryden. D. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 1 14 THE POEMS 
 
 Though learn'd in all those arts that cheat the fair : 
 
 For after all his vulgar marriage mocks, 
 
 With beauty dazzled, Numps was in the stocks ; 
 
 Deluded parents dried their weeping eyes, 
 
 To see him catch his tartar for his prize : 
 
 Th' impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, 
 
 And cuckolds smil'd in hopes of sweet revenge ; 
 
 Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 200 
 
 As his estate, his person too was free : 
 
 Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move ; 
 
 To gold lie fled from beauty and from love ; 
 
 Yet failing there he keeps his freedom still, 
 
 Forc'd to live happily against his will : 205 
 
 Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power 
 
 Break not his boasted quiet every hour. 
 
 And little Sid, for simile renown'd, 
 Pleasure has always sought but never found : 
 
 208 And little Sid, for simile renown'd, 
 
 Pleasure has always sought hut never found] 
 
 This Sidney, brother of Algernon Sidney and the Earl oi 
 Leicester, was rather a man of pleasure than of business ; his 
 talents were great, but his indolence was greater ; his appear- 
 ance was graceful ; he was a favourite with the ladies, had 
 a turn for intrigue, and was of a disposition exactly fitted to 
 Charles's court, easy, affable, and insinuating ; free from 
 any guile, and a friend to mankind. In 1679 he went envoy 
 to the Hague, where he contracted an intimacy with the 
 Prince of Orange, whose friends he heartily assisted in rais- 
 ing him to the throne, being himself a messenger from Eng- 
 land to Holland upon that very business in 1688. He was 
 raised to the dignity of Lord Sidney, and Earl of Rumney, 
 in 1688 ; declared secretary of slate, master of the ordnance.
 
 OF DRYDF.N. 115 
 
 Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 
 
 His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. 
 
 The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong*, 
 
 His meat and mistresses are kept too long. 
 
 But sure we all mistake this pious man, 
 
 Who mortifies his person all he can : 21s 
 
 What we uncharitably take for sin, 
 
 Are only rules of this odd capuchin ; 
 
 For never hermit under grave pretence 
 
 Has liv'd more contrary to common sense ; 
 
 And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 220 
 
 No nastiness offends his skilful nose ; 
 
 Which from all stink can with peculiar art 
 
 Extract perfume and essence from a f — t : 
 
 Expecting supper is his great delight ; 
 
 He toils all day but to be drunk at night ; 225 
 
 Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits, 
 
 Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall for wits. 
 
 Rochester I despise for want of wit, 
 Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet ; 
 
 and lord lieutenant of Ireland in 1689 ; and was removed 
 from the latter post in 1693, it being thought that he held 
 the reins of power with too slack a hand. D. 
 
 *" Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall for wits] Sir George 
 Hewit, a man of quality, famous for gallantry, and often 
 named in the State Poems. Sir George Etheredgo intended 
 for him the celebrated character of Sir Fopling Flutter. 
 ' Scarce will there greater grief pierce every heart, 
 Should Sir George Hewit, or Sir Carr, depart. 
 Had it not better been, than thus to roam, 
 To stay and tie the cravat string at home ;
 
 116 THE POEMS 
 
 For while he mischief means to all mankind, 230 
 Himself alone the ill effects does find : 
 And so like witches justly suffers shame, 
 Whose harmless malice is so much the same. 
 False are his words, affected is his wit ; 
 So often he does aim, so seldom hit ; 235 
 
 To every face he cringes while he speaks, 
 But when the back is turn'd the head he breaks: 
 Mean in each action, lewd in every limb, 
 Manners themselves are mischievous in him: 
 A proof that chance alone makes every creature 
 A very Killigrew without good nature. 241 
 
 To strut, look big, shake pantaloon, and swear, 
 With Hewit, dammee, there's no action there.' 
 
 State Poems, vol. i. p. 155. 
 The above lines are addressed by Rochester to Lord Mul- 
 grave, when bound for Tangier. 
 
 Jack Hall, a courtier, whom I take to be the same with 
 Uzza in the second part of Absalom and Achitophel, is thus 
 mentioned in the State Poems, vol. ii. p. 135 : 
 
 ' Jack Hall left town, 
 
 But first writ something he dare own, 
 Of prologue lawfully begotten, 
 And full nine months maturely thought on : 
 Born with hard labour, and much pain, 
 Ousely was Dr. Chamberlain. 
 At length from stuff and rubbish pick'd, 
 As bears' cubs into shape are lick'd, 
 When Wharton, Etharege, and Soame, 
 To give it their last strokes were come, 
 Those critics differ'd in their doom. 
 Yet Swan says, he admir'd it 'scap'd, 
 Since 'twas Jack Hall's without being clapp'd.' 
 Swan was a notorious punster. D. 
 
 **• A very Killigrew without good nature) Thomas Killi-
 
 OF DRYDEN. 117 
 
 For what a Bessus has he always liv'd, 
 
 And his own kickings notably contriv'd ? 
 
 For, there's the folly that's still mix'd with fear, 
 
 Cowards more blows than any hero bear ; 215 
 
 Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures say, 
 
 But 'tis a bolder thing to run away : 
 
 The world may well forgive him all his ill, 
 
 For every fault does prove his penance still : 
 
 Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose, 250 
 
 And then as meanly labours to get loose ; 
 
 grew, of whom we hear daily so many pleasant stories related, 
 had good natural parts, but no regular education. He was 
 brother to Sir. William Killigrew, vice-chamberlain to King 
 Charles the Second's queen ; had been some time page of 
 honour to King Charles I. and was, after the restoration, 
 many years master of the revels, and groom of the chamber 
 to King Charles II., in whose exile he shared, being his 
 resident at Venice in 1651. During his travels abroad he 
 wrote several plays, none of which are much talked of. His 
 itch of writing, and his character as a wit and companion, 
 occasioned this distich from Sir John Denham, 
 
 ' Had Cowley ne'er spoke, Killigrew ne'er writ, 
 Combin'd in one they'd made a matchless wit.' 
 
 The same knight wrote a ballad on him. 
 
 Killigrew was a most facetious companion ; his wit was 
 lively and spirited ; and he had a manner of saying the bit- 
 terest things, without provoking resentment; he tickled you 
 while he made you smart, and you overlooked the pain, 
 charmed by the pleasure. He died at Whitehall in March 
 1082, aged seventy-one, bewailed by his friends, and truly 
 wept for by the poor. D. 
 
 848 i<< ur u i lilt a Jj ws „ s / ias h e always lived] Bessus is a 
 remarkable cowardly character in Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 D.
 
 118 POEMS OF DRY DEK. 
 
 A life so infamous is better quitting, 
 
 Spent in base injury and low submitting. 
 
 I'd like to have left out his poetry ; 
 
 Forgot by all almost as well as me. wi 
 
 Sometimes he has some humour, never wit, 
 
 And if it rarely, very rarely, hit, 
 
 Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid, 
 
 To find it out's the cinder woman's trade ; 
 
 Who for the wretched remnants of a fire 260 
 
 Must toil all day in ashes and in mire. 
 
 So lewdly dull his idle works appear, 
 
 The wretched texts deserve no comments here ; 
 
 Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone, 
 
 For a whole page of dulness must atone. 265 
 
 How vain a thing is man, and how unwise ! 
 E'en he, who would himself the most despise ! 
 I, who so wise and humble seem to be, 
 Now my own vanity and pride can't see, 
 While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown, 
 We pull down others but to raise our own ; 
 That we may angels seem, we paint them elves, 
 And are but satires to set up ourselves. 
 I, who have all this while been finding fault, 
 E'en with my master, who first satire taught ; ivo 
 And did by that describe the task so hard, 
 It seems stupendous and above reward ! 
 Now labour with unequal force to climb 
 That lofty hill, unreach'd by former time: 
 Tis just that I should to tlic bottom fall, jbo 
 
 Learn to write well, or not to write at all.
 
 119 
 
 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL; 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Si propiiis stes 
 
 Te capiet magis- 
 
 A POEM, PUBLISHED 1681. 
 
 THE OCCASION OF IT EXPLAINED. 
 
 THE Earl of Shaftesbury seemed bent upon the ruin of the 
 Duke of York. It was mostly through his influence in both 
 houses, that those infamous witnesses, Oates, Tongue, Bed- 
 loe, &c, were so strenuously encouraged, and the Popish 
 plot, if not schemed by him, was at least by him cherished 
 and supported. He had been heard to say with some exul- 
 tation, I wont pretend to pronounce who started the game, but 
 I am sure 1 have had the full hunting. At this day that 
 plot appears, to impartial and discerning eyes, to have been 
 a forgery contrived to inflame the minds of the people against 
 popery, a religion now professed by the duke, that the bill 
 for excluding him from the throne might meet with more 
 countenance and greater certainty of success ; and it went 
 very near having the desired effect. 
 
 The indiscreet zeal and imprudent conduct of the Roman 
 Catholics, for some time past, had given too much room for 
 suspicion ; they having often openly, and in defiance of the 
 established laws of the kingdom, shown a thorough contempt 
 for the established religion of their country, propagated as 
 much as possible their own tenets, loudly triumphed in their 
 progress, and daily acquisition of proselytes among all ranks 
 of people, without the least secrecy or caution. Hence was 
 the nation ripe for alarm : when given, it spread like wild- 
 fire ; and the Duke of York, as head of the party at which 
 it was aimed, was obliged to withdraw to Brussels to avoid 
 the impending storm. 
 
 The king being some time after taken ill, produced his 
 highness's sudden return, before his er.emie,, and those in
 
 120 
 
 the opposition to the court measures, could provide for his 
 reception ; so that their schemes were thus for a while dis- 
 concerted. Lest his presence might revive commotion, he 
 returned again to Brussels, and was then permitted (previ- 
 ously) to retire to Scotland, having received the strongest 
 assurances of his brother's affection and resolution to secure 
 him and his heirs the succession. He had before this the 
 satisfaction of seeing the turbulent Earl of Shaftesbury re- 
 moved from his seat and precedence in the privy-council, as 
 well as all share in the ministry ; and now prevailed to have 
 the Duke of Monmouth dismissed from all his posts, and 
 sent into Holland. 
 
 Shaftesbury's views were to lift Monmouth to the throne, 
 whose weaknesses he knew he could so effectually manage, 
 as to have the reins of government in that case in his own 
 hands. Monmouth was the eldest of the king's sons, by 
 whom he was tenderly beloved. His mother was one Mrs. 
 Lucy Walters, otherwise Barlow, a Pembrokeshire woman, 
 who bore him at Rotterdam in 1649, at.d between whom 
 and his majesty it was artfully reported, there had passed a 
 contract of marriage. This report was narrowly examined 
 into, and proved false, to the full satisfaction of the privy 
 council, and of the people in general, though Shaftesbury 
 did all in his power to support and establish a belief of its 
 reality. The youth was educated at Paris under the queen- 
 mother, and brought over to England in 1662: soon after 
 which time he was created Duke of Orkney in Scotland, 
 and Monmouth in England, or rather Wales ; chosen a 
 knight of the garter ; appointed master of horse to his ma- 
 jesty, general of the land forces, colonel of the life-guard of 
 horse, lord-lieutenant of the East Riding of Yorkshire, go- 
 vernor of Kingston-upon-Hull, chief justice in eyre on the 
 south of the river Trent, lord-chamberlain of Scotland, ami 
 Duke of Buccleugh, in right of his wife, who was daughter 
 and heiress to a noble and wealthy earl, bearing that name ; 
 but he lost all those places of honour and fortune, together 
 with his royal father's favour, by the insinuation and art of 
 Shaftesbury, who poisoned him with illegal and ambitious 
 notions, that ended in his destruction. 
 
