Cornell University Library PR3411.W29 Poetical works, containing ° ri 9! n J 1 | P 1 ° 1 ?: m IIIIUIiip™iiiiiii oi3 18Q 512 The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://archive.org/details/cu31924013180512 THE POETICAL WORKS JOHN DRYDEN. JOII V) 1, Y B M IP r, 1 ^ip TT' ;V l W i ) D v. r • i v ■> .) y? l I ITS ' V E M , ,'.v;. Rli . ' SDK , DO E ft STifi THE POETICAL WORKS JOHN DEYDEN; CONTAINING ORIGINAL POEMS, TALES, AND TEANSLATIONS ; WITH NOTES THE REV. JOSEPH WARTON, D.D.; THE REV. JOHN WARTON, M.A.; AND OTHERS. LONDON : EDWARD MOXON, DOVER STREET. MDOCCLI. LONDON : BRADBURY AND KVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIAR3. THE HON. MR. JUSTICE TALFOURD, D.C.L., THIS EDITION 01'' THE POETICAL WOEKS OF DEYDEN IS INSCRIBED THE PUBLISHER. Mnrcli, 1851. CONTENTS. THE LIFE OF DRYDEN, BY DR. JOHNSON . . . .... .1 UPON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS . . . . . 1 VERSES TO J. HODDESDON .... . . 3 HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL, WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL 4 ASTR.-EA REDUX; A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II., 1660 . . . ... 7 TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY ; A PANEGYRIC ON THE CORONATION OF KING CHARLES II. 12 TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE; PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662 . 13 SATIRE ON THE DUTCH, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662 . . 15 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS OF YORK, ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665, AND ON HER JOURNEY AFTER- WARDS INTO THE NORTH . . . . ... . . 16 ANNUS MIRABILIS; THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666; AN HISTORICAL POEM . . .17 AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE, BY MR. DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE . . 41 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL, PART I. . 46 PART II. ... .64 KEY TO ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL ... 77 THE MEDAL ; A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION .... . .78 RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH . . . . 84 THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS; A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES II. . . . .94 VERSES TO MR. J. NORTHLEIGH, AUTHOR OF THE PARALLEL, ON HIS TRIUMPH OF THE BRITISH MONARCHY . . . . . . ... 99 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER ; A POEM, IN THREE PARTS . ... 100 BRITANNIA REDIVIVA; A POEM ON THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE 131 MAC-FLECKNOE . . . . . 135 EPISTLES : TO MY HONOURED FRIEND, SIR ROBERT HOWARD, ON HIS EXCELLENT POEMS . . . 138 TO MY HONOURED FRIEND, DR. CHARLETON, ON HIS LEARNED AND USEFUL WORKS; BUT MORE PARTICULARLY HIS TREATISE OF STONEHENGE, BY HIM RESTORED TO THE TRUE FOUNDER . . . .... ... . 139 CONTENTS. EPISTLES— (Continued.) TO THE LADY CASTLEMADT, UPON HER ENCOURAGING HIS FD3ST PLAT TO MB. LEE, ON HIS ALEXANDER TO THE EARL OP ROSCOMMON, ON HIS EXCELLENT ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE TO THE DUCHESS OP YORK, ON HER RETURN PROM SCOTLAND, IS THE YEAR 1682 TO SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE TO MR. SOUTHERNE, ON HIS COMEDY CALLED, "THE WIVES' EXCUSE" . TO HENRY HIGDEN, ESQ., ON HIS TRANSLATION OP THE TENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL TO MY DEAR PRIEND, MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS COMEDY, CALLED "THE DOUBLE DEALER ' TO MR. GRANVILLE, ON HIS EXCELLENT TRAGEDY, CALLED " HEROIC LOVE " TO MY PRIEND, MR. MOTTEUX, ON HIS TRAGEDY, CALLED " BEAUTY IN DISTRESS " TO MY HONOURED EINSMAN, JOHN DRYDEN, OP CHESTERTON, IN THE COUNTY OP HUNTINGDON, ESQ. ... . • ■ TO SIR GODPREY KNELLER, PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY . ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS : TO THE MEMORY OP MR. OLDHAM TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OP THE ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY, MRS. ANNE KILLIGBEW, EXCELLENT IN THE TWO SISTER ARTS OP POESY AND PAINTING. AN ODE UPON THE DEATH OP THE EARL OP DUNDEE ELEONORA ; A PANEGYRICAL POEM, DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE COUNTESS OP ABINGDON .... ON THE DEATH OP AMYNTAS ; A PASTORAL ELEGY ON THE DEATH OP A VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN UPON YOUNG MR. ROGERS, OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE .... . . ON THE DEATH OP MR. PURCELL, SET TO MUSIC BY DR. BLOW .... EPITAPH ON THE LADY WHITMORE EPITAPH ON SIR PALMES PAIRBONE's TOMB IN WESTMINSTERS-ABBEY UNDER MR. MILTON'S PICTURE, BEFORE HIS "PARADISE LOST" .... ON THE MONUMENT OP a. PAIR MAIDEN LADY, WHO DIED AT BATH, AND IS THERE INTERRED ... ... EPITAPH ON MRS. MARGARET PASTON, OF BURNINGHAM, IN NORFOLK ON THE MONUMENT OF THE MARQUIS OP WINCHESTER . .... SONGS, ODES, AND A MASQUE : THE FADJ STRANGER, A SONG . . ... ON THE YOUNG STATESMEN A SONG FOR ST. CECELIA'S DAY, 16§7 ■ .... SONG. " FAREWELL, FAIR ARMDDA " . .... THE LADY'S SONG SONGS . . . A SONG. TO A PAIR YOUNG LADY, GOING OUT OP THE TOWN IN THE SPRING . Alexander's feast ; OR, the power op music : an ode in honour op st. cecilia DAY ... .... VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED THE SECULAR MASQUE ... ... SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS, WHO BEING CROSSED BY THEIR FRIENDS, PELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM CONTENTS. SONGS AND ODES— {Conlimied.) SONGS IN THE "INDIAN EMPEROR" ■ 170 SONG IN THE "MAIDEN QUEEN" .... 170 SONG IN THE FIRST PART OP "THE CONQUEST OP GRANADA " 170 SONS, IN TWO PARTS, IN THE SECOND PART OP "THE CONQUEST OP GRANADA" . . 171 SONG OP THE SEA-PIGHT, IN "AMBOYNA" 171 INCANTATION IN "(EDIPUS" . . 171 SONGS IN "ALBION AND ALBANIUS" • 172 "KING ARTHUR" ... 172 SONGS TO BRITANNIA, IN "KING ARTHUR" . 173 SONG OP JEALOUSY, IN "LOVE TRIUMPHANT" . . . 173 PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES: PROLOGUE TO "THE RIVAL LADIES" . 174 "THE INDIAN QUEEN" . . 174 EPILOGUE TO DITTO, SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA 175 "THE INDIAN EMPEROR," BY A MERCURY . . . . . . 175 PROLOGUE TO "SIR MARTIN MAR- ALL " 175 "THE TEMPEST" . . . 175 "TYRANNIC LOVE" .... 176 EPILOGUE TO "THE WILD GALLANT," WHEN REVIVED 176 PROLOGUE, SPOKEN THE FIRST DAY OF THE KING'S HOUSE ACTING AFTER THE FIRE . 176 EPILOGUE TO THE SECOND PART OP "THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA" 177 PROLOGUE TO " AMBOYNA" ... ... ... 177 EPILOGUE TO DITTO ... . . 177 PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE, MARCH 26TH, 1674 . . . 177 TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1674 ; SPOKEN BY MR. HART . . . 178 "CIRCE." BY DR. DAVENANT, 1675 .... ... 179 EPILOGUE INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BY THE LADY HEN. MAR. WENTWORTH, WHEN "CALISTO" WAS ACTED AT COURT 179 PROLOGUE TO "AURENGZEBE" ... . . . . . • 179 EPILOGUE TO " THE MAN OF MODE ; OR, SIR FOPLING FLUTTER." BY SIR GEORGE ETHE- REGE, 1676 180 EPILOGUE TO "ALL FOR LOVE " 180 PROLOGUE TO "LIMBERHAM" 180 EPILOGUE TO " MITHRIDATES, KDSG OF PONTUS." BY MB, N. LEE, 1678 .... 180 PROLOGUE TO " 05DIPUS " . ... 181 EPILOGUE TO DITTO . ... 181 PROLOGUE TO " TROILUS AND CRESSIDA." SPOKEN BY MR. BETTERTON, REPRESENTING THE GHOST OF SHAKSPEARE ... . 182 PROLOGUE TO " OffiSAR BORGIA." BY MR. N. LEE, 1680 182 "SOPHONISBA," AT OXFORD, 1680 182 A PROLOGUE . . . . . . 183 PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD, 1681 . 183 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, UPON HIS FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE DUKE'S THEATRE, AFTER HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND, 1682 .... . 184 1'AGE * CONTENTS. PROLOGUES AND EPILOGUES— (Continued.) PROLOGUE TO "THE EARL OP ESSEX." BY MR. J. BANKS, 1682. SPOKEN TO THE KINO AND THE QUEEN AT THEIR COMING TO THE HOUSE 184 AN EPILOGUE FOR THE KINO'S HOUSE 184 PROLOGUE TO "THE LOYAL BROTHER; OR, THE PERSIAN PRINCE." BY MR. SOUTHERNB, 1682 185 TO THE' KING AND QUEEN, UPON THE UNION OF THE TWO COMPANIES m 1682 185 PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. SPOKEN BY MR. HART, AT THE ACTING OP "THE SILENT WOMAN" . . . 186 EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY THE SAME ... 186 AT OXFORD, BY MRS. MARSHALL 187 PROLOGUES TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD ... 187 PROLOGUE TO "ALBION AND ALBANIUS" . .... ... 188 EPILOGUE TO DITTO 188 PROLOGUE TO "ARVIRAGUS AND PHILIOIA," REVIVED. BY LODOWICK CARLELL, ESQ. SPOKEN BY MR. HART 189 PROLOGUE TO "DON SEBASTIAN." SPOKEN BY A WOMAN 189 " THE PROPHETESS." BY BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, REVIVED BY MR. DRYDEN. SPOKEN BY MR. BETTERTON . . 189 PROLOGUE TO "THE MISTAKES" . 190 . "KING ARTHUR." SPOKEN BY MR. BETTERTON 191 EPILOGUE TO "HENRY n." BY MR. MOUNTFORT, 1693. SPOKEN BY MRS. BRACEGIRDLE . 191 PROLOGUE TO " ALBUMAZAR " ... 191 AN EPILOGUE 192 EPILOGUE TO "THE HUSBAND HIS OWN CUCKOLD" . 192 PROLOGUE TO "THE PILGRIM." REVIVED FOR OCR AUTHOR'S BENEFIT, ANNO 1700 . . 193 EPILOGUE TO " THE PILGRIM " 193 TRANSLATIONS FROM THEOCRITUS, LUCRETIUS, AND HORACE : AMARYLLIS; OR, THE THIRD IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS, PARAPHRASED .... 201 THE EPITHALAMIUM OF HELEN AND MENELAUS, FROM THE EIGHTEENTH IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS. 202 THE DESPAIRING LOVER; FROM THE TWENTY-THIRD IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS . . . 203 THE BEGINNING OP THE FIRST BOOK OP LUCRETTOS ... . . 204 SECOND BOOK OF LUCRETIUS 204 THE LATTER PART OP THE THIRD BOOK OF LUCRETIUS, AGAINST THE PEAR OF DEATH . 205 FROM THE PIPTH BOOK OF LUCRETIUS 207 THE THIRD ODE OF THE PHSST BOOK OF HORACE; INSCRIBED TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON, ON HIS INTENDED VOYAGE TO ntELAND 208 THE NINTH ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK OP HORACE 208 THE TWENTY-NINTH ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE ; PARAPHRASED IN PINDARIC VERSE, AND INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON. LAURENCE, EARL OF ROCHESTER . . 209 THE SECOND EPODE OP HORACE . 210 FABLES : TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OP ORMOND 211 PREFACE PREFIXED TO THE FABLES . . 214 CONTENTS. xi FAGB FABLES— (Continued.) TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF ORMOSfD . 224 PALAMON AND ARCITE ; OR, THE KNIGHT'S TALE. BOOK L . 226 . book n. 231 book m. . .... 238 THE COCK AND THE FOX; OR, THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST 249 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF; OR, THE LADY IN THE ARBOUR. A VISION . . . . 256 THE WIFE OF BATH, HER TALE . 262 THE CHARACTER OP A GOOD PARSON . . . . 267 TRANSLATIONS FROM BOCCACE : SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO 268 THEODORE AND HONORIA . 275 CTMON AFD IPHIGENIA 278 TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID'S METAMORPHOSES : TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD RADCLIFFE 284 THE FIRST BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . . .... . 289 MELEAGER AND ATALANTA, OUT OP THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . . 298 BAUCIS AND PHILEMON, OUT OF THE EIGHTH BOOK OP OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . . . 301 THE FABLE OP IPHIS AND IANTHE, FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . 303 PYGMALION AND THE STATUE, PROM THE TENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . 305 CDNYRAS AND MYRRHA, OUT OF THE TENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . . . 306 CEYX AND ALCYONE, OUT OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES . . . 309 «3ACUS TRANSFORMED INTO A CORMORANT, FROM THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES 313 THE TWELFTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES WHOLLY TRANSLATED .... 313 THE SPEECHES OF AJAX AND ULYSSES, FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES 320 THE STORY OF ACIS, POLYPHEMUS, AND GALATEA, FROM THE THIRTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES 325 OF THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY, FROM THE FIFTEENTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES 327 TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID'S EPISTLES: PREFACE CONCERNING OVID'S EPISTLES . 333 CANACE TO MACAREUS. EPIST. XI. . . . . . 338 HELEN TO PARIS. EPIST. XVH . . . 339 DD30 TO -BNEAS. EPIST. Vn. . . . 341 TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID'S ART OF LOVE : THE FIRST BOOK OF OVID'S ART OF LOVE ... . . . 343 FROM OVTD'S AMOURS. BOOK I. ELEG. 1. . . . 350 BOOK I. ELEG. 4 . . . 350 BOOK H. ELEG. 19. . . . . 351 TRANSLATIONS FROM JUVENAL : A DISCOURSE CONCERNING THE ORIGINAL- AND PROGRESS OF SATIRE . . 352 THE FIRST SATIRE . . 389 THE THIRD SATIRE ... ... ... 392 THE SIXTH SATIRE .... . . ... 397 CONTENTS. TRANSLATIONS FROM JUVENAL— (Continued.) THE TENTH SATIRE 405 THE SIXTEENTH SATIBE 411 TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS : THE FIRST SATIRE 412 THE FIRST SATIRE. IN DIALOGUE BETWIXT THE POET AND HIS FRIEND OR MONITOR . 413 THE SECOND SATIRE .... 416 THE THIRD SATIRE 418 THE FOURTH SATIRE 420 THE FIFTH SATIRE. INSCRIBED TO THE REV. DR. BUSBY 422 THE SIXTH SATBJE. TO OESIUS BASSUS, A LYRIC POET 425 TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER: THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S tt.tak 428 THE LAST PARTING; OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE, FROM THE SIXTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD 435 THE ART OF POETRY: CANTO I. . ... 437 CANTO II . . 439 canto in. . 440 CANTO IV. . . .... 444 THE LIFE OF DRYDEN, BY DR. JOHNSON. AF the great poet whose life I am about to delineate, the curiosity which his reputation must excite will require a display more ample than can now be given. His contemporaries, however they reverenced his genius, left his life unwritten ; and nothing therefore can be known beyond what casual mention and uncertain tradition have supplied. John Dryden was born August 9, 1631,* at Aldwinkle near Oundle, the son of Erasmus Dryden of Titchmersh ; who was the third son of Sir Erasmus Dryden, baronet, of Canons Ashby. All these places are in Northamptonshire ; but the original stock of the family was in the county of Huntingdon.t He is reported by his last biographer, Derrick, to have inherited from his father an estate of two hundred a year, and to have been bred, as was said, an Anabaptist. For either of these particulars no authority is given. Such a fortune ought to have secured him from that poverty which seems always to have oppressed him ; or, if he had wasted it, to have made him ashamed of publishing his necessities. But though he had many enemies, who undoubt- edly examined his life with a scrutiny sufficiently malicious, I do not remember that he is ever charged with waste of his patrimony. He was indeed sometimes reproached for his first religion. I am therefore inclined to believe that Derrick's intelligence was partly true, and partly erroneous.^ From Westminster school, where he was instructed as one of the King's Scholars by Dr. Busby, whom he long after continued to reverence, he was in 1650 elected to one of the Westminster scholarships at Cambridge.§ Of his school performances has appeared only a poem on the death of Lord Hastings, composed with great ambition of such conceits as, notwithstanding the reformation begun by Waller and Denham, the example of Cowley still kept in reputation. Lord Hastings died of the small pox ; and his poet has made of the pustules, first rosebuds, and then gems ; at last he exalts them into stars ; and says, — " No comet need foretel his change drew on, "Whose corpse might seem a constellation." At the university he does not appear to have been eager of poetical distinction, or to have lavished his early wit either on fictitious subjects or public occasions. He probably • Mr.Malone has lately proved that there is no satisfactory evidence for this date. The inscription on Dryden's monument says only natus 1632. See Malone's Life of Dryden, prefixed to his " Critical and Miscellaneous Prose Works." p. 6. note.— C. t Of Cumberland. Ibid. p. 10.— C. J Mr. Derrick's Life of Dryden was prefixed to a very beautiful and correct edition of Dryden's Miscellanies, published by the Tonsons in 1760, 4 vols. 8vo. Derrick's part, however, was poorly executed, and the edition never became popular. — C. g He went off to Trinity College, and was admitted to a Bachelor's Degree in Jan. 1653-4, and in 1657 was made M. A. C. b LIFE OP DEYDEN. considered, that he, who proposed to be am author, ought first to be a student. He obtained, whatever was the reason, no fellowship in the College. Why he was excluded cannot now be known, and it is vain to guess ; had he thought himself injured, he knew how to complain. In the Life of Plutarch he mentions his education in the College with gratitude ; but, in a prologue at Oxford, he has these lines : " Oxford to him a dearer name shall he Than his own' mother-university ; Thehes did his rude, unknowing youth engage ; He chooses Athens in his riper age." It was not till the death of Cromwell, in 1658, that he became a public candidate for fame, by publishing Heroic Stanzas on the late Lord Protector; which, compared with the verses of Sprat and "Waller on the same occasion, were sufficient to raise great expectations of the rising poet. When the king was restored, Dryden, like the other panegyrists of usurpation, changed his opinion, or his profession, and published Asteea Redux ; a Poem, on the happy Restora- tion and Return of his most sacred Majesty King Charles the Second. The reproach of inconstancy was, on this occasion, shared with such numbers, that it produced neither hatred nor disgrace ; if he changed, he changed with the nation. It was, however, not totally forgotten when his reputation raised him enemies. The same year he praised the new king in a second poem on his restoration. In the Asteea was the line, " An horrid stillness first invades the ear, And in that silence we a tempest fear — " for which he was persecuted with perpetual ridicule, perhaps with more than was deserved. Silence is indeed mere privation ; and, so considered, cannot invade ; but privation likewise certainly is darkness, and probably cold; yet poetry has never been refused the right of ascribing effects or agency to them as to positive powers. No man scruples to say that darkness hinders him from his work ; or that cold has killed the plants. Death is also privation ; yet who has made any difficulty of assigning to Death a dart and the power of striking 1 In settling the order of his works there is some difficulty ; for, even when they are im- portant enough to be formally offered to a patron, he does not commonly date his dedication ; the time of writing and publishing is not always the same ; nor can the first editions be easily found, if even from them could be obtained the necessary information.* The time at which his first play was exhibited is not certainly known, because it was not printed till it was, some years afterwards, altered and revived ; but since the plays are said to be printed in the order in which they were written, from the dates of some, those of others may be inferred ; and thus it may be collected, that in 1663, in the thirty-second year of his life, he commenced a writer for the stage ; compelled undoubtedly by necessity, for he appears never to have loved that exercise of his genius, or to have much pleased himself with his own dramas. Of the stage, when he had once invaded it, he kept possession for many years ; not indeed without the competition of rivals who sometimes prevailed, or the censure of critics, which was often poignant, and often just ; but with such a degree of reputation as made him at least secure of being heard, whatever might be the final determination of the public. His first piece was a comedy called the Wild Gallant. He began with no happy auguries ; for his performance was so much disapproved, that he was compelled to recal it, and change it from its imperfect state to the form in which it now appears, and which is yet sufficiently defective to vindicate the critics. * The order of his plays has been accurately ascertained by Mr. M alone. — C. LIFE OF DRYDEN. I wish that there were no necessity of following the progress of his theatrical fame, or tracing the meanders of his mind through the whole series of his dramatic performances ; it will be fit, however, to enumerate them, and to take especial notice of those that are distin- guished by any peculiarity, intrinsic or. concomitant ; for the composition and fate of eight- and-twenty dramas include too much of a poetical life to be omitted. In 1664 he published the Rival Ladies, which he dedicated to the Earl of Orrery, a man of high reputation, both as a writer and as a statesman. In this play he made his essay of dramatic rhyme, which he defends, in his dedication, with sufficient certainty of a favourable hearing ; for Orrery was himself a writer of rhyming tragedies. He then joined with Sir Robert Howard in the Indian Queen, a tragedy in rhyme. The parts which either of them wrote are not distinguished. The Indian Emperor was published in 1667. It is a tragedy in rhyme, intended for a sequel to Howard's Indian Queen. Of this connection notice was given to the audience by printed bills, distributed at the door ; an expedient supposed to be ridiculed in the Rehearsal, where Bayes tells how many reams he has printed, to instil into the audience some conception of his plot. In this play is the description of Night, which Rymer has made famous by preferring it to those of all other poets. The practice of making tragedies in rhyme was introduced soon after the Eestoration, as it seems by the Earl of Orrery, in compliance with the opinion of Charles the Second, who had formed his taste by the French theatre ; and Dryden, who wrote, and made no difficulty of declaring that he wrote only to please, and who perhaps knew that by his dexterity of versification he was more likely to excel others in rhyme than without it, very readily adopted his master's preference. He therefore made rhyming tragedies, till, by the pre- valence of manifest propriety, he seems to have grown ashamed of making them any longer. To this play is prefixed a very vehement defence of dramatic rhyme, in confutation of the preface to the Duke of Lerma, in which Sir Robert Howard had censured it. In 1667 he published Annus Mirabilis, the Year of Wonders, which may be esteemed one of his most elaborate works. It is addressed to Sir Robert Howard by a letter, which is not properly a dedication ; and, writing to a poet, he has interspersed many critical observations, of which some are common, and some perhaps ventured without much consideration. He began, even now, to exercise the domination of conscious genius, by recommending his own performance : " I am satisfied that as the Prince and General [Rupert and Monk] are incomparably the best sub- jects I ever had, so what I have written on them is much better than what I have performed on any other. As I have endeavoured to adorn my poem with noble thoughts, so much more to express those thoughts with elocution." It is written in quatrains, or heroic stanzas of four lines ; a measure which he had learned from the Gondibert of Davenant, and which he then thought the most majestic that the Eng- lish language affords. Of this stanza he mentions the incumbrances, increased as they were by the exactness which the age required. It was, throughout his life, very much his custom to recommend his works by representation of the difficulties that he had encountered, without appearing to have sufficiently considered, that where there is no difficulty there is no praise. There seems to be, in the conduct of Sir Robert Howard and Dryden towards each other, something that is not now easily to be explained. Dryden, in his dedication to the Earl of Orrery, had defended dramatic rhyme ; and Howard, in the preface to a collection of plays, had censured his opinion. Dryden vindicated himself in his Dialogue on Dramatic Poetry : Howard, in his preface to the Duke of Lerma, animadverted on the Vindication ; and Dryden, in a preface to the Indian Emperor, replied to the Anim adversions with great asperity, and almost with contumely. The dedication to this play is dated the year in which the Annus Mirabilis was published. Here appears a strange inconsistency ; but Langbaine affords some help, by relating that the answer to Howard was not published in the first edition of the LIFE OP DRYDEN. play, but was added when it was afterwards reprinted ; and as the Duke of Lerma did not appear till 1668, the same year in which the dialogue was published, there was time enough for enmity to grow up between authors, who, writing both for the theatre, were naturally rivals. He was now so much distinguished, that in 1668* he succeeded Sir William Davenant as poet laureat. The salary of the laureat had been raised in favour of Jonson, by Charles the First, from an hundred marks to one hundred pounds a year, and a tierce of wine ; a revenue in those days not inadequate to the conveniences of life. The same year, he published his essay on Dramatic Poetry, an elegant and instructive dialogue, in which we are told, by Prior, that the principal character is meant to represent the Duke of Dorset. This work seems to have given Addison a model for his Dialogues upon Medals. Secret Love, or the Maiden Queen (1668), is a tragi-comedy. In the preface he discusses a curious question, whether a poet can judge well of his own productions ? and determines very justly, that, of the plan and disposition, and all that can be reduced to principles of science, the author may depend upon his own opinion ; but that, in those parts where fancy predominates, self-love may easily deceive. He might have observed, that what is good only because it pleases, cannot be pronounced good till it has been found to please. Sir Martin Marr-all (1668) is a comedy, published without preface or dedication, and at first without the name of the author. Langbaine charges it, like most of the rest, with plagiarism ; and observes, that the song is translated from Voiture, allowing however that both the sense and measure are exactly observed. The Tempest (1670) is an alteration of Shakspeare's play, made by Dryden in conjunction with Davenant ; " whom," says he, " I found of so quick a fancy, that nothing was proposed to Viim in which he could not suddenly produce a thought extremely pleasant and surprising ; and those first thoughts of his, contrary to the Latin proverb, were not always the least happy ; and as his fancy was quick, so likewise were the products of it remote and new. He borrowed not of any other ; and his imaginations were such as could not easily enter into any other man." The effect produced by the conjunction of these two powerful minds was, that to Shak- speare's monster, Caliban, is added a sister monster, Sycorax ; and a woman, who, in the original play, had never seen a man, is in this brought acquainted with a man that had never seen a woman. About this time, in 1673, Dryden seems to have had his quiel; much disturbed by the success of the Empress of Morocco, a tragedy written in rhyme by Mhanah Settle ; which was so much applauded, as to make him think his supremacy of reputation in some danger. Settle had not only been prosperous on the stage, but, in the confidence of success, had published hfs play, with sculptures and a preface of defiance. Here was one offence added to another ; and, for the last blast of inflammation, it was acted at Whitehall by the court- ladies. Dryden could not now repress those emotions, which he called indignation, and others jealousy ; but wrote upon the play and the dedication such criticism as malignant impatience could pour out in haste. Of Settle he gives this character : " He 's an animal of a most deplored understanding, without reading and conversation. His being is in a twilight of sense, and some glimmering of thought which he can never fashion into wit or English. His style is boisterous and rough-hewn, his rhyme incorrigibly lewd, and his numbers perpetually harsh and ill-sounding. The little talent which he has, is fancy. He sometimes labours with a thought ; but, with the pudder he makes to bring it into the world, 'tis commonly still-born ; so that, for want • He dill not obtain the Laurel till August 18, 1670, but, Mr. Malone informs us, the patent had a retrospect, and the salary commenced from the Midsummer after D'Avenant's death.— C. LIFE OF DRTDEN. of learning and elocution, he will never be able to express anything either naturally or justly." This is not very decent ; yet this is one of the pages in which criticism prevails over brutal fury. * He proceeds : " He has a heavy hand at fools, and a great felicity in writing nonsense for them. Fools they will be in spite of him. His King, his two Empresses, his Villain, and his Sub-villain, nay his Hero, have all a certain natural cast of the father— their father was born and bred in them, and something of the Elkanah will be visible." This is Dryden's general declamation ; I will not withhold from the reader a particular remark. Having gone through the first act, he says, " To conclude this act with the most rumbling piece of nonsense spoken yet : — " ' To flattering lightning our feign'd smiles conform, "Which, back'd with thunder, do but gild a storm.' " Conform a smile to lightning, make a smile imitate lightning, and flattering lightning : lightning sure is a threatening thing. And this lightning mustgilda storm. Now, if I must con- form my smiles to lightning, then my smiles must gild a storm too : to gild with smiles, is a new invention of gilding. And gild a storm by being backed with thunder. Thunder is part of the storm ; so one part of the storm must help to gild another part, and help by backing ; as if a man would gild a thing the better for being backed, or having a load upon his back. So that here is gilding by conforming, smiling, lightning, backing, and thundering. The whole is as if I should say thus : I will make my counterfeit smiles look like a flattering stone-horse, which, being backed with a trooper, does but gild the battle. I am mistaken if nonsense is not here pretty thick sown. Sure the poet writ these two lines a-board some smack in a storm, and, being sea-sick, spewed up a good lump of clotted nonsense at once.'' Here is perhaps a sufficient specimen ; but as the pamphlet, though Dryden's, has never been thougtit worthy of republication, and is not easily to be found, it may gratify curiosity to quote it more largely : — " ' Whene'er she bleeds, He no severer a damnation needs, That dares pronounce the sentence of her death, Than the infection that attends that breath.' " That attends that breath. — The poet is at breath again ; breath can never 'scape him ; and here he brings in a breath that must be infectious with pronouncing a sentence ; and this sentence is not to be pronounced till the condemned party bleeds; that is, she must be executed first, and sentenced after ; and the pronouncing of this sentence will be infectious ; that is, others will catch the disease of that sentence, and this infecting of others will torment a man's self. The whole is thus ; when she bleeds, thou needest no greater hell or torment to thyself, than infecting of others by pronouncing a sentence upon her. What hodge podge does he make here ! Never was Dutch grout such clogging, thick, indigestible stuff. But this is but a taste to stay the stomach ; we shall have a more plentiful mess presently. " Now to dish up the poet's broth, that I promised : — ■ " ' For when we 're dead, and,our freed souls enlarged, Of nature's grosser burden we 're discharged. Then, gentle as a happy lover's sigh, Like wand'ring meteors through the air we '11 fly, And in our airy walk, as subtle guests, We '11 steal into our cruel fathers' breasts, There read their souls, and track each passion's sphere, See how Revenge moves there, Ambition here ; And in their orbs view the dark characters Of sieges, ruins, murders, blood, and wars. We '11 blot out all those hideous draughts, and write Pure and white forms ; then with a radiant light LIFE OP DEYDEN. Their breasts encircle, till their passions be Gentle as nature in its infancy ; Till, soften' d by our charms, their furies cease, And their revenge resolves into a peace. Thus by our death their quarrel ends, Whom living we made foes, dead we '11 make friends.' " If this be not a very liberal mess, I will refer myself to the stomach of any moderate guest. And a rare mess it is, far excelling any "Westminster white-broth. It is a kind of giblet porridge, made of the giblets of a couple of young geese, stogged full of meteors, orbs, spheres, track, hideous draughts, dark characters, white forms, and radiant lights, designed not only to please appetite, and indulge luxury, but it is also physical, being an approved medicine to purge choler ; for it is propounded, by Morena, as a receipt to cure their fathers of their choleric humours ; and, were it written in characters as barbarous as the words, might very well pass for a doctor's bill. To conclude : it is porridge, 'tis a receipt, 'tis a pig with a pudding in the belly, 'tis I know not what : for, certainly, never any one that pretended to write sense had the impudence before to put such stuff as this into the mouths of those that were to speak it before an audience, whom he did not take to be all fools ; and after that to print it too, and expose it to the examination of the world. But let us see what we can make of this stuff: — " ' For when we 're dead, and our freed souls enlarged — ' Here he tells us what it is to be dead; it is to have our freed souls set free. Now, if to have a soul set free, is to be dead ; then to have a, freed soul set free, is to have a dead man die. ' Then, gently as a happy lover's sigh— They two like one sigh, and that one sigh like two wandering meteors, " ' Shall fly through the air ' That is, they shall mount above like falling stars, or else they shall skip like two jacks with lanthorns, or Will with a whisp, and Madge with a candle. "And in their airy walk steal into their cruel fathers' breasts, like subtle guests. — So that their fathers' breasts must be in an airy walk, an airy walk of a, flier. And there they mil read their souls, and track the spheres of their passions. That is, these walking fliers, Jack with a lanthorn, &c, will put on his spectacles, and fall a reading souls, and put on his pumps and fall a tracking of spheres : so that he will read and run, walk and fly, at the same time ! Oh ! nimble Jack ! Then he will see, how revenge here, how ambition there The birds will hop about. And then view the dark characters of sieges, ruins, murders, blood, and wars, in their orbs : Track the characters to their forms ! Oh ! rare sport for Jack ! Never was place so full of game as these breasts ! You cannot stir, but flush a sphere, start a character, or unkennel an orb !" Settle's is said to have been the first play embellished with sculptures ; those ornaments seem to have given poor Dryden great disturbance. He tries however to ease his pain by venting his malice in a parody. " The poet has not only been so imprudent to expose all this stuff, but so arrdgant to defend it with an epistle ; like a saucy booth-keeper, that, when he had put a cheat upon the people, would wrangle and fight with any that would not like it, or would offer to discover it ; for which arrogance our poet receives this correction ; and, to jerk him a little the sharper, I will not transpose his verse, but by the help of his own words transnonsense sense, that by my stuff, people may judge the better what is his : — " Great Boy, thy tragedy and sculptures done, From press and plates, in fleets do homeward run ; And, in ridiculous and humble pride, Their course in ballad-singers' baskets guide, LIFE OF DRYDEN'. Whose greasy twigs do all new beauties take, From the gay shows thy dainty sculptures make. Thy lines a mess of rhyming nonsense yield, A senseless tale, with nattering fustian nll'd. No grain of sense does in one line appear, Thy words big hulks of boisterous bombast bear. With noise they move, and from players' mouths rebound, When their tongues dance to thy words' empty sound, By thee inspired the rumbling verses roll, As if that rhyme and bombast lent a soul ; And with that soul they seem taught duty too ; To huffing words does humble nonsense bow, As if it would thy worthless worth enhance, To th' lowest rank of fops thy praise advance, To whom, by instinct, all thy stuff is dear : Their loud claps echo to the theatre. From breaths of fools thy commendation spreads, Fame sings thy praise with mouths of logger-heads. With noise and laughing each thy fustian greets, 'Tib clapp'd by choirs of empty-headed cits, Who have their tribute sent, and homage given, As men in whispers send loud noise to Heaven. " Thus I have daubed him with his own puddle : and now we are come from aboard his dancing, masking, rebounding, breathing fleet : and, as if we had landed at Gotham, we meet nothing but fools and nonsense.' 1 Such was the criticism to which the genius of Dryden could be reduced, between rage and terror ; rage with little provocation, and terror with little danger. To see the highest mind thus levelled with the meanest, may produce some solace to the consciousness of weakness, and some mortification to the pride of wisdom. But let it be remembered, that minds are not levelled in their powers but when they are first levelled in their desires. Dryden and Settle had both placed their happiness in the claps of multitudes. An Evening's Love, or The Mock Astrologer, a comedy (1671), is dedicated to the illustrious Duke of Newcastle, whom he courts by adding to his praises those of his lady, not only as a lover, but a partner of his studies. It is tmpleasing to think how many names, once celebrated, are since forgotten. Of Newcastle's works nothing is now known but his Treatise on Horsemanship. The Preface seems very elaborately written, and contains many just remarks on the Fathers of the English drama. Shakspeare's plots, he says, are in the hundred novels of Cinthio ; those of Beaumont and Fletcher in Spanish stories ; Jonson only made them for himself. His criticisms upon tragedy, comedy, and farce, are judicious and profound. He endeavours to defend the immorality of some of his comedies by the example of former writers ; which is only to say, that he was not the first nor perhaps the greatest offender. Against those that accused him of plagiarism he alleges a favourable expression of the king : " He only desired, that they who accuse me of thefts, would steal him plays like mine ; " and then relates how much labour he spends in fitting for the English stage what he borrows from others, Tyrannic Love, or the Virgin Martyr (1672), was another tragedy in rhyme, conspicuous for many passages of strength and elegance, and many of empty noise and ridiculous turbulence. The rants of Maximin have been always the sport of criticism ; and were at length, if his own confession may be trusted, the shame of the writer. Of this play he has taken 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. It was written before The Conquest of Granada, but published after it. The design is to recommend piety. " I considered that pleasure was not the only end of Poesy ; and that even the instructions of morality were not so wholly the business of a poet, as that the precepts and examples of piety were to be omitted ; for to leave that employment altogether to the clergy, were to forget that religion was first taught in verse, which the LIFE OF DRYDEN. laziness or dulness of succeeding priesthood turned afterwards into prose." Thus foolishly could Dryden ■write, rather than not show his malice to the parsons.* The two parts of The Conquest of Granada (1672) are written with a seeming determina- tion to glut the public with dramatic wonders, to exhibit in its highest elevation a theatrical meteor of incredible love and impossible valour, and to leave no room for a wilder flight to the extravagance of posterity. All the rays of romantic heat, whether amorous or warlike, glow in Almanzor by a kind of concentration. He is above all laws ; he is exempt from all restraints ; he ranges the world at will, and governs wherever he appears. He fights without inquiring the cause, and loves in spite of the obligations of justice, of rejection by his mistress, and of prohibition from the dead. Yet the scenes are, for the most part, delightful ; they exhibit a kind of illustrious depravity, and majestic madness, such as, if it is sometimes despised, is often reverenced, and in which the ridiculous is mingled with the astonishing. In the Epilogue to the second part of The Conquest of Granada, Dryden indulges his favourite pleasure of discrediting his predecessors ; and this Epilogue he has defended by a long postscript. He had promised a second dialogue, in which he should more fully treat of the virtues and faults of the English poets, who have written in the dramatic, epic, or lyric way. This promise was never formally performed ; but, with respect to the dramatic writers, he has given us in his prefaces, and in this postscript, something equivalent ; but his purpose being to exalt himself by the comparison, he shows faults distinctly, and only praises excellence in general terms. A play thus written, in professed defiance of probability, naturally drew upon itself the vultures of the theatre. One of the critics that attacked it was Martin Clifford, to whom Sprat addressed the Life of Cowley, with such veneration of his critical powers as might naturally excite great expectations of instructions from his remarks. But let honest credulity beware of receiving characters from contemporary writers. Clifford's remarks, by the favour of Dr. Percy, were at last obtained ; and, that no man may ever want them more, I will extract enough to satisfy all reasonable desire. In the first Letter his observation is only general ; "You do live,'' says he, " in as much ignorance and darkness as you did in the womb ; your writings are like a Jack-of-all-trade's shop ; they have a variety, but nothing of value ; and if thou art not the dullest plant- animal that ever the earth produced, all that I have conversed with are strangely mistaken in thee." In the second he tells him that Almanzor is not more copied from Achilles than from Ancient Pistol. " But I am," says he, " strangely mistaken if I have not seen this very Almanzor of yours in some disguise about this town, and passing under another name. Pr'ythee tell me true, was not this Huffcap once the Indian Emperor ? and at another time did he not call himself Maosimin ? Was not Lyndaraxa once called Almeria ? I mean under Montezuma the Indian Emperor. I protest and vow they are either the same, or so alike, that I cannot, for my heart, distinguish one from the other. You are therefore a strange unconscionable thief; thou art not content to steal from others, but dost rob thy poor wretched self too." Now was Settle's time to take his revenge. He wrote » vindication of his own lines ; and, if he is forced to yield any thing, makes his reprisals upon his enemy. To say that * So fond was he of opportunity to gratify his spleen against the clergy, that he scrupled not to convert Chaucer's images, in the Knighte's Tale, of " The smiler with the knif under the cloke," and of " Conteke with blody knif," into these satires on the Church. See Warton's Hist JBng. Poetry, vol. i. p. 368. " Next stood Hypocrisy, with holy leer, Soft-smiling, and demurely looking down, But hid the dagger underneath the gown. ConteBt with sharpened knives in cloisters drawn, And all with blood bespread the holy lawn? — T. LIFE OF DRYDEN. his answer is equal to the censure, is no high commendation. To expose Dryden's method of analysing his expressions, he tries the same experiment upon the same description of the ships in the Indian Emperor, of which however he does not deny the excellence ; but intends to show, that by studied misconstruction every thing may be equally represented as ridi- culous. After so much of Dryden's elegant animadversions, justice requires that something of Settle's should be exhibited. The following observations are therefore extracted from a quarto pamphlet of ninety-five pages : — " ' Fate after him below with pain did move, And victory could scarce keep pace above.' " These two lines, if he can show me any sense or thought in, or anything but bombast and noise, he shall make me believe every word in his observations on Morocco sense." In The Empress of Morocco were these lines : — " I 'II travel then to some remoter sphere, Till I find out new worlds, and crown you there." On which Dryden made this remark : — " I believe our learned author takes a sphere for a country ; the sphere of Morocco ; as if Morocco were the globe of earth and water ; but a globe is no sphere neither, by his leave," &c. " So sphere must not be sense, unless it relates to a circular motion about a globe, in which sense the astronomers use it. I would desire him to expound those lines in Granada : — " ' I '11 to the turrets of the palace go, And add new fire to those that fight below. Thence, Hero-like, with torches by my side, (Far be the omen though) my love I '11 guide. No, like his better fortune I '11 appear, "With open arms, loose veil, and flowing hair, Just flying forward from my rowling sphere.' " I wonder, if he be so strict, how he dares make so bold with sphere himself, and be so critical in other men's writings. Fortune is fancied standing on a globe, not on a sphere, as he told us in the first act. " Because ElkanaKs Similes are the most unlike things to what they are compared in the world, I '11 venture to start a simile in his Annus Mirabilis : he gives this poetical description of the ship called the London : — " ' The goodly London in her gallant trim, (The Phoenix daughter of the vanquish'd old,) Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold. " ' Her flag aloft spread ruffling in the wind, 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 : Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.' " What a wonderful pother is here, to make all these poetical beautifications of a ship ; that is, a phoenix in the first stanza, and but a wasp in the last ; nay, to make his humble comparison of a wasp more ridiculous, he does not say it flies upon the waves as nimbly as a wasp, or the like, but it seemed a wasp. But our author at the writing of this was not in his altitudes, to compare ships to floating palaces : a comparison to the purpose, was a perfection he did not arrive to till the Indian Emperor's days. But perhaps his similitude LIFE OP DRYDEN. has more in it than we imagine ; this ship had a great many guns in her, and they, put all together, made the sting in the wasp's tail : for this is all the reason I can guess, why it seemed a wasp. But, because we will allow liim all we can to help out, let it be a phoenix sea-wasp, and the rarity of such an animal may do much towards heightening the fancy. " It had been much more to his purpose, if he had designed to render the senseless play little, to have searched for some such pedantry as this : — " ' Two ifs scarce make one possibility. If justice will take all and nothing give, Justice, methinks, is not distributive. To die or kill you is the alternative. Bather than take your life, I will not live.' " Observe how prettily our author chops logick in heroick verse. Three such fustian canting words as distributive, alternative, and two ifs, no man but himself would have come within the noise of. But he's a man of general learning, and all comes into his play. " 'T would have done well too if he could have met with the rant or two worth the observation : such as, " ' Move swiftly, Sun, and fly a lover's pace, Leave months and weeks behind thee in thy race.' " But surely the Sun, whether he flies a lover's or not a lover's pace, leaves weeks and months, nay years too, behind him in his race. " Poor Bobin, or any of the Philo-mathematicks, would have given liim satisfaction in the point. " ' If I could kill thee now, thy fate 's so low, That I must stoop, ere I can give the blow. But mine is fixt so far above thy crown, That all thy men, Piled on thy back, can never pull it down.' " Now where that is, Almanzor's fate is fixt, I cannot guess : but, wherever it is, I believe Almanzor, and think that all Abdalla's subjects, piled upon one another, might not pull down his fate so well as without piling : besides I think Abdalla so wise a man, that, if Almanzor had told him piling his men upon his back might do the feat, he would scarcely bear such a weight for the pleasure of the exploit ; but it is a huff, and let Abdalla do it if he dare. " ' The people like a headlong torrent go, And every dam they break or overflow. But, unopposed, they either lose their force, Or wind in volumes to their former course :' " A very pretty allusion, contrary to all sense or reason. Torrents, I take it, let them wind never so much, can never return to their former course, unless he can suppose that fountains can go upwards, which is impossible ; nay more, in the foregoing page he tells us so too ; a trick of a very unfaithful memory. " ' But can no move than fountains upward flow ;' which of a torrent, which signifies a rapid stream, is much more impossible. Besides, if he goes to quibble, and say that it is possible by art water may be made return, and the same water run twice in one and the same channel ; then he quite confutes what he says : for it is by being opposed, that it runs into its former course ; for all engines that make water so return, do it by compulsion and opposition. Or, if he means a headlong torrent for a tide, which would be ridiculous, yet they do not wind in volumes, but come fore-right back LIFE OF DEYDEN. (if their upright lies straight to their former course), and that by opposition of the sea-water, that drives them back again. " And for fancy, when he lights of any thing like it, 'tis a wonder if it be not borrowed. As here, for example of, I find this fanciful thought in his Ann. Mirab. " ' Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But fear* d the fate of SimoTs would return ; Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed, And shrunk his waters back into his urn.' " This is stolen from Cowley's Davideis, p. 9. " ' Swift Jordan started, and straight backward fled, Hiding amongst thick reeds his aged head.' " And when the Spaniards their assault begin, At once beat those without and those within.' "This Almanzor speaks of himself ; and sure for one man to conquer an army within the city, and another without the city, at once, is something difficult : but this flight is pardon- able to some we meet with in Oranada : Osmin, speaking of Almanzor, " ' Who, like a tempeBt that outrides the wind, Made a just battle, ere the bodies join'd.' Pray, what does this honourable person mean by a tempest that outrides the windf A tempest that outrides itself. To suppose a tempest without wind, is as bad as supposing a man to walk without feet ; for if he supposes the tempest to be something distinct from the wind, yet, as being the effect of wind only, to come before the cause is a little preposterous ; so that, if he takes it one way, or if he takes it the other, those two ifs will scarcely make one possibility." Enough of Settle. Marriage dAa-mode (1673) is » comedy dedicated to the Earl of Rochester; whom he acknowledges not only as the defender of his poetry, but the promoter of his fortune. Langbaine places this play in 1673. The Earl of Eochester, therefore, was the famous Wilmot, whom yet tradition always represents as an enemy to Dryden, and who is mentioned by him with some disrespect in the preface to Juvenal. The Assignation, or Love in a Nunnery, a comedy (1673), was driven off the stage, against the opinion, as the author says, of the best judges. It is dedicated, in a very elegant address, to Sir Charles Sedley ; in which he finds an opportunity for his usual complaint of hard treatment and unreasonable censure. Amboyna (1673) is a tissue of mingled dialogue in verse and prose, and was perhaps written in less time than The Virgin Martyr ; though the author thought not fit either ostentatiously or mournfully to tell how little labour it cost him, or at how short a warning he produced it. It was a temporary performance, written in the time of the Dutch war, to inflame the nation against their enemies ; to whom he hopes, as he declares in his Epilogue, to make his poetry not less destructive than that by which Tyrtseus of old animated the Spartans. This play was written in the second Dutch war, in 1673. Troilus and Cressida (1679) is a play altered from Shakspeare ; but so altered, that, even in Langbaine's opinion, " the last scene in the third act is a master-piece." It is introduced by a discourse on "the Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy," to which I suspect that Eymer's book had given occasion. The Spanish Friar (1681) is a tragi-comedy, eminent for the happy coincidence and coalition of the two plots. As it was written against the Papists, it would naturally at that time have friends and enemies ; and partly by the popularity which it obtained at first, and partly by the real power both of the serious and risible part, it continued long a favourite of the public. LIFE OF DRYDEN'. It was Diyden's opinion, at least for some time, and he maintains it in the dedication of this play, that the drama required an alternation of comic and tragic scenes ; and that it is necessary to mitigate by alleviations of merriment the pressure of ponderous events, and the fatigue of toilsome passions. " "Whoever," says he, " cannot perform both parts, is but half a writer for the stage" The DuJce of Guise, a tragedy (1683), written in conjunction with Lee, as Oedipus had been before, seems to deserve notice only for the offence which it gave to the remnant of the Covenanters, and in general to the enemies of the court, who attacked him with great violence, and were answered by him ; though at last he seems to withdraw from the conflict, by transferring the greater part of the blame or merit to his partner. It happened that a contract had been made between them, by which they were to join in writing a play : and " he happened," says Dryden, "to claim the promise just upon the finishing of* a poem, when I would have been glad of a little respite. Two-thirds of it belonged to him ; and to me only the first scene of the play, the whole fourth act, and the first half, or somewhat more, of the fifth." This was a play written professedly for the party of the Duke of York, whose succession was then opposed. A parallel is intended between the Leaguers of Trance and the Covenanters of England : and this intention produced the controversy. Albion and Albanius (1685) is a musical drama or opera, written, like The Duke of Guise, against the Eepublicans. With what success it was performed, I have not found.* The State of Innocence and Fall of Man (1675) is termed by him an opera : it is rather a tragedy in heroic rhyme, but of which the personages are such as cannot decently be exhibited on the stage. Some such production was foreseen by Marvel, who writes thus to Milton :— " Or if a work so infinite be spann'd, Jealous I was lest some less skilful hand (Such as disquiet always what is well, And hy ill-imitating would excel) Might hence presume the whole creation's day To change in scenes, and show it in a play." It is another of his hasty productions ; for the heat of his imagination raised it in a month. This composition is addressed to the Princess of Modena, then Duchess of York, in a strain of flattery which disgraces genius, and which it was wonderful that any man that knew the meaning of his own words could use without self-detestation. It is an attempt to mingle Earth and Heaven, by praising human excellence in the language of religion. The preface contains an apology for heroic verse and poetic licence ; by which is meant not any liberty taken in contracting or extending words, but the use of bold fictions and ambitious figures. The reason which he gives for printing what was never acted cannot be overpassed : "I was induced to it in my own defence, many hundred copies of it being dispersed abroad without my knowledge or consent ; and every one gathering new faults, it became at length a libel against me." These copies, as they gathered faults, were apparently manuscript ; and he lived in an age very unlike ours, if many hundred 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. Aureng Zebe (1676) is a tragedy founded on the actions of a great prince then reigning but over nations not likely to employ their critics upon the transactions of the English stage. If he had known and disliked his own character, our trade was not in those times secure * Downes says, it was performed on a very unlucky day, viz. that on which the Duke of Monmouth landed in the West; and he intimates, that the consternation into which the kingdom was thrown by this event was a reason why it was performed but six times, and was in general ill received.— H. LIFE OP DRYDEN: from his resentment. His country is at such a distance, that the manners might be safely falsified, and the incidents feigned ; for the remoteness of place is remarked, by Bacine, to afford the same conveniences to a poet as length of time. This play is written in rhyme ; and has the appearance of being the most elaborate of all the dramas. The personages are imperial ; but the dialogue is often domestic, and therefore susceptible of sentiments accommodated to familiar incidents. The complaint of life is celebrated ; and there are many other passages that may be read with pleasure. This play is addressed to the Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Duke of Buckingham, himself, if not a poet, yet a writer of verses, and a critic. In this address Dryden gave the first hints of his intention to write an epic poem. He mentions his design in terms so obscure, that he seems afraid lest his plan should be purloined, as, he says, happened to him when he told it more plainly in his preface to Juvenal. " The design,'' says he, " you know is great, the story English, and neither too near the present times, nor too distant from them." All for Love, or the World, well Lost (1678), a tragedy founded upon the story of Anthony and Cleopatra, he tells us, "is the only play which he wrote for himself:" the rest were given to the people. It is by universal consent accounted the work in which he has admitted the fewest improprieties of style or character ; but it has one fault equal to many, though rather moral than critical, that, by admitting the romantic omnipotence of Love, he has recommended, as laudable and worthy of imitation, that conduct which, through all ages, the good have censured as vicious, and the bad despised as foolish. Of this play the prologue and the epilogue, though written upon the common topics of malicious and ignorant criticism, and without any particular relation to the characters or incidents of the drama, are deservedly celebrated for their elegance and sprightliness. Limberham, or the kind Keeper (1680), is a comedy, which, after the third night, was prohibited as too indecent for the stage. What gave offence, was in the printing, as the author says, altered or omitted. Dryden confesses that its indecency was objected to ; but Langbaine, who yet seldom favours him, imputes its expulsion to resentment, because it " so much exposed the keeping part of the town." Oedipus (1679) is a tragedy formed by Dryden and Lee, in conjunction, from the works of Sophocles, Seneca, and Corneille. Dryden planned the scenes, and composed the first and third acts. Bon Sebastian (1690) is commonly esteemed either the first or second of his dramatic performances. It is too long to be all acted, and has many characters and many incidents ; and though it is not without sallies of frantic dignity, and more noise than meaning, yet, as it makes approaches to the possibilities of real life, and has some sentiments which leave a strong impression, it continued long to attract attention. Amidst the distresses of princes, and the vicissitudes of empire, are inserted several scenes which the writer intended for comic ; but which, I suppose, that age did not much commend, and this would not endure. There are, however, passages of excellence universally acknowledged : the dispute and the reconciliation of Dorax and Sebastian has always been admired. This play was first acted in 1690, after Dryden had for some years discontinued dramatic poetry. Amphitryon is a comedy derived from Plautus and Moliere. The dedication is dated Oct. 1690. This play seems to have succeeded at its first appearance ; and was, I think, long considered as a very diverting entertainment. Cleomenes (1692) is a tragedy, only remarkable as it occasioned an incident related in the Guardian, and allusively mentioned by Dryden in his preface. As he came out from the representation, he was accosted thus by some airy stripling : " Had I been left alone with a young beauty, I would not have spent my time like your Spartan." " That, Sir," said Dryden, " perhaps is true ; but give me leave to tell you that you are no hero." King Arthur (1691) is another opera. It was the last work that Dryden performed for King Charles, who did not live to see it exhibited, and it does not seem to have been ever LIFE OP DRYDEN. brought upon the stage.* In the dedication to the Marquis of Halifax, there is a very- elegant character of Charles, and a pleasing account of his latter life. When this was first brought upon the stage, news that the Duke of Monmouth had landed was told in the theatre ; upon which the company departed, and Arthur was exhibited no more. His last drama was Love Triumphant, a tragi-comedy. In his dedication to the Earl of Salisbuiy he mentions " the lowness of fortune to which he has voluntarily reduced himself, and of which he has no reason to be ashamed." This play appeared in 1694. It is said to have been unsuccessful. The catastrophe, proceeding merely from a change of mind, is confessed by the author to be defective. Thus he began and ended his dramatic labours with ill success. From such a number of theatrical pieces, it will be supposed, by most readers, that he must have improved his fortune ; at least, that such diligence with such abilities must have set penury at defiance. But in Dryden's time the drama was very far from that universal approbation which it has now obtained. The playhouse was abhorred by the Puritans, and avoided by those who desired the character of seriousness or decency. A grave lawyer would have debased his dignity, and a young trader would have impaired his credit, by appearing in those mansions of dissolute licentiousness. The profits of the theatre, when so many classes of the people were deducted from the audience, were not great ; and the poet had, for a long time, but a single night. The first that had two nights was Southern ; and the first that had three was Howe. There were, however, in those days, arts of im- proving a poet's profit, which Dryden forbore to practise ; and a play therefore seldom produced him more than a hundred pounds, by the accumulated gain of the third night, the dedication, and the copy. Almost every piece had a dedication, written with such elegance and luxuriance of praise as neither haughtiness nor avarice could be imagined able to resist. But he seems to have made flattery too cheap. That praise is worth nothing of which the price is known. To increase the value of his copies, he often accompanied his work with a preface of criticism ; a kind of learning then almost new in the English language, and which he, who had considered with great accuracy the principles of writing, was able to distribute copiously as occasions arose. By these dissertations the public judgment must have been much improved ; and Swift, who conversed with Dryden, relates that he regretted the success of his own instructions, and found his readers made suddenly too skilful to be easily satisfied. His prologues had such reputation, that for some time a play was considered as less likely to be well received, if some of his verses did not introduce it. The price of a prologue was two guineas, till, being asked to write one for Mr. Southern, he demanded three : " Not," said he, " young man, out of disrespect to you ; but the players have had my goods too cheap.'' Though he declares, that in his own opinion his genius was not dramatic, he had great confidence in his own fertility ; for he is said to have engaged, by contract, to furnish four plays a year. It is certain that in one year, 1678,t he published All for Love, The Assignation, two parts of the Conquest of Granada, Sir Martin Marr-aU, and the State of Innocence, six complete plays, with a celerity of performance, which, though all Langbaine's charges of plagiarism should be allowed, shows such facility of composition, such readiness of language, and such copiousness of sentiment, as, since the time of Lopez de Vega, perhaps no other author has ever possessed. He did not enjoy his reputation, however great, nor his profits, however small, without molestation. He had critics to endure, and rivals to oppose. The two most distinguished wits of the nobility, the Duke of Buckingham and Earl of Rochester, declared themselves his enemies. • This is a mistake. It was set to music by Purcell, and well received, and is yet a favourite entertainment. — H. f Dr. Johnson in this assertion was misled by Langbaine. Only one of these plays appeared in 1678. Nor were there more than three in any one year. The dates are now added from the original editions. — R. LIFE OP DRYDEN. Buckingham characterised him, in 1671, by the name of Bayes, in the Rehearsal ; a farce ■which he is said to have ■written with the assistance of Butler, the author of Hudibras ; Martin Clifford, of the Charter-house ; and Dr Sprat, the friend of Cowley, then his chaplain. Dryden and his friends laughed at the length of time, and the number of hands employed upon this performance ; in which, though by some artifice of action it yet keeps possession of the stage, it is not possible now to find any thing that might not have been written without so long delay, or a confederacy so numerous. To adjust the minute events of literary history, is tedious and troublesome ; it requires indeed no great force of understanding, but often depends upon inquiries which there is no opportunity of making, or is to be fetched from books and pamphlets not always at hand. The Rehearsal was played in 1671,* and yet is represented as ridiculing passages in the Conquest of Oranadaf and Assignation, which were not published till 1678 ; in Marriage d-Ja- mode, published in 1673 ; and in Tyrannic Love, in 1677. These contradictions show how rashly satire is applied.! It is said that this farce was originally intended against Davenant, who, in the first draught, was characterised by the name of Bilboa. Davenant had been a soldier and an adventurer. There is one passage in the Rehearsal still remaining, which seems to have related originally to Davenant. Bayes hurts his nose, and comes in with brown paper applied to the bruise : how this affected Dryden does not appear. Davenant's nose had suffered such dimi- nution by mishaps among the women, that a patch upon that part evidently denoted him. It is said likewise that Sir Bobert Howard was once meant. The design was probably to ridicule the reigning poet, whatever he might be. Much of the personal satire, to which it might owe its first reception, is now lost or obscured. Bayes probably imitated the dress, and mimicked the manner of Dryden ; the cant words which are so often in his mouth may be supposed to have been Dryden's habitual phrases, or customary exclamations. Bayes, when he is to write, is blooded and purged ; this, as Lamotte relates himself to have heard, was the real practice of the poet. There were other strokes in the Rehearsal by which malice was gratified ; the debate between Love and Honour, which keeps prince Volscius in a single boot, is said to have alluded to the misconduct of the Duke of Ormond, who lost Dublin to the rebels while he was toying with a mistress. The Earl of Rochester, to suppress the reputation of Dryden. took Settle into his pro- tection, and endeavoured to persuade the public that its approbation had been to that time misplaced. Settle was a while in high reputation ; his Empress of Morocco, having first delighted the town, was carried in triumph to Whitehall, and played by the ladies of the court. Now was the poetical meteor at the highest : the next moment began its fall. Rochester withdrew his patronage ; seeming resolved, says one of his biographers, "to have a judgment contrary to that of the town ;" perhaps being unable to endure any reputation beyond a certain height, even when he had himself contributed to raise it. Neither critics nor rivals did Dryden much mischief, unless they gained from his own temper the power of vexing him, which his frequent bursts of resentment give reason to suspect. He is always angry at some past, or afraid of some future censure ; but he lessens the smart of his. wounds by the balm of his own approbation, and endeavours to repel the shafts of criticism by opposing a shield of adamantine confidence. The perpetual accusation produced against him, was that of plagiarism, against which he » It was published in 1672.— K. t The Conquest, of Granada was published in 1672; The Assignation, in 1673; Marriage a -la-mode in the same year; and Tyrannic Love in 1672. % There is no contradiction, according to Mr. Malone, but what arises from Dr. Johnson's having copied the erroneous dates assigned to these plays by Langbaine. — C. LIFE OF DRYDEN. never attempted any vigorous defence ; for though he was perhaps sometimes injuriously censured, he would, by denying part of the charge, have confessed the rest ; and, as his adversaries had the proof in their own hands, he, who knew that wit had little power against facts, wisely left, in that perplexity which it generally produces, a question which it was his interest to suppress, and which, unless provoked by vindication, few were likely to examine. Though the life of a writer, from about thirty-five to sixty-three, may be supposed to have been sufficiently busied by the composition of eight-and-twenty pieces for the stage, Dryden found room in the same space for many other undertakings. But, how much soever he wrote, he was at least once suspected of writing more ; for, in 1679, a paper of verses, called An Essay on Satire, was shown about in manuscript; by which the Earl of Eochester, the Duchess of Portsmouth, and others, were so much provoked, that, as was supposed (for the actors were never discovered), they procured Dryden, whom they suspected as the author, to be waylaid and beaten. This incident is mentioned by the Duke of Buckinghamshire,* the true writer, in his Art of Poetry ; where he says of Dryden, " Though praised and beaten for another's rhymes, His own deserve as great applause sometimes." His reputation in time was such, that his name was thought necessary to the success of every poetical or literary performance, and therefore he was engaged to contribute something, whatever it might be, to many publications. He prefixed the Life of Polybius to the translation of Sir Henry Sheers : and those of Lucian and Plutarch, to versions of their works by different hands. Of the English Tacitus he translated the first book ; and, if Gordon be credited, translated it from the French. Such a charge can hardly be mentioned without some degree of indignation ; but it is not, I suppose, so much to be inferred, that Dryden wanted the literature necessary to the perusal of Tacitus, as that, considering, himself as hidden in a crowd, he had no awe of the public ; and, writing merely for money, was contented to get it by the nearest way. In 1680, the Epistles of Ovid being translated by the poets of the time, among which one was the work of Dryden, and another of Dryden and Lord Mulgrave, it was necessary to introduce them by a preface ; and Dryden, who on such occasions was regularly summoned, prefixed a discourse upon translation, which was then struggling for the liberty that it now enjoys. Why it should find any difficulty in breaking the shackles of verbal interpretation, which must for ever debar it from elegance, it would be difficult to conjecture, were not the power of prejudice every day observed. The authority of Jonson, Sandys, and Holiday, had fixed the judgment of the nation ; and it was not easily believed that a better way could be found than they had taken, though Fanshaw, Denham, "Waller, and Cowley, had tried to give examples of a different practice. In 1681, Dryden became yet more conspicuous by uniting politics with poetry, in the memorable satire called Absalom and Achitophel, written against the faction which, by Lord Shaftesbury's incitement, set the Duke of Monmouth at its head. Of this poem, in which personal satire was applied to the support of public principles, and in which therefore every mind was interested, the reception was eager, and the sale so large, that my father, an old bookseller, told me, he had not known it equalled but by Sacheverell's trial. The reason of this general perusal Addison has attempted to derive from the delight which the mind feels in the investigation of secrets ; and thinks that curiosity to decipher the names procured readers to the poem. There is no need to inquire why those verses were read, which, to all the attractions of wit, elegance, and harmony, added the co-operation of all the factious passions, and filled every mind with triumph or resentment. * It is mentioned by A. Wood, Athen. Oxon. vol; ii. p. 804. 2nd Ed.— C. LIFE OF DRYDEN. It could not be supposed that all the provocation given by Dryden would be endured without resistance or reply. Both his person and his party were exposed in their turns to the shafts of satire, which, though neither so well pointed, nor perhaps so well aimed, undoubtedly drew blood. One of these poems is called Dryden's Satire on his Muse : ascribed, though, as Pope says, falsely, to Somers, who was afterwards chancellor. The poem, whosesoever it was, has much virulence, and some sprightliness. The writer tells all the ill that he can collect both of Dryden and his friends. The poem of Absalom and Achitophel had two answers, now both forgotten ; one called Azaria and Hushai ; the other Absalom senior. Of these hostile compositions, Dryden apparently imputes Absalom senior to Settle, by quoting in his verses against him the second line. Amria and Hushai was, as Wood says, imputed to hi™, though it is somewhat unlikely that he should write twice on the same occasion. This is a difficulty which I cannot remove, for want of a minuter knowledge of poetical transactions.* The same year he published The Medal, of which the subject is a medal struck on Lord Shaftesbury's escape from a prosecution, by the ignoramus of a grand jury of Londoners. In both poems he maintains the same principles, and saw them both attacked by the same antagonist. Elkanah Settle, who had answered Absalom, appeared with equal courage in opposition to The Medal, and published an answer called The Medal reversed, with so much success in both encounters, that he left the palm doubtful, and divided the suffrages of the nation. Such are the revolutions of fame, or such is the prevalence of fashion, that the man, whose works have not yet been thought to deserve the care of collecting them, who died forgotten in an hospital, and whose latter years were spent in contriving shows for fairs, and carrying an elegy or epithalamium, of which the beginning and end were occasionally varied, but the intermediate parts were always the same, to every house where there was a funeral or a wedding, might with truth have had inscribed upon his stone, " Here lies the Rival and Antagonist of Dryden." Settle was, for his rebellion, severely chastised by Dryden under the name of Doeg, in the second part of Absalom and Achitophel ; and was perhaps for his factious audacity made the City poet, whose annual office was to describe the glories of the Mayor's day. Of these bards he was the last, and seems not much to have deserved even this degree of regard, if it was paid to his political opinions ; for he afterwards wrote a panegyric on the virtues of Judge Jefferies ; and what more could have been done by the meanest zealot for prerogative ? Of translated fragments, or occasional poems, to enumerate the titles, or settle the dates, would be tedious, with little use. It may be observed, that, as Dryden's genius was commonly excited by some personal regard, he rarely writes upon a general topic. Soon after the accession of King James, when the design of reconciling the nation to the Church of Eome became apparent, and the religion of the court gave the only efficacious title to its favours, Dryden declared himself a convert to Popery. This at any other time might have passed with little censure. Sir Kenelm. Digby embraced Popery ; the two Eeynolds reciprocally converted one another ;t and Chillingworth himself was awhile so entangled in the wilds of controversy, as to retire for quiet to an infallible Church. If men of argument and study can find such difficulties, or such motives, as may either unite them to the Church of Rome, or detain them in uncertainty, there can be no wonder that a man, who perhaps never inquired why he was a Protestant, should by an artful and experienced disputant be made a Papist, overborne by the sudden violence of new and unexpected arguments, or " Azaria and Hushai was written by Samuel Pordage, a dramatic writer of that time. — C. t Dr. John Reynolds, who lived temp. Jac. I. was at first a zealous Papist, and his brother William as earnest a Protestant ; but, by mutual disputation, each converted the other. See Fuller's Church History, p. 47. book x. — H. LIFE OF DEYDEN. deceived by a representation which shows only the doubts on one part, and only.the evidence on the other. That conversion will always be suspected that apparently concurs with interest. He that never finds his error till it hinders his progress towards wealth or honour, will not be thought to love Truth only for herself. Yet it may easily happen that information may come at a commodious time ; and, as truth and interest are not by any fatal necessity at variance, that one may by accident introduce the other. When opinions are struggling into popularity, the arguments by which they are opposed or defended become more known ; and he that changes his profession would perhaps have changed it before, with the like opportunities of instruction. This was the then state of Popery ; every artifice was used to show it in its fairest form ; and it must be owned to be a religion of external appearance sufficiently attractive. It is natural to hope that a comprehensive is likewise an elevated soul, and that whoever is wise is also honest. I am willing to believe that Dryden, having employed his mind, active as it was, upon different studies, and filled it, capacious as it was, with other materials, came unprovided to the controversy, and wanted rather skill to discover the right, than virtue to maintain it. But inquiries into the heart are not for man ; we must now leave him to his Judge. The priests, having strengthened their cause by so powerful an adherent, were not long before they brought him into action. They engaged him to defend the controversial papers found in the strong box of Charles the Second ; and, what yet was harder, to defend them against Stillingfleet. With hopes of promoting Popery, he was employed to translate Maimbourg's History of the League ; which he published with a large introduction. His name is likewise prefixed to the English Life of Francis Xavier ; but I know not that he ever owned himself the translator. Perhaps the use of his name was a pious fraud, which however seems not to have had much effect ; for neither of the books, I believe, was ever popular. The version of Xavier's Life is commended by Brown, in a pamphlet not written to flatter ; and the occasion of it is said to have been, that the Queen, when she solicited a son, made vows to him as her tutelary saint. He was supposed to have undertaken to translate Varillas's History of Heresies; and, when Burnet published remarks upon it, to have written an Answer ;* upon which Burnet makes the following observation : — " I have been informed from England, that a gentleman, who is famous both for poetry and several other things, had spent three months in translating M. Varillas's History ; but that, as soon as my Beflections appeared, he discontinued his labour, finding the credit of his author was gone. Now, if he thinks it is recovered by his Answer, he will perhaps go on with his translation ; and this may be, for aught I know, as good an entertainment for him as the conversation that he had set on between the Hinds and Panthers, and all the rest of animals, for whomM.Varillas may serve well enough as an author : and this history and that poem are such extraordinary things of their kind, that it will be but suitable to see the author of the worst poem become likewise the translator of the worst history that the age has pro- duced. If his grace and his wit improve both proportionably, he will hardly find that he has gained much by the change he has made, from having no religion, to choose one of the worst. It is true, he had somewhat to 1 sink from in matter of wit; but, as for his morals, it is scarcely possible for him to grow a worse man than he was. He has lately wreaked his malice on me for spoiling his three months' labour ; but in it he has done me all the honour that any man can receive from him, which is to be railed at by him. If I had ill-nature enough to prompt me to wish a very bad wish for him, it should be, that he would go on * This is a mistake. See Malone p. 194 &c. — C. LIFE OF DRTDEN. and finish his translation. By that it will appear, whether the English nation, which is the most competent judge in this matter, has, upon the seeing our debate, pronounced in M. Varillas's favour, or in mine. It is true, Mr. D. will suffer a little by it ; but at least it will serve to keep Wm in from other extravagances ; and if he gains little honour by this work, yet he cannot lose so much by it as he has done by his last employment." Having probably felt his own inferiority in theological controversy, he was desirous of trying whether, by bringing poetry to aid his arguments, he might become a more efficacious defender of his new profession. To reason in verse was, indeed, one of his powers ; but subtilty and harmony, united, are still feeble, when opposed to truth. Actuated therefore by zeal for Borne, or hope of fame, he published the Hind and Panther, a poem in which the Church of Rome, figured by the milk-white Hind, defends her tenets against the Church of England, represented by the Panther, a beast beautiful, but spotted. A fable, which exhibits two beasts talking Theology, appears at once full of absurdity ; and it was accordingly ridiculed in the City Mouse and Country Mouse, a parody, written by Montague, afterwards Earl of Halifax, and Prior, who then gave the first specimen of his abilities. The conversion of such a man, at such a time, was not likely to pass uncensured. Three dialogues were published by the facetious Thomas Brown, of which the two first were called Reasons of Mr. Bayeis changing his Religion : and the third, the Reasons of Mr. Hains the Player's Conversion and Re-conversion. The first was printed in 1688, the second not till 1690, the third in 1691. The clamour seems to have been long continued, and the subject to have strongly fixed the public attention. In the two first dialogues Bayes is brought into the company of Crites and Eugenius, with whom he had formerly debated on dramatic poetry. The two talkers in the third are Mr. Bayes and Mr. Hains. Brown was a man not deficient in literature, nor destitute of fancy ; but he seems to have thought it the pinnacle of excellence to be a merry fellow; and therefore laid out his powers upon small jests or gross buffoonery ; so that his performances have little intrinsic value, and were read only while they were recommended by the novelty of the event that occasioned them. These dialogues are like his other works : what sense or knowledge they contain is dis- graced by the garb in which it is exhibited. One great source of pleasure is to call Dryden little Bayes. Ajax, who happens to be mentioned, is " he that wore as many cow-hides upon his shield as would have furnished half the King's army with shoe-leather." Being asked whether he had seen the Hind and Panther, Crites answers : " Seen it ! Mr. Bayes, why I can stir nowhere but it pursues me : it haunts me worse than a pewter-buttoned Serjeant does a decayed cit. Sometimes I meet it in a bandbox, when my laundress brings home my linen ; sometimes, whether I will or no, it lights my pipe at a coffee-house ; sometimes it surprises me in a trunk-maker's shop ; and sometimes it refreshes my memory for me on the backside of a Chancery-lane parcel. For your comfort, too, Mr. Bayes, I have not only seen it, as you may perceive, but have read it too, and can quote it as freely upon occasion as a frugal tradesman can quote that noble treatise, the Worth of a Penny, to his extravagant 'prentice, that revels in stewed apples and penny custards." The whole animation of these compositions arises from a profusion of ludicrous and affected comparisons. "To secure one's chastity," says Bayes, "little more is necessary than to leave off a correspondence with the other sex, which, to a wise man, is no greater a punishment than it would be to a fanatic person to be forbid seeing The Cheats and The Committee; or for my Lord Mayor and Aldermen to be interdicted the sight of The London Cuckolds." This is the general strain, and therefore I shall be easily excused the labour of more transcription. Brown does not wholly forget past transactions : " You began," says Crites to Bayes, " a LIFE OP DRYDEN. very different religion, and have not mended the matter in your last choice. It was but reason that your Muse, which appeared first in a tyrant's quarrel, should employ her last efforts to justify the usurpation of the Hind." Next year the nation was summoned to celebrate the birth of the Prince. Now was the time for Dryden to rouse his imagination, and strain his voice. Happy days were at hand, and he was willing to enjoy and diffuse the anticipated blessings. He published a poem, filled with predictions of greatness and prosperity ; predictions, of which it is not necessary to tell how they have been verified. A few months passed after these joyful notes, and every blossom of Popish hope was blasted for ever by the Eevolution. A Papist now could be no longer laureat. The revenue, which he had enjoyed with so much pride and praise, was transferred to Shadwell, an old enemy, whom he had formerly stigmatised by the name of Off. Dryden could not decently complain that he was deposed ; but seemed very angry that Shadwell succeeded him, and has therefore celebrated the intruder's inauguration in a poem exquisitely satirical, called Mac Flecknoe;* of which the Dunciad, as Pope himself declares, is an imitation, though more extended in its plan, and more diversified in its incidents. It is related by Prior, that Lord Dorset, when, as Chamberlain, he was constrained to eject Dryden from his office, gave him from his own purse an allowance equal to the salary. This is no romantic or incredible act of generosity ; an hundred a year is often enough given to claims less cogent by men less famed for liberality. Yet Dryden always represented himself as suffering under a public infliction ; and once particularly demands respect for the patience with which he endured the loss of his little fortune. His patron might, indeed, enjoin him to suppress his bounty ; but, if he suffered nothing, he should not have complained. During the short reign of King James, he had written nothing for the stage,t being, in his opinion, more profitably employed in controversy and flattery. Of praise he might perhaps have been less lavish without inconvenience, for James was never said to have much regard for poetry : he was to be flattered only by adopting his religion. Times were now changed : Dryden was no longer the court-poet, and was to look back for support to his former trade ; and having waited about two years, either considering himself as discountenanced by the public, or perhaps expecting a second Revolution, he pro- duced Don /Sebastian in 1690 ; and in the next four years four dramas more. In 1693 appeared a new version of Juvenal and Persius. Of Juvenal he translated the first, third, sixth, tenth, and sixteenth satires ; and of Persius the whole work. On this occasion he introduced his two sons to the public, as nurselings of the Muses. The fourteenth of Juvenal was the work of John, and the seventh of Charles Dryden. He prefixed a very ample preface, in the form of a dedication to Lord Dorset ; and there gives an account of the design which he had once formed to write an epic poem on the actions either of Arthur or the Black Prince. He considered the epic as necessarily including some kind of supernatural agency, and had imagined a new kind of contest between the guardian angela of kingdoms, of whom he conceived that each might be represented zealous for his charge, without any intended opposition to the purposes of the Supreme Being, of which all created minds must in part be ignorant. This is the most reasonable scheme of celestial interposition that ever was formed. The surprises and terrors of enchantments, which have succeeded to the intrigues and oppositions of Pagan deities, afford very striking scenes, and open a vast extent to the imagination ; but, as Boileau observes (and Boileau will be seldom found mistaken), with this incurable defect, that, in a contest between Heaven and Hell, we know at the beginning * All Dryden's biographers have misdated this poem, which Mr. Malone's more accurate researches prove to have been published on the 4th of October, 1682.— C. f Allnon and Albanius must however be excepted. — R. LIFE OP DRYDEN. which is to prevail ; for this reason we follow Binaldo to the enchanted wood with more, curiosity than terror. In the scheme of Dryden there is one great difficulty, which yet he would perhaps have had address enough to surmount. In a war, justice can be but on one side ; and, to entitle the hero to the protection of angels, he must fight in defence of indubitable right. Yet some of the celestial beings, thus opposed to each other, must have been represented as defending guilt. That this poem was never written, is 'reasonably to be lamented. It would doubtless have improved our numbers, and enlarged our language ; and might perhaps have contributed by pleasing instructions to rectify our opinions, and purify our manners. What he required as the indispensable condition of such an undertaking, a public stipend, was not likely in these times to be obtained. Baches were not become familiar to us ; nor had the nation yet learned to be liberal. This plan he charged Blackmore with stealing : " only," says he, " the guardian angels of kingdoms were machines too ponderous for him to manage." In 1694, he began the most laborious and difficult of all his works, the translation of Virgil ; from which he borrowed two months, that he might turn " Fresnoy's Art of Painting " into English prose. The preface, which he boasts to have written in twelve mornings, exhibits a parallel of poetry and painting, with a miscellaneous collection of critical remarks, such as cost a mind stored like his no labour to produce them. In 1697, he published his version of the works of Virgil ; and, that no opportunity of profit might be lost, dedicated the Pastorals to the Lord Clifford, the Georgics to the Earl of Chesterfield, and the iEneid to the Earl of Mulgrave. This economy of flattery, at once lavish and discreet, did not pass without observation. This translation was censured by Milbourne, a clergyman, styled by Pope, " the fairest of critics," because he exhibited his own version to be compared with that which he condemned. His last work was his Fables, published in consequence, as is supposed, of a contract now in the hands of Mr. Tonson : by which he obliged himself, in consideration of three hundred pounds, to finish for the press ten thousand verses. In this volume is comprised the well-known ode on St. Cecilia's Day, which, as appeared by a letter communicated to Dr. Birch, he spent a fortnight in composing and correcting. But what is this to the patience and diligence of Boileau, whose Equivoque, a poem of only three hundred and forty-six lines, took from his life eleven months to write it, and three years to revise it ? Part of his book of Fables is the first Iliad in English, intended as a specimen of a version of the whole. Considering into what hands Homer was to fall, the reader cannot but rejoice that this project went no further. The time was now at hand which was to put an end to all his schemes and labours. On the first of May, 1701, having been some time, as he tells us, a cripple in his limbs, he died, in Gerard-street, of a mortification in his leg. There is extant a wild story relating to some vexatious events that happened at his funeral, which, at the end of Congreve's Life, by a writer of I know not what credit, are thus related, as I find the account transferred to a biographical dictionary. "Mr. Dryden dying on the Wednesday morning, Dr. Thomas Sprat, then Bishop of Eochester and Dean of Westminster, sent the next day to the Lady Elizabeth Howard, Mr. Dryden's widow, that he would make a present of the ground, which was forty pounds, with all the other Abbey-fees. The Lord Halifax likewise sent to the Lady Elizabeth, and Mr. Charles Dryden her son, that, if they would give him leave to bury Mr. Dryden, he would inter him with a gentleman's private funeral, and afterwards bestow five hundred pounds on a monument in the Abbey ; which, as they had no reason to refuse, they accepted. On the Saturday following the company came ; the corpse was put into a velvet hearse ; and eighteen mourning coaches, filled with company, attended. When they were just ready to LIFE OF DRYDEN. .move, tlie Lord Jefferies, son of the Lord Chancellor Jefferies, with some of his rakish companions, coming by, asked whose funeral it was : and being told Mr. Dryden's, he said, ' What, shall Dryden, the greatest honour and ornament of the nation, be buried after this private manner ! No, gentlemen, let all that loved Mr. Dryden, and honour his memory, alight and join with me in gaining my lady's consent to let me have the honour of his inter- ment, which shall be after another manner than this ; and I will bestow a thousand pounds on a monument in the Abbey for him.' The gentlemen in the coaches, not knowing of the Bishop of Eochester's favour, nor of the Lord Halifax's generous design (they both having, out of respect to the family, enjoined the Lady Elizabeth, and her son, to keep their favour concealed to the world, and let it pass for their own expense), readily came out of their coaches, and attended Lord Jefferies up to the lady's bedside, who was then sick. He repeated the purport of what he had before said ; but she absolutely refusing, he fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted. The rest of the company by his desire kneeled also ; and the lady, being under a sudden surprize, fainted away. As soon as she recovered her speech, she cried, No, no. Enough, gentlemen, replied he ; my lady is very good, she says, Go, go. She repeated her former words with all her strength, but in vain, for her feeble voice was lost in their acclamations of joy ; and the Lord Jefferies ordered the • hearsemen to carry the corpse to Mr. Bussel's, an undertaker in Cheapside, and leave it there till he should send orders for the embalment, which, he added, should be after the royal manner. His directions were obeyed, the company dispersed, and Lady Elizabeth and her son remained inconsolable. The next day Mr. Charles Dryden waited on the Lord Halifax and the Bishop, to excuse his mother and himself, by relating the real truth. But neither his Lordship nor the Bishop would admit of any plea ; especially the latter, who had the Abbey lighted, the ground opened, the choir attending, an anthem ready set, and himself waiting for some time without any corpse to bury. The undertaker, after three days expectance of orders for embalment without receiving any, waited on the Lord Jefferies ; who, pretending ignorance of the matter, turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, that those who observed the orders of a drunken frolick deserved no better ; that he remembered nothing at all of it ; and that he might do what he pleased with the corpse. Upon this, the undertaker waited upon the Lady Elizabeth and her son, and threatened to bring the corpse home, and set it before the door. They desired a day's respite, which was granted. Mr. Charles Dryden wrote a handsome letter to the Lord Jefferies, who returned it with this cool answer : ' That he knew nothing of the matter, and would be troubled no more about it.' He then addressed the Lord Halifax and the Bishop of Rochester, who absolutely refused to do anything in it. In this distress Dr. Garth sent for the corpse to the College of Physicians, and proposed a funeral by subscription, to which himself set a most noble example. At last a day, about three weeks after Mr. Dryden's decease, was appointed for the interment. Dr. Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration, at the College, over the corpse*; which was attended to the Abbey by a numerous train of coaches. When the funeral was over, Mr. Charles Dryden sent a challenge to the Lord Jefferies, who refusing to answer it, he sent several others, and went often himself ; but could neither get a letter delivered, nor admittance to speak to him ; which so incensed him, that he resolved, since his Lordship refused to answer him like a gentleman, that he would watch an opportunity to meet and fight off-hand, though with all the rules of honour ; which his Lordship hearing, left the town : and Mr. Charles Dryden could never have the satisfaction of meeting him, though he sought it till his death with the utmost application." » In a satirical poem, entitled " The Apparition," &c. of which there were two editions in 1710, Garth's eloquence, on occasion, is thus described : this occasion, is thus described : " John Dryden, with his brethren of the bays, His love to Garth, blaspheming Garth, conveys, And thanks him for his Pagan funeral praise.' 1 — T. LIFE OF DRYDEN. This story I once intended to omit, as it appears with no great evidence ; nor have I met with any confirmation, but in a letter of Earquhar ; and he only relates that the funeral of Dryden was tumultuary and confused.* Supposing the story true, we may remark, that the gradual change of manners, though imperceptible in the process, appears great when different times, and those not very distant, are compared. If at this time a young drunken Lord should interrupt the pompous regularity of a magnificent funeral, what would be the event, but that he would be justled out of the way, and compelled to be quiet 1 If he should thrust himself into an house, he would be sent roughly away ; and, what is yet more to the honour of the present time, I believe that those, who had subscribed to the funeral of a man like Dryden, would not, for such an accident, have withdrawn their contributions, t He was buried among the poets in "Westminster Abbey, where, though the Duke of Newcastle had, in a general dedication prefixed by Congreve to his dramatic works, accepted thanks for his intention of erecting him a monument, he lay long without dis- tinction, till the Duke of Buckinghamshire gave him a tablet, inscribed only with the name of Dryden. He married the Lady Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, with circum- stances, according to the satire imputed to Lord Somers, not very honourable to either party ; by her he had three sons, Charles, John, and Henry. Charles was usher of the palace to Pope Clement the Xlth ; and, visiting England in 1704, was drowned in an attempt to swim across the Thames at Windsor. John was author of a comedy called The Husband his own Cuckold. He is said to have died at Borne. Henry entered into some religious order. It is some proof of Dryden's sincerity in his second religion, that he taught it to his sons. A man, conscious of hypocritical profession in himself, is not likely to convert others ; and, as his sons were qualified in 1693 to appear among the translators of Juvenal, they must have been taught some religion before their father's change. Of the person of Dryden I know not any account ; of his mind, the portrait which has been left by Congreve, who knew him with great familiarity, is such as adds our love of his manners to our admiration of his genius. " He was," we are told, " of a nature exceedingly humane and compassionate, ready to forgive injuries, and capable of a sincere reconciliation with those who had offended him. His friendship, where he professed it, went beyond his professions. He was of a very easy, of very pleasing access ; but somewhat slow, and, as it were diffident, in his advances to others : he had that in nature which abhorred intrusion into any society whatever. He was therefore less known, and consequently his character became more liable to misapprehensions and misrepresentations : he was very modest, and very easily to be discountenanced in his approaches to his equals or superiors. As his reading had been very extensive, so was he very happy in a memory tenacious of everything that he had read. He was not more possessed of knowledge than he was communicative of it ; but then his communication was by no means pedantic, or imposed upon the conversation, but just such, and went so far, as, by the natural turn of the conversation in which he was engaged, it was necessarily promoted or required. He was extremely ready and gentle in • An earlier account of Dryden's funeral than that ahove cited, though without the circumstances that preceded it, is given by Edward Ward, who, in his London Spy, published in 1706, relates, that on the occasion there was a perform- ance of solemn music at the College j and that at the procession, which himself saw, standing at the end of Chancery-lane, Kleet-street, there was a concert of hautboys and trumpets. The day of Dryden's interment, he says, was Monday the 18th of May, which, according to Johnson, was twelve days after his decease, and shews how long his funeral was in suspense. Ward knew not that the expense of it was defrayed by subscription ; but compliments Lord Jefferies for so pious an undertaking. He also says, that the cause of Dryden's death was an inflammation in his toe, occasioned by the flesh growing over the nail, which being neglected produced a mortification in his leg. — H. t In the Register of the College of Physicians, is the following entry : " May 3, 1700. Comitiis Censoriis ordinariis. At the request of several persons of quality, that Mr. Dryden might be carried from the College of Physicians to be interred at Westminster, it was unanimously granted by the President and Censors." This entry is not calculated to afford any credit to the narrative concerning Lord Jefferies. — R. LIFE OP DRYDEN. his correction of the errors of any writer who thought fit to consult him, and full as ready and patient to admit the reprehensions of others, in respect of his own oversights or mistakes." To this account of Congreve nothing can be objected but the fondness of friendship ; and to have excited that fondness in such a mind is no small degree of praise. The dispo- sition of Dryden, however, is shown in this character rather as it exhibited itself in cursory conversation, than as it operated on the more important parts of life. His placability and his friendship indeed were solid virtues ; but courtesy and good-humour are often found with little real worth. Since Congreve, who knew him well, has told us no more, the rest must be collected as it can from other testimonies, and particularly, from those notices which Dryden has very liberally given us of himself. The modesty which made him so slow to advance, and so easy to be repulsed, was certainly no suspicion of deficient merit, or unconsciousness of his own value : he appears to have known, in its whole extent, the dignity of his own character, and to have set a very high value on his own powers and performances. He probably did not offer his conversation, because he expected it to be solicited ; and he retired from a cold reception, not submissive but indignant, with such deference of his own greatness as made him unwilling to expose it to neglect or violation. His modesty was by no means inconsistent with ostentatiousness ; he is diligent enough to remind the world of his merit, and expresses with very little scruple his high opinion of his own powers ; but his self-commendations are read without scorn or indignation ; we allow his claims, and love his frankness. Tradition, however, has not allowed that his confidence in himself exempted him from jealousy of others. He is accused of envy and insidiousness ; and is particularly charged with inciting Creech to translate Horace, that he might lose the reputation which Lucretius had given him.* Of this charge we immediately discover that it is merely conjectural ; the purpose was such as no man would confess ; and a crime that admits no proof, why should we believe ? He has been described as magisterially presiding over the younger writers, and assuming the distribution of poetical fame ; but he who excels has a right to teach, and he whose judgment is incontestable may without usurpation examine and decide. Congreve represents him as ready to advise and instruct ; but there is reason to believe that his communication was rather useful than entertaining. He declares of himself that he was saturnine, and not one of those whose sprightly sayings diverted company ; and one of his censurers makes him say, "Nor wine nor love could ever see me gay ; To writing bred, I knew not what to say." There are men whose powers operate only at leisure and in retirement, and whose intellectual vigour deserts them in conversation ; whom merriment confuses, and objection disconcerts ; whose bashfulness restrains their exertion, and suffers them not to speak till the time of speaking is past ; or whose attention to their own character makes them unwilling to utter at hazard what has not been considered, and cannot be recalled. Of Dryden's sluggishness in conversation it is vain to search or to guess the cause. He certainly wanted neither sentiments nor language ; his intellectual treasures were great though they were locked up from his own use. " His thoughts,'' when he wrote, " flowed in * The accusation against Dryden of having incited Creech to translate Horace, that, by his failure in that work, he might lose the reputation which his poetical version of Lucretius had procured him, is proved by Mr. Malone to be an impudent and malicious falsehood, and is traced by him to Tom Brown. See Mr. Malone's Life ofBrydxn, p. 506 — 511.