 The partizans of this earl, and other malecontents, had 
 long pointed out his Grace as a proper successor to the 
 crown, instead of the Duke of Yoik, in case of the king's 
 demise ; and he began to believe that he had a real right to 
 be so. At the instigation of his old friend Shaftesbury, he 
 returned to England without his father's consent, who would
 
 121 
 
 not see him ; and, instead of obeying the royal mandate to 
 retire again, he and Shaftesbury jointly made a pompous 
 parade through several counties in the west and north of 
 England, scattering the seeds of discord and disaffection ; so 
 that their designs seemed to be levelled against the govern- 
 ment, and a tempe>t was gathering at a distance, not unlike 
 that which swept the royal martyr from his throne and life. 
 Many people, who would not otherwise have taken part with 
 the court, shuddering when they looked back upon the 
 scenes of anarchy and confusion, that had followed that 
 melancholy catastrophe, in order to prevent the return of a 
 similar storm, attached themselves to the king and the Duke 
 of York ; and the latter returned to court, where he kept his 
 ground. 
 
 The kingdom was now in a high fermentation ; the mur- 
 murs of each party broke out into altercation, and declamatory 
 abuse. Every day produced new libels and disloyal pamphlets. 
 To answer and expose them, their partizans and abettors, 
 several authors were retained by authority, but none came up 
 to the purpose so well as Sir Roger l'Estrange, in the Ob- 
 servator ; and the poet laureat, in the poem under inspection, 
 the elegance and severity of which raised his character pro- 
 digiously, and showed the proceedings of Shaftesbury and his 
 followers in a most severe light. These writings, according 
 to Echard, in a great measure stemmed the tide of a popular 
 current, that might have otherwise immersed the nation in 
 ruin. His Grace the Duke of Monmouth afterwards engaged 
 in the Ryehouse Plot, and a reward was offered for the taking 
 him, both by his father and Lewis XIV. whether in England 
 or France. He obtained his pardon both of the king and 
 duke, by two very submissive, nay abject, letters ; and being 
 admitted to the royal presence, seemed extremely sorry for 
 his past offences, confessed his having engaged in a design 
 lor seizing the king's guards, and changing the government, 
 but denied having any knowledge of a scheme for assassinating 
 either his father or uncle, which it seems was set on foot by 
 the inferior ministers of this conspiracy. 
 
 Presuming, however, upon the king's paternal affection, he 
 soon recanted his confession, and consorted with his old fol- 
 lowers ; so that the king forbid him the court, and he retired 
 to Holland, from whence he returned in 1685, raised a re- 
 bellion against his uncle, then on the throne, caused himself 
 to be proclaimed king, and being defeated and taken prisoner, 
 was beheaded on Tower-hill, in his thirty-sixth year. D.
 
 m 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 'Tis not my intention to make an apology for my poem : 
 some will think it needs no excuse, and others will receive 
 none. The design I am sure is honest ; but he who draws 
 his pen for one party must expect to make enemies of the 
 other. For wit and fool are consequents of whig and tory •* 
 ' and every man is a knave or an ass to the contrary side. There 
 is a treasury of merits in the fanatic church, as well as in the 
 papist ; and a pennyworth to be had of saintship, honesty, 
 and poetry, for the lewd, the factious, and the blockheads ; 
 but the longest chapter in Deuteronomy has not curses enough 
 for an anti-Bromingham. My comfort is, their manifest 
 prejudice to my cause will render their judgment of less 
 authority against me. Yet if a poem have a genius, it will 
 force its own reception in the world ; for there's a sweetness 
 in good verse, which tickles even while it hurts, and no man 
 can be heartily angry with him who pleases him against his 
 will. The commendation of adversaries is the greatest tri- 
 umph of a writer, because it never comes unless extorted. 
 But I can be satisfied on more easy terms : if I happen to 
 please the more moderate sort, I shall be sure of an honest 
 party, and, in all probability, of the best judges : for the 
 least concerned are commonly the least corrupt. And 1 con- 
 fess I have laid in for those, by rebating the satire (where 
 justice would allow it) from carrying too sharp an edge. 
 They who can criticise so weakly, as to imagine 1 have done 
 my worst, may be convinced, at their own cost, that I can 
 write severely with more ease than I can gently. 1 have 
 but laughed at some men's follies, when 1 could have de- 
 claimed against their vices ; and other men's virtues I have 
 commended, as freely as I have taxed their crimes. And 
 now, if you are a malicious reader, I expect you should re- 
 turn upon me that I affect to be thought more impartial than 
 I am. But if men are not to be judged by their professions, 
 God forgive you commonwealth's men for professing so 
 plausibly for the government. You cannot be so uncon- 
 scionable as to charge me for not subscribing of my name ; 
 
 » It was now that Ilic party distinctions of whig and tory were 
 first adopted ; the courtiers were deridingly compared to the Irish 
 banditti, who wire railed tories ; and they likened their opponents 
 to whigs, a denomination of reproach, formerly given the Scotch 
 covenanters, who were supposed to live on a poor kind of butter- 
 milk so called. These names still distinguish contending parties in 
 England, though strangely varied from their original application. JJ
 
 123 
 
 for that would reflect too grossly upon your own party, who 
 never dare, though they have the advantage of a jury to se- 
 cure them. If you like not my poem, the fault may, possiblv, 
 be in my writing (though 'tis hard for an author to judge 
 against himself) ; but, more probably, 'tis in your morals, 
 which cannot bear the truth of it. The violent, on both sides, 
 will condemn the character of Absalom, as either too favour- 
 ably or too hardly drawn. But they are not the viole.it whom 
 I desire to please. The fault on the right hand is to extenuate, 
 palliate, and indulge ; and to confess freely, I have en- 
 deavoured to commit it. Besides the respect which I owe 
 his birth, I have a greater for his heroic virtues ; and David 
 himself could not be more tender of the young man's life 
 than I would be of his reputation. But since the most ex- 
 cellent natures are always the most easy, and, as being such, 
 are the soonest perverted by ill counsels, especially when 
 baited with fame and glory ; 'tis no more a wonder that he 
 withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it was for 
 Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the 
 woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to 
 prosecute, because 1 could not obtain from myself to show 
 Absalom unfortunate. The frame of it was cut out but for a 
 picture to the waist, and if the draught be so far true, 'tis as 
 much as I designed. 
 
 Were I the inventor, who am only the historian, I should 
 certainly conclude the piece with the reconcilement of Ab- 
 salom to David. And who knows but this may come to pass ? 
 Things were not brought to an extremity where I left the 
 story; there seems yet to be room left for a composure ; here- 
 after there may be only for pity. I have not so much as an 
 uncharitable wish against Achitophel, but am content to be 
 accused of a good-natured error, and to hope with Origen, 
 that the devil himself may at last be saved. For which rea- 
 son, in this poem, he is neither brought to set his house in 
 order, nor to dispose of his person afterwards as he in wisdom 
 shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful ; and his vicege- 
 rent is only not so, because he is not infinite. 
 
 The true end of satire is the amendment of vices by correc- 
 tion. And he, who writes honestly, is no more an enemy to the 
 offender, than the physician to the patient, when he prescribes 
 harsh remedies to an inveterate disease ; for those are only in 
 order to prevent the chirurgeon's work of an Enso reddendum, 
 which 1 wish not to my very enemies. To conclude all ; if 
 the body politic have any analogy to the natural, in my weak 
 judgment, an act of oblivion were as necessary in a hot dis- 
 tempered state, as an opiate would be in a raging fever.
 
 124 THE POEMS 
 
 ABSALOM* AND ACHITOPHEL. 
 
 /n pious times ere priestcraft did begin, 
 
 Before polygamy was made a sin ; 
 
 When man on many multiplied his kind, 
 
 Ere one to one was cursedly confined ; 
 
 When nature prompted, and no law denied s 
 
 Promiscuous use of concubine and bride ; 
 
 Then Israel's monarch after heaven's own heart, 
 
 His vigorous warmth did variously impart 
 
 To wives and slaves ; and wide as his command, 
 
 Scatter'd his Maker's image through the land. 10 
 
 Michal, of royal blood, the crown did wear; 
 
 A soil ungrateful to the tiller's care : 
 
 Not so the rest ; for several mothers bore 
 
 To god-like David several sons before. 
 
 But since like slaves his bed they did ascend, 15 
 
 No true succession could their seed attend. 
 
 Of all this numerous progeny was none 
 
 So beautiful, so brave, as Absalon : 
 
 Whether inspir'd by some diviner lust, 
 
 * Among the many answers to, and remarks on, this poem, 
 the following are curious: — ' Towser the Second, a Bull- 
 dog ; or, a short Reply to Absalon and Achitophel,' folio, 
 half-sheet, London, 1681. ' Absalon's IX. Worthies,' a 
 Poem, folio, half-sheet, no date. ' Poetical Reflections on 
 Absalom and Achitophel,' folio, s. d. ' Absalom Senior,' 
 a Poem, folio, 1 682. /'.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 125 
 
 His father got him with a greater gust : 20 
 
 Or that his conscious destiny made way, 
 
 By manly beauty to imperial sway. 
 
 Early in foreign fields he won renown, 
 
 With kings and states allied to Israel's crown : 
 
 In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, 
 
 And seem'd as he were only born for love. 
 
 Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease, 
 
 In him alone 'twas natural to please : 
 
 1 1 is motions all accompanied with grace; 
 
 And paradise was open'd in his face. 30 
 
 With secret joy indulgent David view'd 
 
 His youthful image in his son renew'd : 
 
 To all his wishes nothing he denied ; 
 
 And made the charming Annabel his bride. 
 
 What faults he had, (for who from faults is free ?) 
 
 His father conld not, or he would not see. 
 
 Some warm excesses which the law forbore, 
 
 Were constru'd youth that purg'd by boiling o'er, 
 
 And Amnon's murder by a specious name, 
 
 Was call'd a just revenge for injur'd fame. 40 
 
 Thus prais'd and lov'd, the noble youth remain'd, 
 
 While David, undisturb'd, in Sion reign'd. 
 
 30 And paradise was open'd in his face] Pope's Eloisa, in 
 her compliment to Abelard on his founding the Paraclete, is 
 certainly indebted to this personal description ; and the in- 
 genuity of the poet, in the local adaptation, is truly admi- 
 rable : 
 
 'You rais'd these hallow'd walls ; the desart smil'd, 
 And paradise was open'd in the wild.' 7".
 