— T. LIFE OF DRTDEK upon him so fast, that his only care was which to chuse, and which to reject." Such rapidity of composition naturally promises a flow of talk ; yet we must be content to believe what an enemy says of him, when he likewise says it of himself. But, whatever was his character as a companion, it appears that he lived in familiarity with the highest persons of his time. It is related by Carte of the Duke of Ormond, that he used often to pass a night with Dryden, and those with whom Dryden consorted : who they were, Carte has not told, but certainly the convivial table at which Ormond sat was not surrounded with a plebeian society. He was indeed reproached with boasting of his famili arity with the great ; and Horace will support him in the opinion, that to please superiors is not the lowest kind of merit. The merit of pleasing must, however, be estimated by the means. Favour is not always gained by good actions or laudable qualities. Caresses and preferments are often bestowed on the auxiliaries of vice, the procurers of pleasure, or the flatterers of vanity. Dryden has never been charged with any personal agency unworthy of a good character : he abetted vice and vanity only with his pen. One of his enemies has accused him of lewdness in Ms conversation ; but, if accusation without proof be credited, who shall be innocent ? His works afford too many examples of dissolute licentiousness and abject adulation ; but they were probably, like his merriment, artificial and constrained ; 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 the 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 indignation. What consolation can be had, Dryden has afforded, by living to repent, and to testify his repentance. Of dramatic immorality he did not want examples among his predecessors, or companions among his contemporaries ; but, in the meanness and servility of hyperbolical adulation, I know not whether, since the days in which the Eoman emperors were deified, he has been ever equalled, except by Afra Behn, in an address to Eleanor Gwyn. When once he has undertaken the task of praise, he no longer retains shame in himself, nor supposes it in his patron. As many odoriferous bodies are observed to diffuse perfumes from year to year, without sensible diminution of bulk or weight, he appears never to have impoverished his mint of flattery by his expenses, however lavish. He had all the forms of excellence, intellectual and moral, combined in his mind, with endless variation ; and, when he had scattered on the hero of the day the golden shower of wit and virtue, he had ready for him, whom he wished to court on the morrow, new wit and virtue with another stamp. Of this kind of meanness he never seems to decline the practice, or lament the necessity : he considers the great as entitled to encomiastic homage, and brings praise rather as a tribute than a gift, more delighted with the fertility of his invention, than mortified by the prostitu- tion of his judgment. It is indeed not certain, that on these occasions his judgment much rebelled against his interest. There are minds which easily sink into submission, that look on grandeur with undistinguishing reverence, and discover no defect where there is elevation of rank and affluence of riches. With his praises of others and of himself is always intermingled a strain of discontent and lamentation, a sullen growl of resentment or a querulous murmur of distress. His works are undervalued, his merit is unrewarded, and " he has few thanks to pay his stars that he was born among Englishmen." To his critics he is sometimes contemptuous, sometimes resentful, and sometimes submissive.* The writer who thinks his works formed for duration, • His satire was evidently dreaded, as appears in The, Cavalier's Litany, printed in 1682- : " From dining with Bethel and supping with Clayton, From a tosh with the quill o/satiricall Dryden, From a high-mettled Whig that was kick'd at Low-Layton, Libera nos, &c."— T. LIFE OF DRYDEN. mistakes his interest when he mentions his enemies. He degrades his own dignity by showing that he was affected by their censures, and gives lasting importance to names, which, left to themselves, would vanish from remembrance. From this principle Dryden did not often depart ; his complaints are for the greater part general ; he seldom pollutes his pages with an adverse name. He condescended indeed to a controversy with Settle, in which he perhaps may be considered rather as assaulting than repelling ; and since Settle is sunk into oblivion, his libel remains injurious only to himself. Among answers to critics, no poetical attacks, or altercations, are to be included ; they are like other poems, effusions of genius, produced as much to obtain praise as to obviate censure. These Dryden practised, and in these he excelled. Of Collier, Blackmore, and Milbourne, he has made mention in the Preface of his Fables. To the censure of Collier, whose remarks may be rather termed admonitions than criticisms, he makes little reply ; being, at the age of sixty-eight, attentive to better things than the claps of a playhouse. He complains of Collier's rudeness, and the " horse-play of his raillery ;" and asserts, that " in many places he has perverted by his glosses the meaning " of what he censures ; but in other things he confesses that he is justly taxed ; and says with great calm- ness and candour, " I have pleaded guilty to all thoughts or expressions of mine that can be truly accused of obscenity, immorality, or profaneness, and retract them. If he be my enemy, let him triumph ; if he be my friend, he will be glad of my repentance." Yet as our best dispositions are imperfect, he left standing in the same book a reflection on Collier of great asperity, and indeed of more asperity than wit. Blackmore he represents as made his enemy by the poem of Absalom and AcMtophel, which "he thinks a little hard upon his fanatic patrons ; " and charges him with borrowing the plan of his Arthv/r from the Preface to Juvenal, "though he had," says he, "the baseness not to acknowledge his benefactor, but instead of it to traduce me in a libel." The libel in which Blackmore traduced him was a Satire upon Wit ; in which, having lamented the exuberance of false wit and the deficiency of true, he proposes that all wit should be re-coined before it is current, and appoints masters of assay who shall reject all that is light or debased : — " 'Tis true, that when the coarse and worthless dross Is purged away, there will be mighty loss : Ev'n Congreve, Southern, manly Wycherly, When thus refined will grievous sufferers he. Into the melting pot when Dryden comes, "What horrid stench will rise, what noisome fumes ! How will he shrink-, when all his lewd allay And wicked mixture shall be purged away !" Thus stands the passage in the last edition ; but in the original there was an abatement of the censure, beginning thus : — " But what remains will he so pure, 'twill bear Th 1 examination of the most severe." Blackmore, finding the censure resented, and the civility disregarded, ungenerously omitted the softer part. Such variations discover a writer who consults his passions more than his virtue ; and it may be reasonably supposed that Dryden imputes his enmity to its true cause. Of Milbourne he wrote only in general terms, such as are always ready at the call of anger, whether just or not : a short extract will be sufficient. " He pretends a quarrel to me, that I have fallen foul upon priesthood : if I have, I am only to ask pardon of good priests, and am afraid his share of the reparation will come to little. Let him be satisfied that he shall never be able to force himself upon me for an adversary ; I contemn him too much to enter into competition with him. LIFE OF DRYDEN. " As for the rest of those who have written against me, they are such scoundrels that they deserve not the least notice to be taken of them. Blackmore and Milbourne are only distinguished from the crowd by being remembered to their infamy." Dryden indeed discovered, in many of his writings, an affected and absurd malignity to priests and priesthood, which naturally raised him many enemies, and which was sometimes as unseasonably resented as it was exerted. Trapp is angry that he calls the sacrificer in the Oeorgica " The Holy Butcher : " the translation is indeed ridiculous ; but Trapp's anger arises from his zeal, not for the author, but the priest ; as if any reproach of the follies of Paganism could be extended to the preachers of truth. Dryden's dislike of the priesthood is imputed by Langbaine, and I think by Brown,* to a repulse which he suffered when he solicited ordination ; but he denies, in the Preface to his Fables, that he ever designed to enter into the Church ; and such a denial he would not have hazarded, if he could have been convicted of falsehood. Malevolence to the clergy is seldom at a great distance from irreverence of religion, and Dryden affords no exception to this observation. His writings exhibit many passages, which, with all the allowance that can be made for characters and occasions, are such as piety would not have admitted, and such as may vitiate light and unprincipled minds. But there is no reason for supposing that he disbelieved the religion which he disobeyed. He forgot his duty rather than disowned it. His tendency to profaneness is the effect of levity, negligence, and loose conversation, with a desire of accommodating himself to the corruption of the times, by venturing to be wicked as far as he durst. When he professed himself a convert to Popery, he did not pretend to have received any new conviction of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. The persecution of critics was not the worst of his vexations : he was much more disturbed by the importunities of want. His complaints of poverty are so frequently repeated, either with the dejection of weakness sinking in helpless misery, or the indignation of merit c laimin g its tribute from mankind, that it is impossible not to detest the age which could impose on such a man the necessity of such solicitations, or not to despise the man who could submit to such solicitations without necessity. Whether by the world's neglect, or his own imprudence, I am afraid that the greatest part of his life was passed in exigencies. Such outcries were surely never uttered but in severe pain. Of his supplies or his expenses, no probable estimate can now be made. Except the salary of the Laureat, to which King James added the office of Historiographer 1 , perhaps with some additional emoluments, his whole revenue seems to have been casual ; and it is well known that he seldom lives frugally who lives by chance. Hope is always liberal ; and they that trust her promises, make little scruple of revelling to-day on the profits of the morrow. Of his plays the profit was not great ; and of the produce of his other works very little intelligence can be had. By discoursing with the late amiable Mr. Tonson, I could not find that any memorials of the transactions between his predecessor and Dryden had been preserved, except the following papers : — ■ " I do hereby promise to pay John Dryden, Esq., or order, on the 25th of March, 1699, the sum of two hundred and fifty guineas, in consideration often thousand verses, which the * See also a Poem in Defence of the Church of England, in opposition to the Hind and Panther. Fol. Lond. 1688. " Friend Bayes ! I fear this fable, and these rimes, Were thy dull penance for some former crimes, When thy free muse her own brisk language spoke, And, unbaptized, disdain'd the Christian yoke. ' The Spanish Fryer not thought himself revenged, Until thy style, as well as faith, were changed. Our Church re/used thee orders ; whence I find Her call'd the Panther, that of Rome the Hind."— T. LIFE OP DRYDEN. said John Dryden, Esq., is to deliver to me Jacob Tonson, when finished, whereof seven thousand five hundred verses, more or less, are already in the said Jacob Tonson's possession. And I do hereby farther promise, and engage myself, to make up the said sum of two hundred and fifty guineas three hundred pounds sterling to the said John Dryden, Esq., his executors, administrators, or assigns, at the beginning of the second impression of the said ten thousand verses. "In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal, this 20th day of March, 1698-9. " Jacob Tonson." " Sealed and delivered, beiDg first duly stampt, pursuant to the Acts of Parliament for that purpose, in the presence of "Ben. Portlock, Will. Congreve." " March U, 1698. " Eeceived then of Mr. Jacob Tonson the sum of two hundred sixty-eight pounds fifteen shillings, in pursuance of an agreement for ten thousand verses, to be delivered by me to the said Jacob Tonson, whereof I have already delivered to him about seven thousand five hundred, more or less ; he the said Jacob Tonson being obliged to make up the foresaid sum of two hundred sixty-eight pounds fifteen shillings three hundred pounds, at the beginning of the second impression of the foresaid ten thousand verses. " I say, received by me, "John Dryden.' ' " Witness, Charles Dryden." Two hundred and fifty guineas, at 11. Is. 6d. is 268Z. 15s. It is manifest, from the dates of this contract, that it relates to the volume of Fables, which contains about twelve thousand verses, and for which therefore the payment must have been afterwards enlarged. I have been told of another letter yet remaining, in which he desires Tonson to bring him money, to pay for a watch which he had ordered for his son, and which the maker would not leave without the price. The inevitable consequence of poverty is dependence. Dryden had probably no recourse in his exigencies but to his bookseller. The particular character of Tonson I do not know ; but the general conduct of traders was much less liberal in those times than in our own : their views were narrower, and their manners grosser. To the mercantile ruggedness of that race, the delicacy of the poet was sometimes exposed. Lord Bolingbroke, 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 conversing, 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 completed the sheet which I promised him ; and if you leave me unprotected, I must suffer all the rudeness to which his resentment can prompt his tongue." What rewards he obtained for his poems, besides the payment of the bookseller, cannot be known. Mr. Derrick, who consulted some of his relations, was informed that his Fables obtained five hundred pounds from the Duchess of Ormond ; a present not unsuitable to the magnificence of that splendid family ; and he quotes Moyle, as relating that forty pounds were paid by a musical society for the use of Alexander's Feast. In those days the economy of government was yet unsettled, and the payments of the Exchequer were dilatory and uncertain : of this disorder there is reason to believe that the Laureat sometimes felt the effects ; for, in one of his Prefaces, he complains of those, who, being entrusted with the distribution of the Prince's bounty, suffer those that depend upon it to languish in penury. Of his petty habits, or slight amusements, tradition has retained little. Of the only two men whom I have found to whom he was personally known, one told me, that at the house LIFE OF DRYDEN. which he frequented, called Will's Coffee-house, the appeal upon any literary dispute was made to him ; and the other related, that his armed 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 whiGh his two survivors afforded me. One of his opinions will do him no honour in the present age, though in his own time, at least in the beginning of it, he was far from having it confined to himself. He put great confidence in the prognostications of judicial astrology. In the Appendix to the Life of Congreve is a narrative of some of his predictions wonderfully fulfilled ; but I know not the writer's means of information, or character of veracity. That he had the configurations of the horoscope in his mind, and considered them as influencing the affairs of men, he does not forbear to hint : — ■ " The utmost malice of the stars is past. — Now frequent trims the happier lights among, And hifjk-ruisrd Jove, from his dark prison freed, ThoBe weights took off that on his planet hung, Will gloriously the new-laid works succeed." He has elsewhere shown his attention to the planetary powers ; and in the preface to his Fables has endeavoured obliquely to justify his superstition by attributing the same to some of the ancients. The latter, added to this narrative, leaves no doubt of his notions or practice. So slight and so scanty is the knowledge which I have been able to collect concerning the private life and domestic manners of a man whom every English generation must mention with reverence as a critic and a poet. DRYDEN may be properly considered as the father of English criticism, as the writer who first taught us to determine upon principles the merit of composition. Of our former poets, the greatest dramatist wrote without rules, conducted through life and nature by a genius that rarely misled, and rarely deserted him. Of the rest, those who knew the laws of propriety had neglected to teach them. Two Arts of English Poetry were written in the days of Elizabeth by Webb and Puttenham, from which something might be learned, and » few hints had been given by Jonson and Cowley ; but Dryden's Essay on Dramatic Poetry was the first regular and valuable treatise on the art of writing. He who, having formed his opinions in the present age of English literature, turns back to peruse this dialogue, will not perhaps find much increase of knowledge, or much novelty of instruction ; but he is to remember that critical principles were then in the hands of a few, who had gathered them partly from the ancients, and partly from the Italians and French. The structure of dramatic poems was then not generally understood. Audiences applauded by instinct ; and poets perhaps often pleased by chance. A writer who obtains his full purpose loses himself in his own lustre. Of an opinion which is no longer doubted, the evidence ceases to be examined. Of an art universally practised, the first teacher is forgotten. Learning once made popular is no longer learning ; it has the appearance of something which we have bestowed upon ourselves, as the dew appears to rise from the field which it refreshes. To judge rightly of an author, we must transport ourselves to his time, and examine what were the wants of his contemporaries, and what were his means of supplying them. That which is easy at one time was difficult at another. Dryden at least imported his science, and gave his country what it wanted before ; or rather, he imported only the materials, and manufactured them by his own skill. The Dialogue on the Drama was one of his first essays of criticism, written when he was yet a timorous candidate for reputation, and therefore laboured with that diligence which he LIFE OF DRTDEN. might allow himself somewhat to remit, when his name gave sanction to his positions, and his awe of the public was abated, partly by custom, and partly by success. It will not be easy to find, in all the opulence of our language, a treatise so artfully variegated with successive representations of opposite probabilities, so enlivened with imagery, so brightened with illustrations. His portraits of the English dramatists are wrought with great spirit and diligence. The account of Shakspeare may stand as a perpetual model of encomiastic criticism ; exact without minuteness, and lofty without exaggeration. The praise lavished by Longinus, on the attestation of the heroes of Marathon, by Demosthenes, fades away before it. In a few lines is exhibited a character so extensive in its comprehension, and so curious in its limitations, that nothing can be added, diminished, or reformed : nor can the editors and admirers of Shakspeare, 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. In this, and in all his other essays on the same subject, the criticism of Dryden is the criticism of a poet ; not a dull collection of theorems, nor a rude detection of faults, which perhaps the censor was not able to have committed ; but a gay and vigorous dissertation, where delight is mingled with instruction, and where the author proves his right of judgment by his power of performance. The different manner and effect with which critical knowledge may be conveyed, was perhaps never more clearly exemplified than in the performances of Bymer and Dryden. It was said of a dispute between two mathematicians, " malim cum Scaligero errare, quam cum Clavio recte" sapere ;'' that "it was more eligible to go wrong with one, than right with the other." A tendency of the same kind every mind must feel at the perusal of Dryden's prefaces and Eymer's discourses. With Dryden we are wandering in quest of Truth ; whom we find, if we find her at all, dressed in the graces of elegance ; and, if we miss her, the labour of the pursuit rewards itself : we are led only through fragance and flowers. Bymer, without taking a nearer, takes a rougher way ; every step is to be made through thorns and brambles ; and Truth, if we meet her, appears repulsive by her mien, and ungraceful by her habit. Dryden's criticism has the majesty of a queen ; Eymer's has the ferocity of a tyrant. As he had studied with great diligence the art of Poetry, and enlarged or rectified his notions, by experience perpetually increasing, he had his mind stored with principles and observations ; he poured out his knowledge with little labour ; for of labour, notwithstanding the multiplicity of his productions, there is sufficient reason to suspect that he was not a lover. To write con amore, with fondness for the employment, with perpetual touches and retouches, with unwillingness to take leave of his own idea, and an unwearied pursuit of unattainable perfection, was, I think, no part of his character. His criticism may be considered as general or occasional. In his general precepts, which depend upon the nature of things, and the structure of the human mind, he may doubtless be safely recommended to the confidence of the reader ; but his occasional and particular positions were sometimes interested, sometimes negligent, and sometimes capri- cious. It is not without reason that Trapp, speaking of the praises which he bestows on Palamon and Arcite, says, "Novimus judicium Drydeni de poemate quodam Chauceri, pulchro sane illo, et admodum laudando, nimirum quod non modo vere epicum sit, sed Iliada etiam atque iEneada sequet, imo superet. Sed novimus eodem tempore viri illius maximi non semper accuratissimas esse censuras, nee ad severissimam critices normam exactas : illo judice id plerumque optimum est, quod nunc prse manibus habet, et in quo nunc occupatur." He is therefore by no means constant to himself. His defence and desertion of dramatic rhyme is generally known. Spence, in his remarks on Pope's Odyssey, produces what he thinks an unconquerable quotation from Dryden's preface to the iEneid, in favour of translating an epic poem into blank verse ; but he forgets that when his author attempted LIFE OF DRYDEN. xxxi the Iliad, some years afterwards, he departed from his own decision, and translated into rhyme. When he has any objection to obviate, or any licence to defend, he is not very scrupulous about what he asserts, nor very cautious, if the present purpose be served, not to entangle himself in his own sophistries. But, when all arts are exhausted, like other hunted animals, he sometimes stands at bay ; when he cannot disown the grossness of one of his plays, he declares that he knows not any law that prescribes morality to a comic poet. His remarks on ancient or modern writers are not always to be trusted. His parallel of the versification of Ovid with that of Claudian has been very justly censured by Sewel.* His comparison of the first line of Virgil with the first of Statius is not happier. Virgil, he says, is soft and gentle, and would have thought Statius mad, if he had heard him thundering out " Quec superimposito moles geminata colosso." Statius perhaps heats himself, as he proceeds, to exaggeration somewhat hyperbolical ; but undoubtedly Virgil would have been too hasty, if he had condemned him to straw for one sounding line. Dryden wanted an instance, and the first that occurred was impressed into the service. What he wishes to say, he says at hazard ; he cited Gorbuduc, which he had never seen ; gives a false account of Chapman's versification ; and discovers, in the preface to his Fables, that he translated the first book of the Iliad without knowing what was in the second. It will be difficult to prove that Dryden ever made any great advances in literature. As having distinguished himself at Westminster under the tuition of Busby, who advanced his scholars to » height of knowledge very rarely attained in grammar-schools, he resided afterwards at Cambridge ; it is not to be supposed, that his skill in the ancient languages was deficient, compared with that of common students ; but his scholastic acquisitions seem not proportionate to his opportunities and abilities. He could not, like Milton or Cowley, have made his name illustrious merely by his learning. He mentions but few books, and those such as he in the beaten track of regular study ; from which if ever he departs, he is in danger of losing himself in unknown regions. In his Dialogue on the Drama, he pronounces with great confidence that the Latin tragedy of Medea is not Ovid's, because it is not sufficiently interesting and pathetic. He might have determined the question upon surer evidence ; for it is quoted by Quintilian as the work of Seneca ; and the only line which remains in Ovid's play, for one line is left us, is not there to be found. There was therefore no need of the gravity of conjecture, or the discussion of plot or sentiment, to find what was already known upon higher authority than such discussions can ever reach. His literature, though not always free from ostentation, will be commonly found either obvious, and made his own by the art of dressing it ; or superficial, which, by what he gives, shows what he wanted ; or erroneous, hastily collected, and negligently scattered. Yet it cannot be said that his genius is ever unprovided of matter, or that his fancy languishes in penury of ideas. His works abound with knowledge, and sparkle with illus- trations. There is scarcely any science or faculty that does not supply hi™ with occasional images and lucky similitudes ; every page discovers a mind very widely acquainted both with art and nature, and in full possession of great stores of intellectual wealth. Of him that knows much it is natural to suppose that he has read with diligence : yet I rather believe that the knowledge of Dryden was gleaned from accidental intelligence and various con- versation, by a quick apprehension, a judicious selection, and a happy memory ; a keen appetite of knowledge, and a powerful digestion ; by vigilance that permitted nothing to * Preface to Ovid's Metamorphoses. — Dr. J. LIFE OF DRYDEN. pass without notice, and a habit of reflection that suffered nothing useful to be lost. A mind like Drydens, always curious, always active, to which every understanding was proud to be associated, and of which every one solicited the regard, by an ambitious display of himself, had a more pleasant, perhaps a nearer way to knowledge than by the silent progress of solitary reading. I do not suppose that he despised books, or intentionally neglected them ; but that he was carried out, by the impetuosity of his genius, to more vivid and speedy instructors : and that his studies were rather desultory and fortuitous than constant and systematical. It must be confessed that he scarcely ever appears to want book-learning but when he mentions books; and to him may be transferred the praise which he gives his master Charles : — " His conversation, wit, and parts, His knowledge in the noblest useful arts, Were such, dead authors could not give, But habitudes of those that live : Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive ; He drain'd from all, and all they knew, His apprehensions quick, his judgment true ; That the most learn'd with shame confess His knowledge more, his reading only less." Of all this, however, if the proof be demanded, I will not undertake to give it : the atoms of probability, of which my opinion has been formed, lie scattered over all his works ; and by him who thinks the question worth his notice, his works must be perused with very close attention. Criticism, either didactic or defensive, occupies almost all his prose, except those pages which he has devoted to his patrons ; but none of his prefaces were ever thought tedious. They have not the formality of a settled style, in which the first half of the sentence betrays the other. The clauses are never balanced, nor the periods modelled : every word seems to drop by chance, though it falls into its proper place. Nothing is cold or languid : the whole is airy, animated, and vigorous ; what is little, is gay ; what is great, is splendid. He may be thought to mention himself too frequently ; but, while he forces himself upon our esteem, we cannot refuse him to stand high in his own. Every thing is excused by the play of images, and the sprightliness of expression. Though all is easy, nothing is feeble ; though all seems careless, there is nothing harsh ; and though, since his earlier works more than a century has passed, they have nothing yet uncouth or obsolete. He who writes much will not easily escape a manner, such a recurrence of particular modes as may be easily noted. Dryden is always another and the same ; he does not exhibit a second time the same elegances in the same form, nor appears to have any art other than that of expressing with clearness what he thinks with vigour. His style could not easily be imitated, either seriously or ludicrously ; for, being always equable and always varied, it has no prominent or discriminative characters. The beauty who is totally free from disproportion of parts and features cannot be ridiculed by an overcharged resemblance. From his prose, however, Dryden derives only his accidental and secondary praise ; the veneration with which his name is pronounced by every cultivator of English literature, is paid to him as he refined the language, improved the sentiments, and tuned the numbers of English Poetry. After about half a century of forced thoughts, and rugged metre, some advances towards nature and harmony had been already made by Waller and Denham ; they had shown that long discourses in rhyme grew more pleasing when they were broken into couplets, and that verse consisted not only in the number but the arrangement of syllables. But though they did much, who can deny that they left much to do ? Their works were not many, nor were their minds of very ample comprehension. More examples of more LIFE OP DKYDEN. modes of composition were necessary for the establishment of regularity, and the introduction of propriety in -word and thought. Every language of a learned nation necessarily divides itself into diction scholastic and popular, grave and laminar, elegant and gross : and from a nice distinction of these different parts arises a great part of the beauty of style. But, if we except a few minds, the favourites of nature, to whom their own original rectitude was in the place of rules, this delicacy of selection was little known to our authors ; our speech lay before them in a heap of confusion ; and every man took for every purpose what chance might offer him. There was therefore before the time of Dryden no poetical diction, no system of words at once refined from the grossness of domestic use, and free from the harshness of terms appropriated to particular arts. Words too familiar, or too remote, defeat the purpose of a poet. From those sounds which we hear on small or on coarse occasions, we do not easily receive strong impressions, or delightful images ; and words to which we are nearly strangers, whenever they occur, draw that attention on themselves which they should transmit to things. Those happy combinations of words which distinguish poetry from prose had been rarely attempted : we had few elegances or flowers of speech ; the roses had not yet been plucked from the bramble, or different colours had not been joined to enliven one another. It may be doubted whether Waller and Denham could have overborne the prejudices which had long prevailed, and which even then .were sheltered by the protection of Cowley. The new versification, as it is called, may be considered as owing its establishment to Dryden ; from whose time it is apparent that English poetry has had no tendency to relapse to its former savageness. The affluence and comprehension of our language is very illustriously displayed in our poetical translations of Ancient Writers ; a work which the French seem to relinquish in despair, and which we were long unable to perform with dexterity. Ben Jonson thought it necessary to eopy Horace almost word by word ; Feltham, his contemporary and adversary, considers it as indispensably requisite in a translation to give line for line. It is said that Sandys, whom Dryden calls the best versifier of the last age, has struggled hard to comprise every book of the English Metamorphoses in the same number of verses with the original. Holyday had nothing in view but to show that he understood his author, with so little regard to the grandeur of his diction, or the volubility of his numbers, that his metres can hardly be called verses ; they cannot be read without reluctance, nor will the labour always be rewarded by understanding them. Cowley saw that such copiers were a servile race ; he asserted his liberty, and spread his wings so boldly that he left his authors. It was reserved for Dryden to fix the limits of poetical liberty, and give us just rules and examples of translation. When languages are formed upon different principles, it is impossible that the same modes of expression should always be elegant in both. While they run on together, the closest translation may be considered as the best ; but when they divaricate, each must take its natural course. Where correspondence cannot be obtained, it is necessary to be content with something equivalent. " Translation, therefore,'' says Dryden, " is not so loose as paraphrase, nor so close as metaphrase." All polished languages have different styles ; the concise, the diffuse, the lofty, and the humble. In the proper choice of style consists the resemblance which Dryden principally exacts from the translator. He is to exhibit his author's thoughts in such a dress of diction as the author would have given them, had his language been English : rugged magnificence is not to be softened ; hyperbolical ostentation is not to be repressed ; nor sententious affectation to have its point blunted. A translator is to be like his author ; it is not his business to excel him. The reasonableness of these rules seems sufficient for their vindication ; and the effects produced by observing them were so happy, that I know not whether they were ever opposed LIFE OF DRYDEN. but by Sir Edward Sherburne, a man whose learning was greater than his powers of poetry, and who, being better qualified to give the meaning than the spirit of Seneca, has introduced his version of three tragedies by a defence of close translation. The authority of Horace, which the new translators cited in defence of their practice, he has, by a judicious explana- tion, taken fairly from them ; but reason wants not Horace to support it. Tt seldom happens that all the necessary causes concur to any great effect : will is wanting to power, or power to will, or both are impeded by external obstructions. The exigencies in which Dryden was condemned to pass his life are reasonably supposed to have blasted his genius, to have driven out his works in a state of immaturity, and to have intercepted the full-blown elegance which longer growth would have supplied. Poverty, like other rigid powers, is sometimes too hastily accused. If the excellence of Dryden's works was lessened by his indigence, their number was increased ; and I know not how it will be proved, that if he had written less he would have written better ; or that, indeed, he would have undergone the toil of an author, if he had not been solicited by something more pressing than the love of praise. But, as is said by his Sebastian, " What had been, is unknown ; what is, appears." We know that Dryden's several productions were so many successive expedients for his support ; his plays were therefore often borrowed ; and his poems were almost all occasional. In an occasional performance no height of excellence can be expected from any mind, however fertile in itself, and however stored with acquisitions. He whose work is general and arbitrary has the choice of his matter, and takes that which his inclination and his studies have best qualified him to display and decorate. He is at liberty to delay his publication till he has satisfied his friends and himself, till he has reformed his first thoughts by subsequent examination, and polished away those faults which the precipitance of ardent composition is likely to leave behind it. Virgil is related to have poured out a great number of lines in the morning, and to have passed the day in reducing them to fewer. The occasional poet is circumscribed by the narrowness of his subject. Whatever can happen to man has happened so often that little remains for fancy or invention.. We have been all born ; we have most of us been married ; and so many have died before us, that our deaths can supply but few materials for a poet. In the fate of princes the. public has an interest ; and what happens to them of good or evil, the poets have always considered as business for the Muse. But after so many inauguratory gratulations, nuptial hymns, and funeral dirges, he must be highly favoured by nature, or by fortune, who says anything not said before. Even war and conquest, however splendid, suggest no new images ; the triumphant chariot of a victorious monarch can be decked only with those ornaments that have graced his predecessors. Not only matter but time is wanting. The poem must not be delayed till the occasion is forgotten. The lucky moments of animated imagination cannot be attended ; elegances and illustrations cannot be multiplied by gradual accumulation ; the composition must be de- spatched, while conversation is yet busy, and admiration fresh ; and haste is to be made, lest some other event should lay hold upon mankind. Occasional compositions may however secure to a writer the praise both of learning and facility ; for they cannot be the effect of long study, and must be furnished immediately from the treasures of the mind. The death of Cromwell was the first public event which called forth Dryden's poetical powers. His heroic stanzas have beauties and defects ; the thoughts are vigorous, and, though not always proper, show a mind replete with ideas ; the numbers are smooth ; and the diction, if not altogether correct, is elegant and easy. Davenant was perhaps at this time his favourite author, though Gondibert never appears LIFE OF DRYDEN. to have been popular ; and from Davenant he learned to please his ear with the stanza of four lines alternately rhymed. Dryden very early formed his versification ; there are in this early production no traces of Donne's or Jonson's ruggedness ; but he did not so soon free his mind from the ambition of forced conceits. In his verses on the ^Restoration, he says of the King's exile : — " He, toss'd by Fate — Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, But found his life too true a pilgrimage." And afterwards, to show how virtue and wisdom are increased by adversity, he makes this ; remark : — ■ ; " Well might the ancient poets then confer ! On Night the honour* d name of counsellor, I Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, We light alone in dark afflictions find." i His praise of Monk's dexterity comprises such a cluster of thoughts unallied to one j another, as will not elsewhere be easily found : — j '"Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose t Those real bonds false freedom did impose. I The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scent 1 Did from their stars with joyful wonder lemi, 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 i Smiles to that changed face that wept before \ With easo such fond chimaaras we pursue, I As fancy frames, for fancy to subdue : ! But, when ourselves to action we betake, It shuns the mint like gold that chemists make. How hard was then his task, at once to bo ' What in the body natural we see I Man's Architect distinctly did ordain 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. He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, Would let them 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, While growing pains pronounee the humours crude ; Deaf to complaints, they wait upon the ill, Till some safe crisis authorise their skill." He had not yet learned, indeed he never learned well, to forbear the improper use of mythology. After having rewarded the heathen deities for their care, "With Alga who the sacred altar straws? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes ; A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain ; A ram to you, ye Tempests of the Main." He tells us, in the language of Keligion : — " Prayer storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from thence, As Heaven itself is took by violence." And afterwards mentions one of the most awful passages ©f Sacred History. Other conceits there are too curious to be quite omitted ; as, " For by example most we sinn'd before, And, glass-like, clearness mix'd with frailty bore." LIFE OF DRYDEN. How far he was yet from thinking it necessary to found his sentiments on nature, appears from the extravagance of his fictions and hyperboles : — • " The winds, that never moderation knew, Afraid to "blow too much, too faintly blew ; Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straiten'd lirags. — 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." I know not whether this fancy, however little be its value, was not "borrowed. A French poet read to Malherbe some verses, in which he represents France as moving out of its place to receive the king. " Though this," said Malherbe, " was in my time, I do not remember it." His poem on the Coronation has a more even tenor of thought. Some lines deserve to be quoted : — " You have already quench'd sedition's brand; And zeal, that burn'd it, only warms the land ; The jealous sects that durst not trust their cause, So far from their own will as to the laws, Him for their umpire and their synod take, And their appeal alone to Gsesar make." Here may be found one particle of that old versification, of which, I believe, in all his works, there is not another ; — " Nor is it duty, or our hope alone, Creates that joy, but fall fruition" In the verses to the Lord Chancellor Clarendon, two years afterwards, is a conceit so hopeless at the first view, that few would have attempted it ; and so successfully laboured, that though at last it gives the reader more perplexity than pleasure, and seems hardly worth the study that it costs, yet it must be valued as a proof of a mind at once subtle and comprehensive : — • " 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, 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 disposed, His to enclose, and yours to be enclosed. Nor could another in your room have been, Except an emptiness had come between." The comparison of the Chancellor to the Indies leaves all resemblanoe too far behind it ; — " And as the Indies were not found before Those rich perfumes which from the happy shore The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd, Whose guilty sweetness first their world betray'd : So by your counsels we are brought to view A new and undiscover'd world in you." There is another comparison, for there is little else in the poem, of which, though perhaps it cannot be explained into plain prosaic meaning, the mind perceives enough to be delighted, and readily forgives its obscurity, for its magnificence ;— " How strangely active are the arts of peace, Whose restless motions less than wars do cease ! Peace is not freed from labour, but from noise ; And war more force, but not more pains employs. LIFE OP DRYDEN. 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 throng Of flying orbs while ours is borne along, All seems at rest to the deluded eye, Moved by the soul of the same harmony ; So, carried on by your unwearied care, We rest in peace, and yet in motion share." To this succeed four lines, which perhaps afford Dryden's first attempt at those pene- trating remarks on human nature, for which he seems to have been peculiarly formed : — " Let envy then those crimes within you see, From which the happy never must be free ; Envy, that does with misery reside, The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride." Into this poem he seems to have collected all his powers ; and after this he did not often bring upon his anvil such stubborn and unmalleable thoughts ; but, as a specimen of his abilities to unite the most unsociable matter, he has concluded with lines of which I think not myself obliged to tell the meaning : — " Yet unimpair'd with labours, or with time, Your age but seems to a new youth to climb. . Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget, And measure change, but share no part of it : And still it shall without a weight increase, Like this new year, whose motionB 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, Because the centre of it is above." In the Annus MirabUis he returned to the quatrain, which from that time he totally quitted, perhaps from experience of its inconvenience, for he complains of its difficulty. This is one of his greatest attempts. He had subjects equal to his abilities, a great naval war, and the Fire of London. Battles have always been described in heroic poetry ; but a sea-fight and artillery had yet something of novelty. New arts are long in the world before poets describe them ; for they borrow every thing from their predecessors, and commonly derive very little from nature or from life. Boileau was the first French writer that had ever hazarded in verse the mention of modern war, or the effects of gunpowder. We, who are less afraid of novelty, had already possession of those dreadful images. Waller had described a sea-fight. Milton had not yet transferred the invention of fire-arms to the rebellious angels. This poem is written with great diligence, yet does not fully answer the expectation raised by such subjects and such a writer. With the stanza of Davenant he has sometimes his vein of parenthesis, and incidental disquisition, and stops his narrative for a wise remark. The general fault is, that he affords more sentiment than description, and does not so much impress scenes upon the fancy, as deduce consequences and make comparisons. The initial stanzas have rather too much resemblance to the first lines of Waller's poem on the war with Spain ; perhaps such a beginning is natural, and could not be avoided without affectation. Both Waller and Dryden might take their hint from the poem on the civil war of Rome, " Orbem jam totum," &c. Of the King collecting his navy, he says : — " It seems, as every ship their sovereign knows, His awfiil summons they so soon obey : So hear the scaly herds when Proteus blows, And so to pasture follow through the sea." LIFE OF DRYDEN. It would not be hard to believe that Dryden had -written the two first lines seriously, and that some wag had added the two latter in burlesque. "Who would expect the lines that immediately follow, which are indeed perhaps indecently hyperbolical, but certainly in a mode totally different ? " 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." The description of the attempt at Bergen will afford a very complete specimen of-the descriptions in this poem : — " And now approach'd their fleet from India, fraught "With all the riches of the rising sun : 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 coast they bring : Then first the North's cold bosom spices bore, And winter brooded on the Eastern spring. " By the rich scent we found our perfumed prey, Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in covert He ; 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, 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 vanquish'd by our valour left, And only yielded to the seas and wind." In this manner is the sublime too often mingled with the ridiculous. The Dutch seek a shelter for a wealthy fleet : this surely needed no illustration ; yet they must fly, not like all the rest of mankind on the same occasion, but " like hunted castors ; " and they might with strict propriety be hunted, for we winded them by our noses — their perfumes betrayed them. The husband and the lover, though of more dignity than the castor, are images too domestic to mingle properly with the horrors of war. The two quatrains that follow are worthy of the author. The account of the different sensations with which the two fleets retired, when the night parted them, is one of the fairest flowers of English poetry : — " The night comes on, we eager to pursue The combat still, and they ashamed to leave ; 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, And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame. " Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretch'd on their decks, like weary oxen lie ; Faint sweats all down their mighty members run ; Vast bulks, which little souls but ill supply. LIFE OP DEYDEN. " In 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." It is a general rule in poetry, that all appropriated terms of art should be sunk in general expressions, because poetry is to speak an universal language. This rule is still stronger with regard to arts not liberal, or confined to few, and therefore far removed from common knowledge ; and of this kind, certainly, is technical navigation. Yet Dryden was of opinion, that a sea-fight ought to be described in the nautical language ; " and certainly, " says he, "as those, who in a logical disputation keep to general terms, would hide a fallacy, so those who do it in poetical description would veil their ignorance." Let us then appeal to experience ; for by experience at last we learn as well what will please as what will profit. In the battle his terms seem to have been blown away ; but he deals them liberally in the dock : — " So here some pick out bullets from the side, Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift : Their left hand does the calking-iron guide, The rattling mallet with the right they lift. " With boiling pitch another near at hand, From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops ; Which, well laid o'er, the salt-sea waves withstand, And shake them from the rising beak in drops. " Some the galVd ropes with dawby marling bind, Or cere-cloth masts with strong tarpawling coats ; To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, And one below their ease or stiffness notes." I suppose there is not one term which every reader does not wish away. His digression to the original and progress of navigation, with his prospect of the advancement which it shall receive from the Eoyal Society, then newly instituted, may be considered as an example seldom equalled of seasonable excursion and artful return. One line, however, leaves me discontented ; he says, that, by the help of the philo- sophers, " Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce, By which rcmoteBt regions are allied." — Which he is constrained to explain in a note " by a more exact measure of longitude." It had better become Dryden's learning and genius to have laboured science into poetry, and have shown, by explaining longitude, that verse did not refuse the ideas of philosophy. His description of the Fire is painted by resolute meditation, out of a mind better formed to reason than to feel. The conflagration of a city, with all its tumults of concomitant distress, is one of the most dreadful spectacles which this world can offer to human eyes ; yet it seems to raise little emotion in the breast of the poet ; he watches the flame coolly from street to street, with now a reflection, and now a simile, till at last he meets the King, for whom he makes a speech, rather tedious in a time so busy ; and then follows again the progress of the fire. There are, however, in this part some passages that deserve attention ; as in the beginning : — " 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. " In this deep quiet " The expression " All was the night's " is taken from Seneca, who remarks on Virgil's line, " Omnia noctis erant, placida composta quiete," that he might have concluded better, " Omnia noctis erant." xl LIFE OF DRYDEKT. The following quatrain is vigorous and animated :— " The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fanatick spectres to rejoice ; About the fire into a dance they bend, And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice." His prediction of the improvements which shall be made in the new city is elegant and poetical, and with an event which poets cannot always boast has been happily verified. The poem concludes with a simile that might have better been omitted. Dryden, when he wrote this poem, seems not yet fully to have formed his versification, or settled his system of propriety. From this time he addicted himself almost wholly to the stage, " to which," says he, " my genius never much inclined me,'' merely as the most profitable market for poetry. By writing tragedies in rhyme, he continued to improve his diction and his numbers. According to the opinion of Harte, who had studied his works with great attention, he settled his principles of versification in 1676, when he produced the play of Aureng Zebe ; and accord- ing to his own account of the short time in which he wrote Tyrannic Love, and the State of Innocence, he soon obtained the full effect of diligence, and added facility to exactness. 