 126 THE POEMS 
 
 But life can never be sincerely blest; 
 Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best. 
 The Jews, a headstrong-, moody, murmuring race, 
 As ever tried the extent and stretch of grace ; 
 God's pamper'd people, whom debauch'd with ease, 
 No king could govern, nor no God could please ; 
 (Gods they had tried of every shape and size, 
 That godsmiths could produce, or priests devise :) 
 These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, 51 
 
 Regan to dream they wanted liberty ; 
 And when no rule, no precedent was found, 
 Of men, by laws less circumscrib'd and bound ; 
 They led their wild desires to woods and caves, 
 And thought that all but savages were slaves. 
 They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow, 
 Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego : 
 Who banish'd David did from Hebron bring, 
 And with a general shout proclaim'd him king: 
 Those very Jews, who, at their very best, 61 
 
 Their humour more than loyalty exprest, 
 Now wonder'd why so long they had obey'd 
 An idol monarch, which their hands had made ; 
 Thought they might ruin him they could create, 
 Or melt him to that golden calf a state. 
 
 51 These Adam-wits, &c] Persons discontented in happy 
 circumstances are not unluckily called Adam-wits, from a 
 remembrance of Adam's weakness in Paradise, who, aiming 
 at being happier lhan the happiest, by persuasion of Eve, eat 
 of the forbidden fruit, and thereby forfeited the divine favour, 
 and was excluded the garden of Eden. D.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 127 
 
 But these were random bolts : no form'd design, 
 Nor interest made the factious crowd to join : 
 The sober part of Israel, free from stain, 
 Well knew the value of a peaceful reign ; 70 
 
 And, looking backward with a wise affright, 
 Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight : 
 In contemplation of whose ugly scars 
 They curst the memory of civil wars. 
 The moderate sort of men thus qualified, 75 
 
 Inclined the balance to the better side; 
 And David's mildness managed it so well, 
 rhe bad found no occasion to rebel. 
 But when to sin our bias'd nature leans, 
 The careful devil is still at. hand with means ; so 
 And providently pimps for ill desires: 
 The good old cause revived a plot requires. 
 Plots, true or false, are necessary things, 
 To raise up commonwealths, and ruin kings. 
 
 The inhabitants of old Jerusalem 85 
 
 Were Jebusites ; the town so call'd from them ; 
 
 And theirs the native right 
 
 But when the chosen people grew more strong, 
 The rightful cause at length became the wrong ; 
 And every loss the men of Jebus bore, go 
 
 They still were thought God's enemies the more. 
 Thus worn or weaken'd, well or ill content, 
 Submit they must to David's government: 
 Impoverish'd and deprived of all command, 
 Their taxes doubled as they lost their land ; *» 
 And what was harder yet to flesh and blood,
 
 128 THE POEMS 
 
 Their gods disgraced, and burnt like common wood. 
 
 This set the heathen priesthood in a flame; 
 
 For priests of all religions are the same. 
 
 Of whatsoe'er descent their godhead be, 100 
 
 Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, 
 
 In his defence his servants are as bold, 
 
 As if he had been born of beaten gold. 
 
 The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, 
 
 In this conclude them honest men and wise : 105 
 
 For 'twas their duty all the learned think, 
 
 T' espouse his cause, by whom they eat and drink. 
 
 From hence began that plot, the nation's curse, 
 
 Bad in itself, but represented worse; 
 
 Rais'd in extremes, and in extremes decried ; 110 
 
 With oaths afBrm'd, with dying vows denied ; 
 
 Not weigh'd nor winnow'd by the multitude ; 
 
 But swallow'd in the mass, unchew'd and crude. 
 
 Some truth there was, but dash'd and brew'd with 
 
 lies, 
 To please the fools, and puzzle all the wise. 115 
 Succeeding times did equal folly call, 
 Believing nothing, or believing all. 
 Th' Egyptian rites the Jebusites embrac'd ; 
 Where gods were recommended bv their taste. 
 Such savoury deities must needs be good, ico 
 As served at once for worship and for food. 
 By force they could not introduce these gods ; 
 For ten to one in former days was odds. 
 So fraud was used, the sacrificers trade : 
 Fools are more hard to conquer than persuade.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 129 
 
 Their busy teachers mingled with the Jews, 
 And rak'd for converts even the court and stews: 
 Which Hebrew priests the more unkindly took, 
 Because the fleece accompanies the flock. 
 Some thought they God's anointed meant to sla\ 
 By guns, invented since full many a day : 
 Our author swears it not ; but who can know 
 How far the devil and Jebusites may go? 
 This plot, which fail'd for want of common sense, 
 Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence : 135 
 For as when raging fevers boil the blood, 
 The standing lake soon floats into a flood, 
 And every hostile humour, which before 
 Slept quiet in its channels, bubbles o'er ; 
 So several factions from this first ferment no 
 
 Work up to foam, and threat the government. 
 Some by their friends, more by themselves thought 
 
 wise, 
 Oppos'd the power to which they could not rise. 
 Some had in courts been great, and thrown from 
 
 thence, 
 Like fiends were harden'd in impenitence. us 
 Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown 
 From pardon'd rebels kinsmen to the throne, 
 Were rais'd in power and public office high ; 
 Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie. 
 Of these the false Achitophel was first; 150 
 
 150 Of these the false] This is the introduction of the chief 
 hero of this piece the celebrated Earl of Shaftesbury, under 
 the name of Achitophel. A man, insinuating, imposing in 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE POEMS 
 
 A name to all succeeding ages curst : 
 For close designs, and crooked counsels fit ; 
 Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; 
 Restless, unfix'd in principles and place ; 
 
 private, eloquent, daring in public, full of resources in both ; 
 who had been bred up in the schools of civil commotion, in 
 the long parliament, in Cromwell's revolutions, and in those 
 which followed Cromwell's death ; and who, from that edu- 
 cation, knew well the power of popular rumours, at times 
 when popular passions are in ferment ; framed the fiction of 
 the popish plot in the year 1678, in order to bury the Duke, 
 and perhaps the King, under the weight of the national fear 
 and hatred of popery. Shaftesbury was stimulated too by 
 offences both given and received ; for the King having said 
 to him, ' Shaftesbury, thou art the greatest rogue in the king- 
 dom,' he answered, bowing, ' Of a subject, Sir, I believe I 
 am.' And the Duke rated him in passionate terms for one 
 of his speeches in parliament. ' I am glad,' said he, 'your 
 Royal Highness has not called me papist and coward.' The 
 account of this plot, in which was involved the assassination 
 of Charles and his brother, an invasion, the conflagration of 
 the city, and a massacre of the protestants, was calculated, 
 in its great lines, to gain the attention of the higher ranks of 
 the nation, and, by the familiarity and detail of its circum- 
 stances, to catch the credulity of the meanest of the populace. 
 15y making the Duke one of the objects of the pretended as- 
 sassination, it prevented the suspicion of its being directed 
 against him ; and by accusing the Queen, whom the King 
 did not love, it gave a cfcance for separating the interests of 
 the brothers. The information, as soon as given, flew in- 
 stantly abroad. Even the marvellousness of the story gave 
 credit to what it was almost impossible to believe human fic- 
 tion could have invented. Accident after accident, arising 
 m a manner unparalleled in history, concurred to maintain 
 the delusion. Coleman's letters were seized, which disco-
 
 OF DRYDEV. 131 
 
 In power unpleas'd, impatient of disgrace : 155 
 A tiery soul, which, working out its way, 
 Fretted the pigmy-body to decay, 
 And o'er inform'd the tenement of clay. 
 
 vered that the Duke had been carrying on a correspondence 
 with France, against the religion of his country, and its in- 
 terests. Danby's correspondence with France for money to 
 the King was betrayed, which made Charles a sharer in his 
 brother's disgrace ; but above all, the murder of Godfrey, 
 who, in his office of a magistrate, had made public the plot, 
 caused almost every protestant to imagine he felt the dagger in 
 his breast. Shaftesbury knew too well the nature of the human 
 mind, not to improve upon this last accident. He suggested to 
 his faction to bring the eye in aid of the imagination, in order 
 to complete the terror of the people. The dead body, ghastly, 
 and with the sword fixed in it, and lying on a bier, was ex- 
 posed during two days in the public street. It was carried 
 in procession through the city of London to the grave, as the 
 remains of a martyr to the protestant religion ; seventy-two 
 clergymen walking before, near a thousand persons of con- 
 dition behind, innumerable crowds in a long silent order, an 
 expression of passion more dangerous than that of clamour 
 and confusion, bringing up the rear. 
 
 Such is the character given by my amiable and ingenious 
 friend, Sir John Dalrymple, of this celebrated politician ; 
 which character having been censured as unjust and severe, 
 the author, with that candour and liberality that endears him 
 to his acquaintance, made the following apology in his second 
 volume of Memoirs, p. 325 : ' It has been a misfortune to 
 Lord Shaftesbury's memory, that everything has be<;n written 
 against him, and nothing for him ; upon which account, I 
 am happy to hear, that his family have thoughts of endea- 
 vouring to vindicate his memory in public. Far from the in- 
 tention to injure it, I flatter myself that the papers published 
 iu this Appendix will set bis character, in several respects, in
 
 132 THE POEMS 
 
 A daring pilot in extremity ; 
 Pleas'd with the danger, when the waves went high 
 He sought the storms ; but for a calm unfit, 
 Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit. 
 
 a new light in the world. They will show that he had no hand 
 in the Duchess of Orleans's treaty, made at Dover for the inte- 
 rests of popery ; that Charles first broke the ties of honour with 
 him, by deceiving and betraying him into the second treaty 
 with France, in the year 1671, while he concealed from him 
 the first, which had been made in the year 1670 ; and that 
 Shaftesbury took no money from France, at a time when most 
 of his friends of the popular party were doing it.' 
 
 It is painful and difficult to bring one's mind to conceive, 
 that a man, totally profligate and unprincipled, could have 
 been so much respected and beloved, as he was, by such a 
 man as Mr. Locke, and could have been one of the most 
 upright, able, irreproachable, popular Lord Chancellors, that 
 ever adorned that high station, to which Dryden himself bears 
 testimony in the strongest manner, in six fine lines, beginning 
 line 186. It is to be lamented that Locke never finished the 
 Memoirs he began of Lord Shaftesbury's Life. A very cu- 
 rious and long extract is given from Locke's papers, by Le 
 Clerc, in the seventh volume of the Bibliotheque Choisie, 
 from page 147 to page 169, well worthy the attentive perusal 
 of the impartial reader. Locke dwells much on the acute- 
 ness of his wit, and his deep and close penetration into the 
 human heart; of which, among others, he gives a remarkable 
 instance. Having dined at Lord Clarendon's with Lord 
 Southampton, he said, on their return, to the latter, ' Miss 
 Anne Hyde, whom we have just left, is certainly married to 
 one of the royal brothers. A certain secret respect, a studied 
 and suppressed attention and complaisance, paid to her by 
 the mother, in her voice, looks, and gestures, and even in the 
 manner in which she offered her every thing at the table, 
 renders this suspicion of mine indisputable.' Lord South-
 
 OF DRYDEN. 133 
 
 Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
 And thin partitions do their bounds divide ; 
 Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest, 
 Refuse his age the needful hours of rest ? 
 Punish a body which he could not please ; 
 Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease ? 
 And all to leave what with his toil he won, 
 To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son ; 170 
 Got, while his soul did huddled notions try; 
 And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. 
 In friendship false, implacable in hate; 
 Resolv'd to ruin or to rule the state. 
 To compass this the triple bond he broke ; m 
 
 ampton laughed at the time at the improbability of this con- 
 jecture, but was soon afterwards convinced of its truth. In 
 these Memoirs is preserved a spirited letter to the Duke of 
 York from Shaftesbury, when he was confined in the tower, in 
 the year 1676. A saying of this sharp-sighted nobleman de- 
 serves to be remembered : ' That wisdom lay in the heart, 
 not in the head ; and that it was not the want of knowledge, 
 but the perverseness of the will, that filled men's actions with 
 folly, and their lives with disorder.' Dr. J. W. 
 
 175 The triple bond he broke] In the year 1667, a triple 
 alliance was entered into between England, Sweden, and 
 Holland, which was dissolved by the second Dutch war, to 
 which, and a closer connexion with France, Lord Shaftes- 
 bury contributed his advice, and thereby 
 
 Fitted Israel for a foreign yoke. 
 
 The remaining lines allude to his having changed his 
 opinion, when he found it unpopulai, as we have observed 
 above, down to 
 
 Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge, 
 
 The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. D.
 
 134 THE IOEMS 
 
 The pillars of the public safety shook ; 
 
 And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke : 
 
 Then seiz'd with fear, yet still affecting fame, 
 
 Usurp'd a patriot's all-atoning name. 
 
 So easy still it proves in factious times, i«i 
 
 With public zeal to cancel private crimes. 
 
 How safe is treason, and how sacred ill, 
 
 Where none can sin against the people's will ! 
 
 Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known, 
 
 Since in another's guilt they find their own ! 185 
 
 Yet fame deserv'd no enemy can grudge ; 
 
 The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. 
 
 In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin 
 
 With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, 
 
 Unbrib'd, unsought, the wretched to redress ; igo 
 
 Swift of dispatch, and easy of access. 
 
 Oh ! had he been content to serve the crown, 
 
 With virtues only proper to the gown ; 
 
 Or had the rankness of the soil been freed 
 
 From cockle, that oppress'd the noble seed ; 105 
 
 David for him his tuneful harp had strung, 
 
 And heaven had wanted one immortal song. 
 
 179 Usurp'd a patriot's all-atoning name] The first edition 
 reads : Assum'd a patron's all-atoning name. This last va- 
 riation, evidently a typographical error, seems to have been 
 discovered and corrected while the poem was going through 
 the press. There is, in the library of Sion college, a copy 
 of the first edition, which reads : Assum'd a patriot's all- 
 atoning name. * * 
 
 i8o — 191 xhese twelve lines were added in the second 
 edition. * *
 
 OF DRYDKN. 136 
 
 But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, 
 And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land. 
 Achitophel, grown weary to possess 20 
 
 A lawful fame, and lazy happiness, 
 Disdain'd the golden fruit to gather free, 
 And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree. 
 Now, manifest of crimes contriv'd long since, 
 He stood at bold defiance with his prince ; 201 
 Held up the buckler of the people's cause 
 Against the crown, and skulk'd behind the laws. 
 The wish'd occasion of the plot he takes ; 
 Some circumstances finds, but more he makes. 
 By buzzing emissaries fills the ears 210 
 
 Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears 
 Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, 
 And proves the king himself a Jebusite. 
 Weak arguments ! which yet he knew full well 
 Were strong with people easy to rebel. 215 
 
 For, govern *d by the moon, the giddy Jews 
 Tread the same track when she the prime renews; 
 
 *> s He stood at bold defiance] The particular circumstance 
 that drove Shaftesbury into a sudden opposition to the court 
 was, that the king, alarmed at the strong remonstrances of the 
 commons against popery and a dispensing power, and break- 
 ing with his own hands the seal affixed to the declaration of 
 indulgence, and granting all the commons desired, was guilty 
 himself of a breach of promise to his new ministers, and ex- 
 posed them to the vengeance of the people. To escape which 
 vengeance, the Cabal made the same sudden turn with their 
 master ; so that on this occasion, Shaftesbury said, ' 1'he 
 prince who forsook himself deserved to be forsaken.' 
 
 Dr. J. W.
 
 13G THF POEMS 
 
 And once in twenty years, their scribes record, 
 
 By natural instinct they change their lord. 
 
 Achitophel still wants a chief, and none 220 
 
 Was found so fit as warlike Absalon. 
 
 Not that he wish'd his greatness to create, 
 
 For politicians neither love nor hate : 
 
 But, for he knew his title not allow'd, 
 
 Would keep him still depending on the crowd : 
 
 That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be 
 
 Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. 
 
 Him he attempts with studied arts to please, 
 
 And sheds his venom in such words as these. 
 
 Auspicious prince, at whose nativity sk 
 
 Some royal planet rul'd the southern sky ; 
 Thy longing country's darling and desire ; 
 Their cloudy pillar and their guardian fire : 
 Their second Moses, whose extended wand 
 Divides the seas, and shows the promis'd land : 
 Whose dawning day in every distant age 
 Has exercis'd the sacred prophet's rage: 
 The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, 
 The young men's vision, and the old men's dream ! 
 Thee, Saviour, thee the nation's vows confess, 
 And, never satisfied with seeing, bless : 
 Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim, 
 And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name. 
 How long wilt thou the general joy detain, 
 Starve and defraud the people of thy reign ? -at 
 Content ingloriously to pass thy days 
 Like one of virtue's fools that feed on praise ;
 
 OF DRYDEN. 137 
 
 Till thy fresn glories, which now shine so bright, 
 Grow stale, and tarnish with our daily sight ! 
 Believe me, royal youth, thy fruit must be 250 
 Or gather'd ripe, or rot upon the tree. 
 Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, 
 Some lucky revolution of their fate : 
 Whose motions if we watch and guide with skill, 
 (For human good depends on human will,) Q55 
 Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, 
 And from the first impression takes the bent : 
 But, if unseiz'd, she glides away like wind, 
 And leaves repenting folly far behind. 
 Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize, 
 And spreads her locks before her as she flies. 
 Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, 
 Not dar'd when fortune call'd him to be king, 
 At Gath an exile he might still remain, 
 And heaven's anointing oil had been in vain. C65 
 Let his successful youth your hopes engage ; 
 But shun the example of declining age : 
 Behold him setting in his western skies, 
 The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise. 
 He is not now, as when on Jordan's sand c7o 
 The joyful people throng'd to see him land, 
 Covering the beach, and blackening all the strand ; 
 But, like the prince of angels, from his height 
 Comes tumbling downward with diminish'd light : 
 Betray'd by one poor plot to public scorn : 075 
 (Our only blessing since his curst return) : 
 Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind,
 
 138 THE POEMS 
 
 Blown off and scatter'd by a puff of wind. 
 What strength can he to your designs oppose, 
 Naked of friends and round beset with foes ? 2eo 
 If Pharaoh's doubtful succour he should use, 
 A foreign aid would more incense the Jews : 
 Proud Egypt would dissembled friendship bring; 
 Foment the war, but not support the king : 
 Nor would the royal party e'er unite 280 
 
 With Pharaoh's arms to assist the Jebusite ; 
 Or if they should, their interest soon would break, 
 And with such odious aid make David weak. 
 All sorts of men by my successful arts, 
 Abhorring kings, estrange their alter'd hearts 290 
 From David's rule : and 'tis their general cry, 
 Religion, commonwealth, and liberty. 
 If you, as champion of the public good, 
 Add to their arms a chief of royal blood, 
 What may not Israel hope, and what applause 
 Might such a general gain by such a cause ? 
 Not barren praise alone, that gaudy flower 
 Fair only to the sight, but solid power : 
 And nobler is a limited command, 
 Given by the love of all your native land, 300 
 Than a successive title, long and dark, 
 Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark. 
 
 What cannot praise effect in mighty minds, 
 When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds ? 
 Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, 305 
 Yet sprung from high is of celestial seed : 
 In God 'tis glory ; and when men aspire,
 
 OF DRYDEN. 1 39 
 
 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire. 
 
 The ambitious youth too covetous of fame, 
 
 Too full of angel's metal in his frame, 310 
 
 Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, [praise. 
 
 Made drunk with honour, and debauch'd with 
 
 Half loath, and half consenting to the ill, 
 
 For royal blood within him struggled still, 
 
 He thus replied. — And what pretence have I 315 
 
 To take up arms for public liberty ? 
 
 My father governs with unquestion'd right ; 
 
 The faith's defender, and mankind's delight; 
 
 Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws ; 
 
 And heaven by wonders has espous'd his cause. 
 
 Whom has he wrong'd in all his peaceful reign ? 
 
 Who sues for justice to his throne in vain ? 
 
 What millions has he pardon'd of his foes, 
 
 Whom just revenge did to his wrath expose ! 
 
 Mild, easy, humble, studious of our good ; 3M 
 
 Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood, 
 
 If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit, 
 
 His crime is God's beloved attribute. 
 
 What could he gain his people to betray, 
 
 Or change his right for arbitrary sway ? 330 
 
 Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign 
 
 His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. 
 
 If David's rule Jerusalem displease, 
 
 The dogstar heats their brains to this disease. 
 
 Why then should I, encouraging the bad, 335 
 
 Turn rebel and run popularly mad ? 
 
 Were he a tyrant, who, by lawless might,
 
 140 THE POEMS 
 
 Oppress'd the Jews, and rais'd the Jebusite, 
 
 Well might I mourn ; but nature's holy bands 
 
 Would curb my spirits and restrain my hands : 
 
 The people might assert their liberty ; 
 
 But what was right in them were crime in me. 
 
 His favour leaves me nothing to require, 
 
 Prevents my wishes, and outruns desire ; 
 
 What more can I expect while David lives ? .us 
 
 All but his kingly diadem he gives : 
 
 And that — But there he paus'd ; then sighing, 
 
 Is justly destin'd for a worthier head. [said — 
 
 For when my father from his toils shall rest, 
 
 And late augment the number of the blest, 350 
 
 His lawful issue shall the throne ascend, 
 
 Or the collateral line, where that shall end. 
 
 His brother, though oppress'd with vulgar spite, 
 
 Yet dauntless, and secure of native right, 
 
 Of every royal virtue stands possest ; 353 
 
 Still dear to all the bravest and the best. 
 
 His courage foes, his friends his truth proclaim ; 
 
 His loyalty the king, the world his fame. 
 
 His mercy e'en the offending crowd will find ; 
 
 For sure he comes of a forgiving kind. 3fo 
 
 Why should I then repine at heaven's decree, 
 
 Which gives me no pretence to royalty ? 
 
 Yet oh that fate propitiously inclin'd, 
 
 Had rais'd my birth, or had debas'd my mind ; 
 
 To my large soul not all her treasure lent, 3fi ; 
 
 And then betray'd it to a mean descent ! 
 
 I find. 1 find my mounting spirits bold,
 
 or DRYDEN. 141 
 
 And David's part disdains my mother's mould. 
 Why am I scanted by a niggard birth ? 
 My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth ; 370 
 And, made for empire, whispers me within, 
 Desire of greatness is a godlike sin. 
 