'Rhyme has been so long banished from the theatre, that we know not its effects upon the passions of an audience ; but it has this convenience, that sentences stand more independent on each other, and striking passages are therefore easily selected and retained. Thus the description of Night in the Indian Emperor, and the rise and fall of empire in the Conquest of Granada, are more frequently repeated than any lines in All for Love, or Bon Sebastian. To search his plays for vigorous sallies and sententious elegances, or to fix the dates of any little pieces which he wrote by chance or by solicitation, were labour too tedious and minute. His dramatic labours did not so wholly absorb his thoughts, but that he promulgated the laws of translation in a preface to the English Epistles of Ovid ; one of which he translated himself, and another in conjunction with the Earl of Mulgrave. Absalom and Achitophel is a work so well known, that particular criticism is superfluous. If it be considered as a poem political and controversial, it will be found to comprise all the excellences of which the subject is susceptible ; acrimony of censure, elegance of praise, artful delineation of characters, variety and vigour of sentiment, happy turns of language, and pleasing harmony of numbers ; and all these raised to such a height as can scarcely be found in any other English composition. It is not, however, without faults ; some lines are inelegant and improper, and too many are irreligiously licentious. The original structure of the poem was defective ; allegories drawn to great length will always break ; Charles could not run continually parallel with David. The subject had likewise another inconvenience : it admitted little imagery or descrip- tion ; and a long poem of mere sentiments easily becomes tedious ; though all the parts are forcible, and every line kindles new rapture, the reader, if not relieved by the interposition of something that sooths the fancy, grows weary of admiration, and defers the rest. As an approach to the historical truth was necessary, the action and catastrophe were not in the poet's power ; there is therefore an unpleasing disproportion between the beginning and the end. We are alarmed by a faction formed of many sects, various in their principles, but agreeing in their purpose of mischief, formidable for their numbers, and strong by their supports ; while the King's friends are few and weak. The chiefs on either part are set forth to view : but when expectation is at the height, the King makes a speech, and — " Henceforth a series of new times began." Who can forbear to think of an enchanted castle, with a wide moat and lofty battlements, LIFE OF DKTDEN. xli ■walls of marble and gates of brass, which vanishes at once into air, when the destined knight blows his horn before it ? In the second part, written by Tate, there is a long insertion, which, for its poignancy of satire, exceeds any part of the former. Personal resentment, though no laudable motive to satire, can add great force to general principles. Self-love is a busy prompter. The Medal, written upon the same principles with Absalom and Achitophel, but upon a narrower plan, gives less pleasure, though it discovers equal abilities in the writer. The superstructure cannot extend beyond the foundation ; a single character or incident cannot furnish as many ideas, as a series of events, or multiplicity of agents. This poem, therefore, since time has left it to itself, is not much read, nor perhaps generally understood ; yet it abounds with touches both of humorous and serious satire. The picture of a man whose propensions to mischief are such, that his best actions are but inability of wickedness, is very skilfully delineated and strongly coloured : — " Power was Mb aim ; but, thrown from that pretence, The wretch turn'd loyal in his own defence, And malice reconciled him to his prince. Him, in the anguish of his soul he served : Rewarded faster still than he deserved. Behold him now exalted into trust ; His counsels oft convenient, seldom just; Ev'n in the most sincere advice he gave, He had a grudging still to be a knave. The frauds he learn'd in his fanatick years, Made him uneasy in his lawful gears, At least as little honest as he could, And like white witches, mischievously good. To this first bias, longingly, he leans, And rather would be great by wicked means." The Threnodia, which, by a term I am afraid neither authorised nor analogical, he calls Augwtalis, is not among his happiest productions. Its first and obvious defect is the irregularity of its metre, to which the ears of that age, however, were accustomed. What is worse, it has neither tenderness nor dignity; it is neither magnificent nor pathetic. He seems to look round him for images which he cannot find, and what he has he distorts by endeavouring to enlarge them. "He is," he says, "petrified with grief;" but the marble sometimes relents, and trickles in a joke. " The sons of art all med'cines tried, And eveiy noble remedy applied ; With emulation each essay'd His utmost skill; nay, more, they pray' d; Was never losing game with better conduct play'd." He had been a little inclined to merriment before, upon the prayers of a nation for their dying sovereign ; nor was he serious enough to keep Heathen fables out of his religion : — "" With him the innumerable crowd of armed prayers Knock'd at the gates of heaven, and knock'd aloud ; The first well-meaning rude petitioners All for his life assail'd the throne, All would have bribed the skies by offering up their own. So great a throng not heaven itself could bar ; 'Twas almost borne by force as in the giants' war. The pray"rs, at least, for his reprieve, were heard ; His death, like Hezekiah's, was deferred ." There is throughout the composition a desire of splendour without wealth. In the conclusion he seems too much pleased with the prospect of the new reign to have lamented his old master with much sincerity. He did not miscarry in this attempt for want of skill either in lyric or elegiac poetry. His poem on the death of Mrs. EiUegrew is undoubtedly the noblest ode that our language ever xlii LIFE OF DRYDEff. has produced. The first part flows with a torrent of enthusiasm. u Fervet immensusque rait." All the stanzas indeed are not equal. An imperial crown cannot be one continued diamond ; the gems must be held together by some less valuable matter. In his first ode for Cecilia's day, which is lost in the splendour of the second, there are passages which would have dignified any other poet. The first stanza is vigorous and elegant, though the word diapason is too technical, and the rhymes are too remote from one another. " From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began ; "When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, ' Arise, ye more than dead.' Then cold and hot, and moist and dry, In order to their stations leap, And Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began. From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man." The conclusion is likewise striking ; but it includes an image so awful in itself, that it can owe little to poetry ; and I could wish the antithesis of music imtuning had found some other place. " As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the bless'd above : " So, when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall,untune the sky." Of his skill in elegy he has given a specimen in his Eleonora, of which the following lines discover their author : — " Though all these rare endowments of the mind Were in a narrow space of life confined, The figure was with full perfection crown'd, Though not so large an orb, as truly round : As when in glory, through the public place, The spoils of conquer*d nations were to pass, And but one day for triumph was allow'd, The consul was constrain'd his pomp to crowd ; And so the swift procession hurried on, That all, though not distinctly, might be shown ; So, in the straiten'd bounds of life confined, She gave but glimpses of her glorious mind; And multitudes of virtues pass'd along, Each pressing foremost in the mighty throng, Ambitious to be seen, and then make room For greater multitudes that were to come. Yet unemploy*d no minute slipp'd away ; Moments were precious in so short a stay. The haste of Heaven to have her was so great, That some were single acts, though each complete ; And eveiy act stood ready to repeat." This piece, however, is not without its faults : there is so much likeness in the initial comparison, that there is no illustration. As a king would be lamented, Eleonora was lamented : — " As, when some great and gracious monarch dies, Soft whispers, first, and mournful murmurs, rise Among the sad attendants ; then the sound Soon gathers voice, and spreads the news around, Through town and country, till the dreadful blast Is blown to distant colonies at last, LIFE OF DRYDEN. xliii Who then, perhaps, were offering vows in vain, For his long life, and for his happy reign ; So slowly, by degrees, unwilling Fame Did matchless Eleonora's fate proclaim, Till public as the loss the news became." This is little better than to say in praise of a shrub, that it is as green as a tree ; or of a brook, that it waters a garden, as a river waters a country. Dryden confesses that he did not know the lady whom he celebrates : the praise being therefore inevitably general, fixes no impression upon the reader, nor excites any tendency to love, nor much desire of imitation. Knowledge of the subject is to the poet what durable materials are to the architect. The Rdigio Laid, which borrows its title from the Religio Medici of Browne, is almost the only work of Dryden which can be considered as a voluntary effusion : in this, therefore, it might be hoped, that the full effulgence of his genius would be found. But unhappily the subject is rather argumentative than poetical ; he intended only a specimen of metrical disputation : — " And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose, As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose." This, however, is a composition of great excellence in its kind, in which the familiar is very properly diversified with the solemn, and the grave with the humorous ; in which metre has neither weakened the force, nor clouded the perspicuity of argument ; nor will it be easy to find another example equally happy of this middle kind of writing, which, though prosaic in some parts, rises to high poetry in others, and neither towers to the skies, nor creeps along the ground. Of the same kind, or not far distant from it, is the Hind and Panther, the longest of all Dryden's original poems ; an allegory intended to comprise and to decide the controversy between the Bomanists and Protestants. The scheme of the work is injudicious and incom- modious ; for what can be more absurd than that one beast should counsel another to rest her faith upon a pope and council ? He seems well enough skilled in the usual topics of argument, endeavours to show the necessity of an infallible judge, and reproaches the Beformers with want of unity ; but is weak enough to ask, why, since we see without knowing how, we may not have an infallible judge without knowing where 1 The Hind at one time is afraid to drink at the common brook, because she may be worried ; but, walking home with the Panther, talks by the way of the Nicene Fathers, and at last declares herself to be the Catholic Church. This absurdity was very properly ridiculed in the City Mouse and Country Mouse of Montague and Prior ; and in the detection and censure of the incongruity of the fiction chiefly consists the value of their performance, which, whatever reputation it might obtain by the help of temporary passions, seems, to readers almost a century distant, not very forcible or animated. Pope, whose judgment was perhaps a little bribed by the subject, used to mention this poem as the most correct specimen of Dryden's versification. It was indeed written when he had completely formed his manner, and may be supposed to exhibit, negligence excepted, his deliberate and ultimate scheme of metre. "We may therefore reasonably infer, that he did not approve the perpetual uniformity which confines the sense to couplets, since he has broken his lines in the initial paragraph. " A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, Fed on (he lawns, and in the forest ranged ; Without unspotted, innocent within, She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin. Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds, And Scythian shafts, and many winged wounds Aim'd at her heart ; was often forced to fly, And doom'd to death, though fated not to die." xliv LIFE OP DRYDEN. These lines are lofty, elegant, and musical, notwithstanding the interruption of the pause, of which the effect is rather increase of pleasure by variety, than offence by ruggedness. To the first part it was his intention, he says, "to give the majestic turn of heroic poesy ;" and perhaps he might have executed his design not unsuccessfully, had not an opportunity of satire, which he cannot forbear, fallen sometimes in his way. The character of a Presby- terian, whose emblem is the Wolf, is not very heroically majestic : — u More haughty than the rest, the "wolfish race Appear with belly gaunt and famish'd face ; Never was so deform'd a beast of grace. His ragged tail betwixt his legs he wears, Close clapp'd for shame ; but his rough crest he rears, And pricks up his predestinating ears." His general character of the other sorts of beasts that never go to church, though sprightly and keen,, has, however, not much of heroic poesy ; — " These are the chief; to number o'er the rest^ And stand like Adam, naming every beast, Were weary work ; nor will the Muse describe A slimy-born, and sun-begotten tribe, Who, far from steeples and their sacred sound, In fields their sullen conventicles found. These gross, half-animated lumps I leave ; Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive ; But, if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher Than matter, put in motion, may aspire ; Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay, So drossy, so divisible are they, As would but serve pure bodies for allay ; Such souls as shards produce, such beetle tilings As only buzz to heaven with evening wings ; Strike in the dark, offending but by chance : Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance. They know no being, and hut hate a name ; To them the Hind and Panther are the same." One more instance, and that taken from the narrative part, where style was more in his choice, will show how steadily he kept his resolution of heroic dignity. " For when the herd, sufficed, did late repair To ferny heaths and to their forest lair, She made a mannerly excuse to stay, Proffering the Hind to wait her half the way ; That, since the sky was clear, an hour of talk Might help her to beguile the tedious walk. "With much good-will the motion was embraced, To chat awhile on their adventures past ; Nor had the grateful Hind so soon forgot Her friend and fellow-sufferer in the plot. Yet, wondering how of la?e she grew estranged, Her forehead cloudy and her countenance changed, She thought this hour th' occasion would present To learn her secret cause of discontent, Which well she hoped might be with ease redress'd, Considering her a well-bred, civil beast, And more a gentlewoman than the rest. After some common talk what rumours ran, The lady of the spotted muff began." The second and third parts he professes to have reduced to diction more familiar and more suitable to dispute and conversation ; the difference is not, however, very easily perceived ; the first has familiar, and the two others have sonorous, lines. The original incongruity runs through the whole ; the king is now Ccesar, and now the Lion ; and the name Pan is given to the Supreme Being. But when this constitutional absurdity is forgiven, the poem must be confessed to be written with great smoothness of metre, a wide extent of knowledge, and an abundant LIFE OF DRYDEN. xlv multiplicity of images ; the controversy is embellished with pointed sentences, diversified by illustrations, and enlivened by sallies of invective. Some of the facts to which allusions are made are now become obscure, and perhaps there may be many satirical passages little understood. As it was by its nature a work of defiance, a composition which would naturally be examined with the utmost acrimony of criticism, it was probably laboured with uncommon attention, and there are, indeed, few negligences in the subordinate parts. The original impropriety, and the subsequent unpopularity of the subject, added to the ridiculousness of its first elements, has sunk it into neglect ; but it may be usefully studied, as an example of poetical ratiocination, in which the argument suffers little from the metre. In the poem on the Birth of the Prince of Wales, nothing is very remarkable but the exorbitant 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. A few months cured him of controversy, dismissed him from court, and made him again a play- wright and translator. Of Juvenal there had been a translation by Stapylton, and another by Holyday ; neither of them is very poetical. Stapylton is more smooth ; and Holyday's is more esteemed for the learning of his notes. A new version was proposed to the poets of that time, and under- taken by them in conjunction. The main design was conducted by Dryden, whose reputa- tion was such that no man was unwilling to serve the Muses under him. The general character of this translation will be given, when it is said to preserve the wit, but to want the dignity, of the original. The peculiarity of Juvenal is a mixture of gaiety and stateliness, of pointed sentences and declamatory grandeur. His points have not been neglected ; but his grandeur none of the band seemed to consider as necessary to be imitated, except Creech, who undertook the thirteenth satire. It is therefore perhaps possible to give a better representation of that great satirist, even in those parts which Dryden himself has translated, some passages excepted, which will never be excelled. With Juvenal was published Persius, translated wholly by Dryden. This work, though, like all other productions of Dryden, it may have shining parts, seems to have been written merely for wages, in an uniform mediocrity, without any eager endeavour after excellence, or laborious effort of the mind. There wanders an opinion among the readers of poetry, that one of these satires is an exercise of the school. Dryden says, that he once translated it at school ; but not that he preserved or published the juvenile performance. Not long afterwards he undertook perhaps the most arduous work of its kind, a translation of Virgil, for which he had shown how well he was qualified by his version of the Pollio, and two episodes, one of Nisus and Euryalus, the other of Mezentius and Lausus. In the comparison of Homer and Virgil, the discriminative excellence of Homer is eleva- tion and comprehension of thought, and that of Virgil is grace and splendour of diction. The beauties of Homer are therefore difficult to be lost, and those of Virgil difficult to be retained. The massy trunk of sentiment is safe by its solidity, but the blossoms of elocution easily drop away. The author, having the choice of his own images, selects those which he can best adorn ; the translator must, at all hazards, follow his original, and express thoughts which perhaps he would not have chosen. "When to this primary difficulty is added the inconvenience of a language so much inferior in harmony to the Latin, it cannot be expected that they who read the Georgics and the .^Eneid should be much delighted with any version. All these obstacles Dryden saw, and all these he determined to encounter. The expecta- tion 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 arguments of the several books were given h i m by Addison. The hopes of the public were not disappointed. He produced, says Pope, " the most noble and spirited translation that I know in any language." It certainly excelled whatever xlvi LIFE OF DRYDEN. had appeared in English, and appears to have satisfied his friends, and, for the most part, to have silenced his enemies. Milbourne, indeed, a clergyman, attacked it ; but his outrages seem to be the ebullitions of a mind agitated by stronger resentment than bad poetry can excite, and previously resolved not to be pleased. His criticism extends only to the Preface, Pastorals, and Georgics ; and, as he professes to give his antagonist an opportunity of reprisal, he has added his own version of the first and fourth Pastorals, and the first Georgia The world has forgotten his book ; but, since his attempt has given him a place in literary history, I will preserve a specimen of his criticism, by inserting his remarks on the invocation before the first Georgic, and of Ms poetry, by annexing his own version : Ver. 1. " What makes a plenteous harvest, when to turn The fruitful soil, and when to sow the corn. It's unlucky, they say, to stumble at the threshold; but what has a plenteous harvest to do here? Virgil would not pretend to prescribe rules for that which depends not on the husbandman's care, but the disposition of Heaven altogether. Indeed, the plenteous crop depends somewhat on the good method of tillage ; and where the land 's ill manur'd, the com, without a miracle, can be but indifferent; but the harvest may be good, which is its properest epithet, tho' the husbandman's skill were never so indifferent. The next sentence is too literal, and when to plough had been Virgil's meaning, and intelligible to every body ; and when to sow the corn, is a needless addition." Ver. 3. " The care of sheep, of oxen, and of kine, And when to geld the lambs, and sheer the swine, would as well have fallen under the cura bourn, qui cvMus habendo sit pecori, as Mr. D.'s deduction of particulars." Ver. 5. " The birth and genius of the frugal bee I sing, Mascenas, and I sing to thee. But where did experientia ever signify birth and genius ? or what ground was there for such a, figure in this place ? How much more manly is Mr. Ogylby's version 1 — 1 What makes rich grounds, in what celestial signs 'Tis good to plough, and marry elms with vines : What best fits cattle, what with sheep agrees, And several arts improving frugal bees ; I sing, Maecenas.' Which four lines, tho' faulty enough, are yet much more to the purpose than Mr. D.'s six." Ver. 22. " From fields and mountains to my song repair. For patrium linquens nemus, saltusque Lyccei — Very well explained ! " Ver. 23, 24. " Inventor Pallas, of the fattening oil, Thou founder of the plough, and ploughman's toil! Written as if these had been Pallas' s invention. The ploughman's toil 's impertinent." Ver. 25. " The shroud-like cypress - Why shroud-like ? Is a cypress, pulled up by the roots, which the sculpture in the last Eclogue fills Silvanus's hand with, so very like a shroud ? Or did not Mr. D. think of that kind of cypress us'd often for scarves and hatbands at funerals formerly, or for widows' vails, &c. 1 if so, 'twas a deep, good thought." LIFE OF DRYDEN. xlvii Ver. 26. " That wear The royal honours, and increase the year. What's meant by increasing the year ? Did the gods or goddesses add more months, or days, or hows to it ? Or how can arva tueri signify, to wear rural honours ? Is this to translate, or abuse an author ? The next couplet is borrowed from Ogylby, I suppose, because less to the purpose than ordinary." Ver. 33. " The patron of the world, and Rome's peculiar guard. Idle, and none of Virgil's, no more than the sense of the precedent couplet ; so again, he interpolates Virgil with that and the round circle of the year to guide powerful of blessings, which thou strew 1 st around; » ridiculous Latinism, and an impertinent addition; indeed the whole period is but one piece of absurdity and nonsense, as those who lay it with the original must find." Ver. 42, 43. " And Neptune shall resign the fasces of the sea. Was he consul or dictator there 1 " " And watery virgins for thy hed shall strive. Both absurd interpolations." Ver. 47, 48. " Where in the void of heaven a place is free. Ah happy D n, were that place for thee I But where is thai void ? Or, what does our translator mean by it ? He knows what Ovid says God did to prevent such a void in heaven ; perhaps this was then forgotten ; but Virgil talks more sensibly." Ver. 49. " The scorpion ready to receive thy laws. No, he would not then have gotten out of his way so fast." Ver. 56. " Though Proserpine affects her silent seat. What made her then so angry with Ascalaphus, for preventing her return 1 She was now mused to Patience under the determinations of Fate, rather than fond of her residence." Ver. 61, 62, 63. " Pity the poet's and the ploughman's cares, Interest thy greatness in our mean affairs, And use thyself betimes to hear our prayers. Which is such a wretched perversion of Virgil's noble thought as Vicars would have blushed at ; but Mr. Ogylby makes us some amends by his better lines : — 1 wheresoe'er thou art, from thence incline, And grant assistance to my bold design 1 Pity, with me, poor husbandmen's affairs, And now, as if translated, hear our prayers.' This is sense, and to the purpose ; the other, poor mistaken stuff." Such were the strictures of Milbourne, who found few abettors, and of whom it may be reasonably imagined, that many who favoured his design were ashamed of his insolence. When admiration had subsided, the translation was more coolly examined, and found, like all others, to be sometimes erroneous, and sometimes licentious. Those who could find faults, thought they could avoid them ; and Dr. Brady attempted in blank verse a xlviii LIFE OP DRYDEN. translation of the JExudd, which, when dragged into the world, did not live long enough to cry. I have never seen it ; but that such a version there is, or has been, perhaps some old catalogue informed me. With not much better success, Trapp, when his Tragedy and his Prelections had given him reputation, attempted another blank version of the iEneid ; to which, notwithstanding the slight regard with which it was treated, he had afterwards perseverance enough to add the Eclogues and Georgics. His book may continue in existence as long as it is the clandestine refuge of schoolboys. Since the English ear has been accustomed to the mellifluence of Pope's numbers, and the diction of poetry has become more splendid, new attempts have been made to translate Virgil : and all his works have been attempted by men better qualified to contend with Dryden. I will not engage myself in an invidious comparison, by opposing one passage to another ; a work of which there would be no end, and which might be often offensive without use. It is not by comparing line with line that the merit of great works is to be estimated, but by their general effects and ultimate result. It is easy to note a weak line, and write one more vigorous in its place ; to find a happiness of expression in the original, and transplant it by force into the version : but what is given to the parts may be subducted from the whole, and the reader may be weary, though the critic may commend. Works of imagination excel by their allurement and delight ; by their power of attracting and detaining the attention. That book is good in vain, 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 proportion of this predomination I will consent that Dryden should be tried : of this, which, in opposition to reason, makes Ariosto the darling and the pride of Italy ; of this, which, in defiance of criticism, continues Shakspeare the sovereign of the drama. His last work was his Fables, in which he gave us the first example of a mode of writing which the Italians call rifacimento, a renovation of ancient writers, by modernising their language. Thus the old poem of Boiardo has been newly-dressed by Domenichi and Berni. The works of Chaucer, upon which this kind of rejuvenescence has been bestowed by Dryden, require little criticism. The tale of the Cock seems hardly worth revival ; and the story of Palamon and Arcite, containing an action unsuitable to the times in which it is placed, can hardly be suffered to pass without censure of the hyperbolical commendation which Dryden has given it in the general Preface, and in a poetical Dedication, a piece where his original fondness of remote conceits seems to have revived. Of the three pieces borrowed from Boecace, Sigismunda may be defended by the celebrity of the story. Theodore and Honoria, though it contains not much moral, yet afforded opportunities of striking description. And Cymon was formerly a tale of such reputation, that at the revival of letters it was translated into Latin by one of the Beroalds. Whatever subjects employed his pen he was still improving our measures, and embellish- ing our language. In this volume are interspersed some short original poems, which, with his prologues, epilogues, and songs, may be comprised in Congreve's remark, that even those, if he had written nothing else, would have entitled him to the praise of excellence in his kind. One composition must however be distinguished. The ode for St. Cecilia's Day, perhaps the last effort of his poetry, has been always considered as exhibiting the highest flight of fancy, and the exactest nicety of art. This is allowed to stand without a rival. If indeed there is any excellence beyond it, in some other of Dryden's works that excellence must be found. Compared with the ode on KiUigrew, it may be pronounced perhaps superior in the whole, but without any single part equal to the first stanza of the other. It is said to have cost Dryden a fortnight's labour ; but it does not want its negligences ; LIFE OF DRYDEKT. xlis some of the lines are without correspondent rhymes ; a defect which I never detected but after an acquaintance of many years, and which the enthusiasm of the writer might hinder him from perceiving. His last stanza has less emotion than the former ; but it is not less elegant in the diction. The conclusion is vicious ; the music of Timotheus, which raised a mortal to the skies, had only a metaphorical power ; that of Cecilia, which drew an angel down, had a real effect : the crown therefore could not reasonably be divided. In a general survey of Dryden's labours, he appears to have a mind very comprehensive 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 produced sentiments not such as nature enforces, but meditation supplies. With the simple and elemental passions, as they spring separate in the mind, he seems not much acquainted ; and seldom describes them but as they are complicated by the various relations of society, and confused in the tumults and agitations of life. What he says of Love may contribute to the explanation of his character : — " Love various minds does variously inspire: It stirs in gentle bosoms gentle fire, Like that of incense on the altar laid ; But raging flames tempestuous souls invade; A fire which every windy passion blows, With pride it mountB, or with revenge it glows." Dryden's was not one of the gentle bosoms ; Love, as it subsists in itself, with no tendency but to the person loved, and wishing only for correspondent kindness ; such Love as shuts out all other interest, the Love of the Golden Age, was too soft and subtle to put his faculties in motion. He hardly conceived it but in its turbulent effervescence with some other desires ; when it was inflamed by rivalry, or obstructed by difficulties ; when it invigorated ambition, or exasperated revenge. He is therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often pathetic ; and had so little sensibility of the power of effusions purely natural, that he did not esteem them in others. Simplicity gave him no pleasure ; and for the first part of his life he looked on Otway with contempt, though at last, indeed very late, he confessed that in his play there was Nature, which is the chief beauty. We do not always know our own motives. I am not certain whether it was not rather the difficulty which he found in exhibiting the genuine operations of the heart, than a servile submission to an injudicious audience, that filled his plays with false magnificence. It was necessary to fix attention ; and the mind can be captivated only by recollection, or by curiosity ; by reviving natural sentiments, or impressing new appearances of things ; sentences were readier at his call than images ; he could more easily fill the ear with splendid novelty, than awaken those ideas that slumber in the heart. The favourite exercise of his mind was ratiocination ; and, that argument might not be too soon at an end, he delighted to talk of liberty and necessity, destiny and contingence ; these he discusses in the language of the school with so much profundity, that the terms which he uses are not always understood. It is indeed learning, but learning out of place. When once he had engaged himself in disputation, thoughts flowed in on either side : he was now no longer at a loss ; he had always objections and solutions at command ; " verbaque pro- visam rem" — gave him matter for his verse, and he finds without difficulty verse for his matter. In Comedy, for which he professes himself not naturally qualified, the mirth which he excites will perhaps not be found so much to arise from any original humour, or peculiarity of character nicely distinguished and diligently pursued, as from incidents and circumstances, artifices and surprises ; from jests of action rather than of sentiment. What he had of 1 LIFE OF DRYDEN. humorous or passionate, he seems to have had not from nature, but from other poets ; if not always as a plagiary at least as an imitator. Next to argument, his delight was in wild and daring sallies of sentiment, in the irregular and eccentric violence of wit. He delighted to tread upon the brink of meaning, where light and darkness begin to mingle ; to approach the precipice of absurdity, and hover over the abyss of unideal vacancy. This inclination sometimes produced nonsense, which he knew ; as, " Move swiftly, Sun, and fly a lover's pace, Leave -weeks and months behind thee in thy race. Amamel flies To guard thee from the demons of the air; My flaming sword ahove them to display, All keen, and ground upon the edge of day " And sometimes it issued in absurdities, of which perhaps he was not conscious : — " Then we upon our orb's last verge shall go, And see the ocean leaning on the sky ; From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry." These lines have no meaning ; but may we not say, in imitation of Cowley on another book, " 'Tis so like sense 'twill serve the turn as well? " This endeavour after the grand and the new produced niany sentiments either great or bulky, and many images either just or splendid : — " I am as free as Nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran. " — 'Tis but because the Living death ne'er knew, They fear to prove it as a thing that 's new : Let me th' experiment before you try, I'll show you first how easy 'tis to die. " —There with a forest of their darts he strove, And stood like Gapaneue defying Jove, With his broad sword the boldest beating down, While Fate grew pale lest be should win the town, And turn'd the iron leaves of his dark book To make new dooms, or mend what it mistook. " —I beg no pity for this mouldering clay ; For if yon give it burial, there it takes Possession of your earth : If burnt, and scatter'd in the air, the winds That strew my dust diffuse my royalty, And spread me o'er your clime, for where one atom Of mine shall light, know there Sebastian reigns." Of these quotations the two first may be allowed to be great, the two latter only tumid. Of such selection there is no end. I will add only a few more passages ; of which the first, though it may perhaps be quite clear in prose, is not too obscure for poetry, as the meaning that it has is noble :— " No, there is a necessity in Fate, Why still the brave bold man is fortunate ; He keeps his object ever full in sight ; And that assurance holds him firm and right ; True, 'tis a narrow way that leads to bliss, But right before there is no precipice ; Fear makes men look aside, and so their footing miss." Of the images which the two following citations afford, the first is elegant, the second magnificent ; whether either be just, let the reader judge : — LIFE OP DRYDEN. " What precious drops are these, Which silently each other's track pursue, Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew ? " - Resign your castle > — Enter, brave Sir ; for, when you speak the word, The gates shall open of their own accord ; The genius of the place its Lord shall meet, And bow itB towery forehead at your feet." These bursts of extravagance Dryden calls the " Dalilahs " of the Theatre ; and owns that many noisy lines of Maximin and Almanzor call out for vengeance upon him ; " but I knew," says he, "that they were bad enough to please, even when I wrote them." There is surely reason to suspect that he pleased himself as well as his audience ; and that these, like the harlots of other men, had his love, though not his approbation. He had sometimes faults of a less generous and splendid kind. He makes, like almost all other poets, very frequent use of mythology, and sometimes connects religion and fable too closely without distinction. He descends to display his knowledge with pedantic ostentation ; as when, in translating Virgil, he says, " tack to the larboard " — and " veer starboard ; " and talks in another work, of " virtue spooning before the wind." — His vanity now and then betrays his ignorance : — " They Nature's king through Nature's optics view'd ; Reversed, they view'd him lessen'd to their eyes." He had heard of reversing a telescope, and unluckily reverses the object. He is sometimes unexpectedly mean. When he describes the Supreme Being as moved by prayer to stop the Fire of London, what is his expression 1 " A hollow crystal pyramid he takes, In lin 1 1 ;i 1 1 1< ■ - 1 1 ;> l waters dipp'd above, Of this a broad extinguisher he makes, And hoods the names that to their quarry strove." When he describes the Last Day, and the decisive tribunal, he intermingles this image : — " When rattling bones together fly, From the four quarters of the sky." It was indeed never in his power to resist the temptation of a jest. In his Elegy on Cromwell : — " No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embraced, Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd ; His fortune turn'd the scale " He had a vanity, unworthy of his abilities, to show, as may be suspected, the rank of the company with whom he lived, by the use of French words, which had then crept into conversation ; such as fraicheur for coolness, fougue for turbulence, and a few more, none of which the language has incorporated or retained. They continue only where they stood first, perpetual warnings to future innovators. These are his faults of affectation ; his faults of negligence are beyond recital. Such is the unevenness of his compositions, that ten lines are seldom found together without some- thing of which the reader is ashamed. Dryden was no rigid judge of his own pages ; he seldom struggled after supreme excellence, but snatched in haste what was within his reach ; and when he could content others, was himself contented. He did not keep present to his mind an idea of pure perfection ; nor compare his works, such as they were, with what they might be made. He knew to whom he should be opposed. He had more music than Waller, more vigour than Denham, and more nature than Cowley ; and from his contemporaries he was in no danger. Standing therefore in the highest place, he had no care to rise by contending with himself ; but, while there was no name above his own, was willing to enjoy fame on the easiest terms. e2 lii LIFE OF DRYDEN. He was no lover of labour. What he thought sufficient, he did not stop to make better ; and allowed himself to leave many parts unfinished, in confidence that the good lines would overbalance the bad. What he had once written, he dismissed from his thoughts ; and I believe there is no example to be found of any correction or improvement made by him after publication. The hastiness of his productions might be the effect of necessity ; but his subsequent neglect could hardly have any other cause than impatience of study. What can be said of his versification will be little more than a dilatation of the praise given it by Pope : — " Waller was smooth ; bat Dryden taught to join The varying verse, the full resounding line, The long majestic march, and energy divine." Some improvements had been already made in English numbers ; but the full force of our language was not yet felt ; the verse that was smooth was commonly feeble. If Cowley had sometimes a finished line, he had it by chance. Dryden knew how to choose the flowing and the sonorous words ; to vary the pauses, and adjust the accents ; to diversify the cadence, and yet preserve the smoothness of his metre. Of Triplets and Alexandrines, though he did not introduce the use, he established it. The Triplet has long subsisted among us. Dryden seems not to have traced it higher than to Chapman's Homer ; but it is to be found in Phaer's Virgil, written in the reign of Mary ; and in Hall's Satires, published five years before the death of Elizabeth. The Alexandrine was, I believe, first used by Spenser, for the sake of closing his stanza with a fuller sound. We had a longer measure of fourteen syllables, into which the iEneid was translated by Phaer, and other works of the ancients by other writers ; of which Chapman's Iliad was, I believe, the last. The two first lines of Phaer's third ^Eneid will exemplify this measure : — " When Asia's state was overthrown, and Priam's kingdom stout, All guiltless, by the power of gods above was rooted out." As these lines had their break, or caesura, always at the eighth syllable, it was thought in time commodious to divide them ; and quatrains of lines, alternately consisting of eight and six syllables, make the most soft and pleasing of our lyric measures ; as, " Relentless Time, destroying power, Which stone and brass obey, Who giv'st to ev'ry flying hour To work some new decay." In the Alexandrine, when its power was once felt, some poems, as Drayton's PolyoUrion, were wholly written ; and sometimes the measures of twelve and fourteen syllables -were interchanged with one another. Cowley was the first that inserted the Alexandrine at pleasure among the heroic lines of ten syllables, and from him Dryden professes to have adopted it. The Triplet and Alexandrine are not universally approved. Swift always censured them, and wrote some lines to ridicule them. In examining their propriety, it is to be considered that the essence of verse is regularity, and its ornament is variety. To write verse, is to dispose syllables and sounds harmonically by some known and settled rule : a rule however lax enough to substitute similitude for identity, to admit change without breach of order, and to relieve the ear without disappointing it. Thus a Latin hexameter is formed from dactyls and spondees differently combined ; the English heroic admits of acute or grave syllables variously disposed. The Latin never deviates into seven feet, or exceeds the number of seventeen syllables ; but the English Alexandrine breaks the lawful bounds, and surprises the reader with two syllables more than he expected. The effect of the Triplet is the same ; the ear has been accustomed to expect a new rhyme in every couplet ; but is on a sudden surprised with three rhymes together, to which LIFE OF DRYDEN. liii the reader could not accommodate his voice, did he not obtain notice of the change from the braces of the margins. Surely there is something unskilful in the necessity of such mechanical direction. Considering the metrical art simply as a science, and consequently excluding all casualty, we must allow that Triplets and Alexandrines, inserted by caprice, are interruptions of that constancy to which science aspires. And though the variety which they produce may very justly be desired, yet, to make poetry exact, there ought to be some stated mode of admitting them. But till some such regulation can be formed, I wish them still to be retained in their present state. They are sometimes convenient to the poet. Fenton was of opinion, that Dryden was too liberal, and Pope too sparing, in their use. The rhymes of Dryden are commonly just, and he valued himself for his readiness in finding them ; but he is sometimes open to objection. It is the common practice of our poets to end the second line with a weak or grave syllable : — " Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly, Fill'd with ideas of fair Italy." Dryden sometimes puts the weak rhyme in the first : — " Laugh all the powers that favour tyranny, And all the standing army of the sky." Sometimes he concludes a period or paragraph with the first line of a couplet, which, though the French seem to do it without irregularity, always displeases in English poetry. The Alexandrine, though much his favourite, is not always very diligently fabricated by him. It invariably requires a break at the sixth syllable ; a rule which the modern French poets never violate, but which Dryden sometimes neglected : — " And with paternal thunder vindicates his throne." Of Dryden's works 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 express forcibly. Though Davies has reasoned in rhyme before him, it may be perhaps maintained that he was the first who joined argument with poetry. He showed us the true bounds ot a translator's liberty. What was said of Rome, adorned by Augustus, may be applied by an easy metaphor to English poetry embellished by Dryden, "lateritiam invenit, marmoream reliquit." He found it brick, and he left it marble. The invocation before the Georgics is here inserted from Mr. Milbourne's version, that, according to his own proposal,* his verses may be compared with those which he censures. " What makes the richest tilth, beneath what signs To plough, and when to match your elms and vines ; What care with Jlocks, and what with herds agrees, And all the management of frugal bees; I sing, Maecenas ! Ye immensely clear, Vast orbs of light, which guide the rolling year : Bacchus, and mother Ceres, if by you We fatt'ning corn for hungry mast pursue, If, taught by you, we find the cluster press'd, And thin coldstreams with sprightly juice refresh'd; • It Is laughable enough to read John Dunton's appreciation of Milbourne's poetical talents : " Most other perfections are so far from matching his, they deserve not to be mention'd. His translations are fine, and true ; his preaching sublime, and rational ; and he 's nfirsfrale poet I "— Dunton's Life and Errorsj 61c., p. 452. T. liv LIFE OF DRYDEN. Ye fawns, the present numens of the field, Wood nymphs and /awns, your kind assistance yield ; Your gifts I sing : and thou, at "whose fear'd stroke From rending earth the fiery courser broke, Great Neptune, O assist^ny artful song ! And thou to ■whom the woods and groves belong, "Whose snowy heifers on her flow'ry plains In mighty herds the Ocean Isle maintains ! Pan, happy shepherd, if thy cares divine, E'er to improve thy MomaVus incline, Leave thy Lyc&an wood and native grove, And with thy lucky smiles our work approve ; Be Pallas too, sweet oil's inventor, kind ; And he who first the crooked plough design' d, Sylvanus, god of all the woods, appear, "Whose hands a new-drawn tender cypress bear ! Ye gods and goddesses, who e'er with love Would guard our pastures and our fields improve ; Ye, who new plants from unknown lands supply, And with condensing clouds obscure the sky, And drop them softly thence in fruitful showers ; AsBist my enterprise ye gentle powers ! And thou, great Caesar! though we know not yet Among what gods thou 'It fix thy lofty seat; "Whether thou 'It be the kind tutelar god Of thy own Borne, or with thy awful nod Guidejthe vast world, while thy great hand sball^bear The fruits and seasons of the turning year, And thy bright brows thy mother's myrtles wear ; "Whether thou 'It all the boundless ocean sway, And seamen only to thyself shall pray ; Thule, the fairest island, kneel to thee, And, that thou may'st her son by marriage be, Tethys will for the happy purchase yield To make a dowry of her wat'ry field : Whether thou 'It add to Heaven a brighter sign, And o'er the summer months serenely shine ; Where between Cancer and Erigone, There yet^remains a spacious room for thee ; Where the hot Scorpion, too, his arm p declines, And more to thee than half his arch resigns ; Whate'er thou 'It be ; for sure the realms below No just pretence to thy command can show : No such ambition sways thy vast desires, Though Greece her own Elysian Fields admires. And now, at last, contented Proserpine Can all her mother's earnest prayers decline. "Whate'er thou 'It be, O guide our gentle course ; And with thy smiles our bold attempts enforce ; With me th' unknowing rustics' wants relieve, And, though on earth, our sacred vows receive 1 " Mr. Dryden, having received from Rymer his Remarks on the Tragedies of the last Age, wrote observations on the blank leaves; which, having^been in the possession of Mr. Garrick, are by his favour communicated to the public, that no particle of Dryden may be lost. " That we may less wonder why pity and terror are not now the only springs on which our tragedies move, and that Shakspeare may be more excused, Rapin confesses that the French tragedies now all run on the tendre ; and gives the reason, because love is the passion which most predominates in our souls, and that therefore the passions represented become insipid, unless they are conformable to the thoughts of the audience. But it is to be concluded, that this passion works not now amongst the French so strongly as the other two did amongst the ancients. Amongst us, who have a stronger genius for writing, the operations from the writing are much stronger ; for the raising of Shakspeare's passions is more from the excellency of the words and thoughts, than the justness of the occasion ; and, if he has been able to pick single occasions, he has never founded the whole reasonably : yet, by the genius of poetry in writing, he has succeeded. "Rapin attributes more to the dictio, that is, to the words and discourse of a tragedy, than Aristotle has done, who places them in the last rank of beauties ; perhaps only last in order, because they are the last product of the design, of the disposition or connection of its parts ; LIFE OF DRYDEN. lv of the characters, of the manners of those characters, and of the thoughts proceeding from those manners. Eapin's words are remarkable : 'Tis not the admirable intrigue, the surprising events, and extraordinary incidents, that make the beauty of a tragedy : 'tis the discourses, when they are natural and passionate : so are Shakspeare's. " The parts of a poem, tragic or heroic, are, " 1. The fable itself. " 2. The order or manner of its contrivance, in relation of the parts to the whole. " 3. The manners, or decency, of the characters, in speaking or acting what is proper for them, and proper to be shown by the poet. ' " 4. The thoughts which express the manners. " 5. The words which express those thoughts. " In the last of these Homer excels Virgil ; Virgil all the other ancient poets ; and Shakspeare all modem poets. " For the second of these, the order : the meaning is, that a fable ought to have a beginning, middle, and an end, all just and natural ; so that that part, e. g. which is in the middle, could not naturally be the beginning or end, and so of the rest : all depend on one another, like the links of a curious chain. If terror and pity are only to be raised, certainly this author follows Aristotle's rules, and Sophocles' and Euripides' example ; but joy may be raised too, and that doubly, either by seeing a wicked man punished, or a good man at last fortunate ; or perhaps indignation, to see wickedness prosperous and goodness depressed : both these may be profitable to the end of a tragedy, reformation of manners ; but the last improperly, only as it begets pity in the audience ; though Aristotle, I confess, places tragedies of this kind in the second form. " He who undertakes to answer this excellent critique of Mr. Rymer, in behalf of our English poets against the Greek, ought to do it in this manner : either by yielding to him the greatest part of what he contends for, which consists in this, that the |ud9os, i. e. the design and conduct of it, is more conducing in the Greeks to those ends of tragedy, which Aristotle and he propose, namely, to cause terror and pity ; yet the granting this does not set the Greeks above the English poets. " But the answerer ought to prove two things : first, that the fable is not the greatest master-piece of a tragedy, though it be the foundation of it. " Secondly, that other ends as suitable to the nature of tragedy may be found in the English, which were not in the Greek. " Aristotle places the fable first ; not quoad dignitatem, sed quoad fundamentum : for a fable never so movingly contrived to those ends of his, pity and terror, will operate nothing on our affections, except the characters, manners, thoughts, and words, are suitable. " So that it remains for Mr. Rymer to prove, that in all those, or the greatest part of them, we are inferior to Sophocles and Euripides ; and this he has offered at, in some measure ; but, I think, a little partially to the ancients. " For