 Him staggering so, when hell's dire agent found, 
 While fainting virtue scarce maintain'd her ground, 
 He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies: 375 
 
 The eternal God, supremely good and wise, 
 Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain : 
 What wonders are reserv'd to bless your reign ! 
 Against your will your arguments have shown 
 Such virtue's only given to guide a throne. sec 
 Not that your father's mildness I contemn ; 
 But manly force becomes the diadem. 
 Tis true he grants the people all they crave ; 
 And more perhaps, than subjects ought to have : 
 For lavish grants suppose a monarch tame, 385 
 And more his goodness than his wit proclaim. 
 But when should people strive their bonds to break, 
 If not when kings are negligent or weak? 
 Let him give on till he can give no more, 
 The thrifty Sanhedrim shall keep him poor ; 390 
 And every shekel, which he can receive, 
 Shall cost a limb of his prerogative. 
 To ply him with new plots shall be my care ; 
 Or plunge him deep in some expensive war ; 
 Which when his treasure can no more supply, 3# 
 He must, with the remains of kingship, buy. 
 His faithful friends, our jealousies and fears
 
 142 THE POEMS 
 
 Call Jebusites, and Pharaoh's pensioners ; 
 
 Whom when our fury from his aid has torn, 
 
 He shall be naked left to public scorn. 400 
 
 The next successor, whom I fear and hate, 
 
 My arts have made obnoxious to the state ; 
 
 Turn'd all his virtues to his overthrow, 
 
 And gain'd our elders to pronounce a foe. 
 
 His right, for sums of necessary gold, 405 
 
 Shall first be pawn'd, and afterwards be sold ; 
 
 Till time shall ever-wanting David draw, 
 
 To pass your doubtful title into law : 
 
 If not, the people have a right supreme 
 
 To make their kings; for kings are made for them. 
 
 All empire is no more than power in trust, 
 
 Which, when resum'd, can be no longer just. 
 
 Succession, for the general good design'd, 
 
 In its own wrong a nation cannot bind ; 
 
 If altering that the people can relieve, 415 
 
 Better one suffer than a nation grieve. [chose, 
 
 The Jews well know their power : ere Saul they 
 
 God was their king, and God they durst depose. 
 
 Urge now your piety, your filial name, 
 
 A father's right, and fear of future fame ; 420 
 
 The public good, that universal call, 
 
 To which e'en heaven submitted, answers all. 
 
 Nor let his love enchant your generous mind ; 
 
 Tis nature's trick to propagate her kind. 
 
 Our fond begetters, who would never die, 425 
 
 Love but themselves in their posterity. 
 
 Or let his kindness by the effects be tried,
 
 OF DRYDEN. 143 
 
 Or let him lay his vain pretence aside. 
 
 God said, he lov'd your father; could he bring 
 
 A better proof, than to anoint him king ? *sc 
 
 It surely show'd he lov'd the shepherd well, 
 
 Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. 
 
 Would David have you thought his darling son ? 
 
 What means he then to alienate the crown ? 
 
 The name of godly he may blush to bear : «5 
 
 Is't after God's own heart to cheat his heir ? 
 
 He to his brother gives supreme command, 
 
 To you a legacy of barren land : 
 
 Perhaps the old harp, on which he thrums his lays, 
 
 Or some dull Hebrew ballad in your praise. n» 
 
 Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, 
 
 Already looks on you with jealous eyes ; 
 
 Sees through the thin disguises of your arts, 
 
 And marks your progress in the people's hearts ; 
 
 Though now his mighty soul its grief contains : 
 
 He meditates revenge who least complains ; 
 
 And like a lion, slumbering in the way, 
 
 Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey, 
 
 His fearless foes within his distance draws, 
 
 Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws; 
 
 Till at the last his time for fury found, 
 
 He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground ; 
 
 The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares, 
 
 But with a lordly rage his hunters tears 
 
 Your case no tame expedients will afford : 454 
 
 Resolve on death, or conquest by the sword, 
 
 Which for no less a stake than life you draw;
 
 144 THE POEMS 
 
 And self-defence is nature's eldest law. 
 Leave the warm people no considering time : 
 For then rebellion may be thought a crime. 460 
 Avail yourself of what occasion gives, 
 But try your title while your father lives : 
 And that your arms may have a fair pretence, 
 Proclaim you take them in the king's defence ; 
 Whose sacred life each minute would expose 4fo 
 To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. 
 And who can sound the depth of David's soul ? 
 Perhaps his fear his kindness may control. 
 He fears his brother, though he loves his son, 
 For plighted vows too late to be undone. 470 
 
 If so, by force he wishes to be gain'd : 
 Like women's lechery to seem constrain'd. 
 Doubt not : but, when he most affects the frown, 
 Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown. 
 Secure his person to secure your cause : 475 
 
 They who possess the prince possess the laws. 
 
 He said, and this advice above the rest, 
 With Absalom's mild nature suited best ; 
 Unblam'd for life, ambition set aside, 
 Not stain'd with cruelty, nor puft with pride. 4«o 
 How happy had he been, if destiny 
 Had higher plac'd his birth, or not so high ! 
 His kingly virtues might have claim'd a throne, 
 And blest all other countries but his own. 
 But charming greatness since so few refuse, 485 
 'Tis juster to lament him than accuse. 
 Strong were his hopes a rival to remove,
 
 OF DRYDEN. 145 
 
 With blandishments to gain the public love : 
 
 To head the faction while their zeal was hot, 
 
 And popularly prosecute the plot. 49c 
 
 To further this, Achitophel unites 
 
 The malcontents of all the Israelites: 
 
 Whose differing parties he could wisely join, 
 
 For several ends, to serve the same design. 
 
 The best, and of the princes some were such, #ji 
 
 Who thought the power of monarchy too much ; 
 
 Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts ; 
 
 Not wicked, but seduc'd by impious arts. 
 
 By these the springs of property were bent, 
 
 And wound so high, they crack'd the government. 
 
 The next for interest sought to embroil the state, 
 
 To sell their duty at a dearer rate ; 
 
 And make their Jewish markets of the throne ; 
 
 Pretending public good to serve their own. 
 
 Others thought kings a useless heavy load, 50: 
 
 Who cost too much, and did too little good. 
 
 These were for laying honest David by, 
 
 On principles of pure good husbandry. 
 
 With them join'd all the haranguers of the throng 
 
 That thought to get preferment by the tongue. 
 
 Who follow next a double danger bring, 
 
 Not only hating David, but the king; 
 
 The Solymsean rout; well vers'd of old, 
 
 In godly faction, and in treason bold ; 
 
 Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword ■ 
 
 But lofty to a lawful prince restor'd ; 
 
 Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 /46 THE POEMS 
 
 And scorn 'd by Jebusites to be outdone. 
 
 Hot Levites headed these; who pull'd before 
 
 From the ark, which in the Judges' days they bore, 
 
 Resum'd their cant, and with a zealous cry 
 
 Pursued their old beloved Theocracy : 
 
 Where Sanhedrim and priest enslav'd the nation, 
 
 And justified their spoils by inspiration : 
 
 For who so fit to reign as Aaron's race, b r :5 
 
 If once dominion they could found in grace? 
 
 These led the pack ; though not of surest scent, 
 
 Yet deepest mouth'd against the government. 
 
 A numerous host of dreaming saints succeed, 
 
 Of the true old enthusiastic breed : 530 
 
 'Gainst form and order they their power employ, 
 
 Nothing to build, and all things to destroy. 
 
 But far more numerous was the herd of such, 
 
 Who think too little, and who talk too much. 
 
 These out of mere instinct, they knew not why 
 
 Ador'd their fathers' God and property ; 
 
 And by the same blind benefit of fate 
 
 T-he devil and the Jebusite did hate : 
 
 Born to be sav'd, even in their own despite, 
 
 Because they could not help believing right. 640 
 
 Such were the tools : but a whole Hydra more 
 
 Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. 
 
 Some of their chiefs were princes of the land ; 
 
 In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ; 
 
 A man so various, that he seem'd to be 5^ 
 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome : 
 
 Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong 1
 
 OF DRYDEN. 1-17 
 
 Was every thing by starts, and nothing long ; 
 Hut, in the course of one revolving moon, 
 Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon : 550 
 Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, 
 Hesides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. 
 Blest madman, who could every hour employ, 
 With something new to wish, or to enjoy ! 
 Railing and praising were his usual themes ; 555 
 And both, to show his judgment, in extremes : 
 So over violent, or over civil, 
 That every man with him was God or Devil. 
 In squandering wealth was his peculiar art: 
 Nothing went unrewarded but desert. •*». 
 
 Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too kite; 
 He had his jest, and they had his estate. 
 He laugh 'd himself from court ; then sought relief 
 By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief: 
 For, spite of him, the weight of business fell 56? 
 On Absalom and wise Achitophel : 
 Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, 
 He left not faction, but of that was left. 
 
 Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse 
 Of lords, below the dignity of verse. 570 
 
 Wits, warriors, commonwealth's-men, were the 
 
 best: 
 Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest. 
 And therefore, in the name of dulness, be 
 
 •no w as chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon'] 
 Schrenobates, augur, medicus, magus, omnia novit. 
 
 J. W.
 
 148 THE POEMS 
 
 The well hung Balaam and cold Caleb free: 
 And canting Nadab let oblivion damn, 575 
 
 Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. 
 Let friendship's holy band some names assure ; 
 Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure. 
 Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place, 
 Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace : 
 Not bull-fac'd Jonas, who could statutes draw 
 
 574 cold Caleb] Lord Grey, who was childless. MS. note 
 by Mr. Luttrell. M. 
 
 575 And canting Nadab let oblivion damn, 
 
 Who mude new porridge for the paschal lamb] 
 Nadab is Lord Howard of Escrick, who took the sacrament 
 in lamb's wool. MS. note by Mr. Luttrell. M. 
 
 Ford, Lord Grey of Werk, was strongly attached to the 
 Duke of Monmouth, a zealous promoter of Lord Shaftes- 
 bury's measures, and a constant opponent of the court. He 
 was a smooth talker, possessed of a large estate, both which 
 accomplishments gave him influence among the people. 
 Being concerned in the Ryehouse plot, he was arrested, and 
 examined before the privy-council, who ordered him to the 
 Tower ; but when the messenger, who had the care of him, 
 brought him thither, the gates were shut, it being late, and 
 they could not get in ; so that they spent the whole night 
 together, and drank pretty freely. In the morning they 
 came to the Tower again very early, the doors not being as 
 yet opened ; and his keeper, who was very drunk, falling 
 asleep, he turned down towards the wharf, and taking oars, 
 got off to Holland. Here he joined his old friend Mon- 
 mouth, whom he contributed to spirit up to the rebellion in 
 the ensuing reign, that brought that unhappy nobleman to 
 the block. 
 
 581 Jonas, who could statutes draw] Sir William Jones. 
 He drew the Habeas Corpus act. MS. Luttrell. M.
 
 OF DRYDEN. 149 
 
 To mean rebellion, and make treason law. 
 
 But he, though bad, is follow'd by a worse, 
 
 The wretch who heaven's anointed dar'd to curse ; 
 
 Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring 585 
 
 Of zeal to God and hatred to his king ; 
 
 Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, 
 
 And never broke the sabbath, but for gain : 
 
 Nor was he ever known an oath to vent, 
 
 Or curse, unless against the government. 590 
 
 Thus heaping wealth, by the most ready way 
 
 Among the Jews, which was to cheat and pray : 
 
 The city, to reward his pious hate 
 
 Against his master, chose him magistrate. 
 
 His hand a vare of justice did uphold ; 595 
 
 His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. 
 
 585 Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring 
 Of zeal to God and hatred to his king] 
 
 Shimei, Slingsby Bethel, esq. by poll chosen one of the 
 sheriffs for the city of London, on Midsummer-day, 1680, 
 was a zealous fanatic, and had been formerly one of the com- 
 mittee of safety ; however, to render himself fit for his office, 
 he received the sacrament, and renounced the covenant, but 
 not his factious principles. Burnet calls him a man of know- 
 ledge, and says he wrote a learned book about the interest of 
 princes ; but that his miserable way of living, and miserly 
 disposition, was very prejudicial to his party, and rendered 
 him disagreeable to every body. 
 
 594 Against his master, chose him magistrate] Sheriff. MS. 
 Luttrell. M. 
 
 595 a vare of justice] Thus the first edition. — Derrick 
 reads vase ; but see Howel's Letters, p. 161. ed. 1728. 
 ' Vara' is Spanish for a wand.
 
 150 THE POEMS 
 
 During- his office treason was no crime ; 
 
 The sons of Belial had a glorious time : 
 
 For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, 
 
 Yet lov'd his wicked neighbour as himself. 600 
 
 When two or three were gather'd to declaim 
 
 Against the monarch of Jerusalem, 
 
 Shimei was always in the midst of them : 
 
 And if they curs'd the king when he was by, 
 
 Would rather curse than break good company. 
 
 If any durst his factious friends accuse, 
 
 He pack'd a jury of dissenting Jews ; 
 
 Whose fellow-feeling in the godly cause 
 
 Would free the suffering saint from human laws. 
 
 For laws are only made to punish those 610 
 
 Who serve the king, and to protect his foes. 
 
 If any leisure time he had from power, 
 
 (Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour,) 
 
 His business was, by writing to persuade, 
 
 That kings were useless, and a clog to trade : 615 
 
 And, that his noble style he might refine, 
 
 No Rechabite more shunn'd the fumes of wine. 
 
 Chaste were his cellars, and his shrieval board 
 
 The grossness of a city feast abhorr'd : 
 
 His cooks with long disuse their trade forgot; fieo 
 
 614 His business was, by writmg to persuade, &c] See liis 
 'Interest of the several Protestant Powers.' MS. note by 
 Mr. Luttrell. M. 
 
 618 Chaste were his cellars, and his shrieval board, &c] He 
 kept a very poor and scandalous shrievaltry. MS. note by 
 Mr. Luttrell. M.
 
 OF DRYDF.N. 
 
 151 
 
 Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot. 
 
 Smh frugal virtue malice may accuse; 
 
 But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews : 
 
 For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require 
 
 As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. 623 
 
 With spiritual food he fed his servants well, 
 
 But free from flesh that made the Jews rebel : 
 
 And Moses' laws he held in more account, 
 
 For forty days of fasting in the mount. 
 
 To speak the rest who better are forgot, fiai 
 
 Would tire a well-breath'd witness of the plot. 
 
 Yet, Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass ; 
 
 Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, 
 
 High as the serpent of thy metal made, 
 
 While nations stand secure beneath thy shade. 635 
 
 What, though his birth were base, yet comets rise 
 
 From earthly vapours, ere they shine in skies. 
 
 Prodigious actions may as well be done 
 
 By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. 
 
 This arch-attestor for the public good frw 
 
 By that one deed ennobles all his blood. 
 
 Who ever ask'd the witnesses' high race, 
 
 Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace ? 
 
 Ours was a Levite, and as times went then, 
 
 His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen. 645 
 
 Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud, 
 
 Sure signs he neither choleric was nor proud : 
 
 "» By weaver's issue, &c.J Titus Oates was the son of a 
 weaver. MS. note bv Mr. Luttrell. Af.
 
 152 THE POEMS 
 
 His long chin prov'd his wit ; his saint-like grace 
 
 A church vermilion, and a Moses' face. 
 
 His memory, miraculously great, foo 
 
 Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat ; 
 
 Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, 
 
 For human wit could never such devise. 
 
 Some future truths are mingled in his book; 
 
 But where the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke : 
 
 Some things like visionary flights appear ; 
 
 The spirit caught him up the Lord knows where; 
 
 And gave him his rabbinical degree, 
 
 Unknown to foreign university. 
 
 His judgment yet his memory did excel ; 6fin 
 
 Which piee'd his wondrous evidence so well, 
 
 And suited to the temper of the times, 
 
 Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes. 
 
 Let Israel's foes suspect, his heavenly call, 
 
 And rashly judge his writ apocryphal ; Gfo 
 
 Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made : 
 
 He takes his life who takes away his trade. 
 
 Were I myself in witness Corah's place, 
 
 The wretch who did me such a. dire disgrace, 
 
 Should whet my memory, though once forgot, 670 
 
 To make him an appendix of my plot. 
 
 His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise, 
 
 And load his person with indignities. 
 
 But zeal peculiar privilege affords, 
 
 659 Unknown to foreign university] He pretended to have 
 taken a degree at Salamanca. MS. note by Mr. I.uttrell. M.
 
 OF DUYDF.N. 153 
 
 Indulging latitude to deeds and words: 675 
 
 A ml Corah might for Agag's murder call, 
 
 In terms as coarse as Samuel us'd to Saul. 
 
 What others in his evidence did join, 
 
 The best that could be had for love or coin, 
 
 In Corah's own predicament will fall : w 
 
 For witness is a common name to all. 
 
 Surrounded thus with friends of every sort, 
 Deluded Absalom forsakes the court : 
 Impatient of high hopes, urg'd with renown, 
 And fir'd with near possession of a crown. fias 
 The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, 
 
 076 And Corah might for Agag't murder call] Agag, ' Sir 
 Edmondsbury Godfrey, was a man of a very good character, 
 of a reserved melancholy turn of mind, an enemy to all per- 
 secution, and rather a protector than prosecutor of Noncon- 
 formists. He had, with reluctance, received Oates's in- 
 formation. As to the report that prevailed of his having been 
 murdered by the papists, because their violent enemy, it was 
 without any manner of foundation, for he was upon good 
 terms with the party in general. It has been affirmed, that 
 he hanged himself in his own house, and that his two brothers, 
 who were his next heirs, had the body conveyed abroad, and 
 the sword run through it, that so it might be thought he was 
 assassinated, and the crown thereby prevented from seizing 
 on his effects.' Burnet, Echard, Smollett. D. 
 
 G9G The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, 
 And on his goodly person feed their eyes.] 
 
 Here the poet describes the tour taken by the Duke of 
 Monmouth after his return from Holland, without the king"s 
 leave, and with the advice of Shaftesbury, to whose councils 
 he had fatally resigned himself. This progress, he justly 
 observes, though couched under the notion of its being made 
 for hunting, and the diversions of the country, was, in reality.
 
 1,54 THE POEMS 
 
 And on his goodly person feed their eyes. 
 His joy conceal'd, he sets himself to show ; 
 On each side bowing popularly low : 
 
 to try how the people stood affected ; whether the suspicions 
 against the queen and the Duke of York were sufficiently in- 
 culcated, to give Monmouth an opportunity of mounting the 
 throne, in case of the king's death ; and his ambition he dis- 
 guised under the specious pretences of his being the king's 
 lawful son, whose right was suppressed to make way for an 
 uncle's usurpation ; of his being the avowed champion of the 
 Protestant religion, and the only one of the royal family who 
 had the courage openly to declare himself an enemy to popery 
 and slavery. 
 
 With regard to the make and outward graces of Mon- 
 mouth's person, (says Grammont,) nature never formed a 
 man more complete. Every feature of his face had a peculiar 
 delicacy, and altogether exhibited a countenance, beautiful 
 without effeminacy, manly, yet not robust. His body was 
 finely formed ; he was extremely agile, fenced admirably, 
 and was one of the best horsemen of his time ; but he had a 
 soul very unequal to such a tenement. He had no sentiments 
 of his own ; his voice was pleasing ; his manner of expressing 
 himself captivating ; but these accomplishments were used 
 only to deliver the thoughts and words of other people. He 
 was rash in his undertakings; irresolute and uncertain in the 
 execution ; abject and cowering in distress ; he begged his 
 life of James II. with tears in his eyes. That monarch 
 treated his sorrow slightly ; the queen insulted it. When he 
 found he had no hopes of life, he assumed an air of philo- 
 sophic calmness, and met death with indifference. He was 
 brave in the field, felt for the distresses of humanity, was 
 kind to his inferiors, and naturally very generous. With these 
 virtues he might have proved a friend to his country, and a 
 pillar of the throne, had fortune thrown him into the hands 
 of honest men ; for his ruin was owing to his connexions, not 
 to himself. D
 
 OF DRYDEN. 155 
 
 His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames, 
 And with familiar ease repeats their names. 
 Thus form'd l>y nature, furnish'd out with arts, 
 He glides unfelt into their secret hearts. 
 Then, with a kind compassionating look, 
 And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke, 69. 
 
 Few words he said ; but easy those and fit, 
 More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet 
 
 I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate; 
 Though far unable to prevent your fate : 
 Behold a banish'd man for your dear cause 700 
 Expos'd a p ,*ey to arbitrary laws ! 
 Yet oh ! that I alone could be undone, 
 Cut off from empire, and no more a son ! 
 Now all your liberties a spoil are made ; 
 Egypt and Tyrus intercept your trade, 705 
 
 And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. 
 My father, whom with reverence yet I name, 
 Charm'd into ease, is careless of his fame ; 
 And, brib'd with petty sums of foreign gold, 
 Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old ; 7\c 
 
 Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys; 
 And all his power against himself employs. 
 He gives, and let him give, my right away : 
 But why should he his own and yours betray? 
 He, only he, can make the nation bleed, 715 
 
 And he alone from my revenge is freed. 
 Take then my tears, with that he wip'd his eyes, 
 'Tis all the aid my present power supplies : 
 No court-informer can these arms accuse ;
 
 1.56 
 
 THE POEMS 
 
 These arms may sons against their fathers use . 
 And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign 
 May make no other Israelite complain. 
 
 Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail ; 
 But common interest always will prevail : 
 And pity never ceases to be shown 725 
 
 To him who makes the people's wrongs his own. 
 The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress, 
 With lifted hands their young Messiah bless : 
 Who now begins his progress to ordain 
 With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train : 
 From east to west his glories he displays, 
 And, like the sun, the promis'd land surveys. 
 Fame runs before him as the morning-star, 
 And shouts of joy salute him from afar: 
 Each house receives him as a guardian god, 73: 
 And consecrates the place of his abode. 
 But hospitable treats did most commend 
 Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend. 
 This moving court, that caught the people's eyes, 
 And seem'd but pomp, did other ends disguise : 
 Achitophel had form'd it, with intent 
 To sound the depths, and fathom where it went, 
 
 738 wealthy western friend] Issachar was Thomas Thynne, 
 esq. ancestor of the Marquis of I3ath, one of the most opu- 
 lent commoners in the kingdom, and therefore usually called 
 Tom of Ten Thousand. He had once been a favourite of the 
 Duke of York, hut he afterwards magnificently entertained 
 the Duke of Monmouth and all his attendants/when he made 
 a progress into the west, at his noble house at Longleat. 
 
 Ih. J. W.
 