the fable itself, 'tis in the English more adorned with episodes, and larger than in the Greek poets ; consequently more diverting. For, if the action be but one, and that plain, without any counterturn of design or episode, i. e. underplot, how can it be so pleasing as the English, which have both underplot and a turned design, which keeps the audience in expecta- tion of the catastrophe ? whereas in the Greek poets we see through the whole design at first. " For the characters, they are neither so many nor so various in Sophocles and Euripides as in Shakspeare and Fletcher ; only they are more adapted to those ends of tragedy which Aristotle commends to us, pity and terror. "The manners flow from the characters, and consequently must partake of their advantages and disadvantages. " The thoughts and words, which are the fourth and fifth beauties of tragedy, are certainly more noble and more poetical in the English than in the Greek, which must be proved by comparing them somewhat more equitably than Mr. Rymer has done. lvi LIFE OF DRYDEN. " After all, we need not yield that the English way is less conducing to move pity and terror, because they often show virtue oppressed and vice punished ; where they do not both, or either, they are not to be defended. "And if we should grant that the Greeks performed this better, perhaps it may admit of dispute, whether pity and terror are either the prime, or at least the only ends of tragedy. " 'Tis not enough that Aristotle had said so ; for Aristotle drew his models of tragedy from Sophocles and Euripides ; and if he had seen ours, might have changed his mind. And chiefly we have to say, (what I hinted on pity and terror, in the last paragraph save one,) that the punishment of vice and reward of virtue are the most adequate ends of tragedy, because most conducing to good example of life. Now, pity is not so easily raised for a criminal (and the ancient tragedy always represents its chief person such) as it is for an innocent man ; and the suffering of innocence and punishment of the offender is of the nature of English tragedy : contrarily, in the Greek, innocence is unhappy often, and the offender escapes. Then we are not touched with the sufferings of any sort of men so much as of lovers ; and this was almost unknown to the . ancients : so that they neither administered poetical justice, of which Mr. Eymer boasts, so well as we ; neither knew they the best common-place of pity, which is love. " He therefore unjustly blames us for not building on what the ancients left us ; for it seems, upon consideration of the premises, that we have wholly finished what they began. " My judgment on this piece is this : that it is extremely learned, but that the author of it is better read in the Greek than in the English poets ; that all writers ought to study this critique, as the best account I have ever seen of the ancients ; that the model of tragedy he has here given is excellent and extremely correct ; but that it is not the only model of all tragedy, because it is too much circumscribed in plot, characters, &c, and, lastly, that we may be taught here justly to admire and imitate the ancients, without giving them the preference with this author, in prejudice to our own country. " Want of method in this excellent treatise makes the thoughts of the author sometimes obscure. " His meaning, that pity and terror are to be moved, is, that they are to be moved as the means conducing to the ends of tragedy, which are pleasure and instruction. " And these two ends may be. thus distinguished. The chief end of the poet is to please ; for his immediate reputation depends on it. " The great end of the poem is to instruct, which is performed by making pleasure the vehicle of that instruction ; for poesy is an art, and all arts are made to profit. Rapin. " The pity, which the poet is to labour for, is for the criminal, not for those or him whom he has murdered, or who have been the occasion of the tragedy. The terror is likewise in the punishment of the same criminal ; who, if he be represented too great an offender, will not be pitied ; if altogether innocent, his punishment will be unjust. " Another obscurity is, where he says, Sophocles perfected tragedy by introducing the third actor : that is, he meant three kinds of action : one company singing, or speaking ; another playing on the music ; a third dancing. " To make a true judgment in this competition betwixt the Greek poets and the English, in tragedy : " Consider, first, how Aristotle has defined a tragedy. Secondly, what he assigns the end of it to be. Thirdly, what he thinks the beauties of it. Fourthly, the means to attain the end proposed. " Compare the Greek and English tragic poets justly, and without partiality, according to those rules. " Then, secondly, consider whether Aristotle has made a just definition of tragedy ; of its. parts, of its ends, and of its beauties ; and whether he, having not seen any others but those of Sophocles, Euripides, &c, had or truly could determine what all the excellencies, of tragedy are, and wherein they consist. LIFE OF DRYDEN. lvii " Next, show in what ancient tragedy was deficient : for example, in the narrowness of its plots, and fewness of persons ; and try whether that be not a fault in the Greek poets ; and whether their excellency was so great, when the variety was visibly so little ; or whether what they did was not very easy to do. " Then make a judgment on what the English have added to their beauties : as, for example, not only more plot, but also new passions ; as, namely, that of love, scarcely touched on by the ancients, except in this one example of Phaedra, cited by Mr. Eymer ; and in that how short they were of Fletcher ! "Prove also that love, being an heroic passion, is fit for tragedy, which cannot be denied, because of the example alleged of Phsedra ; and how far Shakspeare has outdone them in friendship, &c. " To return to the beginning of this enquiry ; consider if pity and terror be enough for tragedy to move : and I believe, upon a true definition of tragedy, it will be found that its work extends farther, and that it is to reform manners, by a delightful representation of human life in great persons, by way of dialogue. If this be true, then not only pity and terror are to be moved, as the only means to bring us to virtue, but generally love to virtue, and hatred to vice ; by showing the rewards of one, and punishments of the other ; at least, by rendering virtue always amiable, though it be shown unfortunate ; and vice detestable, though it be shown triumphant. " If, then, the encouragement of virtue and discouragement of vice be the proper ends of poetry in tragedy, pity and terror, though good means, are not the only. For all the passions, in their turns, are to be set in a ferment ; as joy, anger, love, fear, are to be used as the poet's common-places ; and a general concernment for the principal actors is to be raised, by making them appear such in their characters, their words, and actions, as will interest the audience in their fortunes. "And if, after all, in a larger sense, pity comprehends this concernment for the good, and terror includes detestation for the bad, then let us consider whether the English have not answered this end of tragedy as well as the ancients, or perhaps better. " And here Mr. Eymer's objections against these plays are to be impartially weighed, that we may see whether they are of weight enough to turn the balance against our countrymen. " Tis evident those plays, which he arraigns, have moved both those passions in a high degree upon the stage. " To give the glory of this away from the poet, and to place it upon the actors, seems unjust. " One reason is, because whatever actors they have found, the event has been the same ; that is, the same passions have been always moved ; which shows that there is something of force and merit in the plays themselves, conducing to the design of raising these two passions : and suppose them ever to have been excellently acted, yet action only adds grace, vigour, and more life upon the stage ; but cannot give it wholly where it is not first. But, secondly, I dare appeal to those who have never seen them acted, if they have not found these two passions moved within them ; and if the general voice will carry it, Mr. Eymer's prejudice will take off 1 his single testimony. " This, being matter of fact, is reasonably to be established by this appeal ; as, if one man says it is night, when the rest of the world conclude it to be day, there needs no farther argument against him, that it is so. " If he urge, that the general taste is depraved, his arguments to prove this can at best but evince that our poets took not the best way to raise those passions ; but experience proves against him, that those means which they have used, have been successful, and have produced them. " And one reason of that success is, in my opinion, this : that Shakspeare and Fletcher have written to the genius of the age and nation in which they lived ; for though nature, as he objects, is the same in all places, and reason too the same ; yet the climate, the age, the lviii LIFE OF DRYDEN. disposition of the people, to whom a poet writes, may be so different, that what pleased the Greeks would not satisfy an English audience. "And if they proceed upon a foundation of truer reason to please the Athenians, than Shakspeare and Fletcher to please the English, it only shows that the Athenians were a more judicious people ; but the poet's business is certainly to please the audience. " "Whether our English audience have been pleased hitherto with acorns, as he^calls it, or with bread, is the next question ; that is, whether the means which Shakspeare and Fletcher have used, in their plays, to raise those passions before named, be better applied to the ends by the Greek poets than by them. And perhaps we shall not grant him this wholly : let it be yielded that a writer is not to run down with the stream, or to please the people by their usual methods, but rather to reform their judgments, it still remains to prove that our theatre needs this total reformation. " The faults, which he has found in their design are rather wittily aggravated in many places than reasonably urged ; and as much may be returned on the Greeks by one who were as witty as himself. " They destroy not, if they are granted, the foundation of the fabric ; only take away from the beauty of the symmetry ; for example, the faults in the character of the king, in King and No-king, are not, as he calls them, such as render him detestable, but only imper- fections which accompany human nature, and are for the most part excused by the violence of his love ; so that they destroy not our pity or concernment for him : this answer may be applied to most of his objections of that kind. " And Hollo committing many murders, when he is answerable but for one, is too severely arraigned by him ; for tl it adds to our horror and detestation of the criminal ; and poetic justice is not neglected neither ; for we stab him in our minds for every offence which he commits ; and the point, which the poet is to gain on the audience, is not so much in the death of an offender as the raising an horror of his crimes. " That the criminal should neither be wholly guilty, nor wholly innocent, but so partici- pating of both as to move both pity and terror, is certainly a good rule, but not perpetually to be observed ; for that were to make all tragedies too much alike ; which objection he foresaw, but has not fully answered. " To conclude, therefore ; if the plays of the ancients are more correctly plotted, ours are more beautifully written. And, if we can raise passions as high on worse foundations, it shows our genius in tragedy is greater ; for in all other parts of it the English have manifestly excelled them." The original of the following letter is preserved in the Library at Lambeth,* and was kindly imparted to the public by the Rev. Dr. Vyse : t Copy of am, Original Letter from John Dryden, Esq. to his Sons m Italy, from a MS. m the Lambeth Library, marked' No. 933, p. 56. (Superscribed) « _aj illustrissimo Sig ie " Carlo Dryden Camariere "Franca per Mantoua. "d'Honore A.S.S. "In Roma. " Dear Sons, " Se pt- $w 3rd, our style. "Being now at Sir William Bowyer's in the country, I cannot write at large, because I' find myself somewhat indisposed with a cold, and am thick of hearing, rather worse than * In the same library is a manuscript copy of Dryden's Mac-Ftemoe, which has been collated for the present edition of his poems. -T. t With this incomparable production, as Mr. Malone has justly remarked, Johnson's exquisite parallel of Dryden and Pope, in the life of the latter poet, should be read ; in which " the superiority of genius, that power which constitutes a LIFE OF DRYDEN. lix I was in town. I am glad to find, by your letter of July 26th, your style, that you are both in health ; but wonder you should think me so negligent as to forget to give you an account of the ship in which your parcel is to come. I have written to you two or three letters concerning! it, "which I have sent by safe hands, as I told poet ; that quality without which judgment is cold and knowledge is inert ; that energy which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates ; " is, " with some hesitation," attributed to Dryden. " He professed to have learned hiB poetry from Dryden, whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he praised through his whole life with unvaried liberality ; and perhaps his character may receive some illustration, if he be compared with his master. " Integrity of understanding and nicety of discernment were not allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his poetical prejudices, and the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merely for thejjpeople ; and when he pleased others, he contented himself. He spent no time in struggles to rouse latent powers ; he never attempted to make that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very little consideration; when occasion or necessity called upon him, he poured out what the present moment happened to supply, and, when once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind ; for, when he had no pecuniary interest, he had no further solicitude. " Pope was not content to satisfy ; he desired to excel, and therefore always endeavoured to do his best; he did not court the candour, but dared the judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from others, he showed none to himself. He examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be forgiven. " For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his hands, while he considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be supposed to have been written with such regard to the times as might hasten their publication, were the satires of ' Thirty-eight ; ' of which Dodsley told me that they were brought to him by the author, that they might be fairly copied, ' Almost every line,' he said, ' was then written twice over ; I gave him a clean transcript, which he sent some time afterwards to me for the press,, with almost every line written twice over a second time.' " His declaration, that his care forhiB works ceased at their publication, was not striotly true. His parental attention never abandoned them : what he found amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that followed. He appeal's to. have revised the ' Iliad,' and freed it from some of its imperfections ; and the ' Essay on Criticism * received many improvements after its first appearance. It will seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or vigour. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden ; but Dryden certainly wanted the diligence of Pope. " In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose education was more scholastic, and who before he became an author had been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. His mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations from a more extensive circumference of science. Dryden knew more of man in his general' nature, and Pope in^hiB local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by minute attention. Thero is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope. i > "Poetry was not the sole praise of either; for both excelled likewise in prose; but Pope did not borrow his prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden isicapricious andjvaried ; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden observes the motions of his own mind ; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified^ by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation; 1 'one's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller. " Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet ; that quality without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert ; that energy whioh oollects, combines, amplifies, and animates ; the superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred, that of this poetical vigour Pope had only a little, because Dryden had more ; for every other writer since Milton must give place to Pope ; and evon of Dryden it must be said, that, if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. Dryden's performances were always hasty, either excited by some external occasion, or extorted by domestic necessity ; he composed without consideration, and published without correction. What lvls mind could supply at- call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled- him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might produce, or chance might supply. If the, flights of Dryden, therefore, are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight. " This parallel will, I hope, when it is well considered, be found just ; and if the reader should suspect me, as I suspect myself, of some ^partial fondness for the memory of Dryden, let him not too hastily condemn me ; for meditation and enquiry may, perhaps, show him the reasonableness of my determination." To this fine parallel may be added, from a work of great merit, entitled, the Progress of Satire, the following acute estimate of Dryden's satirical powers. ' " Nearly at the same period (with Boileau) after some momentary gleams, and strong flashes in the horizon, Satire arose in England. When I name Dryden, I comprehend every varied excellence of our poetry. In harmony, strength, modulation, rhythm, energy, he first displayed the full power of the English language. My business with him, at present, is only as a Satirist. I will be brief: I speak to the intelligent. He was the first poet who brought to perfection what I would term, ' the Allegory of Satire.' Fables, indeed, and apologues, and romances, have always been the most ancient modes of reproof and censure. It was the peculiar happiness of Dryden, to give an eternal sense and interest to subjects which are transitory. He placed his scene on the ground of actual history. The reader of every age has an interest in the delineation of characters and names which have been familiar to him from his earliest years. He is already prepared and feels a predilection for the subject. This accommodation of ancient characters to existing persons, has a peculiar force in the age to which it is addressed ; and posterity reads with delight, a poem founded on pristine story, and illustrated by the records of modern times. Dryden's power of satire has been generally acknowledged in his Mac-Flecnoe ; but his masterpiece is that wonderful and unequalled performance, Absalom and Achitophel. He presents to us an heroic subject, in heroic numbers— a well-constructed allegory, and a forcible appeal to our best feelings and passions. He paints the horrors of anarchy, sedition, rebellion, and democracy, with the pencil of Dante, or of Michael Angelo ; and he gives the Is LIFE OP DRYDEN. you, and doubt not but you have them before this can arrive to you. Being out of town, 1 have forgotten the ship's name, which your mother will enquire, and put it into her letter, which is joined with mine. But the master's name I remember : he is called Mr. Balph Thorp ; the ship is bound to Leghorn, consigned to Mr. Peter and Mr. Thomas Ball, merchants. 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 iEneas he has caused him to be drawn like King William, with a hooked nose. After my return to town, I intend to alter a play of Sir Robert Howard's written long since, and lately put into my hands ; 'tis called The Conquest of China by the Tartars. It will cost me six weeks study, with the probable benefit of an hundred pounds. In the meantime 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 of the Feast, who came in a body to me to desire that kindness, one of them being Mr. Bridgeman, whose parents are your mother's friends. I hope to send you thirty guineas between Michaelmas and Christmas, of which I will give you an account when I come to town. I remember the council you give me in your letter ; but dissembling, though lawful in some cases, is not my talent ; yet, for your sake, I will struggle with the plain openness of my nature, and keep in my just resentments against that degenerate order. In the mean time, I flatter not myself with any manner of hopes, but do my duty, and suffer for God's sake ; being assured, before hand, never to be rewarded, though the times should alter. 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 that I predicted them ; I hope at the same time to recover more health, according to my age. Remember me to poor Harry, whose prayers I earnestly desire. My Virgil succeeds in the world beyond its desert or my expectation. You know the profits might have been more ; but neither my conscience nor my honour would suffer • me to take them : but I never can repent of my constancy, since I am thoroughly persuaded of the justice of the cause for which I suffer. It has pleased God to raise up many friends to me amongst my enemies, though they who ought to have been my friends are negligent of me. I am called to dinner, and cannot go on with this letter, which I desire you to excuse ; and am " Your most affectionate father, "JOHN DRYDEN.' speeches of his heroes, with the strength, propriety, and correctness of Virgil. It is Satire in its highest form ; hut it is Satire addressed to the few. It is not adapted to the general effect of this species of poetry. In my opinion, Dryden has not the style and manner of Horace, or Juvenal, or Persius, or Boileau. Pope called him ' unhappy, 7 from the looseness of the age in which he lived. He has enthusiasm, majeBty, severity, gravity, strength of conception, and boldness of imagery. But sprightliness, gaiety, and easy badinage, an occasional playfulness, so necessary to the general effect of satirical poetry, were all wanting to him. Perhaps his genius was too sublime. He could not, or he would not, descend to the minutiae which are often required, the anecdotes, and the passing traits of the time. His satire had an original character. It was the strain of Archilochus, sounding from the lyre of Aloeus." T. UPON" THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS. .Must noble Hastings immaturely die, The honour of his ancient family, * There is some fancy in this Poem, but many of the lines are very bad, and the images too gross, both in design and expression, to have escaped our author in his riper years. However, he was not quite eighteen when he wrote it; and, by reprinting it, the reader may trace the progress of that genius which afterwards arrived at such sublimity. The nobleman herein lamented, was styled Henry Lord Hastings, son to Ferdinand, Earl of Hunting- don. He died before his father, in 1649, being then in his twentieth year. He had, from nature and education, a most amiable disposition, a strong judgment, and so -refined a taste, that, according to Collins' s Peerage, not less than ninety-eight elegies were composed on his death. Derrick. Derrick should have added, that Collins expressly men- tions these elegies as printed in " Lachrymw Musarum, the Tears of the Muses, expressed in elegies written by divers S arsons of nobility and worth, upon the death of the most opeful Henry, Lord Hastings, eldest [only] son of the Bight Honourable 'Ferdinando, Earl of Huntingdon, heir- general of the high-born Prince George, Duke of Clarence, brother to King Edward IV." [Collected and set forth by R. B.] But as the Laehrymw Musanmi contains only thirty- six elegies, it is clear that the figures 98 in Collins are eiToneous, and a mere error of the press. Malone. On examining the Lachryma Mttsarum, it should seem that Mr. Collins was led into an error concerning the number of elegies on the death of Lord Hastings, by glancing his eye on the Table of Contents, in which the last elegy has a reference to p. 98 ; which he hastily sup- posed was the number of elegies in the book. Ver. 1. Must noble Hastings) It is a mortifying circum- stance to he compelled to begin these notes with a censure of the very first piece of our admired poet. But it is im- possible hot to be hurt by the false, unnatural thoughts, by the forced and far-sought conceits, by the rugged and inharmonious numbers, and the perpetual aim and desire to be witty, with which this Elegy so much abounds, that we wonder he could ever rise so high after so unpromising a beginning. One well-known sentence characterises his works : " Ubi bene nemo melius, ubi mal£ nemo pejus." The person he lamented was Henry Lord Hastings, son to Ferdinand, Earl of Huntingdon, who died before his father, 1649. He was ancestor of the last Earl of Huntingdon, to whom Dr. Akenside addressed an Ode, of a very different cast from the verses before us, full of true Grecian spirit and sentiments, and in a style of peculiar force and energy. This nobleman will be long lamented by all his friends and acquaintance, of whom I had the honour to be one, for the elegance of his manners, his pleasing affability, his extensive knowledge of men and things, the variety and vigour of his wit and conversation, enlivened by many curious facts and anecdotes, his accurate taste in all parts of pol ite literature, and his universal candour and benevolence. The character of Aspasia, written by Congreve, in the Tatler, No. 72, is meant for Lady E. Hastings, She was Beauty and learning thus together meet, To bring a winding for a wedding sheet ? Must virtue prove death's harbinger? must she, s With him expiring, feel mortality 1 Is death, sin's wages, grace's now 1 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 w Himself to discipline ? who 'd not esteem Labour a crime ? study self-murther deem ? Our noble youth now have pretence to be Dunces securely, ignorant healthfully. Rare linguist, whose worth speaks itself, whose praise, 16 Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise : daughter of Thcophllna Hastings, seventh Earl of Hun- tingdon. Her father came to the honours and estate of that family in 1655. So that three poets, Dryden, Con- grove, and Akenside, celebrated the Hastings. Dr. Joseph "Warton. Ver. 4. a winding for a wedding sheet fj In this line, as also in verse 93, the poet alludes to the melan- choly circumstance of Lord Hastings's death having taken place on the day preceding that which, previously to his illness, had been appointed for the celebration of his marriage. The lady to whom he was betrothed was the daughter of a very celebrated physician, Sir Theodore Mayerne, whose skill was in vain exerted to save his in- tended son-in-law from that malignant disorder, the small- pox. "Pridie sponsalium (proh Hymencee !) funere luit immature," says Ms epitaph. See also the following verses of Andrew Marvel^ in the collection already quoted :— " The gods themselves cannot their joy conceal, But draw their veils, and their pure beams reveal ; Only they drooping Hymenseus note, Who, for sad purple, tears his saffron coat, And trails his torches th'row the starry hall, Reversed, for his darling's funeral. And iEsculapius, who, ashamed and stern, Himself at once condemneth and Mayera ; Like some sad chymist, who, prepared to reap His golden harvest, sees his glasses leap ; For how immortal must their race have stood, Had Mayern once been mix'd with Hastings' blood ! # * * * # But what could he, good man, although he mix'd All herbs, and them a thousand ways infused," &c The elegy in which these verses occur, is by far the best in the collection, if we except that of our author. Malone. "Ver. 15. Rare linguist,] On this topic Sir Aston Cokayne, in his elegy on Lord Hastings, thus expatiates : — " His few, but well-spent years, had master'd all The liberal arts, and his sweet tongue could fall THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS. Than whom great Alexander may seem less ; Who conquer'd men, but not their languages. In his mouth nations spake ; his tongue might be Interpreter to Greece, France, Italy. m 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, inspired with gift of tongues, as they. Nature gave him, a child, what men in vain ^ Oft strive, by art though further'd, to obtain. His body was an orb, bis 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, 3l 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, conglobate in his soul ; and thence M 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 Into the ancient dialects ; dispense Sacred Judea's amplest eloquence; The Latine idiome elegantly true, And Greek as rich as Athens ever knew : The Italian and the French do both confess Him perfect in their modern languages." LachrymcB Musarum, &c. f 1650. All these attainments were made at an early age ; for Lord Hastings died in his nineteenth (not, as Derrick has it, his twentieth) year, on the 23rd of June, 1649, after an illness of only seven days' duration. Maxone. Ver. 17. Than whom great Alexander may seem less; Who conquer'd men, but not their languages^] Yet from his letter to his master Aristotle, recorded hy Plutarch and Aulus Gellius, we are led to conclude that the love of conquest was but the second ambition in Alexander's soul. The letter, as translated by Addison in his Guardian, No. Ill, is as follows : — "Alexander to Aristotle greeting, — " You have not done well to publish your books of select knowledge ; for what is there now in which I can surpass others,' if those things which I have been instructed in are communicated to everybody ? For my own part, I declare to you, I would rather excel others in knowledge than power. Farewell.'' A living author, who excels in clear and vigorous com- position, will, I trust, forgive me, if I transcribe a passage in defence of the hero of Macedon, from a letter addressed by him to the late Dr. Joseph Warton. " In truth I am happy in knowing that you think as well of the Mace- donian as I do. I am no favourer of paradoxes, nor would I write a Richard III. up into a good character; but surely it is time that the world shonld learn to distinguish between the conquests of an intelligent being and the rava- ges of a Tartar, between an Alexander and a Zingis, a Timour or a Buonaparte. Alexander was a builder, and these only demolishers. How small is the proportion of the former to the latter, in the history of the world ! " Rev. John Warton. Ver. 27. his sublime swQ Dr. Newton has placed the accent on the first syllable of sublime in Mil- ton's Mask of Comus, as the accent may seem to be in the present instance, ver. 785. " The siibUme notion and high mystery—" The word in Milton's and Dryden's lines may, however, be read more gracefully without it. Rev. H. J. Tonn. Ver. 35. Werejiafd, conglobate in his soulf\ This word is used in the second book of Lucretius, ver. 153, in the same sense. " Sed complexa meant inter se conque globata." John Wartow. Ver. 36. sweet influence ;] Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades ? Job xxxviii. 31. John "Warton. But that transcends thy skill ; thrice happy all, Could we but prove thus astronomical. Lived 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 Ah 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 hath drawn that veil, which Bhrouds Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds. w Heaven would no longer trust its pledge ; but thus Recall'd it ; rapt its Ganymede from us. Was there no milder way but the small-pox, The very filthiness of Pandora's box 1 So many spots, like nseves on Venus' soil, 65 One jewel set off with so many a foil ; Blisters with pride swelTd, which through 's flesh did sprout Like rose-buds, stuck i' the lily skin about. • the small-pox,] An obvious occasion is Ver. 53. here offered of paying a small tribute to Dr. Jenner, whose* able researches have so essentially contributed to check the ravages of this dreadful disease, the small-pox. To him, therefore, we may apply the words of the poet ; " O ! qui secundo natus Apolline Incumbis arti Pseoniae, stud ens Arcana Naturse, gravemque More novo prohibere morbum, Jennere, laudes an sileam tuas ? Hlc ssepe mecum dum meditor gemens, Inter meorum funera, queis diu Vixi superstes, quot veneno Foeta gravi, maculisque tetris, Primis in sevi viribus abstulit Infesta febris, lingua valet parum Nan-are, quid debes supremo Quanta Deo tibi danda laus est, Furore quod non ante domabili Tot dira Pestis quse peperit mala, In gentis humanse levamen, Te medico superata cessit. Te mater ambit filiolo cavens Ut tuto ab atra, corpore sit lue ; Innupta te virgo, decentes Sint memori sine labe malse." See the late Christopher Anstey's "Ad Edvardum Jen- ner, M.D. Carmen Alcaicum." John Waeton. Ver. 58. Like rose-ouds, stuck i' the lily skin about.'] " Of his school performances, (says the great Johnson, in his Life of Dryden,) " has appeared only a poem on the death of Lord Hastings, composed with great ambition of such conceits as, notwithstanding the reformation begun by "Waller and Denham, the example of Cowley still kept in reputation. Lord Hastings died of the small-pox, and his poet has made of the pustules, first, rose-buds, and then gems ; at last exalts them into stars ; and says, 1 No comet need foretel his change drew on, Whose corpse might seem a constellation.' rt Perhaps it may appear at first sight surprising, that Dr. Busby should patiently bear such thoughts as pervade the whole of this poem on Lord Hastings ; but our surprise ceases when we read the following judicious observation of Quintilian, which could not escape the penetration of that great master, who consequently showed the indulgence here recommended to the exuberant imagination of a youthful poet. " Ne illud quidem quod admonemuB indignum est, in- genia puerorum nimia interim emendationis severitate deficere. Nam et desperant, et dolent, et novissime ode- runt: et, quod maxime nocet, dum omnia timent, nihil conantur. Quod etiam rusticis notum est, qui frondibus teneris non putant adhibendam esse falcem, quia reformi- dare ferrum videntur, et cicatricem nondum pati posse. Jucundus ergo turn maxime debet esse pneceptor, nt qua alioqui natura sunt aspera, molli manu Ieniantur : laudare aliqua, ferre qusedam, mutare etiam, reddita cur id fiat ratione; illuminare interponendo aliquid sui." —Quintilian, Inst. Orat. lib. ii. John Warton. TO JOHN HODDESDON. Each little pimple had a tear in it, To wail the fault its rising did commit : m 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 1 No comet need foretel his change drew on, ffi Whose corpse might seem a constellation. ! had he died of old, how great a strife Had been, who from his death should draw their life? Who Bhould, by one rich draught, become what- e'er Seneca, Cato, Numa, Csesar, were ? 70 Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great ; and have by this An universal metempsychosis. Must all these aged fires in one funeral Expire 1 all die in one so young, so small 1 Who, had he lived his life out, his great fame ' 5 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-leggM grey-beards with their gout, 81 Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three ages out ? Time's offals, only fit for the hospital ! Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal ! MuBt drunkards, lechers, spent with sinning, live With such helps as broths, possets, physic give I s * None live, but such as should die? shall we meet With none but ghostly fathers in the street t Grief makes me rail ; sorrow will force its way ; And showers of tears tempestuous sighs best lay. The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes 9I Will weep out lasting streams of elegies. But thou, virgin-widow, left alone, Now thy beloved, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply *■ 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 ; i0 ° 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 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.* Ver. 92. streams of elegies.] In a very scarce little volume, entitled Lachrymal Musarum, London, printed by T. N., 1650, communicated to me by Mr. Reed, of Staple Inn, are thirty-six Elegies, in Greek, Latin, and English, on the death of this nobleman. Of these, twenty-six are in English, two in Greek, and eight in Latin. The con- cluding copies are this by Dryden, and the Latin copies by Cyril Wyche, Edward Campion, Thomas Adams, Ralph Montague, all Westminster scholars. The Greek copies are signed Joannes Harmarus, Oxoniensis, qi\ix*-{K, and C. W. M. Moerens posuit. Most of these are written with the same false taste which pervades the poem now before us. J. Warton. Ver. 93. But thou, virgin-willow,'] So in another elegy on Lord Hastings, by " Jo. Benyon, Hosp. Lincoln." " Thy love writes maid, yet is half widow too." Malone. * The verses on Lord Hastings in the " Lachrymaj Mu- sarum," are subscribed " Johannes Dryden: Scholre 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 hook was printed off, and when it was just ready for publication. Malone. TO HIS EBIEND THE AUTHOR, JOHN HODDESDON, ON HIS DIVINE EPIGRAMS.* Thou hast inspired 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 There be in this, 'tis from thy fancy brought. Good thief, who dar'st, Prometheus-like, aspire, And fill thy poems with celestial fire : * ,Mr. Hoddesdon's poetical effusions were published in 8vo, 1660, under the title of " Sion and Parnassus ; or, Epi- grams on several texts of the Old and New Testament." To this book ia prefixed the author's engraved portrait, H MtiX. 18." by which it appears that he and Dryden were nearly of the same age. Malone. These commendatory verses, which are subscribed " J. Dryden, of Trin. C," are here printed from the origi- nal edition, which was obligingly communicated by Mr. Malone. John Warton. Enliven'd by these sparks divine, their rays Add a bright lustre to thy crown of bays. 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 sun of righteousness i' th' lace. What may we hope, if thou go'st on thus fast, Scriptures at first ; enthusiasms at last ! Thou hast commenced, betimes, a saint; go on, Mingling diviner streams with Helicon ; 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 'It know adulterate copper, which, like this, Will only serve to be a foil to his. THE DEATH OP OLIVER CROMWELL. HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL. WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL.* 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. Though our best notes are treason to his fame, s 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 flown, 10 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, 15 And claim a title in him by their praise. * " The death of Cromwell was the first public event which called forth Dryden's poetieal powers. Hie heroic stanzas have beauties and defects ; the thoughts are vigo- rous, and though not always proper, shew a mind replete with ideas; the numbers are smooth, and the diction, if not altogether correct, is elegant and easy. " Davenant seems at this time to have been his favourite author, though Gondibert never appears to have been popular ; and from Davenant he learned to please his ear with the stanza of four lines alternately rhymed." John- son's Life of Dryden. John Warton. Ver. 1. And now His time ;] We are not to wonder that Dryden, after this panegyric on Cromwell, should live to be appointed poet laureat to Charles II., any more than that Dr. Sprat, after a similar panegyric, should live to write the History of the Rye-house Plot, and become Bishop of Rochester. Men were dazzled with the uncommon talents of the Protector, " who wanted nothing to raise him to heroic excellence, but virtue;" they were struck with his intrepidity, — his industry ,— his insight into all characters, — his secrecy in his projects, and his successes, beyond all hope and expectation, in the course of human affairs. The most manly and nervous of all Wallers poems, are the Stanzas to Cromwell, which are far superior to the poem on his death, (though that excels this of Dryden,) and on the War with Spain. 'Tis observable that Milton never addrest any poem to Cromwell; but only one admirable sonnet, in which, not like a mean flatterer, he assumes the tone of an adviser, and cautions him against the avarice and the encroachments of the Presbyterian clergy, whom he calls " hireling wolves." The University of Oxford, notwithstanding its ancient loyalty, sent him a volume of Latin verses, on his making peace with the Dutch: in which collection are to be found the names of Crew, Mew, Godolphin, South, Locke, and Busby. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 3. Like eager Romans, &c] It was usual to conceal an eagle on the top of the funeral pile, destined to receive the dead body of the Roman imperator. When the pile was set on fire, the bird was set at liberty, and mounting into the air, was supposed by the common people to carry with it to heaven the soul of the deceased. Derrick. How shall I then begin, or where conclude, To draw a fame so truly circular 1 For in a round what order can be show*d, Where all the parts so equal perfect are ] w VI. His grandeur he derived 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. vn. No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, ^ 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. VIII. Fortune (that easy mistress to the young, But to her ancient servants coy and hard) w Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, When she her best-loved Pompey did discard. IX. He, private, mark'd the fault of others* sway, And set as sea-marks for himself to shun : ** Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray By acts their age too late would wish undone. x. And yet dominion was not his design ; We owe that blessing, not to him, but Heaven, Which to fair acts unsought rewards did join ; Rewards, that less to him than us were given. Ver. 17. How shall I then begin, or where conclude^ He probably had in his mind the following passage of Theocri- tus, in his panegyric on Ptolemy, ver. 9. \oblv is isroXuhtvhqov a.vv,e v\v,toim; lu8a/v, T/ vre.5Lrov xaraXi^S ; John Warton. Ver. 20. Where all the parts so equal perfect are ?] In- stead of equally^ perfect. Such slight inaccuracies Dryden's fervid genius little regarded. John Warton. Ver. 23. And wars, like mists that rise against the sun. Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.} A sublime thought, which reminds us of the passage in Milton; although he applies the same appearance of nature, the sun rising through a mist, in a different manner. " As when the sun, new risen, Looks through the horizontal misty air, Shorn of his beams." Par. Lost, bk. i. 1.695. " But herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world ; That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him." Shale. Henry IV. Act 1. Sc. 2. John Warton. Ver. 36. By acts their age too late would wish undone.'] Infectum volet esse, dolor quod suaserit et mens. Hor. 1. Ep. ii. 1. 60. John Warton. THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL. Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, 41 First sought to inflame the parties, then to poise : The quarrel loved, 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 essayed To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. XIII. Swift; and resistless through the land he past, Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue, And made to battles such heroic haste, fil As if on wings of victory he flew. XIV. He fought secure of fortune as of fame : Still, 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. fi6 XV. His palms, though under weights they did not stand, Still thrived ; no winter could his laurels fade : Heaven in his portrait show'd a workman's hand, And drew it perfect, yet without a shade. m XVI. 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. XVII. Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes ; 65 And treacherous Scotland to no interest true, Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose Her land to civilise, as to subdue. XVIII. Nor was he like those stars which only shine, When to pale mariners they storms portend : He had his calmer influence, and his mien 7l Did love and majesty together blend. XIX. 'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe ; And naturally all souls to his did bow, As wands of divination downward draw, ' 8 And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. Ver. 48. To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein.'] The loyalists supponed that by this line Dryden meant to allude to Crom well's murdero/his Sovereign. Thusin "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, Been found, and mnrther'd in the royal tree, Even thou hadst praised the fact ; his father slain, Thou call'st but gently breathing of a vein." Malone. Ver. 56. galaxy with stars is sown.] Lucretius, lib. ii. ver. 44. " Lumine consent arva." John Warton. Ver. 63. Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air, To seat themselves more surely than before.] It Is said that at the siege of Bologna, in 1512, a mine blew up that part of the wall of the church of Sancta Maria del Baracano, on which stood a miraculous image of the blessed Virgin. Though it was carried so high, that both armies could see one another through the breach, yet it fell again exactly into its place, so that it was impossible to see where it had been separated. Derrick. When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove, He Mars deposed, and arms to gowns made yield ; Successful councils did him soon approve As fit for close intrigues, as open field. xxr. 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. XXII. Fame of the asserted sea through Europe blown, Made France and Spain ambitious of his love ; m Each knew that side must conquer he would own ; And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. XXIII. No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embraced, Than the light Monsieur the grave Don out- weigh'd : w His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast ; Though Indian mines were in the other laid. XXIV. When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right : For though some meaner artist's skill were shown Ver. 86. Made France and Spain ambitious of his love;"] The 9th of March, 1661, died at Vincennes, Cardinal Mazarin, at upwards of fifty years of age. Cardinal Richelieu lived nearly the same number of years. They had governed France successively as prime ministers, each of them nearly eighteen years, with much the same kind of authority that the Grand Viziers exercise among the Turks. Both were ambitious; Mazarin was more timid, more designing, more subtle, pliant, and unsteady; Richelieu was more resolute, more warm, had greater parts, was more obstinate, and more fixed and determined. Mazarin's genius for business was more limited : he was better acquainted with the foibles of mankind, and knew well how to keep them in suspense. Richelieu, with more extensive talents, was better versed in business, and main- tained his power by awing some, and amusing others with hopes. Mazarin had a greater knack at speeching, and was more happily formed to please the ladies : Richelieu would much sooner gain the confidence of a man ; and he persuaded more by deeds than words. It is said that on March 17, 1653, Monsieur Bourdeaux, the ambassador extraordinary, sent by Mazarin from the King of France to Cromwell, made his public entry, and on the way had his audience at the Banqueting-house, Whitehall ; when he extolled the virtues of his Highness, begs his friendship, and says that the Divine Providence, after so many calami- ties, could not deal more favourably with these nations, or cause them to forget their miseries, with greater satis- faction, than by submitting them to so just a government. Cromwell gained an entire ascendant even over the artful Mazarin. In the treaty the Protector's name was inserted before that of the King. Thurloe, vol. iii. p. 103, Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 91. Bis fortune] Cromwell, it is said, appeared pre- cisely at a time when he could succeed. Under Elizabeth he would have been hanged ; under Charles II. ridiculed. He appeared when England was disgusted with Kings, and his son Richard when they were equally disgusted with Protectors. Some men owe their fame and eminence to the circumstances of the age in which they happened to live ; to the taste of their particular times ; to the exi- gencies of the state ; to the enemies they found to combat, and to other favourable circumstances and events. But the following great men would have been great in all ages, and in all countries : — Homer, Hippocrates, Epaminondas, Philip, Aristotle, Archimedes, Scipio, Virgil, Horace, Csesar, Hannibal, Mango-Copac, Confucius, Mahomet II., Cervantes, Cortez, Kepler, Copernicus, Bacon, Newton, Marlborough, Moliere, Fontenelle, Turenne, Machiavel, Milton, Montecucoli, Dante, and Columbus. Dr. J. Warton. THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL. In mingling colours, or in placing light ; 9; ' Yet still the fair designment was his own. xxv. For from all tempers he could service draw ; The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew, And, as the confident of Nature, saw How she complexions did divide and brew. 10u 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, m The stars, like commons, sullenly obey ; Because it drains them when it comes about, And therefore is a tax they seldom pay. XXVIII. From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, Which yet more glorious triumphs do por- tend; "° Since their commencement to his arms they owe, If springs as high as fountains may ascend. XXIX. He made us freemen of the continent, Whom Nature did like captives treat before ; To nobler preys the English lion sent, " 5 And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. XXX. That old unquestion'd pirate of the land, Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard; And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand, Although an Alexander were her guard. 12 ° XXXI. By his command we, boldly cross'd the line, And bravely fought where southern stars arise; Ver, 96. - - designment] He has borrowed this word from Spenser, F. Q. n. xi. 10. " 'Gainst which the second troupe dessignment makes : " That is, plot. Dryden, however, uses it simply for design or plan. It should he added, that dessignment is the read- ing of Spenser's second edition ; as the hrst reads, without perspicuity, assignment. Todd. Ver. 113. He made us freemen] We may be said to have been made freemen of the continent hy the taking of Dun- kirk, which was wrested from the Spaniards hy the united forces of France and England, and delivered up to the latter in the beginning of 16S8. Derrick. Ver. 120. Although an Alexander] At this time Alex- ander VII. eat in the papal chair. Derrick. We traced the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine, And that which bribed our fathers made our prize. XXXII. Such was our prince ; yet own'd a soul above I25 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 : 13 ° He seem'd but to prevent some new success, As if above what triumphs earth could give. xxxrv. His latest victories still thickest came, As near the centre motion doth increase ; Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name, Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease. 136 XXXV. 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. 14 ° 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 f His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest, His name a great example stands, to show How strangely high endeavours may be blest, Where piety and valour jointly go. Ver. 135. Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name,] Not uulike Livy. who, describing the .progress of the city of Rome, says, '' Quse ab exiguis perfecta initiis, eo cre- verit ut jam magnitudine laboret sua." John Warton. Ver. 145. His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest,] Our poet's prophetical capacity here failed, for we read in the accurate memoirs of the Protectorate-House of Cromwell, by Mark Noble, F.S.A. — " He was elected Protector De- cember 12,1653, and inaugurated again, with more state, June 20, 1657 ; and died peaceably in his bed (worn out by excessive fatigue of mind and body, by grief in domestic misfortunes, and his load of debts), at his palace at White- hall, upon his auspicious September 3, 1658; and was buried with more than regal pomp, in the sepulchre of our monarchs ; from whence, at the Restoration, his body was dragged to, and exposed upon, the gallows at Tyburn, the trunk thrown into a hole beneath it^ and his head set upon a pole at Westminster-hall." — Noble's Memoirs, vol. i. p. 145. John Warton. ASTIkEA REDUX. ASTRiEA BEDUX. A POEM ON TUB HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETUEN OF HIS SACKED MAJESTY CHARLES II. 1G60. 