 OF DKYDEN. 157 
 
 The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes; 
 And try their strength, before they came to blows. 
 Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence 745 
 Of specious love, and duty to their prince. 
 Religion, and redress of grievances, 
 Two names that always cheat, and always please, 
 Are often urg'd; and good king David's life 
 Endanger'd by a brother and a wife. 750 
 
 Thus in a pageant show a plot is made ; 
 And peace itself is war in masquerade. 
 Oh foolish Israel ! never warn'd by ill ! 
 Still the same bait, and circumvented still ! 
 Did ever men forsake their present ease, 755 
 
 In midst of health imagine a disease ; 
 Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee, 
 Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree? 
 What shall we think? Can people give away, 
 Both for themselves and sons their native sway ? 
 Then they are left defenceless to the sword 
 Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord : 
 And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy, 
 If kings unquestion'd can those laws destroy. 
 Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, 7G5 
 
 And kings are only officers in trust, 
 Then this* resuming covenant was declar'd 
 When kings were made, or is for ever barr'd. 
 If those who gave the sceptre could not tie 
 By their own deed their own posterity, 770 
 
 How then could Adam bind his future race ? 
 How could his forfeit on mankind take place ?
 
 !58 THE POEMS 
 
 Or how could heavenly justice damn us all, 
 
 Who ne'er consented to our father's fall ? 
 
 Then kings are slaves to those whom they command 
 
 And tenants to their people's pleasure stand. 
 
 Add, that the power for property allow'd 
 
 Is mischievously seated in the crowd: 
 
 For who can be secure of private right, 
 
 If sovereign sway may be dissolv'd by might ? 7t» 
 
 Nor is the people's judgment always true : 
 
 The most may err as grossly as the few, 
 
 And faultless kings run down by common cry, 
 
 For vice, oppression, and for tyranny. 
 
 What standard is there in a fickle rout, 7& 
 
 Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out? 
 
 Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be 
 
 Infected with this public lunacy, 
 
 And share the madness of rebellious times, 
 
 To murder monarchs for irnagin'd crimes. 7<j<» 
 
 If they may give and take whene'er they please, 
 
 Not kings alone, the Godhead's images, 
 
 But government itself at length must fall 
 
 To nature's state, where all have right to all. 
 
 Yet grant our lords the people kings can make, 
 
 What prudent men a settled throne would shake!! 
 
 For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before. 
 
 That change they covet makes them suffer more. 
 
 All other errors but disturb a state ; 
 
 But innovation is the blow of fate. roo 
 
 If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, 
 
 To patch the flaws, and buttress up the wall,
 
 OK DRYDEN. I r >9 
 
 Thus far 'tis fluty : but here fix the mark : 
 For all beyond it is to touch the ark. 
 To change foundations, cast the frame anew, 805 
 Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; 
 At once divine and human laws control, 
 And mend the parts by ruin of the whole. 
 The tampering world is subject to this curse, 
 To physic their disease into a worse. sjo 
 
 Now what relief can righteous Davie 1 bring ? 
 How fatal 'tis to be too good a king! 
 Friends he has few, so high the madness grows, 
 Who dare be such must be the people's foes. 
 Yet some there were, e'en in the worst of days ; 815 
 Some let me name, and naming is to praise. 
 
 In this short file Barzillai first appears ; 
 Barzillai, crown'd with honour and with years. 
 Long since, the rising rebels he withstood 
 
 817 In this short file] For honour, integrity, consistency, 
 greatness of mind, benevolence, and justice, the Duke of Or- 
 mond, Barzillai, seems to be the very first and most eminent 
 character that ever adorned the English nobility. Dr. J. W. 
 
 819 the rising rebels he withstood 
 
 In region's waste beyond the Jordan's Jlood] 
 
 The Duke of Ormond adhered zealously to the interest of 
 his sovereign Charles I. in Ireland, where, being chief of a 
 noble, ancient, and wealthy family, his power and influence 
 were, as long as possible, exerted against the arms of Crom- 
 well. But being at length obliged to yield to the necessity 
 of the times, he quitted that kingdom, and accompanied King 
 Charles II. in his exile. After the restoration, he was at one 
 and the same time lord lieutenant of Ireland, steward of the 
 household, groom of the stole, and privy-counsellor for th«
 
 160 THE POEMS 
 
 In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood : mo 
 Unfortunately brave to buoy the state ; 
 But sinking underneath his master's fate : 
 In exile with his godlike prince he mourn'd ; 
 For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd. 
 The court he practis'd, not the courtier's art: 82s 
 Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart ; 
 Which well the noblest objects knew to choose, 
 The fighting warrior, and recording muse. 
 His bed could once a fruitful issue boast ; 
 Now more than half a father's name is lost. &30 
 His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd, 
 By me, so heaven will have it, always mourn'd, 
 And always honour'd, snatch'd in manhood's prime 
 By unequal fates, and providence's crime ; 
 Yet not before the goal of honour won, asa 
 
 All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son : 
 
 three kingdoms. Perhaps no man was ever better beloved, 
 and no man deserved it better : he was liberal, brave, loyal, 
 and sincere ; a friend to the constitution, and a protector of 
 the Protestants. On this account he was no favourite in the 
 succeeding reign, and died in retirement, without post or 
 employment, July, 1688, aged seventy- nine. D. 
 
 831 His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd] Thomas 
 Earl of Ossory, Baron Butler of More-Park by writ, eldest 
 son of the aforesaid duke, and one of the most gallant noble- 
 men of his time. He behaved with great bravery in the 
 first Dutch war, under Sir Edward Spragg ; and in the second 
 was rear-admiral of the blue. He was a courageous warrior, 
 a prudent counsellor, a dutiful son, a kind friend, a liberal 
 patron, and a generous man. He died universally lamented 
 in 1680. D.
 
 01 DkYDEtf. 161 
 
 Swift was the race, but short the time to run. 
 Oh narrow circle, but of power divine, 
 Scanted in space, but perfect in thy line ! 
 By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, 
 Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own : mi 
 Thy force infus'd the fainting Tyrians propp'd : 
 And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd. 
 Oh ancient honour ! Oh unconquer'd hand, 
 Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand ! eis 
 But Israel was unworthy of his name ; 
 Short is the date of all immoderate fame. 
 It looks as heaven our ruin had design'd, 
 And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind. 
 Now, free from earth, thy disencumber'd soul 
 Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and 
 starry pole : [bring, 
 
 From thence thy kindred legions mayst thou 
 To aid the guardian angel of thy king. 
 Here stop, my muse, here cease thy painful flight : 
 No pinions can pursue immortal height : «S5 
 
 Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, 
 
 842 Thy force infus'd the fainting Tyrians propp'd : 
 
 And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd.] 
 Lord Ossory having married a Dutch lady, lived some- 
 time in Holland, and was of signal service in preventing the 
 progress of the French arras, by his knowledge and advice. 1). 
 846 But Israel was unworthy of his name ; 
 Short is the date of all immoderate fame. 
 In the first edition we find 
 
 But Israel was unworthy of thy birth, 
 Short is the date of all immoderate worth. * * 
 VOL. 1. !>I
 
 169 TIIF. ['OEMS 
 
 And tell thy soul she should have fled before : 
 Or fled she with his life, and left this verse 
 To hang on her departed patron's hearse ? 
 Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see 
 If thou canst find on earth another he : 
 Another he would be too hard to find ; 
 See then whom thou canst see not far behind. 
 Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, 
 His lowly mind advanc'd to David's grace. 8fi5 
 With him the Sagan of Jerusalem, 
 
 858 and left this verse 
 
 To hang on her departed patron's hearse?] 
 
 This alludes to the custom of affixing poems to the pall or 
 hearse. See Milton's Lat. Eleg. ii. 22. And his epitaph 
 on the Marchioness of Winchester, ver. 58, &c. T. 
 
 864 the priest] Sancroft (Zadoc) was advanced from the 
 deanery of St. Paul's to the see of Canterbury. He had 
 considerable learning, but was a man of solemn and sullen 
 gravity and deportment. He seldom mixed in company, 
 but led a strict and ascetic life. He lived unmarried, and 
 rather encouraged celibacy in his clergy. He was so cold, 
 reserved, and peevish, that few loved him. He died in a 
 state of separation from the church, but had not the cou- 
 rage to own it. His death, says Burnet, ought to have put 
 an end to the schism that some were endeavouring to raise, 
 on the pretence that a parliamentary deprivation was never 
 to be allowed, and therefore they looked on Sancroft as the 
 archbishop still, and reckoned Tillotson a usurper. 
 
 Dr. J. W. 
 
 888 the Sagan of Jerusalem] This was Compton, brother 
 to the Earl of Northampton. Having carried arms for some 
 years, he was past thirty when he took orders. He ap- 
 plied himself more to his function than bishops, says Burnet, 
 had commonly done. His preaching was without much life
 
 OF DRTDEN. 163 
 
 Of hospitable soul, and noble stem ; 
 
 Tlim of the western dome, whose weighty sense 
 
 Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence. 
 
 The prophets' sons, by such example led, 870 
 
 To learning and to loyalty were bred : 
 
 For colleges on bounteous kings depend, 
 
 And never rebel was to arts a friend. 
 
 To these succeed the pillars of the laws ; 
 
 Who best could plead, and best can judge a cause. 
 
 Next them a train of loyal peers ascend ; 
 
 Sharp-judging Adriel, the muses' friend. 
 
 or learning. lie was a great patron of the converts from 
 popery, and of those piotestants, whom the bad usage they 
 were beginning to meet with in France, drove over to us. 
 The Duke of York hated him. This was the bishop that car- 
 ried the princess Anne to Nottingham, in order to join the 
 party of the Prince of Orange. Dr. J. W. 
 
 868 Him of the western] This was Dolben, who was bishop 
 of Rochester, and succeeded Sterne in the archbishopric of 
 York ; a man, says Burnet, of more spirit than discretion, 
 an excellent preacher, but of a free conversation, which laid 
 him open to much censure in a vicious court. During the 
 rebellion he bore arms, and was made a major by Charles I. 
 
 Dr. J. W. 
 
 877 Sharp-judging Adriel] Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, 
 Adriel, was a man of a fine person, elegant manners, and 
 insinuating address. When they were both young, he paid 
 his address to Queen Anne, and to prevent a connexion 
 Charles II. is said to have contrived a cruel and unjustifiable 
 scheme of sending him to Tangiers in a ship so crazy as to 
 have drowned him. He was always firm in his attachment 
 to James II., for which, with great liberality, King William 
 once commended him, and after some years took him ; nto 
 favour, and gave him a pension of £3000 a year. He was
 
 164 THE POEMS 
 
 Himself a muse : in Sanhedrin's debate 
 True to his prince, but not a slave of state : 
 Whom David's love with honours did adorn, coo 
 That from his disobedient son were torn. 
 Jotham of piercing wit, and pregnant thought : 
 Endued by nature, and by learning taught, 
 To move assemblies, who but only tried 
 
 a man of wit and parts, not a genius. His poems are feeble 
 and flimsy, notwithstanding Dryden has so profusely praised 
 his Essay on Poetry. But the prose is terse, perspicuous, 
 and elegant, and his memoirs so curious, that we must 
 regret they were left unfinished. He imitated the Caesars of 
 the Emperor Julian, a capital piece of satire, equal to any 
 part of Lucian, in a piece called the Assembly of the gods, 
 where many contemporary princes are introduced. I cannot 
 forbear mentioning a sly sarcasm on King William, to whom 
 Jupiter himself is said to have shown great esteem ; but was 
 suspected a little of some partiality, on account of his own 
 proceeding with old father Saturn. Dr. J. W. 
 
 882 of piercing wW] The Marquis of Halifax, Jotham, was, 
 in Hume's opinion, the man who possessed the finest 
 genius and most extensive capacity of all employed in pub- 
 lic affairs, by Charles II. Hume is of opinion, that the 
 many variations he was guilty of in his political conduct, for 
 he voted first for the exclusion bill, then for limitations, then 
 for expedients, and was then on good terms with the duke, 
 might be the effects of his integrity, rather than of his am- 
 bition. Lord Orford, in his Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 86, 
 is of a very different opinion. He wrote many pamphlets 
 on topics then agitated, now forgotten. His Advice to a 
 Daughter is still read. Notwithstanding the great change 
 of manners, it would be amusing to compare it with Mrs. 
 Hannah More's Strictures. His moral, political, and mis- 
 cellaneous thoughts are full of penetration and a deep know- 
 ledge of men and manners. Dr. J. W.
 
 OF DRY DEN. 165 
 
 The worse awhile, then chose the better side : 885 
 
 Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too ; 
 
 So much the weight of one brave man can do. 
 
 Hushai, the friend of David in distress; 
 
 In public storms, of manly steadfastness : 
 
 By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, 890 
 
 And join'd experience to his native truth. 
 
 His frugal care supplied the wanting throne ; 
 
 Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own : 
 
 Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow ; 
 
 But hard the task to manage well the low : 89s 
 
 888 Hushai, the friend of David in distress] Laurence 
 Hyde, second son to Edward the great Earl of Clarendon, 
 was advanced to the earldom of Rochester, and made trea- 
 surer in 1682, but removed from the treasury in 1684, to the 
 office of president of the council, a post of more rank but 
 less advantage, which gave the lively Marquis of Halifax 
 occasion to say, that ' he had heard of many people being 
 kicked down stairs, but the Earl of Rochester was the first 
 he had ever known kicked up.' He was incorrupt, sincere, 
 warm, and violent ; writ well, but not a graceful speaker, 
 though smooth and plausible. He defended his father in 
 the house of commons with strength of argument, and power 
 of elocution, that showed him master of great abilities ; and 
 yet with so much decency and discretion, as not to embroil 
 himself with his opponents. Through the whole of King 
 Charles's reign, he deported himself with so much real fide- 
 lity to his master, and such prudence, that he was not parti- 
 cularly pointed at, or ridiculed by any party. D. 
 
 890 By foreign treaties he inform'd Ids youth] In 1676 he 
 went on an embassy to Poland, was one of the plenipoten- 
 tiaries at the treaty of Nimeguen, and afterwards ambas- 
 sador in Holland, where he acquitted himself with honour. 
 He was strongly against the bill of exclusion. D.
 
 16G TirE POEMS 
 
 For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, 
 When kings are forc'd to sell, or crowds to buy. 
 Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, 
 For Amiel : who can Amiel's praise refuse ? 
 Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet 900 
 
 In his own worth, and without title great : 
 The Sanhedrim long time as chief he rul'd, 
 Their reason guided, and their passion cool'd : 
 So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, 
 So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, 905 
 That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, 
 So fit was he to represent them all. 
 Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, 
 Whose loose careers his steady skill commend : 
 They, like the unequal ruler of the day, 910 
 
 Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way : 
 While he withdrawn at their mad labours smiles, 
 And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. 
 
 These were the chief, a small but faithful band 
 Of worthies, in the breach who dar'd to stand, 
 
 699 who can Amiel's praise] Sir Edward Seymour, Amiel, 
 was a man of high birth, being the elder branch of that 
 family, of great boldness, vivacity of parts, and a graceful 
 manner, though of insufferable pride. Burnet says, he was 
 the first speaker of the house of commons that was not bred to 
 the law. He knew the house and every man in it so well, 
 that by looking about he could tell the fate of any question. 
 Charles II. loved him personally, though he frequently voted 
 against his measures. But once having voted for the court, 
 the king said to him, ' You were not against me to-day,' He 
 immediately answered — ' No, Sir, I was against my con- 
 science to-day.' Dr. J. W.
 
 OF DRY DEN. 
 
 1(57 
 
 And tempt the united fury of the land, 
 
 With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, 
 
 To batter down the lawful government. 
 
 A numerous faction, with pretended frights, 
 
 In Sanhedrims to plume the regal rights ; 9?o 
 
 The true successor from the court remov'd ; 
 
 The plot, by hireling witnesses, improv'd. 
 
 These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, 
 
 They show'd the king the danger of the wound ; 
 
 That no concessions from the throne would please, 
 
 But lenitives fomented the disease : 
 
 That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, 
 
 Was made the lure to draw the people down: 
 
 That false Achitophel's pernicious hate 
 
 Had turn'd the plot to ruin church and state : 910 
 
 The council violent, the rabble worse : 
 
 That Shimei taught Jerusalem to curse. 
 
 With all these loads of injuries opprest, 
 And long revolving in his careful breast 
 The event of things, at last his patience tir'd, 935 
 Thus, from his royal throne, by heaven inspir'd, 
 The god-like David spoke; with awful fear 
 His train their Maker in their master hear. 
 
 Thus long have I, by native mercy sway'd, 
 My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd : 9*<> 
 So willing to forgive the offending age ; 
 So much the father did the king assuage. 
 3 ut now so far my clemency they slight, 
 The offenders question my forgiving right :
 
 168 the toems 
 
 That one was made for many, they contend ; 945 
 But 'tis to rule ; for that's a monarch's end. 
 They call my tenderness of blood my fear : 
 Though manly tempers can the longest bear. 
 Yet, since they will divert my native course, 
 'Tis time to show I am not good by force. 950 
 Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, 
 Are burdens for a camel, not a king. 
 Kings are the public pillars of the state, 
 Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight : 
 If my young Samson will pretend a call 955 
 
 To shake the column, let him share the fall : 
 But oh, that yet he would repent and live ! 
 How easy 'tis for parents to forgive ! 
 With how few tears a pardon might be won 
 From nature, pleading for a darling son ! gfio 
 
 Poor pitied youth, by my paternal care, 
 Rais'd up to all the height his frame could bear ! 
 Had God ordain'd his fate for empire born, 
 He would have given his soul another turn : 
 Gull'd with a patriot's name, whose modern sense 
 Is one that would by law supplant his prince ; 
 The people's brave, the politician's tool ; 
 Never was patriot yet, but was a fool. 
 Whence comes it, that religion and the laws 
 Should more be Absalom's than David's cause ? 
 His old instructor, ere he lost his place, 
 Was never thought indued with so much grace. 
 Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint !
 
 OF D II YUEN , 
 
 169 
 
 My rebel ever proves my people's saint. 
 Would they impose an heir upon the throne ? 975 
 Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own. 
 A king's at least a part of government ; 
 And mine as requisite as their consent ; 
 Without my leave a future king to choose, 
 Infers a right the present to depose. obo 
 
 True, they petition me to approve their choice : 
 But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice. 
 My pious subjects for my safety pray ; 
 Which to secure, they take my power away. 
 From plots and treasons heaven preserve my years, 
 But save me most from my petitioners ! 
 Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave ; 
 God cannot grant so much as they can crave. 
 What then is left, but with a jealous eye 
 To guard the small remains of royalty ? 990 
 
 The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, 
 
 001 The law shall still direct] We cannot read these words 
 put into the mouth of Charles II. without a degree of just 
 indignation, when we reflect on some striking transactions of 
 his reign, particularly the appointment of that ministry called 
 the Cabal. 
 
 All power in England, Scotland, and Ireland, was com- 
 mitted to six men. Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley 
 Cooper, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, Lauderdale, and Ro- 
 berts, the three last of whom had drawn their swords against 
 the king's father. Clifford had raised himself by his great 
 influence in the House of Commons ; Ashley Cooper had 
 still greater in the House of Lords : Arlington, notwithstand- 
 ing his secret inclinations to popery, had maintained con- 
 nexions with the dissenters. Buckingham, favouring all
 
 170 THE POEMS 
 
 And the same law teach rebels to obey : 
 Votes shall no more establish'd power control, 
 Such votes as make a part exceed the whole. 
 No groundless clamours shall my friends remove, 
 Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove ; 
 For Gods and godlike kings their care express, 
 Still to defend their servants in distress. 
 Oh, that my power to saving were confined ! 
 
 sects, because he was of no religion himself, was a favourite 
 of the dissenters ; Lauderdale had great interest with the 
 presbyterians of Scotland : and Shaftesbury and Buckingham 
 were supported by the people, because they pretended a 
 reverence for their rights. This ministry was the most ex- 
 traordinary that ever was composed : for the king had an un- 
 conquerable distrust of Shaftesbury ; though diverted with the 
 humours of Buckingham, he was shocked with an advice 
 which that duke had given him to procure a parliamentary 
 divorce from the queen, and had once committed him to the 
 Tower, for personal offences against himself. Arlington and 
 Buckingham were mortal foes ; and Buckingham, Shaftes- 
 bury, and Lauderdale, were averse from the influence of the 
 Duke of York with his brother, because they thought it in- 
 terfered with their own ; or, at least, the Duke believed that 
 they were so : but at the interview at Dover, the Duchess of 
 Orleans reconciled Arlington and Buckingham, and the king 
 to Buckingham, and knit the famous Cabal firmly together 
 in the interests of the new alliance. See Echard and Dal- 
 rymple. 
 
 The melancholy fate of the Duchess of Orleans, after her 
 return from Dover, supposed to have been by poison, ordered to 
 be given her by her husband, who was jealous of her intimacy 
 with her own brother, Charles II. is too well known, but we 
 hope too atrocious to obtain credit. Dr. J. W.
 
 OF DKYDl'.N. 
 
 Why am I fore VI, like heaven, against my mind, 
 
 To make examples of another kind? 
 
 Must I at length the sword of justice draw ? 
 
 Oh curst effects of necessary law ! 
 
 How ill my fear they by my mercy scan ! 
 
 Beware the fury of a patient man. 1051 
 
 Law they require, let law then show her face ; 
 
 They could not be content to look on Grace, 
 
 Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye 
 
 To tempt the terrors of her front and die. 
 
 By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, 1010 
 
 Those dire artificers of death shall bleed. 
 
 Against themselves their witnesses will swear, 
 
 'Till viper-like their mother plot they tear ; 
 
 And suck for nutriment that bloody gore, 
 
 Which was their principle of life before. 1015 
 
 Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight ; 
 
 Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right. 
 
 Nor doubt the event : for factious crowds engage, 
 
 In their first onset, all their brutal rage. 
 
 Then let 'em take an unresisted course: loco 
 
 Retiie, and traverse, and delude their force : 
 
 But, when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, 
 
 And rise upon them with redoubled might : 
 
 For lawful power is still superior found ; [ground. 
 
 When long driven back at length it stands the 
 
 1012 Against themselves their witnesses will swear] Alluding 
 to the inconsistencies and contradictions of Dr. Oates, Cap- 
 tain Bedloe. and other witnesses, made use of to support the 
 credit of the Popish plot. D.
 
 172 TOEMS OF DRYDETi. 
 
 He said : The Almighty nodding gave consent 
 And peals of thunder shook the firmament. 
 Henceforth a series of new time began, 
 The mighty years in long procession ran : 
 Once more the godlike David was restor'd, m* 
 And willing nations knew their lawful lord. 
 
 EXD 01 VOL I. 
 
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