1 Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna. — Viro. The last great age foretold by sacred rhymes Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times Boll 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 : Thus when black clouds draw down the labouring skies, 6 Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies, An horrid stillness first invades the ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear. The ambitious Swede, like restless billows toss'd, On this hand gaining what on that he lost, 10 Though in his life he blood and ruin breathed, To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeathed. And Heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate, For France and Spain did miracles create ; Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, 15 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, Whilst 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 seized the throne : n Ver. 1. Now with a general] Waller, as well as Dryden, altered his sentiments, and changed his notes, on the Restoration ; and when the King hinted to him the infe- riority of his second poem to the former, answered, " Poets, sir, succeed hotter in fiction than in truth." What notice Charles took of Dryden's Astreaa we are ignorant. Dr. J. Wauton. Ver. 7. An horrid silence first invades the ear,] See Thomson's impending storm in Summer, v. 1116. " A boding silence reigns, Dread through the dun expanse ; save the dull sound That from the mountain, previous to the storm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, And shakes the forest-leaf without a breath." John Warton Ibid. An horrid stillness first invades the ear, Ami in that silence we the tempest fear."] This dis- tich was laid hold of by the wits of the times, and among others by Capt. Alexander Radcliff, in his News from Hell, who ridicules it thus : " Laureat, who was both learn'd and florid, Was damn'd long since for silence horrid; Nor had there been such clutter made, But that this silence did invade : Invade ! and so 't might well — that 's clear : But what did it invade t an ear" Derrick. "Ver. 19. denied us Charles his bed,] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 22. Madness the pulpit,"] From the numerous ser- mons preached before the Parliament, particularly from 1640 to 1650, a variety of curious examples might be Experienced age in deep despair was lost, To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd : Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been, 25 Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen : We thought our sires, not with their own content, Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt, Who ruin'd crowns would coronets exempt. ^ 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, M Like sanguine dye, to elephants was shown. Thus, when the bold Typhosus scaled the sky, And forced great Jove from his own heaven to fly, (What king, what crown from treason's reach is free, If Jove and Heaven can violated be?) ** The lesser gods, that shared his prosperous state, All suffer'd in the exiled 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 prized, Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilised. HowgreatwerethenourCharles hiswoes, who thus Was forced to suffer for himself and us ! m He, toss'd by fate, and hurried up and down, Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, adduced to prove the justness of Dryden's assertion. And who can wonder at this assertion, when he is told that noti- fications of the following kind were affixed on walls and door-posts: "Onsuchadaysuchabrewer'sclerk exerciseth; such a taylor expoundeth; such a waterman teachethf" See the Preface to Featley'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. Todd. Ver. 46. They owrfd a lawless] "Perhaps," says Swift, vol. x.p.lSS, "in my own thoughts, I prefer a well-insti- tuted common- wealth before a monarchy; and I know several others of the same opinion. Now, if on this pre- tence I should insist on liberty of conscience, form conven- ticles of republicans, and print books, preferring that sort of government, and condemning what is established, the magistrate would with great justice hang me and my disciples." Dr. J. Waeton. Ver. 49. How great were then our Charles his woes,] Original edition, and rightly so printed for the sake of the metre. Todd. ASTRJ3A REDUX. Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age ; But found his life too true a pilgrimage. Uneonquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, 55 His manly courage overcame his fate. His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, Which, by his virtue, were with laurels dress'd. As souls reach heaven while yet in bodies pent, So did he live above his banishment. 60 That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes Within the water, moved 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 resolved, 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. "° How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, That must his sufferings both regret and bless 1 For when his early valour Heaven had cross'd ; And all at Worcester but the honour lost ; Forced into exile from his rightful throne, ?" 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 ; m And, when restored, made his proud neighbours rue Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. Nor is he only by affliction shown To conquer others' realms, but rule his own : Recovering hardly what he lost before, ffi His right endears it much ; his purchase more. Inured to suffer ere he came to reign, No rash procedure will his actions stain : To business ripen'd by digestive thought, His future rule is into method brought : m 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 Counsellor, " 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 ; m 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. ^/Sorne~lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, m 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. m Such is not Charles his too too active age, 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, lls Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore; Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail, Our lion now will foreign foes assail. With alga who the sacred altar strewB ? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes : 120 Ver. 57. His wounds he took, like. Romans, on his breast^] My reader will not be displeased with the following cita- tion from Elian's Various History, lib. 12, cap. 21. " The matrons of Lacedaemon, when they received the news that their sons were slain in battle, were accustomed to go forth to inspect their wounds, both before and behind ; and when they found the greater number was before, they conducted the bodies of their children to the monuments of their ancestors with great solemnity, and a kind of stern pride in their countenances ; but if they perceived any wounds behind, weeping and blushing for shame, they departed with the utmost secrecy, leaving the dead bodies to be interred in the common sepulchre, or carried them away by stealth to be privately buried at home." To which we may add these spirited lines of Tyrtfieus, so peculiarly applicable at this important juncture. Avxo$ i' iv trpof/Mxitn ntrw tpitov uMtri Su/aov, Aittu T£ »ou Xotous not stutip' ivukiiirai? \\(,} > a. "div. mipyottt xott afftriSos of&Qukotffffvjs, K.K1 hia QcppVjWX; trpntrdiy eAfjAa^liEi'Oj. Tov V oXoQopovreci uiv r,f^us v£ei jjSe ytpwris, Apyct^ioj ds srofiai irettrct zlzvihl sre\is, " Now fall'n, the noblest of the van, he dies ! His city by the beauteous death renown'd ; His low-bent father markiner, where he lies, The shield, the breast-plate, hackt by many a wound. The young, the old, alike commingling tears, His country's heavy grief bedews the grave ; And all his race in verdant lustre wears Fame's richest wreath, transmitted from the brave." Polwhele's Translation. John Warton. Ver. 78. A royal /actor for his kingdoms lay,] Original edition, their kingdoms. Todd. Ver. 86. His right endears"] " It is remarkable," says Algarotti, " that no great people is governed by families that have been originally natives. China is governed by Tartars ; the Euphrates, the Nile, Orontes, Greece, Epirus, by Turks. It is not an English race that governs England ; it is a German family that has succeeded a Dutch prince ; he succeeded a Scotch family, which had succeeded a family of Anjou, which had succeeded a Norman family, which had driven away a Saxon family." Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 101. Shock'd by a Covenanting League] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 108. in epoches mistakes?] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 111. Charles his too too active age,] Original edition. Derrick prints " Such is not Charles' too too active age." See also before, ver. 49. Too too active age, was an ancient formulary. So in H. Parrot's Springes for Wood- cocks, 12mo. London, 1613, Epigram 133, lib. 1. " 'tis knowne her iesting's too too evill." And even in prose, as in Penri's Exhortation vnto the Gouernours, &c. of Wales, 1588, p. 51. " The case is too too manifest." Too too for exceeding is also used in the Lan- cashire dialect. I venture to add part of P. Fletcher's well-drawn character of Lasciviousness personified, JParv. Isl. 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 woman's sprite." Todd. Ver. 115. who secure before,] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 117. Boused by the lash of his own stubborn tail,] An Homeric simile. John "Wabton. Ver. 119. With alga who the sacred altars strews f To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain, A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main :] He had not yet learned, indeed he never learned well, to forbear the improper use of mythologv. After having thus rewarded the heathen deities lor thei'r care, he tells us in the language of religion, " Prayer storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from thence, As heaven itself is took by violence." Johnsox. ASTR.EA BEDUX. 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 oast his shipwreek'd vessel on the shore. Yet as wise artists mix their colour so, m 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. 13 ° Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny To flowers that in its womb expecting lie, Do seldom their usurping power withdraw, But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw. Our thaw was mild, the cold not chased away, I3i 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 unhoped, without the price of war : '* Yet, 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'B forward valour only served to show, 145 He durst that duty pay we all did owe : The attempt was fair ; but heaven's prefix'd hour Not come : so like the watchful traveller That by the moon's mistaken light did rise, Lay down again, and closed his weary eyes. 16n 'Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose Those real bonds false freedom did impose. Ver. 145. Booth' 8 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 encoun- tering with Lambert, general of the parliament's forces, were entirely routed at Winnington Bridge, near North- wich, in Cheshire, and most of the principal people made prisoners. Derrick. Ver. 161. ' Twas Monk, &c] General George Monk had the command of the parliament's army in Scotland at the death of Cromwell, whose son Richard ho caused to be proclaimed Protector, in compliance with their order. He shortly afterwards marched with his forces towards London, where he managed matters so well as to bring about the restoration of the king, without the least bloodshed; for which good service he honoured him with the order of the Garter, created him Duke of Albemarle, &c.&c, on account of his being descended on the mother'B side from Richard Beauohamp, Earl of Albemarle and "Warwick. In 1666 he was united with the Duke of York, in command of the fleet that was sent against the Dutch. A dropsy carried him out of the world on the 3rd day of January, 1679, aged seventy-one years. His air was majestic, his counte- nance grave ; he was equal in his proceedings ; solid, and intrepid in his conduct. He kept the army under strict discipline, and set a noble example of virtue to his soldiers, being an enemy to drunkenness, blasphemy, and inconti- nence. Derrick. The indefatigable perseverance, the impenetrable secrecy, the art of seizing the proper moment for action, enabled ntonck to bring about the important event of the Restoration. He would not trust his own .brother with his design, when Sir R. Grenville came to consult him on the subject. Not that any abilities alone could possibly have given him success, if the whole nation, tired and disgusted with the absurdities and the tyrannies of their rulers, had not been ripe for a change, and united in a wish to recal the heir to the crown; so that Monck in reality, according to Mr. Walpole, only furnished a hand to the heart of the nation. Yet this general must have been a man of greater talents than are usually supposed. After his death, a thin folio volume was published, entitled, " Observations on Military and Political Affairs," written by the Most Honourable 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, ls5 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 : 16 ° But when ourselves to action we betake, It shuns the mint like gold that chemists make. How hard was then his task ! at once to be What in the body natural we see ! Man's architect distinctly did ordain 1B 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. ] '° He, like a patient angler, ere he Btrook, Would let him play a while 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, '' 5 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 had taught to fear, 18 ° And guard with caution that polluted nest, Whence Legion twice before was dispossess'd : Once sacred house ; which when they enter'd in. They thought the place could sanctify a sin ; Like those that vainly hoped kind Heaven would wink, 185 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. Beligion's name against itself was made ; 191 The shadow served 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 An heaven so far distant from the sky, 196 Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the ground, 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. ao ° George Duke of Albemarle. He married a blacksmith's daughter, a woman of strong sense, who governed her hus- band as Sarah Duchess of Marlborough did the Duke, and who is said to have been instrumental in promoting the Restoration. Dr. Johnson says, this passage down to verse 178, contains a cluster of thoughts unallied to each other, not to be elsewhere easily found. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 166. While to excess on martyrs' tombs, &c.] This passage seems to allude to the extravagancies that are often committed by the vulgar Roman Catholics upon their pil- grimaging to the tombs of saints, where, after having per- formed the stated devotions, they too often launch into the most blameable excesses, as if they imagined they had now fully expiated their former offences, and were at liberty to begin a new reckoning. Derrick. Ver. 187. And as devouter Turks, &c7\ The Khoran having prohibited the use of wine, when a Turk has a mind to indulge himself with the juice of the grape, he warns his soul to retire to some safe corner of his body, where it may be secured from the contamination, and consequently not liable to the punishment. Derrick. 1.0 ASTR^EA REDUX. Thus Sforza, cursed 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, m 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 sufferings learn to prize our bliss : 210 Like early lovers, whose unpractised hearts "Were long the may-game of malicious arts, When once they find their jealousies were vain, With double heat renew their fires again. 'Twas this produced the joy that hurried o'er 2I5 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 23 ° True sorrow, Holland to regret a king ! While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, And willing winds to their low'rd sails denied. The waVring streamers, flags, and standart out, 325 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, 23 ° But better to be lost in Charles his name, (Lute 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 : ^ 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 ventured at a stake. The same indulgence Charles his voyage bless'd, Which in his right had miracles confess'd. M1 The winds that never moderation knew. Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew : Ver. 205. they are like Helots, &c] The Spartans, to deter their youth from intemperance, exposed their slaves, whom they called Helots, intoxicated with liquor, as puhlic ohjects of derision. They were called Helots from Helos, a Laconian town, which being taken by the Spartans, they made all the inhabitants prisoners of war, and reduced them to the condition of slaves. Derrick. Ver. 207. For by example most we sinnld before, And glass-like clearness mizdd with frailty Sore.] This is another conceit too curious to he omitted without censure. Johnson, Life of Dryden. John Warton. Ver. 215.] To Dryden's flattery to Charles II. restored, we may apply the words of Tacitus :— " Lsetantis, ut feme ad nova imperia, ut gratiam viresque apud novum princi- pem pararet."— Tacit, iii. John Warton. Ver. 224. And wilUng winds to their low'rd sails denied.] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 225. ■ flags, and standart out,] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 231. Charles his name,'] Original edition. Todd. Ver. 235. The Swift-sure groans beneath great G-lostei^s weight .*] From Virgil : " simul accipit alveo Ingentem iEneam, gemuit sub pondere cymha Sutilis."— ^Eneid. vi. 412. John Warton. Ver. 242. The winds that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew : Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straiten' d lungs, or conscious of their charge.] Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straiten'd lungs, or conscious of their charge. ' 2r ° 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 clifts of Albion : 25] 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. 255 But you, whose goodness your descent doth show, Your heavenly parentage and earthly too ; How far he was yet from thinking it necessary to found his sentiments on nature, appears from the extravagance of his fictions and hyperboles. — Johnson. John Warton. Ver. 244. Or, out of breath'] Can Dryden have written so contemptible a line? Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 246. The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear, In richer azure never did appear ;] Here he has his eye on his favourite Virgil, -33neid. lib. viii. line 86. " Thybris e& fluvium, quam longa est, nocte tumentem Leniit, et tacita reflueus ita substitit unda, Mitis ut in morem stagni placidaeque paludis Sterneret sequor aquis, remo ut luctamen abesset." John Warton. Ver. 250. And welcome now,] " Charles might have been restored on any terms, or under any limitations. Instead of this, he came in almost without conditions. He obtained the most unlimited confidence, before he had taken one step to deserve it; and he lived to acquire as absolute an authority as his unhappy father had ever possessed— he lived to govern without Parliaments. To point out par- ticularly what might have been, or ought to have been done on this occasion, might be an invidious task, and would far exceed the limits of this discourse. But most certainly our ancestors should not have been content with less than was actually obtained in a later period ; should have attempted, at least, to prevent a return of the calami- ties they had suffered ; and to form an establishment, which might secure them in the most effectual manner, both from tyranny and faction. By neglecting to obtain this security, the men who placed Charles on the throne, exposed both church and state to the utmost danger. The returning monarch, void of every religious and every moral principle, was ready to sacrifice the fate of Europe to the caprice or the cunning of a mistress ; and studied to subvert the liber- ties of his people, not from any reputable principle of am- bition or honour, but that he might, without difficulty, and without opposition, employ the hands and purses of his lov- ing subjects in ministering to his royal pleasures. It was not indeed long before his subjects were awakened from their dream of happiness, but it had like to have been too late. Never was the whole machinery of opposition put in motion with more art and address, and (to say the truth) with less restraint from principles of justice and honour. Yet all this was found too little. Charles, though obliged to give way for a time, was able at last to surmount the utmost efforts of his enemies ; and had either his life been prolonged, or had his successor trodden in the same steps, the liberties of Britain were no more." No apology shall be made for the length of this passage, so pregnant with solid sense and knowledge of the true con- stitution of Great Britain, which is taken from the discourses of a man far above the narrow views of any party; of an enlarged mind and manly spirit, enriched with a variety of solid learning, which he always imparted in a style pure and energetic. Need I name Dr. Balguy? Dr. J. Warton. Ver, 252. 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.] " I know not whether this fancy, however little be its value, was not borrowed. A French poet read to Malherbe some verses, in which he represents France as rising out of its place to receive the King. ' Though this,' said Malherbe, ' was in my time, I do not remember it.' "—Johnson. John Warton. ASTK.EA REDUX. 11 By that same mildness, which your father's crown Before did ravish, shall secure your own. Not tied to rules of policy, you find, 260 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. ^ Your power to justice doth submit your cause, Your goodness only is above the laws ; Whose rigid letter, while pronounced by you, 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. , ^'° Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand, Who, in their haste to welcome you to land, Choked up the beach with their still growing store, And made a wilder torrent on the shore : While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past de- light, *» Those, who had seen you, court a second sight ; Preventing still your steps, and making haste To meet you often, whereso'er you pass'd. Ver. 281. Those, who had seen you,] Among the many characters drawn of this prince, that given us by the Duke of Buckingham, who knew him well, seems to be drawn with accuracy and spirit, with a few sprinklings of partiality. " His understanding was quick and lively in little things, ^ and sometimes would soar high enough in great ones, but unable to keep it up with any long attention or application. Witty in all sorts of conversation, and telling a story so well, that not out of flattery, hut for the pleasure of hearing it, we used to seem ignorant of what he had repeated to us ten times before, as a good comedy will hear the being Been often. Of a wonderful mixture, losing all his time, and, till of late, setting his whole heart on the fair sex ; yet neither angry with rivals, nor in the least nice as to the being beloved ; and while he sacrificed all things to his mistresses, he would use to grudge and be uneasy at their losing a little of it again at play, though never so necessary for their diversion; nor would he venture five pounds at tennis to those servants, who might obtain as many thousands, either before he came thither, or as soon as he left off. Not false to his word, but full of dissimulation, and very adroit at it ; yet no man easier to be imposed on, for his great dexterity was in cozening himself, hy gaining a little one way, while It cost him ten times as muoh another ; and by caressing those persons most who had deluded him the oftenest, and yet the quickest in the world at spying such a ridicule in another. Familiar, easy, and good-natured, hut for great offences severe and inflexible; also in one week's absence quite forgetting those servants to whose faces he could scarcely deny anything. In the midst of all his remissness, so industrious and indefatigable on some particular occa- sions, that no man would either toil longer, or be able to manage it better. He was so liberal as to ruin his affairs by it ; for want in a King of England turns things just upside down, and exposes a prince to his people's mercy. It did yet worse in him, for it forced him also to depend on his great neighbour of France. He had so natural an aver- sion to all formality, that with as much wit as most kings ever had, and with as majestic a mien, yet he could not on premeditation act the part of a King for a moment, either at Parliament or Council, either in words or gestures, which carried him into the other extreme, more inconvenient of the two, of letting all distinction and ceremony fall to the ground as useless and foppish. His temper, both of body and mind, was admirable ; which made him an easy gene- rous lover, a civil obliging husband, a friendly brother, an indulgent father, and. a good-natured master. If he had been as solicitous about improving the faculties of his mind, as he was in the management of bis bodily health, though, alas I the one proved unable to make his life long, the other had not failed t>> have made it famous." Dr. J. Wakxon. How shall I speak of that triumphant day, When you renewed th' expiring pomp of May ! 285 (A month that owns an interest in 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, a9 ° 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. • 9R Our nation with united interest blest, Not now content to poize, shall sway the rest. Abroad your empire shall no limits know, But, like the sea, in boundless circles flow. Your much-loved fleet shall, with a wide command, Besiege the petty monarchs of the land : atPl 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 : 306 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, 31(l May justly apprehend you still too near. 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 thosg your edicts some reclaim from sins, Jl6 JJu^-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, 32 ° By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne ! When the joint growth of arms and art foreshow The world a monarch, and that monarch you. Ver. 316. from sins,] Original edition. In Derrick's edition, from sin. Todd. Ver. 317. example wins.] Original edition. In Der- rick's edition, example win. Todd. Ver. 320. Oh happy age /] But these days of felicity and joy lasted not long. Discontents arose, and many writers against the Court appeared. Among the rest was a man of a great fund of wit and learning, of a severe and sarcastic turn, and of irreproachable life and conversation. This man was Andrew Marvel, who wrote equally well in prose and in verse. Swift has done justice to bis Rehearsal transposed, from which in truth Swift borrowed largely. His satires in verse were numerous, particularly, To the King, Nostradamus' s Prophecy, Clarendon's House-Warming, Royal Resolutions, Dialogue between two Horses, Oceana and Britannia. Though he certainly cannot, as a poet, be in general compared with Dryden, particularly in point of numbers, which are harsh and rough, yet in all these pieces, strong thinking, and strong painting, and capital strokes of satire, appear. The story of his refusing a pension, offered him in a polite manner by Lord Danby, who waited on him in person, is well known. If he was grossly abused by Parker in his Latin commentaries, yet amends were made him by an elegant compliment in his Ode to Independency. Indeed it was honour enough to Marvel to be joint Latin Secretary with Milton, and to he his confidential friend. Marvel certainly wrote those fine six Latin lines addressed to Christina, Queen of Sweden, printed in the second volume of Milton. Dr. J. "VVartox. I think that Milton, and not Marvel, wrote the verses to Christina. Nor am I singular in this opinion. See the note on the lines in the sixth volume of the edition of Milton, published in 1801. and in the seventh of that in 1809. Todd. 12 TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. 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 ; 6 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 : 10 Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat, Till they at once might be secure and great : Till your kind beams, by their continued stay, Had warm'd the ground, and call'd the damps away. u Such vapours, while your powerful influence dries, Then soonest vanish when they highest rise. Had greater haste these sacred rites prepared, Some guilty months had in your triumphs shared : But this untainted year is all your own ; Your glories may without our crimes be shown. We had not yet exhausted all our store, 2I When you refresh'd our joys by adding more : As heaven, of old, dispensed celestial dew, You gave us manna, and still give us new. Now our sad ruins are removed from sight, * 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, 31 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, M And heaven this day is feasted with your name, Your cavalcade the fair spectators view, Prom their high standings, yet look up to you. Prom your brave train each singles out a prey, And longs to date a conquest from your day. 40 Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close; Ver. 1. In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd,'] His poem on the Coronation has a more uniform tenor of thought, says the great Johnson. It is in truth an uninterrupted series of flattery. Fluinina turn lactis, turn flumina nectaris ibant. John Warton. Ver. 34. Thomas, Lord Fairfax, wrote a copy of verses on the horse upon which Charles II. rode at his Coronation, bred and presented by him to the King, notwithstanding Fairfax's former conduct. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 41. Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, &c] " As many odoriferous bodies are observed to diffuse perfumes from year to year, without sensible diminu- tion of their bulk or weight; he appears never to have impoverished his mint of flattery by his expenses, however lavish. He had all the forms of excellence, intellectual and moral, combined in his mind, with endless variation ; and when he had scattered on the hero of the day the golden shower of wit and virtue, he had ready for him, whom he wished to court on the morrow, new wit and virtue of another stamp. Of this kind of meanness he never seems to decline the practice, or lament the necessity : lie con- siders the great as entitled to encomiastic homage, and brings praise rather as a tribute than a gift,— more de- And glorious dreams stand ready to restore The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. Next to the sacred temple you are led, * Where waits a crown for your more sacred head : How justly from the Church that crown is due, Preserved from ruin, and restored by you ! The grateful choir their harmony employ, Not to make greater, but more solemn joy. m 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, M 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, S9 And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread Through the large dome; the people's joyful sound, Sent back, is still preserved 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 yourself, 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 : 7° 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, ?5 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. s " 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 Csesar make. Kind Heaven so rare a temper did provide, * 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 Prom milder heavens you 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 % Imperial power with your paternal sway. From those great cares when ease your soul unbends, Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends : Born to command the mistress of the seas, Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please. m lighted with the fertility of his invention than mortified by the prostitution of his judgment " — Johnson's Life of Dryden. John Warton. Ver. 81. The jealous sects,'] It is finely and acutely observed by Des Cartes, in Dissertatione de Methodo, that the Spartan commonwealth flourished so eminently not so much because it was governed by a body of laws, that were good in themselves, but because "ab uno tantum legisla- tor conditre, sibi omnes consentiebant, atque in eundem scopum collimabaut." Dr. J. "Warton. TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE. 13 Hither in summer evenings you repair 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 ; I05 No loyal subject dares that courage praise. 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, tired at sea, within this bay they creep. Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects, U6 So safe are all things which our king protects. From your loved 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. 12 ° It was your love before made discord cease : Your love is destined 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, 12s 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 : 13 ° 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, 13d With their own peace their children's happiness. "Ver. 102. To taste the fraicheur of the purer air:'] " Dryden had a vanity unworthy of his abilities ; to shew, as may be suspected, the rank of the company with whom he lived, by the use of French words, which had then crept into conversation ; fluch as fraicheur for coolness, fougue for turbulence, and a few more, none of which the language has incorporated or retained. They continue only where they stood first, perpetual warnings to future innovators." — Johnson's Lifo of Dryden. John Warton. Ver. 104. With Ccesar's heart that rose, &c] Cresar, when iu some danger on board ship, observing the mariners affrighted, bade them remember they carried Caesar and his fortune. Derkick. Ver. 186. ■ their children's] What effect this poem might have on the public mind we know not ; but the effect of another poem, the incomparable Hudibras, was deep, universal, and lasting. This work is original in our language, though the idea is evidently taken from Don Quixote. The wit of Butler is inexhaustible, and more new images are brought together than are to be found in any language. A want of events and action is the only blemish to he discerned. No writer has displayed such a fund of various learning, nor applied it with such dexterity. The measure, though blamed by Dryden, is exactly suited to the subject. It will remain an eternal disgrace to Charles II. not to have rewarded amply this singular genius, so useful to his cause and government. The Satire MenippSe, published in France, 1597, had a similar effect in that country. The president Henault, one of the most curious and accurate of all their writers, informs us, p. 388, 4to, that Le Eoi, canon of Rouen, was the sole author of the Catholicon. Passerat and Rapin composed the verse part ; M. GiUot composed the harangue of the Cardinal Legate ; P. Pithou that of M. d' Aubrai ; and Rapin that of the Archbishop of Lyons. " Perhaps," says Henault, " the Satire Menippie was not of less use to Henry IV. than the battle of Ivri. Ridicule has more force than we can well imagine." Dr.J.WARTON. THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.* PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR S DAY, My Lord, While flattering crowds officiously appeal*, To give themselves, not you, an happy year ; And by the greatness of their presents prove How much they hope, but not how well they love ; * Edward Earl of Clarendon, to whom this poem is addressed, having followed the fortune of the King, was appointed 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 he was also chosen Chancellor of the University of Oxford, in the room of tbe Dnke of Somer- set, and created Baron Hindon, Viscount Cornbury, and Earl of Clarendon. He was too honest for a court; his plain dealing and integrity ruined him. The King, aban- doned 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 Bupport 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. Derrick. Ver. 1. While flattering crowds] Few pieces of biography are so interesting as the life of Lord Clarendon, written by himself, and published from his original manuscripts by the University of Oxford. In which is given, with open- ness and frankness, an account of his early habits and studies, and intimacy with the greatest men of that age, whose characters he has drawn with a masterly hand. He soon became eminent both at the bar and in Parliament; and entering into the King's service at the commencement of the civil wars, snon rose to such a degree in his favour and friendship, that tbe King entrusted him to draw up several very important state papers, published in the King's own name, and supposed to be his own productions. He followed Charles IT. into exile, shared all his fortunes, and continued his faithful adviser till the Restoration. Burnet, who did not love him, says he used to give his advice in too magisterial a manner; and it is certain that Charles II. had always for him more veneration than affection. As he never degraded himself by flattering the Duchess of Portsmouth, and showed a marked contempt of the debauched parasites that surrounded his master, they employed every possible method of wit and ridicule to depreciate him in the eyes of his master, who, when Buck- ingham imitated the gait and air, and solemn step of the Chancellor, had the weakness to join in tbe laugh. But what chiefly alienated the King's regard for him, and in truth provoked a deep indignation, was, that Clarendon engaged the Duke of Richmond to marry the beautiful Mrs. Stuart, with whom the King was violently in love. So that when the Sectarists, the Catholics, and even some disappointed Royalists, all joined in enmity to Clarendon, and laid to his charge all the misfortunes that had befallen the kingdom — the bad payment of the seamen, the sale of Dunkirk, the disgrace at Chatham, and an unsuccessful war— the King, with matchless ingratitude, gave up into the hands of his enemies his old, able, and faithful coun- sellor, who was immediately impeached by both Houses of Parliament. He therefore thought proper to retire to France, where he lived privately for six years, and wrote his History of the Civil "Wars ; a work which, notwithstand- ing some (perhaps pardonable) partialities, will for ever be read with attention and applause ; and is in truth com- posed with a dignity, majesty, and strength of style, rarely to he found in modern history. The praises of twenty such poets as Dryden could not have conferred such lasting honour on Lord Clarendon as those words of the virtuous Earl of Southampton, at the Conncil Board : " This man," said he, " is a true Protestant, and an honest Englishman ; and while he enjoys power, we are secure of our laws, liberties, and religion. I dread the consequences of his removal." Dr. J. Warton. 14 TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE. The Muses, who your early courtship boast, 5 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 Their former beauty by your former love ; 10 And now present, as ancient ladies do, That, courted long, at length are forced to woo. For still they look on you with such kind eyes, As those that see the Church's sovereign rise ; 14 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, 19 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, restored again To that great charge which nature did ordain ; And their loved Druids seem revived by fate, * 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. m 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, "■ 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 disposed, His to inclose, and yours to be inclosed. 40 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 *" Their share of business in your labouring 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, 60 Ver. 20. The helpless gods'] I will here offer part of Mer- rick's observation on a passage in his translation of Try- phiodorus, p. 102. — " We learn from jEschyhis (Esttcc i-xi Q40. v. 223.) that it was a common opinion among the ancients that the tutelary gods of every city withdrew from it when it was going to be taken. The scholiast on -/Eschylus farther informs us, that Sophocles wrote a play called Baecmjtpoetn, in which the gods of the Trojans were introduced retiring from the city, and carrying their images with them. What Tryphiodorus feigns of Apollo's quitting Troy, just before its destruction, is related by Virgil concerning the other deities of the Trojans, Mn. ii. 351. ( Excessere omnes, adytis arisque relictis, Di, quibus imperium hoc steterat.' And Petronius Arbiter says, ' Peritura Troja perdidit prhnum deos.' Nor is this fiction to be found in the poets only, but is likewise preserved in some of the ancient historians." See the whole note. Todd. Ver. 48. He leavps his light, and by reflection shines."] The same sentiment is repeated in the Annus Mirabilis, St. 253. " His beams he to his royal brother lent, And so shone still in his reflective light." Todd. 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 ■» 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 : m 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 : 64 Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their ore. While empiric politicians use deceit, Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat ; You boldly show that skill which they pretend, And work by means as noble as your end ; ?0 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 conve/d, ? s 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 prosperous princes gain their subjects' heart, Who love that praise in which themselves have part. By you he fits those subjects to obey, As heaven's eternal monarch does convey His power unseen, and man, to his designs 8i 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, ™ Made you the favourite of his last sad times, That is a sufferer 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, B E'en then took care to lay you softly by ; 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 : 10 ° 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. Ver. 66. As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their ore.] So Milton of the river Tamar in Cornwall. Epi- taph. Damon. " fusca metallis Tamara." John Wartoh. Ver. 67. While empiric] Our knowledge in politics, says Hume, is even yet imperfect; we know not to what de- grees human virtue or vice may he carried. Even Ma- chiavel is an imperfect and mistaken politician. Modern monarchies, he adds, are grown mild and improved ; but this is owing to manners, and to the progress of sense and philosophy. Br. J. Warton. Ver. 87. Our setting sun,] Charles I. employed him in writing some of his declarations. Dr. J. Warton. SATIRE ON THE DUTCH. 15 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, it leaves our sense behind, 110 While you so smoothly turn and roll our sphere, That rapid motion does but rest appear. For, as in nature's swiftness, with the throng Of flying orbs while ours is borne along, All seems at reBt to the deluded eye, Ui Moved 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 ; la) 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 kindneBS sent what does their malice seem, By lesser ills the greater to redeem. 128 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 ; 13 ° But sits all breathless, and admires to feel A fate so weighty, that it stops our 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, 13s 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 In small descents, which do its height beguile ; M0 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 lc Of love and friendship writ in former years. Yet, unimpair'd with labours, or with time, Your age but seems to a new youth to climb. Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget, And measure change, but share no part of it. }sv Ver. 109. Such is the mighty] " In this comparison," Dr. Johnson says, "the mind perceives enough to be de- lighted, and readily forgives its obscurity for its magnifi- cence." I own I think its obscurity so gross that it cannot be forgiven, and its magnificence lost by its no-meaning. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 119. Let envy then] Great ministers, in all ages and countries, have ever been attacked by satirical wits. Above one hundred and fifty-nine severe invectives were written against Cardinal Mozarin, many of them by Scarron and Sandricourt, which have been collected and called the Mazaranides. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 189. Sometimes the hill submits itself a while In small descents^] " qua se subducere colles Incipiunt, mollique jugum demittere clivo." Virgil, Eel. ix. 8. John Warton". Ver. 143. Your brow, which does no/ear of thunder know, Sees rolling tempests vainly beat below /] I cannot readily turn either to the passage or author of the following reflection : — " Great men ought not to listen to, or even hear, the mean cries of envy. Atlas, who sup- ports the heavens, hears not from his height the roaring and beating of the waves of the sea at his feet." John Warton. Ver. 149. Thus heavenly] Dr. Johnson is of opinion that "in this poem he seems to have collected all his powers." And still 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 tear : As needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands, Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgaged lands; The first fat buck of all the season's sent, And keeper takes no fee in comphment ; The dotage of some Englishmen is such, 6 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. l0 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, ,a Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare. Be guild no longer ; for you '11 find it true, They have no more religion, faith ! than you. Interest 's the god they worship in their state, And wc, I take it, have not much of that. *> 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, ffi And that what once they were, they still would be. To one well-born the affront is worse and more, When he 's abused and baffled by a boor. With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do ; They 've both ill nature and ill manners too. x 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, "' Than did their lubber state mankind bestride. Their sway became them 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. I should lament if this were true. But then he adds, " He has concluded with lines of which I think not myself obliged to tell the meaning." Dr. J. Warton. * This poem is no more than a prologue, a little altered, prefixed to our author's tragedy of Amboyna. Derrick. Ver. 35. Venetians do not more uncouthly ride,] Horses are almost useless in Venice from its situation, there being canals in every street, so that it cannot be thought the Venetians are expert jockies : besides, " To ride as badly as a grandee of Venice," is become a proverb all over Italy. Derrick. If TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS. As Cato, fruits of Afrio did display; Let us before our eyes their Indies lay : All loyal English mil like him conclude : Let Caesar live, and Carthage be subdued. TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS.* On the Memorable Victory gained by the Duke over the Hollanders, June 3, 10(55, and on her Journey afterwards into the North. Madam, When for our sakes, your hero you resign'd To swelling seas, and every faithless wind ; When you released his courage, and set free A valour fatal to the enemy; You lodged your country's cares within your breast, 6 (The mansion where soft love should only rest :) And, ere our foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home. Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide ! Your 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, 1!l These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. Then with the duke your highness ruled 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 bribed to combat on the English side. 25 Ver. 41. As Cato, dec.] Compare the Annus Miraoilis Stan. 173. " As once old Cato in the Roman fight, The tempting fruits of Afric did unfulrL" Todd. Ver. 44. and Carthage] The very words and allu- sion by Lord Shaftesbury in his famous speech against the Butch. * 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 father. She died in March, 1671, leaving issue one son, named Edgar, 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 know- Thus to your much-loved lord you did convey 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, w Like distant thunder on a shiny day. For absent friends we were ashamed to fear, When we consider'd what you ventured there. Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore, But such a leader could supply no more. B 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, * And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'er- came. 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, s0 Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show. So when the new-born Phoenix first is seen, Her feather'd subjects all adore their queen, And while she makes her progress through the East, From every grove her numerous train's increased : Each poet of the air her glory sings, s0 And round him the pleased audience clap their wings. ledge and penetration, friendly and generous, but severe in her resentments. Derrick. Ver, 26. your much-loved lord] James, notwith- standing, had many mistresses. Lady Dorchester, says Lord Oi'ford, vol. iv. p. 319, 4to, said wittily, she wondered for what James II. chose his mistresses. " We are none of us handsome, and if we had wit, he has not enough to discover it." And once meeting the Duchess of Ports- mouth and Lady Orkney, the favourite of King William, at the drawing-room of George I., she exclaimed, " Good God ! who would have thought that we three whores should have met together here ! " Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 56. her glory sings,'] The Duchess of York, says Burnet, was 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. Joseph Warton. Ver. 57. And round him the pleased audience clap their wings.] Hence Pope, Pastoral i. ver. 16. " And all th' aerial audience clap their wings." This escaped the observation of the acute Mr. Wakefield, to whom, as my reader will perceive, I owe many obli- gations, and who seldom suffers a parallel passage to escape him. John Warton. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 17 ANNUS MIRABILIS; THE TEAE OF WONDERS, 1666. AN HISTORICAL POEM. THE METEOPOLIS OF GEEAT BEITAIN, THE MOST RENOWNED AND LATE FLOURISHING CITY OP LONDON, IN ITS REPRESENTATIVES THE LORD MAYOR AND COURT OP ALDERMEN, THE SHERIFFS, AND COMMON COUNCIL OP 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 example of such a dedication should begin it with that city which has set a pattern to all others of true loyalty, invincible 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 down and to triumph : I know not whether such trials have been ever paralleled in any nation : the resolution and successes 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 interposition of many rivals, who violently ravished and withheld you from him ; and certainly you have had your share in sufferings. But Providence has cast upon you want of trade, that you might appeal' 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. Tou, 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 humanity 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 an history of your destruction than the other a prophecy of your restoration ; the accomplish- ment of which happiness, as it is the wish of all true Englishmen, so is it by none more passionately desired than by The greatest of your admirers, And most humble of your Servants, JOHN DRYDEN. * 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 correction, to the judicious reader. Derrick. c 18 ANNUS MIRABILIS. AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, A LETTER TO THE HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD. SlE, I am so many ways obliged to you, and so little able to return 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 reputation, 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 necessary 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 deplorable, 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 fatherly affection of our monarch to his suffering subjects ; and, in the second place, to the courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the city ; both which were so conspicuous, that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I 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 iEneids. 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 admitted. 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 Blavery of any rhyme ; and were leBS 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 abbreviation 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 work is sooner at an -end, every two lines concluding the labour of the poet ; but in quatrains he * 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 interest or fancy he was induced to change his opinion. Derrick. LETTER TO THE HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD. 19 is to cany it farther on, and not only so, but to bear along in his head the troublesome sense of four 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 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 remember is much better defended in the preface to Gondibert ; 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 English ; 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 disorder, 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 ignorance. Deacriptas 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, 'tis 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 especially 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 ban-en of praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful ; but here — Omnia sponte m& redditjwtwima tcllus. 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 oppressed the reaper. All other greatness in subjects is only counterfeit ; it will not endure the test of danger ; the greatness 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 endeavoured 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 distinction) 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 defined, 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, passions, or things. "Tis not the jerk or sting of an epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor antithesis, (the delight of an ill-judging audience in a play of rhyme) nor the gingle of a more poor Paronomasia ; 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 delightfully than nature. So 20 ANNUS MIRABILIS. 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 Buhject; the third is elocution, or the art of clothing and adorning that thought, so sound and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words: the quickness of the 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 move- ments and affections of the mind, either comhating between two contrary passions, or extremely discomposed by one. His words therefore are the least part of his care; for he pictures nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. 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 figuratively, 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 ; for as great an admirer of him as I am, I must acknowledge, that if I see not more of their souls than I see of Dido's, at least I have a greater concernment for them : and that convinces 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 which he speaks, informing and moving through all his pictures : • Totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet. We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus breathing beauty upon her son ..Eneas. lumenque juventse Purpureum, et ketos oculis amarat honores : Quale manus addunt ebori decus, aut ubi flavo Argentum Pariusve lapis circundatur auro. See his Tempest, his Funeral Sports, his Combat of Turnus and ^Eneas ; and in his Georgics, which I esteem the divinest 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, Materiam swperabat opus. The very sound of his words has often somewhat that is connatural to the subject ; 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 ; and this is it which Horace means in his epistle to the Pisos : Dixeris egregife, notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura 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. Vet 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 everywhere, I a know not with what success, 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 accountable to any of our little critics, who, perhaps, are no better acquainted with him than I am. Upon your first perusal of this poem, you have taken notice of some words which I have innovated (if it be too bold (for me to say refined) upon his Latin ; LETTER TO THE HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD. 21 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 again defend me. Et nova, fictaque nuper, hahetmnt verba ndem, si Grseco fonte cadunt, 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 he used this liberty but seldom, and with modesty ; how much more justly may I challenge that privilege to do it with the same prerequisites, from the best and most judicious of Latin writers 1 In some places, where either the fancy or the words were his, or any other's, 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 wrought, which I promise not for mine, are, as I have said, the adequate delight of heroic poesy ; for they beget admiration, which is its proper object ; as the images of the burlesque, which is contrary to this, by the same reason beget laughter : for the one shows nature beautified, as in the picture 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 antic 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 a several sort of sculpture is to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, Stantea in cwrribw dlmiliani, heroes drawn in their triumphal chariots, and in their full proportion ; others are to be like that of Virgil, Spircmtia molliua cera : 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 defend 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 hit locus ; I knew I addressed them to a lady, and, accordingly, 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 candour 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 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 snmtparum mvlli, qui carpere amicos mos judicium meant : I am rather too secure of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you more remiss in correcting 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 absent person, since I repose upon your management what is dearest to me, my feme 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 married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the portion, christened all his 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 anything 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, The most obedient and most faithful of your Servants, JOHN DRYDEN. From Chaklton, in Wiltshire, Nov. 10, 1666. * See the preceding poem, which, in the original edition of the Annus Mirabilis, occurs in this place. John Warton. 22 ANNUS MIRABILIS. ANNUS MIRABILIS; THE YEAK OF WONDEKS, 1666* 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 awed. ii. 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 go, And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast, in. 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 Ceylon spicy forests grew. IV. The sun but seem'd the labourer of their year ; Each wexing moon supplied her watery store, To swell those tides, which from the line did bear 15 Their brim-full vessels to the Belgian shore. * " This poem is written with great diligence, yet does not fully answer the expectation raised by such subjects, and such a writer. With the stanza of Davenant, he has sometimes his vein of parenthesis, and incidental disqui- sition, and stops his narrative for a wise remark. The general fault is, that he affords more sentiment than description, and does not so much impress scenes upon the fancy, as deduce consequences, and make comparisons." — Johnson's Life of Dryden. John Waeton. Ver. 1.] " The initial stanzas have rather too much resemblance to the first lines of Waller's poem on the war with Spain; perhaps such a beginning is natural, and could not be avoided without affectation. Both Waller and Dryden might take their hint from the poem on the civil war of Rome. Orhem jam totum," &c. — Johnson's Life of Dryden. John Waeton . Ver. 5. Trade, which like blood should circularly flow,] With equal liberty Cowper : " — The band of commerce was design'd T' associate all the branches of mankind ; And, if a boundless plenty he the robe, Trade is the golden girdle of the globe." John Waeton. Ver. 10. In eastern quarries, &c.] Precious stones at first are dew, condensed and hardened by the warmth of the sun, or subterranean fires. Original edition, 1667. Ver. 11. War them the Idumman balm did, sweat,'] Pope had his eye on this passage, where, describing the effects of commerce, he says, " For me the halm shall bleed, and amber flow," &c. Windsor Forest, line 393. John Waeton. Ver. 13. their year;] Corrected from the original edition. 12mo, 1667. Derrick has the year. Todd. Ver. 14. Bach wexing, &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. Original edition. Ibid. - wexing] Original edition. Derrick, waxing. Ver. 15. those tides,] Original edition, Dorrick, most probably by an error of the press, has tide. Todd. Thus, mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long, And swept the riches of the world from far ; Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong : And this may prove our second Punic war. *> VI. 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. VII. Behold two nations then, engaged so far, * That each seven years the fit must shake each land : Where France will side to weaken us by war, Who only can bis vast designs withstand. VIII. See how he feeds th' Iberian with delays, To render us his timely friendship vain : m And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. IX. 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, * To whom with ease he can give laws by land. This saw our king ; and long within his breast His pensive counsels balanced to and fro : He grieved the land he freed should be oppress'd, And he less for it than usurpers do. * 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. The loss and gain each fatally were great ; And still his subjects call'd aloud for war ; But peaceful kings, o'er martial people set, Each other's poise and counterbalance are. Ver. 19. stoop'd to Some,] The President He- nault, after so much has been said of the Romans, has made this fine and new reflection : — " Is it not astonishing that this celebrated and extensive empire of Rome should have subsisted from the time of Romulus to that of Theo- dosius II. — that is to say, more than a thousand years— without ever having had a complete body of laws." Dr. J. Waeton. Ver. 29. th' Iberian] The Spaniard. Original edition. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 23 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, , Which none but mighty monarchs could main- tain; m Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecs rise, It would in richer showers descend again. XIV. At length resolved t' assert the watery ball, He in himself did whole Armadas bring : Him aged seamen might their master call, ' 5 And choose for general, were he not their king. XV. 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 m 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. Ver. 61. Yet judged, like vapours tJiat from limbecs rise,] Dryden's allusions to chemistry and chemical operations are frequent. John Wabton. Ver. 68. At length resolved] It may be still doubted whether a naval engagement, though a magnificent object in itself, is yet a proper subject for heroic poetry. Boileau boasted to his friend and commentator Brossette, that he was the first of modern poets who had ventured to mention gunpowder in verse; which he did in his 4th Epistle, addressed to Louis XIV., at line 121 : "De salspetre en fureur l'air s'dchauffe et s'allume." Also at line 123 : " Deja du plomb mortel." And again In his 8th Satire, line 158; in his 4th Epistle, lines 54 and 121 ; and in Mb Ode on Namur : " Et les bombes dans les airs." Most undoubtedly the first time that ever bombs were introduced into lyric poetry. But the example even of Boileau will not justify the use of these images, because they do not Iobo that familiarity which produces disgust. As to technical terms, and sea language, the epic muse should certainly disdain to utter them. Our author has been lavish of them indeed, and sullied his piece by talking frequently like a boatswain. How can we defend such expressions as the following : " Old oakum— calking-iron— boiling pitch — rattling mallet — chase-guns — his lee — seasoned timber— seams instops — sharp-keel'd— shrouds— tarpawling." Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 69. So hear the scaly herd] The first edition erro- neously has here. Ibid. when Proteus Mows,] " Cseruleus Proteus immania ponti Amenta, et magnas pascit sub gurgite phocas."— Virg. Original edition. Ver. 60. And 30 to pasture follow, &0.1 For Proteus was the shepherd of Neptune, and hence Milton gives him a hook, Comus, v. 872. " By the Carpathian wizard's hook." Compare Virgil, Georg. iv. 395. " immania cujus Armenta, et turpes pascit sub gurgite phocas." Todd. Ver. 62. Angels drew wide the curtains of the skUs ;] This line seems indebted to Sir P. Sidney's Astrophel and Stella : ,„_,.., " Phrobus drew wide the curtaines of the skies. Todd. Ver. 64. two glaring comets] A very improper and absurd image ; as also at verse 62. Dr. J. Wabton. Ibid, (mo glaring comets rise.] A comet was seen first on the 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 Manilim, p. 211. Debbick. Whether they unctuous exhalations are, Fired 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; 70 And now, a round of greater years begun, New influence from his walks of light did bring. XIX. Victorious York did first with famed 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 shouldst wed the main, Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, And therefore doom'd that Lawson should be slain. XXI. Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate, Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament: Thus aB an offering for the Grecian state, He first was kill'd who first to battle went. Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expired, a To which his pride presumed to give the law : The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retired, And all was Britain the wide ocean saw. To nearest ports their shattered ships repair, Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed ; Ver. 69. that bright companion of the sun, Whose glorious aspect seaVd our new-born king.] A new star appeared in the open day about the time of King Charles the Second's birth ; a fact which Lilly, the famous astronomer, denied, affirming it to be only the planet Venus, which may be often seen by day-light, as has been experienced by all curious people again in 1767. Debbick. Ver. 71. And now, a round of greater years begun,] "Magnus ab integro seeclorum nascitnr ordo." — Virg. John Wabton. Ver. 80. And therefore doom'd, &c.] Sir John Lawson was born at Hull of but mean parentage, and bred to the sea; he was for some time employed in the merchant's service, which 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 zealously supported our claim to the sovereignty of the sea, and quarrelled with De Euyter, the Dutch admiral, for being backward in acknowledging it, an accident that partly occasioned 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-hall, 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. Debbick. Ver. 85. Their chief] The admiral of Holland. Origi- nal edition. 24 ANNUS MIEABILIS. So reverently men quit the open air, 91 Where thunder speaks the angry gods abroad. XXIV. And now approaoh'd their fleet from India, fraught* With all the riches of the rising sun : And precious sand from southern climates brought, M The fatal regions where the war begun. Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring: There first the North's cold bosom spices bore, And winter brooded on the eastern spring. lco By the rich scent we found our perfumed 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. XXVII. Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, 10s 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 : uo 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, lu 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 vanquish'd by our valour left, And only yielded to the seas and wind. Nor wholly lost we so deserved a prey ; For storms, repenting, part of it restored : Which as a tribute from the Baltic sea, The British ocean sent her mighty lord. XXXII. Go, mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain 125 For wealth, which so uncertainly must come : Ver. 92. So reverently men quit {he open air, Where thunder speaks, &c.J " The late Mr. James Ralph told Lord Macartney that he passed an evening -with Dr. Young at Lord Melcombe's (then Mr. Dodington) at Hammersmith. The Doctor happening to go out into the garden, Mr. Dodington observed to him, on his return, that it was a dreadful night, as in truth it was, there being a violent storm of rain and wind. ' No, sir,' replied the Doctor, ' it is a very fine night — the Lord is abroad.' " — Boswell's Life of Johnson, . vol. iv. p. 60. John Warton. * The attempt at Berghen. Original edition. Ver. 95. southern elimates] Guinea. Original edition. When what was brought so far, and with such pain, Was only kept to lose it nearer home. XXXIII. The son, who, twice three months on th' ocean toss'd, Prepared to tell what he had pass'd before, 130 Now sees in English ships the Holland coast, And parents' arms, in vain, stretch'd from the shore. xxxiv. 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 13s On which their father promised to return. Such are the proud designs of human-kind, And so we suffer shipwreck everywhere ! Alas ! what port can such a pilot find, Who in the night of fate must blindly steer J xxxvi. The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill, 141 Heaven, in his bosom, from our knowledge hides: And draws them in contempt of human skill, Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides. Let Minister's prelate ever be accursed, 145 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 ! XXXVIII. Happy, who never trust a stranger's will, Whose friendship 's in his interest understood ! Since money given but tempts him to be ill, 151 When power is too remote to make him good. Yer. 133.] Mr. Todd cites Thomson's natural and pathetic stroke : " In vain for him th' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing and the vestment warm — In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire With tears of artless innocence— alas I Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold.; , Nor friends nor sacred home." " Si sic Omnia dixisset ! '* In point of melody Dryden had in his eye Lucretius. " At jam non domus accipiet te laeta, nee uxor Optima, nee dulces occurrent oscula nati Prajripere, et tacita pectus dulcedine tangent." The latter part of the description is natural and his own. John Wabtos. Ver. 137. Such are, &c.] From "Petronius. " Si "bene cal- culum ponas, uhique fit naufragium." Original edition. Ver. 141. The undistinguished seeds of good and Ul,~\ " Prudens futuri temporis, exitum Caliginosa nocte premit deus." John Wartok. Ver. 146. Let Munster's prelate, &c] The famous Ber- nard Vanghalen, Bishop of Munster, excited by Charles, marched twenty thousand men into the province of Overys- sell, 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. Derrick. Ver. 146. the German faith] Tacitus saith of them, " Nsllos mortalium fide aut armis ante Gennanos esse." Original edition. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 25 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove ; The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand : And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, 1=5 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. wo 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 : 165 France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave. But when with one three nations join to fight, They silently confess that one more brave. XLIII. Lewis had chased the English from his shore ; But Charles the French as subjects does in- vite : 170 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 forced dominion take, Our prince alone would have the public voice ; And all his neighbours' realms would deserts make. ^6 XLV. 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. 180 The doubled charge his subjects' love supplies, Who, 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.t 185 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. * War declared by France. Original edition. Ver. 165. With France, to aid] Madame Charlotte Eliza- beth of Bavaria says, in her memoirs, that Louis XIV. afterwards attacked Holland with so much impetuosity and injustice, merely from the jealousy of M. de Lionne, who urged him to this measure, against Prince William of Furstenberg, who was in love with this minister's wife. She adds, in another place, that Louis XIV. returned so suddenly from his expedition against Holland, solely to have an interview with Madame De Montespan. Dr. J. Warton. t Prince Rupert and Duke of Albemarle, sent to sea. Original edition. Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, Yet neither envious of the other's praise ; I9 ° Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, Like mighty partners equally they raise. XXIX. The prince long time had courted fortune's love, But once possess'd did absolutely reign : Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, 19i And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. L. 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. 20 ° LI. Together to the watery 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. L1I. With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, a * T' infect a navy with their gawdy fears ; To make slow fights, and victories but vain : But war, severely, like itself, appears. LIU. Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, They make that warmth in others they expect ; Their valour works like bodies on a glass, 2M And does its image on their men project. LIV. Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a famed 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. sao LVI. Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight ; Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air : Th' Elean plains could boast no nobler fight, When struggling champions did their bodies bare. LVII. Borne each 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 nnfix'd, and floating nations strove. Ver. 204. future people.] " Examina infantium futurusgue populus" Plin. Jun. in Pan. ad Traj. Origina edition. _Ver. 205. With them no riotous pomp,] Dryden follows his great master, Milton, in making riotous only two sylla- bles. — Again, in stanza 59, elephant is contracted in like manner. Other examples of this kind occur. Todd. * Dukeof Albemarle'sbattle,nrstday. Original edition. Ver. 223. Th' Elean, &c.] Where the Olympic games were celebrated. Original edition. Ver. 228. lands unfold,] From Virgil : " Credas innare revulsas Cycladas," &c. Original edition. 26 ANNUS MIRABIUS. Now pass'd, on either side they nimbly tack ; Both strive to intercept and guide the wind : And, in its eye, more closely they come back, 231 To finish all the deaths they left behind. LIX. On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go : Such port the elephant bears, and so defied 2a5 By the rhinoceros her unequal foe. LX. 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. «° LXI. Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, Whose battered rigging their whole war re- ceives : All bare, like some olcL-oak which tempests beat, He stands and sees below his scatter'd leaves. Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought ; 245 But he, who meets all danger with disdain, EVn in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. LXIII. At this excess of courage, all amazed, The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw : 250 With such respect in enter'd Rome they gazed, Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw. And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek ; Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, 255 And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. Ver. 236. By the rhinoceros, &c.] The enmity between 'the elephant and rhinoceros is thus described in Franzius's Sistoria Anmalium, &c. 12mo. Arnst. 1665, p. 93. — " Naturale est odium inter Elephantum et Rhinocerotem, ita ut inyicem certent, et quidem in ipsa pugna rhinoceros unice dat operam, ut alvum Elephanti tanquam partem molliorem petat, sicut etiam tandem vineit Elephantum, contra quern suo cornu, quod in nari habet, audacissime pugnat. Tergum etiam habet scutulatum, et quasi varus clypeis munitum, unde etiam sestimari potest fortitudo hujus bestias. Hebc bellua paulo humilior est Elephanto, si altitudinem spectes," &c. Thus we see the propriety of Dryden's simile — her unequal foe, &c. Todd. "Ver. 243. All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, He stands, and sees below his scatter d leaves^ This is Virgil's simile compressed, Lib.iv. 441. "Ac velut annoso validam cum robore quercum Alpini Borese, nunc hinc, nunc flatibus illinc, Eruere inter se certant ; it stridor, et alte, Consternunt terram concusso stipite frondes : Ipsa hseret scopulis ." John Wabton. Ver. 255. Ours o'er the Duke'] Waller wrote a long poem on the victory obtained over the Dutch by the Duke of York, June 3, 1665, in imitation of a poem of Francesco Busenello, addressed to Fietro Liberi, instructing him to paint the famous sea-fight between the Turks and Venetians, near the Dardanelles, in the year 1656. The Duke of York urged the necessity of this war, not only because, as well as his brother, he hated the Dutch, but also because he wished for an opportunity of signalising him as an Admiral, as he well understood sea affairs. Clarendon and Southampton constantly opposed this war. The Dutch admiral's ship blew up just as he was closely engaged. Dr. J. Wabton. 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. ^ LXVI. Straight to the Dutch 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 They drive, and squander the huge fleet. Berkley alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Cre'usa meet. The night comes on, we eager to pursue m The combat still, and they ashamed to leave : Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moon-light did our rage deceive. LXIX. 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, ^ And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame. LXX. Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretch'd on their decks like weary oxen he : Faint sweats all down their mighty members run ; Vast bulks which little souls but ill supply, a8 ° LXXI. In 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. LXXII. The morn they look on with unwilling eyes,* ^ Till from their main-top joyful news they hear Ver. 267. Berkley alone, &c] Among other 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 the body covered with blood. Dbbbick. Ver. 269. The night comes on,] The four next stanzas are worth the reader's particular attention; and the con- trast betwixt the feelings of the triumphant English and conquered Dutch strongly supported. The dreams in the 71st stanza are painted with true poetic energy and much propriety. Dr. J. Wabton, Ver. 280. Vast bulks which little souls but iU supply.] So Milton, in the spirited speech which he gives to Samson,, as an answer to the cowardly language of the giant Harapha, Sam. Agon. ver. 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. Todd. Ver. 281. In dreams, &c.] Probably alluding to Virgil, Mn. iv. 465. " Agit ipse furentem In Bomnis ferns ./Eneas : semperque relinqui Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur Ire viam," &c. Todd. * Second day's battle. Original edition. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 27 Of ships, which by their mould bring new Bupplies, And in their colours Belgian lions bear. LXXIH. 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, 291 His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow. LXXIV. His wounded men he first sends off to shore, Never, till now, unwilling to obey : They not their wounds, but want of strength deplore, !95 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 : Among so brave a people, you are they Whom Heaven has chose to fight for such a prize. m LXXVl. If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shunn'd, not met our foes : WhoBe numerous sails the fearful only tell : Courage from hearts, and not from numbers, grows." LXXVII. He said, nor needed more to say : with haste M5 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' encouraged Belgians long delay, But bold in others, not themselves, they stood: 31 ° So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, But seem'd to wander in a moving wood. Our little fleet was now engaged 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. LXXX. 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. LXXXI. The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, s 21 And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, To see this fleet among unequal foes, By which fate promised them their Charles should rise. Ver. 292. His face, <&c] u SpemviUtusivmlat, premitaito corde dohrem." — Virg. Original edition. Ver. 812. But seem'd to wander in a moving wood.] Pindar, speaking ofthe many noble buildings with which Gamarina had been embellished and enriched, uses a noble figure 0y»£/oiv 6etKei/jMv i-^lyvov olXck. A lofty forest of solid edifices. Pindar. Olymp. Od. 6th. John Wabton. Ver. 321. The mighty ghosts] This is finely imagined. Dr. J. Wabton. Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, 32s And raking chase-guns through our sterns they send: Close by, their fire-ships, like jackals, appear, Who on their lions for the prey attend. Lxxxni. Silent in smoke of cannon they come on : Such vapours once did fiery Cacus hide : 3a> In these the height of pleased, revenge is shown, Who burn contented by another's side. lxxxiv. Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, Two grappling ^Etnas on the ocean meet, S35 And English fires with Belgian flames contend. LXXXV. Now, at each tack, our little fleet grows less ; And, like maim'dfowl, swim lagging on the main; Their greater loss their numbers scarce confesB, While they lose cheaper than the English gain. 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, 343 Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind? LXXXVII. The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, And sees the groves no shelter can afford, 3W With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird. Among the Dutch thus Albemarle did fare : He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly ; 35 ° Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, Like falling Caesar, decently to die. LXXXIX. Yet pity did his manly spirit move, To see those perish who so well had fought ; And generously with his despair he strove, 35a Resolved to live till he their safety wrought. xc. Let other muses write his prosperous fate, Of conquer'd nations tell, and kings restored : But mine shall sing of his eclipsed estate, Which, like the sun's, more wonders does afford. »» XCI. He drew his mighty frigates all before, 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, 3G5 And following smoke obscured them from the foe; Ver. 351. Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, Like falling Cossar, decently to die.] " Tunc quoque jam moriens, ne non procumbat honeste, Respicit; hsec etiam cura cadentis erat." — Ovid. Jon Wabton. 28 ANNUS MIRABILIS. Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, By naming pillars, and by clouds, did go. xcm. Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat, But here our courages did theirs subdue : So Xenophon once led that famed 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. 37e 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. So Libyan huntsmen, on some sandy plain, From shady coverts roused, the lion chase : The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain, And slowly moves, unknowing to give place. xcvn. But if some one approach to dare his force, 3S5 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. XCVIII. Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night ,- Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore ; And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, 3S1 Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore. xcix. The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, Where while her beams like glittering silver P la y. Upon the deck our careful general stood, 3ao And deeply mused on the succeeding day. Ver. 381. So Libyan huntsmen,'] This simile is finely- expressed, and with new and characteristic incidents, varying from the many similes of the kind in Homer and Virgil. John Wabton. Ver. 384. And slowly moves,'] The simile is Virgil's : " Vestigia retro Improperata refert," &c. Orig. edit. Ihid. unknowing to give place.] Horace's Cedere nescii, Ode 6, lib. 1, 1. 6. John Wabton. Ver. 386. He swings his tail,] The metre of this line, perhaps, introduced swings instead of the more emphatic word swindges, applied to a Hon enraged by Chapman, in his Qces. and Pompey, 1607. " And then his sideB he swindges with his sterns." And by Sylvester, Du Bart., p. 205, 4to. edit. " Then often swindging 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, Smudges the scaly horrour of his folded tail." Ode Nativ. St. 18. Waller also describes the " taiVs impetuous swinge" of the whale, Batt. Summ. Isl. c. Hi. Todd. Ver. 391. — weary waves,] From Statius Sylv. " Nee trucibus fiuviis idem somas : occidit horror JEauoriA, antennis maria acclinata quiescunt." Original edition. Ver. 396. succeeding day.] The 3rd of June, famous for two former victories. Original edition. "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. m ci. " 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." en. Restless he pass'd the remnants of the night, m Till the fresh air proclaim'd the morning nigh : And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, With paler fires beheld the eastern sky. cm. 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. civ. Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife ; This, as a ransom, Albemarle did pay m For all the glories of so great a life. cv. 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 cvi. 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 purBue. Then, as an eagle, who, with pious care, Was beating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eyrie does repair, And finds her callow infants forced away : Ver. 401. 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 braved] 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 determined resignation here implied, Debbick. Ver. 405. the remnants of the night,] Original edition. Derrick, remnant. Todd. * Third day. Original edition. Ver. 413. ■ here forced to stay,] Original edition. This is certainly right; and Derrick's reading is wrong, " he forced," &c. Todd. Ver. 417. 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!] This last line gives us a picturesque and lively represen- tation of a fleet approaching us, and gradually increasing in size and height. Milton, of a distant fleet, says finely: " As when far off at sea a fleet descried, Hangs in the clouds, " B. ii. 636. John Wabton. Ver. 425. Then, as an eagle,] Another simile, worthy ot our author, as also 440. Dr. J. Wabton. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 29 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, The broken air loud whistling as she flies : 4ao She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries. With such kind passion hastes the prince to fight, And spreads his flying canvas 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 gathered clouds for rain : And first the martlet meets it in the sky, And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train. m With such glad hearts did our despairing men Salute, th' 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, 445 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. Pull 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. Ibid. Then, as an eagle, who, with pious care, Was heating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eyrie does repair, And finds her callow in/ants forced away : Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, The broken air loud whistling as she Jiies : She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries.] The expression, " to her now silent eyrie," reminds ns of that pathetic stroke in Antipater's Greek epigram : O/agTgo; BbfMtr.riTa) xarSctvi t«£ xa&6(3n. As do the lines — " She stops, she listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries " of that description in Lucretius — " At mater, virides saltus orbata peragrans, Linquit humi pedibus vestigia pressa bisulcis, Omnia convisens oculis loca, si queat usquani Conspicere amissum fcetum ; completque querelis Frondiferum nemus, assistens, et crebra revisit Ad stahulum, desiderio pernxa juvenci." Then follows a thought inexpressibly tender, yet never noticed when this passage is cited : " Nee vitulorum alise species per pabula lata Derivare queunt animum curaque levare : Usque adeo quiddam proprivm nolumque requirit." John Wabton. Ver. 485. Eim, whom no danger, were he there, could fright, Now, absent, every little noise can wound.'] " Et me quern dudum non ulla injecta movebant Tela, neque adverso glomerati ex agmine Graii Nunc omnes torrent aurse ; sonus excitat omnis Suspensum, et pariter comitique onerique timentem." John Wartox. The wily Dutch, who, like fell'n 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. te6 cxv. But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight : His cold experience tempers all hiB heat, And inbred worth does boasting valour slight. 46 ° cxvi. 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. cxvn. But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, 465 Rupert and Albemarle together grow ; He joys to have his friend in safety found, Which he to none but to that friend would owe. exvm. The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, Now long to execute their spleenful will ; 4 '° And, in revenge for those three days they tried, Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sim stood still CXIX. Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet,* Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way : With the first blushes of the morn they meet, 47i And bring night back upon the new-born day. cxx. His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, And his loud guns speak thick like angry men : It seem'd as slaughter had been breathed all night, And death new pointed his dull dart again. 4S0 cxxi. 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. exxu. The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends 4S5 His open side, and high above him shows : Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, And, doubly harm'd, he double harms bestows. exxm. Behind, the general mends his weary pace, And sullenly to his revenge he sails : m So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, And long behind his wounded volume trails. Ver. 454. new Messiah's] Surely very profane. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 460. worth does boasting valour slight.] Ori- ginal edition. Derrick puts "doth." Todd. * Fourth day's battle. Original edition. Ver. 491. So glides, &c ] From Virgil : " Quum medii nexus extremceque agmina caudm Solvuntur, tardosque trahit sinus ultimus orbes." Original edition. Ibid. So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, And long behind his wounded volume trails] In the fifth book of the -Eneid, line 273, the application is precisely the same : " Qualis sffipe vise deprensus in aggere serpens, -dSrea quem obliquum rota transiit ; aut gravis ictn 30 ANNUS MIRABILIS. Th' Increasing sound is borne to either shore, And for their stakes the throwing nations fear : Their passions double with the cannons' roar, "* And with warm wishes each man combats there, cxxv. Plied 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. 50 ° CXXVI. And now reduced on equal terms to fight, Their ships like wasted patrimonies show ; Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, And shun each other's shadows as they grow. cxxvii. The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest 605 Two giant ships, the pride of all the main ; Which with his one so -rigorously he press'd, And flew so home they could not rise again, cxxvm. Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, In vain upon the passing winds they call : 510 The passing winds through their torn canvas play, And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall. cxxix. Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, Dreadful as day let in to shades below ; Without, grim death rides barefaced in their sight, 516 And urges entering billows as they flow. CXXX. When one dire shot, the last they could supply, Close by the board the prince's main-mast bore : All three now helpless by each other he, And this offends not, and those fear no more. CXXXI. So have I seen some fearful hare maintain 521 A course, till tired before the dog she lay : Who, stretch'd behind her, pants upon the plain, Past power to kill, as she to get away. CXXXII. With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey ; 625 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. Seminecem liquit saxo lacerumque viator ; Necquicquam longOB fugiens dat corpore tortus Parte ferox, ardensque oculis; et sibila colla Arduus attollens ; pars vulnera clanda retentat Nexantem nodis seque in sua membra plicantem: Tali remigio navis se tarda movebat." John Warton. Ver. 495. Their passions double] The original edition incorrectly has passion. Todd. Ver. 601. on equal terms'] The President Henault has observed, from Madame de Sevigne, that since the battle of Actium, no sea-fight has ever been decisive, or produced any important consequences. Is this an obser- vation well founded? Dr. J. Warton. Ver 613. Their open'd sides received a gloomy light. Dreadful as day let into shades below :] " trepidantque immisso lumine Manes." An allusion to Virgil. John Warton. Ver. 514. as day let in to shades] Original edition. This again is right, and Derrick's "let into" should, I think, be discarded. Todd, The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on ; S" 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, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome. The general's force, as kept alive by fight, Now, not opposed, no longer can pursue : Lasting till Heaven had done his courage right ; When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew. cxxxvi. He casts a frown on the departing foe, m 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, ** He stands confess'd ev'n by the boastful Dutch : He only does his conquest disavow, And thinks too little what they found too much. cxxxvm. Beturn'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay ; No tender thoughts of home his heart divide ; Domestic joys and cares he puts away ; ai For realms are households which the great must guide. As those who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digests the yet imperfect ore, 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. m CXLI. 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. In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care,* 5IB His plenteous stores do season'd timber send : Thither the brawny carpenters repair, And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend. Ver. 536. Horace : • a triumph not to be o'ercome.] From " quos opimus Fallere et eflugere est triumphus." Original edition. Ver. 558.] The expression is Virgil's : " Primitive juvenis miserse, bellique propinqui Dura rudimenta." John Warton. * His majesty repairs the fleet. Original edition. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 31 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, His navy's moulted wings he imps once more ; Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, 6?1 And English oak, sprung leaks and planks, restore. CXLIV. All hands employed, 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. 676 CXLV. With gluey 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. 5S0 cxlvi. So here some pick out bullets from the sides, Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift: Their left hand does the calking-iron guide, The rattling mallet with the right they lift. CXLVII. With boiling pitch another near at hand, 685 From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops : Which well paid o'er, the salt sea- waves withstand, And shakes them from the rising beak in drops. CXLVIII. Some the gall'd ropes with dawby marling bind, Or cere-cloth masts with strong tarpawling coats : m To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, And one, below, their ease or stiffness notes. OXLIX. Our careful monarch stands in person by, His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore : The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, iK And ball and cartrage sorts for every bore. cr.. 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. M0 CLI. The goodly London* in her gallant trim, (The phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old,) Ver. 570. - wings he imps] See Mr. Warton's note on Milton's 15th Sonnet, ''to imp their serpent-urines;' where he observes that the expression occurs in poets much later than Milton. The latest, whom I have hitherto found using this old poetical expression, is Shadwell, by whom it is employed towards the end of his Isabella. Todd. Ver. 578. AU hands] This is a very elegant stanza. Dr. J. Warton. Ibid. the royal work grows warm ;] "Fervet opus:" the same similitude, in Virgil. Original edition. Ver. 677. some new foundation lay] Original edition. Derrick, foundations. Todd. Ver. 589. with dawby marling] Original edition. Derrick, marline. Todd. Ver. 596. ball and cartrage] Original edition. Derrick, cartrige. Todd. * Loyal London described. Original edition. Ver. 601 . The goodly London in her gallant trim,] Gray has evidently copied this passage in The Bard, ver. 73. " In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes." Todd. Ver. 602. Derrick's reading and pointing of the second line of this stanza are absurd. He gives, The Phcenix, daughter of the vanish'd old, which might incline some readers to imagine another Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold. clii. Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind, m 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. CLni. With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves: 6I0 Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves. CLIV. This martial present, piously design'd, The loyal city give their best-loved king : And, with a bounty ample as the wind, 615 Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring. CLV. 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. CLVI. Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, m An useless drift, which rudely cut within, And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, And 'cross some rivulet passage did begin. OLVII. In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, * a 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. CLVTII. Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, When from lost empire he to exile went, ea> And with the golden age to Tyber steer'd, Where coin and first commerce he did invent. CLIX. Rude as their ships was navigation then ; No useful compass or meridian known ; Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, 615 And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone. CLX. Of all who since have used the open sea, Than the bold English none more fame have won : Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high way, They make discoveries where they see no sun. ship here intended, especially as there is a comma after Phcenix, and no parenthesis, as in the original edition. Read and point thus, for the whole belongs to the London : The goodly London in her gallant trim, (The phcenix daughter of the vanish'd old,) Like a rich bride, &c. &c. Todd. Ver. 625. the Irish kern,'] Derrick says, that kern signifies a clown or peasant, and that in Spenser it is used for a foot-soldier. He should have added, that Spenser, in his Vieio of the state of Ireland, has given a very minute description of the kern, " whom only," he says, " I take to be the proper Irish souldier," &c. Todd. Ver. 632. coin and first commerce, Ac.] Edit. 1667. I prefer this to Derrick's unauthorised commerce first, which I suppose he adopted for the sake of the more musical accent on the first syllable of commerce; forgetting, however, that " quick commerce " occurs in stanza 163, where he could not change the position of the word. Todd. Ver. 639. Beyond the year, and out of heaveris high way,] " Extra anni, solisque vias." — Virg. Original edition. 32 ANNUS MIEABILIS. 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, 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 ; 65 ° 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, K6 And on the lunar world securely pry. This I foretel from your auspicious care, - )* Who great in search of God and nature grow ; Who best your wise Creator's praise declare, Since best to praise his works is best to know. CLXVI. truly royal ! who behold the law 661 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. clxvii. But first the toils of war we must endure, 665 And from th' injurious Dutch redeem the seas. War makes the valiant of his right secure, And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease. Already were the Belgians on our coast, aB Whose fleet more mighty every day became By late success, which they did falsely boast, And now by first appearing seem'd to claim. CLX1X. Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, They knew to manage war with wise delay : Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, 6?5 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, And the success the braver nation show. ' Ver. 648. Whose paths shall be familiar as the land.'] "His digression to the original and progress of navigation, with his prospect of the advancement which it shall receive from the Royal Society, then newly instituted, may he considered as an example, seldom equalled, of seasonable excursion and artful return." — Johnson's Life of Dryden. John Warton. * By a more exact knowledge of longitudes. Original edition. | Apostrophe to the Royal Society. Original edition. Ver. 658. great in search] Alludes to the Royal Society, Dr.J. Warton. 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 awed. Old expert Allen, loyal all along, ■*» Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet : And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song, While music numbers, or while verse has feet. CLXXIII. Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight ; Who first bewitch'd our eyes with Guinea gold : As once old Cato in the Roman sight 691 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-fired Harry save, w And in his burning ship undaunted fought. Young Hollis on a muse by Mars begot, Born, Caesar-like, to write and act great deeds : Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, His right hand doubly to his left succeeds. 7al Ver. 685. Old expert Allen, &c] Sir Thomas Allen was admiral of the white. Derrick. Ver. 689. Holmes, the Achates of the, &c.J Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white, called the Achates from his eagerness to support the general. AchateB was the faithful companion of -35neas. For an illustration of the two last lines of this stanza, see our notes to the Satire on the Dutch. Derrick. Ver. 693. With him went Sprag, &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 11th of August, 1672, bear- ing the character of a gallant officer, and an accomplished gentleman. Derrick. Ver. 694. his high courage] The courage haul of Spenser and our elder poets, which Dryden no doubt had in mind. Todd. Ver. 695. Harman, mho did the twice-Jired, &c.] These two lines cannot be more properly explained, than by the following extract from the London Gazette, of the 4th of June, 1666 :— " Alborongh, June 2. This day is come in hither the Henry, Captain Harman, commander, who parted from the fleet, much disabled, at nine o'clock last night, having had the luck, it seems, to have a great part of the Dutch fleet upon her singly, which she supported bravely, and forced her way quite through them, though not without much damage, which the enemy finding, endeavoured to clap a fire-ship upon her, but she nimbly struck him off: after which comes up one of their admirals, and fastened a second fire-ship, with which she grappled long, but at last took fire in one of her quarters, which yet she happily quenched. After this a third fire-ship was laid on her, which, disabled as she was, she so mauled with her chace-pieces, that she cut short her main-yard, and so escaped him. She had several of her men killed and wounded ; amongst these latter is the captain himself, hut it is hoped without danger. The fleet is in very good condition, not one of our vessels having been taken." Derrick. Ver. 697. Captain Hollis, of the Antelope ship of war, lost a hand in this memorable fight : to his writings I con- fess myself a stranger. 1 believe it is the same person who commanded the Cambridge, under the name of Sir Fretch- ville Hollis, in 1672, when he was killed in another sea-fight with the Dutch. Derrick. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 33 CLXXVI. 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. CLXXVII. Of every size an 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. CLXXVTII. Now, anchor's weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, 715 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. CLXXIX. The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, And durst not bide it on the English coast : 72 ° Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, And there lay snares to catch the British host. CLXXX. 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, 72s Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly. CLXXXI. 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. 733 CLXXXII. The Belgians hoped, 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 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, 73i And swelling tide that heaved 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, ~ w Beneath them to submit th' officious flood, And with his trident shoved 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, 745 And draw their curtains in the dead of night. Ver. 707. Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell,] " Multi prseterea quos fama obscura recondit." John Warton. Ver. 723. So the false] Elegantly expressed, but hardly equal to Pope's Spider. Dr. J . Warton. Ver. 74*2. with his trident shoved them off the sand.] " Levat ipse tridenti, et vastas aperit syrtes," &c— Virg. Original edition. 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. 76 ° CLXXXVII. 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. CLXXXVIII. The distance judged for shot of every size, 755 The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires : The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, And adds his heart to every gun he fires ! Fierce waB the fight on the proud Belgians' side, For honour, which they seldom fought before : But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, And forced, at least in show, to prize it more. cxc. But sharp remembrance on the English part, And shame of being match'd by such a foe, Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, 7BS 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. 7 "" 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. CXCIII. Never did men more joyfully obey, " 5 Or sooner understood the sign to fly : With such alacrity they bore away, As if to praise them all the States stood by. famous leader of the Belgian fleet, Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, As Varro timely flying once did meet, 7S1 Because he did not of his Rome despair. Behold that navy, which a while before Provoked the tardy English to the fight ; Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, 78i As larks lie dared to shun the hobbies flight. * Second battle. Original edition. Ver. 748 hasting up behind-] Original edition. Derrick has hastning. Todd. Ver. 766. And seeming to be stronger makes them so.] " Possunt, quia posse videntur." — Virg. Original edition. Ver. 784. English to the fight;] Original edition, This, I think, must be the poet's own reading; and Derrick's " close to fight," I suppose an error : close occurs in the next line. Todd. 34 ANNUS MIKABILIS. 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. cxcvn. Or if too busily they will enquire " 9I Into a victory, which we disdain ; Then let them know, the Belgians did retire Before the patron saint of injured Spain. cxcvm. Repenting England this revengeful day ,95 To Philip's manes did an offering bring : England, which first, by leading them astray, Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her king. cxcix. Our fathers bent their baneful industry, To check a monarchy that slowly grew ; m But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, Whose rising power to swift dominion flew. cc. In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, And wander after pathless destiny ; 8M Whose dark resorts since p'rudence cannot know, In vain it would provide for what shall be. cci. But whate'er English to the blest shall go, And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet ; Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, And him detesting a Batavian fleet. s '° con. 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 815 The huge leviathans to attend their prey ; And give no chace, but swallow in the fry, Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. Ver. 794. patron saint] St. James, on whose day this victory was gained. Orig. ed. Ibid. the Belgians did retire Before the patron saint of injured %k] This 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 "injured," inasmuch as the Hollanders had rebelled against King Philip II., being aided by Queen Elizabeth : and the next stanza refers to this trans- action, for which the poet supposes us now to have atoned. The monarchy 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. Derrick. Ver. 795. Bepenting England] Repent ? What, of one of the most glorious and meritorious actions that Queen Elizabeth was ever engaged in, assisting the oppressed Hollanders against the execrable tyranny of Philip II.? I could wish to forget that our poet ever wrote lines of such an abject spirit, and so unworthy of a true Englishman. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 796. Philip's manes'] Philip II, of Spain, against whom the Hollanders rebelling, were aided by Queen Elizabeth. Orig. ed. Ver. 815. £0, close behind] This poem is overloaded with similes. Dr. J. Warton. Ibid. " Purpureus, late qui splendeat unus et alter Assuitur pannus." John Warton. Nor was this all ; in ports and roads remote, Destructive fires among whole fleets we send ; Triumphant flames upon the water float, sl And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. Those various squadrons, variously design'd, Each vessel freighted with a Beveral load, Each squadron waiting for a several wind, AH find but one, to burn them in the road Some bound for Guinea, 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. Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom, And into cloth of spongy softness made, Did into France or colder Denmark doom, To ruin with worse ware our staple trade. ccvin. Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, 83s 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. CCIX.t But ah ! how insincere are all our joys ! Which sent from heaven, like tightnjng make no stay : m Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way. ccx. Swell'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, *• And feed their envious eyes with English loss. * Burning of the fleet in the Vly, by Sir Robert BolmeB. Orig. ed. Ver. 828. the gawds] Toys, baubles. So in Shak- speare's Mid. Nightis Dream, A. i. S. i. " And stolen the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits," &c. Where see Mr. Steeven's note. TonD. Ver. 830. folded turbans] Orig. ed. Derrick reads, turbants. Todd. t Transition to the fire of London. Orig. ed. Ver. 839. But ah I how insincere] Here he enters on the other part of his subject, the dreadful fire in London. Though the conflagration of a great city, with all its con- comitant circumstances of distress, is one of the most striking objects imaginable for a great poet to describe, (witness the second, perhaps, most beautiful book of the ^Eneid), yet how lamentably has Dryden failed in raising any interest or emotion in the minds of the reader. And being unwilling to pass a censure, as I have thought my- self obliged to do frequently, I shall adopt the words of a celebrated critic, who says, the " poet watches the flame coolly from street to street, with now a reflection and now a simile, till at last he meets the king, for whom he makes a speech, rather tedious in a time so busy : and then follows again the progress of the fire." Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 842. Or grief, sent post, tfcc] It is the same senti- ment in Milton's Samson Agonistes, ver. 1538. "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 lugenda refert." Todd. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 35 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. 8i0 CCXII. Yet, London, empress of the northern clime, By an 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 ! CCXIII. As when some dire usurper heaven provides, 855 To scourge his country with a lawless sway ; His birth perhaps some petty village hides, And sets his cradle out of fortune's way. ccxiv. Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on ; m His prince surprised at first no ill could doubt, And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known. ccxv. Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, Which, in mean buildirlgs first obscurely bred, From thence did soon to open streets aspire, S6S And straight to palaces and temples spread. ccxvi. 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. s "° , ccxvu. 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, 875 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, 8S1 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, ^ And beat him downward to his first repair. Ver. 853. Great as the worlds, which at the death of time Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire I] " Qnum mare, quum tellus, correptaque regia cadi, Ardeat," &c. — Ovid. Orig. ed. Ver. 871. from what source unknown,'] The fire might naturally have been accounted for, from the narrowness of the streets, from houses built entirely of timber, and a strong east wind that blew at the time. But it was ascribed by the rage of the people, either to the Republicans or the Catholics, especially the latter. An inscription on the monument, proscribed, we know by Pope, The winds, like crafty courtezans, withheld His flames from burning, but to blow them more : And every fresh attempt he is repell'd With faint denials weaker than before. s90 And now, no longer letted of his prey, He leaps up at it with em-aged desire : O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, And nods at every house his threatening fire. ccxxm. The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fanatick spectres to rejoice : Fm About the fire into a dance they bend, And sing their sabbath noteB with feeble voice. ccxxrv. Our guardian angel saw them where they sate Above the palace of our slumbering king ; 90 ° He sigh'd, abandoning bis charge to fate, And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing. ccxxv. 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, •*' Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night. ccxxvi. The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, Half-cloth'd, half-naked, hastily retire : And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, For helpless infants left amidst the fire. 910 CCXXVIT. 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. CCXXVIII. So weary bees in little cells repose ; " 5 But if night-robbers lift the well-stored hive, An humming through their waxen city grows, And out upon each other's wings they drive. was intended to perpetuate this groundless suspicion. This inscription was erased by James II., birt restored at the Revolution, and still remains. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 887. The winds,'] In this stanza, and in the four following, our poet may be justly said '' to tread upon the brink of meaning, where light and darkness begin to mingle ; to approach the precipice of absurdity, and hover over the abyss of unideal vacancy." Dr. J. Warton". Ibid. like crafty, &c] Hose arte tractabat cupidum virvm, ut illius animum inopia accenderet. Orig. ed. Ibid. like crafty courtezans,] A vulgar and im- proper allusion 1 Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 897. About the fire into a dance they bend,] How inferior is this passage to Milton's animated description of the wild ceremonies of Moloch, which Dryden, however, seems to have here had in mind : " In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue!" Ode Nativ. st 23. Todd. Ver. 909. And frighted mothers] The orig. edit, has mother, incorrectly. Todd. Ver. 914. And in the dark, &e.] If I mistake not, Lee has somewhere written a similar line — " And gods meet gods, and justle in the dark." Both are equally splendid ! Todd. 36 ANNUS MIRABILIS. Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day : Some run for buckets to the hallov/d quire : 92 ° 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. 92C ccxxxi. 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. s3 ° ccxxxn. Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But fear'd the fate of Simois would return : Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed. And shrunk his waters back into his urn. ccxxxm. The fire, mean time, walks in a broader gross ; To either hand his wings he opens wide : 936 He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, And plays his longing flames on th' other side. ccxxxrv. 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. ccxxxv. To every nobler portion of the town The curling billows roll their restless tide : In parties now they straggle up and down, ^ As armies, unopposed, 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, Ms 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, 955 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. Ver. 928. And lighten'd all the river with a blaze :1 " Sigcea, igni freta lata relucenC—Virg. Orig. ed. Ver. 931. Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But fear'd the fate of Simois would return ;] An evident allusion to the 21st hook of Homer, where Vul- can dries up the allied streams of Simois and Scamander. John "Wabton. Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke With gloomy pillars cover all the place ; 9SI Whose little intervals of night are broke By sparks, that drive against his sacred face. CCXL. 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 ; x So much the pity of a king has power. CCXLI. He wept the flames of what he loved 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. 9 "° CCXLII. 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. CCXLIII. Himself directs what first is to be done, 97a And orders all the succours which they bring : Ver. 975/| Immediately after the fire of London, there was published, on a half sheet, " A true and exact Relation of the most dreadful and remarkable Fires, which have happened since the reign of King "William the Conqueror to this present year, 1666, in the cities of London and "Westminster, and other parts of England." The following is the account of the fire in 1666 :— " On Sunday, the second of September, this present year, 1666, about one o'clock in the morning, there happened a sad and deplorable fire in Pudding-lane, nesxNew Fish-street; which, falling out in a part of the city so close built with wooden houses, propagated itself so far before day with such violence, that it bred such distraction and astonishment in the inhabitants and neighbours, that care was taken not to stop the further diffusion of it, by pulling down houses, as ought to have been ; so that this grievous fire in a short time became too big to he mastered by any engines, or working near it ; and being fomented by the hand of God in a violent easterly wind, which kept it burning in such a raging manner all Sunday and Sunday night, spreading itself by Monday morning up Graceehurch-street to Lombard-street, and to St. SwithvrCs church in Canon-street, and downwards from Canon-street to the water-side as far as the Three Cranes in the Vxntry, and eastward beyond BiUinsgate. The greatness and vastness of the fire was such, that made the amazed and distracted people take care only to pre- serve their own goods, and secure every man his particular concerns, making but slender attempts to extinguish the flame. In fine, it continued all Monday and Tuesday with such impetuosity, that it had, at ten of the clock on Tuesday night, westward, consumed houses and churches all the way to St.Sunstan's church, in Fleet-street; at which time, by the favour of God, the wind slackened ; and that night, by the vigilancy, irtdustry, and indefatigable pains of his Majesty and his Royal Highness, catting upon aU people, and encouraging them by their personal assistances, a stop was put to the fire in Fleet-street, the Inner Temple, and Fetter-lane, at Holborn- bridge, Pie-corner, Aldersgate, Oripplegate, near the lower end of Coleman-street, at the end of BasmghaU-street, by the Postern, at the upper end of Bishopsgate-street, and Leaden- haU-street, at the standard in CornhiU, at the church in Fenchurch-street, near Clothworker's-hall in Mincing-lane, at the middle of Mark-lane, and at the Tower-dock. But on "Wednesday night it Buddenly brake out afresh in the Inner Temple, which happened (as it is supposed) by flakes of fire falling into the gutters of the buildings. His Eoyal Highness in person fortunately watching there that night, by his care, diligence, great labour, and seasonable com- mands for the blowing up, with gunpowder, some of the said buildings, it was most happily before day extinguished, after it had laid level with the ground Tanfield-coiirt, Parson! s-court, and the buildings in the church-yard, and done some little damage to the church and hall." Todd. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 37 The helpful and the good about him run, And form an army worthy such a king. CCX1IV. He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, That where it seizes, all relief is vain : 880 And therefore must unwillingly lay waste That country, which would else the foe maintain. CCXLV. The powder blows up all before the fire : Th' amazed flames stand gather'd on a And from the precipice's brink retire, Afraid to venture on so large a leap. Thus fighting fires a while themselves consume, But straight like Turks, forced on to win or die, They first lay tender bridges of their fume, And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly. Part stays for passage, till a gust of wind m Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet : Part creeping under ground their journey blind, And climbing from below their fellows meet. Thus to some desert plain, or old wood-side, " 5 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 : 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, ,005 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 : Ver. 988. But straight like Juries, forced on, &c] The Turks are not only predestinarians, but they also believe that every man who dies fighting against unbelievers, for so they call all who differ from them in religion, goes directly to Paradise. These tenets often encourage those to fight who have no great stomachs to it; and, in this sense, they may be said to be forced on. Dberick. Ver. 991. Part stays for passage,] Original edition. Derrick has staff. Todd. Ver. 1007. 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 incited 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. John Warton. Ver. 1010. And seek the tempest] Thus the original edition. Derrick has tempests. Todd. So these but wait the owner's last despair, 101 And what 's permitted to the flames invade ; EVn 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 ; 1015 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 ; 102 ° 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, 1025 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, 10al 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 ; lm6 And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, Sad parents watch the remnants of their store. CCLIX. While by the motion of the flames they guess What streets are burning now, and what are near, lw< > An infant waking to the paps would press, And meets instead of milk, a falling tear. Ver. 1016. And when the weary king gave place to night,'] " serffl meminit decedere nocti." Virg. John Warton. Ver. 1028. And withfuU eyes each wonted room require: Mounting the yet warm ashes of the place,] A pathetic stroke, which reminds us of the lively repre- sentation of Livy : — " At prffi metn obliti quid relinquerent, quid secum ferrent, deficiente consilio, rogitantesque alii alios, nunc in liminibus starent, nunc errabundi domos suas, ultimum illas visuri pervagarentur." John War- ton. Ver. 1041. An infant waking to the paps would press. And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear.] A tender and pathetic stroke, which might have been derived from Pliny's description of the famous picture of Aristides the Theban : — " Hujus pictura est, oppido capto ad matris morientis e vulnere mammam adrepens infans : intelligiturque sentire mater, et timere, ne emortuo lacte sanguinem lambat." — Pliny. John Warton. Ver. 1042.] " Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent mourn'd her soldier slain ; 38 ANNUS MIRABILIS. No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort sing: E'en those whom want might drive to just despair, Think life a blessing under such a king. 104S CCLXI. Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, Out-weeps an hermit, and out-prays a saint : All the night long he studies their relief, How they may be supplied, and he may want. cclxii. " God," said he, " thou patron of my days,* 1051 Guide of my youth in exile and distress ! Who me unfriended brought by wond'rous ways, The kingdom of my fathers to possess : CCLXIII. " Be thou my judge, with what unwearied care 1055 I 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. cclxiv. " Thou, who hast taught me to forgive the ill, And recompense, as friends, the good misled : If mercy be a precept of thy will, im Return that mercy on thy servant's head. CCLXV. " Or if my heedless youth has stept astray, Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand ; Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of Misery baptised in tears ! " Apology for "Vagrants. Anon. Knox's edit. vol. i. p. 523. John Warton. Ver. 1048. Out-weeps an hermit, and out-trays a saint : All the long night he studies their relief, How they may be supplied, and he may want.] This reminds us of Cowper : " When, Isaac like, the solitary saint Walks forth to meditate at even tide, And think on her, who thinks not for herself." John Warton. * King's prayer. Original edition. , Ver. 1051. " O God," said he,"] One of the finest stanzas, and onwards to verse 1086, worthy our author. Dr. J. Warton. Ibid. " God" said he, " thou patron of my days,"] This, which Dr. Johnson calls " a speech rather tedious in a time so busy," I would rather, with due deference to so great a man, call a solemn prayer. It may be no nn- pleasing task to my reader to compare with these admirable lines the prayer of Henry the Fourth of France, cited by Mr. Addison in the Guardian, vol.i. p. 79. " O Lord of Hosts, who canst see through the thickest veil and closest disguise, who viewest the bottom of my heart, and the deepest designs of my enemies, who hast in thy hands, as well as before thine eyes, all the events which, concern human life ; if thou knowest that my reign will promote thy glory, and the safety of thy people ; if thou knowest that I have no other ambition in my soul, but to advance the honour of thy holy name, and the good of this state, favour, O great God, the justice of my arms, and reduce all the rebels to acknowledge him whom thy sacred decrees, and the order of a lawful succession, have made their sovereign; but if thy good Providence has ordered it otherwise, and thou seest that I should prove one of those kings whom thou givest in thine anger, take from me, O merciful God, my life and my crown ; make me this day a sacrifice to thy will ; let my death end the calamities of France, and let my blood be the last that is spilt in this quarrel." John Warton. Ver. 1063. youth has stept astray,] Original edit. Derrick, step'd. Todd. " On me alone thy just displeasure lay, 10K But take thy judgments from this mourning land. CCLXVI. " 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. CCLXVII. " let it be enough what thou hast done ; 10 ' 1 When spotted deaths ran arm'd through every street, With poison'd darts which not the good could shun, The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet. CCLXVIII. " The living few, and frequent funerals then, 10 ? 5 Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place : And now those few, who are return'd again, Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. CCLXIX. " pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, Or bind thy sentence unconditional : 103 ° But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, And in that foresight this thy doom recaL " Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine thou mayst revoke : But, if immutable and fix'd they stand, Continue still thyself to give the stroke, 10S5 And let not foreign foes oppress thy land.*' CCLXXI. Th' Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword ; And bade him swiftly drive th' approaching fire From where our naval magazines were stored. CCLXXII. The blessed minister his wings displa/d, im And like a shooting star lie cleft the night : He charged the flames, and those that disobeyed He lash'd to duty with his sword of light. Ver. 1069. Like flying shades before the clouds we show, And shrink like parchment in consuming flame.'] Two energetic lines founded on scriptural allusions, Psalm cix. v. 22, " I go hence like the shadow that departeth." This last image Dr. Glynn has transferred into hia Seatonian Prize Poem, " The Day of Judgment," with so much felicity, that I must be pardoned for transcribing the whole of the prayer with which he concludes his spirited poem : " Power supreme, O everlasting King, to thee I kneel, To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat Melt all ye elements ! and thou, high heaven, Shrink like a shrivell'd scroll! but think, O Lord, Think on the best, the noblest of thy works I Think on thine own bright image I think on Him Who died to save us from thy righteous wrath, And 'midst the wreck of worlds remember Man ! " John Warton. Ver. 1085. Continue still thyself to give the stroke, And let not foreign foes oppress thy land.] He imitates the pious submission of David : — "Let us now fall into the hand of the Lord ; for his mercies are great *, and let me not fall into the hand of man." — 2 Sam. xxiv. 14. John Warton. ANNUS MIRABILIS. 39 CCLXXIII. The fugitive flames, chastised, went forth to prey On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd ; 10ss By which to heaven they did affect the way, Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard. CCLXXIV. The wanting orphans saw with watery eyes Their founders' charity in dust laid low ; lm And sent to God their ever-answer'd cries, For he protects the poor who made them so. CCLXXV. 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 ; u ° 6 And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. CCLXXVI. The daring flames peep'd in, and saw from far The awful beauties of the sacred quire : But, since it was profaned by civil war, Heaven thought it fit to have it purged by fire. CCLXXVII. Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, im And widely opening did on both sides prey : This benefit we sadly owe the flame, If only ruin must enlarge our way. ccLxxvm. And now four days the sun had seen our woes : Four nights the moon beheld th' incessant fire : It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, 1117 And farther from the feverish north retire. In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode, The thrones and the dominions prostrate He, Not daring to behold their angry God ; 1U1 And an hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. At length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye, And mercy softly toueh'd his melting breast : He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, 1IJ5 And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. Ver. 1096. On pious structures, &c] He here, I presume, alludes to Christ's Hospital, &c. &c. John Warton. Ver. 1097. .By which to heaven tliey did affect the way, Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard^ This passage is a sarcasm upon those who reduce all prin- ciples of religion to the single article of faith, which, according to some, is sufficient for salvation, exclusive of every other tenet. Derrick. Ver. 1107. Jlames peep'd in,'] In censuring some seeming blemishes in this piece, such as the above lines, I should be mortified to he placed among those^ idle and petty objectors who mistake cavilling for criticising ; such as he who blamed Tasso for making Erminia cut off her hair, to bind up Tancred's wounds, with a sword, as a sword will not cut hair ; or he who thought Raphael had made the boat too little to receive the miraculous capture of fish ; or lie who objected to the figure of Laocoon being repre- sented as naked when he was in the act of sacrificing. I shall for ever read the Seasons of Thomson with delight and admiration, though I cannot forbear objecting to the two last as a conceit, alluding to his subject : " The storms of wintry Time will quickly pass, And one unbounded Spring encircle all." The verso below about God's taking an extinguisher is an absurdity of the most glaring kind. (Verse 1129.) Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 1126. And eager Jlames drive on] The original edition erroneously reads give. Todd. cclxxxi. An 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. ' Il3 ° CCLXXXII. 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 earth the little lares creep. ccLxxxin. Our king this more than natural change beholds; With sober joy his heart and eyes abound : 1136 To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. CCLXXXIV. As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth, A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain ; U40 And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, And straight the green fields laugh with pro- mised grain : CCLXXXV. By such degrees the spreading gladnesB grew In every heart which fear had froze before : The standjng streets with so much joy they view, That with less grief the perish'd they deplore. u< * CCLXXXVl. 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. 116 ° CCLXXXV1I. 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. CCLXXXVIII. But so may he live long, that town to sway, lWl Which by his' auspice they will nobler make, As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, And not their humble ruins now forsake.* CCLXXXIX. They have not lost their loyalty by fire ; Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, 116 ° Ver. 1140. A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain;] Original edition. Certainly the genuine reading. Derrick's " cold rain " must he discarded. Todd. Ver. 1147. The father of the people open'd wide His stores, and all thepoor with plenty fed; ] The poor people that were bnrned out built huts and sheds of boards for shelter in Moorfields, and other outlets of the city ; and the King was often seen among them, inquiring into their wants, and doing every thing in his power to comfort them. He moreover ordered the justices of the peace to see them supplied with food, and to be careful of preventing forestallers from taking advantage of their distresses ; besides which, he commanded that the biscuits and other provisions, laid up in the Tower for the use of his army and navy, should be carried out and distributed among them. Enjoying such benefits from his royal presence, we are not to wonder at the citizens begging him not to leave them, when it was supposed he was going into the country. Vide stoma 268. Derrick. * City's request to the King not to leave them. Original edition. 40 ANNUS MIRABILIS. That from his wars they poorly would retire, Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. ccxc. Not with more constancy the Jews of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent, Their royal city did in dust behold, Or with more vigour to rebuild it went. The utmost malice of their stars is past, And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breath'd the last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. llr0 Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-raised 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 his chymic flame, u I see a city of more precious mould : Rich as the town* which gives the Indies name, With silver paved, and all divine with gold. Already, labouring with a mighty fate, She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, 1,8 ° And seems to have renev/d her charter's date, Which heaven will to the death of time allow. ccxcv. More great than human now, and more august, Now deified she from her fires does rise : U84 Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And, openingj into larger parts she flies. ccx.cvi. 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. Ver. 1167. malice of their stars] Original edition. In Derrick it is " the stars." Todd. Ver. 1174. the nevi-loM work succeed.'] Original edition. Derrick has " works." Todd. Ver. 1175. Methinks already,] A prophecy most fortunately fulfilled I No city was ever more improved by the iride- ness and commodiousneSB, and consequent healthiness and cleanliness, of its streets, and magnificence of its buildings, than London after this calamitous fire. " Merses profundo, pulchrior evenit ! " And of later years more attention has been paid to _ the circumstances above mentioned than in any metropolis of Europe. The stanzas 295, 296, 297, are beautiful. The 298th stanza concludes with a puerile conceit. Dr. J. Warton. * Mexico. Original edition. Ver. 1188. august,] Augusta, the old name of Loml'in. Original edition. Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, lm From her high turrets, hourly suitors come : The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom. ccxcvin. The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, 1195 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, Ild9 The glory of their towns no more shall boast, 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, lai4 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, vx> From all the world shall vindicate her trade. And, while this famed 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. cccnr. Already we have conquer'd half the war, ,2 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 : A constant trade-wind will securely blow, 1221 And gently lay us on the spicy shore. Ver. 1219. Thus to the eastern] If he had never written any other poem than this Annus Mirabilis, he never could have been ranked among our greatest English poets. Dr. J., Warton. Ver. 1220. ■ the Gape once doubled, fear no more : A constant trade-wind wiU securely blow.] Sailors generally imagine themselves out of danger on an East-India voyage, when they double the Cape of Good Hope, because then they get into the trade-winds, or mon- soons, that always blow in a certain direction. Derrick. Ver. 1221. A constant] A frigid conceit drawn from the nature of the trade-wind. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 1222. And gently lay us, &c.] From these lines Pope has formed one of 'his most melodious couplets : " Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, And softly lay me on the waves below." — Sappho to Phaon. John Warton. AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. 41 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 1 Philosophers and poets vainly strove In every age the lumpish mass to move : But those were pedants, when compared with these, Who know not only to instruct but please. 6 Poets alone found the delightful way, Mysterious morals gently to convey In charming numbers; so that as men grew Pleased with their poems, they grew wiser too. 10 Satire has always shone among the rest, 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, 15 To each deserving its peculiar praise. Some did all folly with just sharpness blame, Whilst others laugh'd and scorn'd them into shame. But of these two, the last succeeded best, As men aim lightest 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 preferred ; In this alone methinks the ancients err'd ; Against the grossest follies they declaim ; 25 Hard they pursue, but hunt 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 1 °° * 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 Musgrave's name has been always joined with Dryden's, as concerned in the composition ; and that nobleman somewhere takes notice, that Dryden " Was praised 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. Derrick. Ver. 1. How dull,'] This satire is claimed by the Earl of Mulgrave, and perhaps ought not to have a place in our poet's works. But quceret Dr. J.Warton. Ver.30. Morals' to Armstrong, or dull Aston teacftf] Sir Thomas Armstrong had been knighted by King Charles II. for some services received from him during the protectorship, he having been sent over to his majesty, when in Holland, with a sum of money, raised among some of his faithful subjects, for his royal use. He afterwards bore a lieutenant- colonel's commission in the first troop of horse-guards, and wjis appointed gentleman of horse to the king. Being a man of a loose immoral character, and of no fixed principles, either in religion or politics, he joined in the Ryehouse Plot, and then escaped into Holland. Five hundred pounds were offered as a reward for taking him. Louis XIV., out of compliment to King Charles, offered five hundred pounds to any one who should secure him in the dominions of France. "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 Bpoil, K To wash off that would be a noble toil ; Beyond the loose writ libels of this age, Or the forced scenes of our declining stage ; Above all censure too, each little wit Will be so glad to see the greater hit ; w Who judging better, though concern* d the most, 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, * 5 To see their antiquated wit laid by ; Like her who mies'd her name in a lampoon, And grieved to find herself decayM so soon. No common coxcomb must be mention'd here : Nor the dull train of dancing sparks appear : M Nor fluttering officers who never fight ; Of such a wretched rabble who would write ? Much less half wits : that 's more against our rules; For they are fops, the others are but fools. Who would not be as silly as Dunbar ? M As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr ? He was at length seized at Leyden, brought over to Eng- land, and condemned to die by Judge Jefferies, who treated him in a very unbecoming manner. Bishop Burnet observes, that he died with great meekness and resignation, expressing a hearty repentance for his past profligate life. King Charles, about the time of Sir Thomas's execution, told several people, that he had been lately assured Sir Thomas had been suborned by Cromwell to take away his life, when he waited on him in Holland, but he found no opportunity of perpetrating his crime ; for failing in which, the Protector imprisoned him on his return home. Though this story came from a royal mouth, few people believed it ; yet it is certain that Cromwell kept him a year in prison. He was hanged at Tyburn, on the 20th of June, 1684 : his head was fixed upon "Westminster Hall, between those of Cromwell and Bradshaw, and his quarters upon Temple Bar, Aldgate, Aldersgate, and the town-wall of Stafford. It is said he was a native of Nimeguen, a city of Guelderland, and would have claimed from the States-General the pro- tection of a native, if he had not been carried away as soon as he was arrested. I find, in "Wood's Fasti, mention made of one James Aston, a divine, of whom no more is said than that he was a zealous loyalist, and, about this time well beneficed. It is not unlikely, that it is the same person whom we find here celebrated for dulness; for, had he excelled in anything else, "Wood would not have failed to remark it Derrick. Ver. 55. Who would not be as silly as Dunbar ? As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carrf] There was a Lord Viscount Dunbar, and a colonel of the same name, about this time, at court ; but to which to apply this character I cannot tell, as I never met with any of their private history. Monmouth is said to have been brave, soft, gentle, and sincere, open to the grossest adulation, and strongly 42 AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. 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 .aSsop's fox becomes a prey at last. w Nor shall the royal mistresses be named, Too ugly, or too easy to be blamed ; 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, m Affected humour or a painted face. 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 1 Was ever prince by two at once misled, False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred ? Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that race Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place ; 75 addicted to his pleasures : he was, upon the whole, a man of very weak .parts, graceful in his person, and of an endearing placid deportment. — See the notes upon Absalom and Achitophel. Sir Carr Scrope is the third person in this verse : he was the son of Sir Adrian Scrope, a Lincolnshire knight, and bred at Oxford, where he took a master's degree, in 1664; and in 1666 he was created a baronet. He was intimate with the most celebrated geniuses of King Charles's court, had a very pretty turn for poetry, and was certainly some- thing more than a half-wit. His translation of Sappho to Phaon, among the epistles of Ovid, is in some estimation ; and many loose satires, handed about in manuscript, were set down to his account. He is mentioned thus in the first volume of State Poems, p. 200 : - Sir Carr, that knight of withered face, e. ) ease, ralks, ) ks, J- .s." ) Who, for reversion of a poet's place, Waits on Melpomene, and soothes her grace. That angry miss alone he strives to please, For fear the rest should teach him wit and ease, And make him quit his loved laborious walks, When sad or silent o'er the room he stalks, And strives to write as wisely as he talks." And again, in the third volume, Part I. p. 148 : " no man can compare For carriage, youth, and heauty, with Sir Carr." He died at his house in St. Martin's-fields, Westminster, in the latter end of the year 1680. Derrick. Ver.61. Nor shall the royal mistresses be named,'] 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. Derrick. Ver. 74. Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that race Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place ; At council set as foils on Danby's scored > Sir John Earnely was bred to the law : he was Chancellor of the Exchequer in the year 1686, and made one of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, in the room of the Lord Treasurer Hyde, Earl of Rochester. Robert, the first Earl of AyleBbury, was the son of Thomas Bruce, Earl of Elgin, in Scotland, and created, by King Charles, Lord Bruce, in England. In 1685 he succeeded the Earl of Arlington as Lord Chamberlain of the king's household, and died a few'months afterwards. Wood gives him the character of a man of learning, a benefactor to the clergy, a great antiquarian, and says he was well skilled in the history of his own country. Thomas, Earl of Danby, ancestor to the present Duke of Leeds, came out of Yorkshire, and was very zealous in forwarding the Restoration; for which special service he was made Treasurer of the Navy, then a Privy Counsellor, and, in 1673, Lord High Treasurer of England. He enjoyed a great share of the royal favour, which, perhaps, promoted his being impeached by the Commons, for monopoly and mismanagement. He was pardoned .by the king, which occasioned much discontent ; was zealous in procuring a match between the Prince of Orange and Lady Mary, after- wards king and queen of England ; a principal actor in the Revolution, and chairman of that committee of the whole 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; Their very names have tired my lazy pen : 8I '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 ; M 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 Just as good company as Nokes and Lee. But when he aims at reason or at rule, M 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 enjoyed, Though he left all mankind to be destroyed. 95 So cat transformed 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 ; m 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 hiB hard mind, which all this bustle makes, No pity of its poor companion takes. m What gravity can hold from laughing out, To see him drag his feeble legs about, Like hounds ill-coupled 1 Jowler lugs him still Through hedges, ditches, and through all that 'sill. 'Twere crime in any man but him alone, 1U To use a body so, though 'tis one's own : Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, That whilst he creeps bis 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. house, which, on King James's flight, voted an abdication, and advanced William to the throne ; wherefore he was made President of the Council, and raised to the dignity of Marquis of Carmarthen and Duke of Leeds, about three years afterwards. He died in the year 1712, aged eighty- . one. Derrick. Ver. 84. First, let's behold the merriest man alive] This character is so strongly and so justly marked, that it is impossible to mistake its being intended for Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury : " a man of little . steadiness, but such uncommon talents, that he acquired great weight with every party he espoused : he was turbu- _ lent, restless, ambitious, subtle, and enterprising : he had conquered all sense of shame, was restrained by no fears, and influenced by no principles." — Smollett's History. In the first volume of the State Poems, p. 140, he is mentioned thus : " A little bobtail' d lord, urchin of state, A praise-godrbare-bone peer, whom all men hate ; Amphibious animal — half fool, half knave." Derrick. Ver. 89. as Nokes and Lee.] These were two celebrated comedians in Charles the Second's reign. Derrick. Ver. 96. So cat transformed, &c] Alluding to the fable of a cat's being turned into a woman, at the intercession of a young man that loved it ; but, forgetting herself, she ran after a mouse, and was reduced to her pristine shape. Derrick. AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. 43 As the new earl with, parts deserving praise, 12 ° 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. 125 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, 130 I '11 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, 135 To turn a wheel 1 and bark to be employed, 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 those who merit praise in other things ; 141 Yet we must needs this one exception make, And break our rules for silly Tropos' sake ; Who was too much despised to be accused, And therefore scarce deserves to be abused ; ,45 Raised only by his mercenary tongue, For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong. As boys on holy-days let loose to play, Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way ; Ver. 120. As the new earl with parts deserving praise, And wit enough to laugh at his own ways ; Yet loses aU, &c] This character was well known to he drawn for Arthur, Earl of Essex, eon to the Lord Capel, who was put to death by the regicides; but wherefore he should be called the new earl, I cannot see, since we find in Collins's Peerage that he was created Earl of Essex in the year 1661, eighteen years before the publication of this piece. He was very fond of the lieutenancy of Ireland, which he had held from July, 1672, to 1677 ; and though the Duke of Ormond was much fitter for that important post, as being better acquainted with the genius and polity of the nation, and more agreeable to the people ; yet he did every thing in bis power to undermine that nobleman, with a view of again obtaining his government. He afterwards opposed the court, piqued perhaps because he was not gratified in all his desires, and perhaps from the repub- lican principles which he seemed to cherish, though so different, from those of his unfortunate father. He was taken into custody and committed to the Tower, for being concerned in the Rye-house Plot ; and he was found in his apartment there, with his throat cut from ear to ear, on the very morning of Lord Russell's execution. Lord Essex was a man of indifferent abilities, but what the world calls cunning ; his education had been neglected in the civil wars, but he had a smattering of Latin, knew something of mathematics, and had a little knowledge of the law ; he aspired at being something greater than either nature or education had fitted him for, and his disappoint- ment perhaps gave him an atrabilarious sourness, that ended in suicide, for which be was a professed advocate. Derrick, Ver. 143. for siUy Tropos' sake ;] Sir "William Scroggs is meant by Tropos. He was Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, and a violent prosecutor of the persons supposed to be concerned in the Popish plot ; but when he found that Shaftesbury had, in reality, no interest at court, he quitted that party, and acted as much as possibly he could against it. This occasioned an accusation to be preferred against him by Oates and Bedloe, but it was never supported, his weight not being thought worth removing. He was resolute and penetrating, had a good deal of wit, and spoke fluently and boldly ; but he often over-reached himself by being warm. He seems not to have been a man of much estimation, and Roger North, in his Exainen, says his course of life was scandalous. Derrick. Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 1S0 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 despised, and know it, 1M By some who scarce have words enough to show it : For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker The sinner, 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, 16 ° 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. 16S Some other kind of wits must be made known, Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone ; Excess of luxury they think can please, And laziness call loving of their ease : To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign, 17 ° 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 ; I7S 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 : Ver. 178. Thus Dorset, purring like, &c] Charles, Earl of Dorset, 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 embassies, to France, for the king could not bear to be long without him: he was a most munificent patron; learning and genius were sure of his protection ; and when our author was deprived of the bays, he allowed him the lau- reat's annual stipend out of his own private purse. Arthur Manwaring, 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 coolness, courage, and conduct, showed himself a worthy representative 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 composure, 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 I 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-natured muse." His first 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 16S5, was daughter to the Earl of Northampton, and mother to the present 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 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 sixty-nine, lamented by every class of 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." Deerick. 44 AN ESSAY UPON SATIEE. And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 180 Like Pembroke's mastiffs at his kindest time ; Then for one night sold all his slavish life, A teeming widow, hut a barren wife ; Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, He lugg'd about the matrimonial load ; 185 Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he, Has ill restored 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 190 Had famed for dulness in malicious rhymes. Mulgrave had much ado to 'scape the snare, 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, 19S To see him catch his Tartar for his prize : Th' impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge ; Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 20 ° As his estate, his person too was free : Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move ; To gold he fled from beauty and from love ; Yet failing there he keeps his freedom still, Forced to live happily against his will : aB '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 : Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. al 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 : 215 What we uncharitably take for sin, Are only rules of this odd capuchin ; For never hermit, under grave pretence, Has lived more contrary to common sense ; Ver. 190. Dull as Ned Howard, whom his "brisker times Had famed 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 ; hut none of them succeeded on the stage, nor procured him any reputation. He also published an epic poem, called The British Princes, for which he was severely ridiculed by all the wits of his age : Lord Rochester, Lord Dorset, Mr. Waller, the Duke of Buckingham, Dr. Spratt, Lord Vaughan, published lam- poons upon it, most of them printed in the six volumes of Miscellanies published by Dryden. Derrick. Ver. 208. And little Sid, for simile renown'd, Pleasure has always sought, but never found:] This Sidney, brother of Algernon Sidney and the Earl of Leicester, was rather a man of pleasure than of business ; his talents were great, but his indolence was greater; his appearance 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 insinu- ating; 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 raising him to the throne, being him- self a messenger from England 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 State, MaBter of the Ordnance, and Lord-lieutenant of Ire- land 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. Derrick. And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 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 ; _ 2 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 ; Ver. 227. Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall for wits.] Sir George Hewet, a man of quality, famous for gallantry, and often named in the State Poems. Sir George Ether- edge intended for him the celebrated character of Sir Eopling 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 ; To strut, look big, shake Pantaloon, and swear, With Hewit, dammee, there 's no action there." State Poems, vol. i. p. 165. 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 bear's cubs into shape are lick'd, When Wharton, Etherege, and Soame, > To give it their last strokes were come, >- Those critics differ'd in their doom. ) Yet Swan says he admired it 'scap'd, Since 'twas Jack Hall's, without being clapp'd." Swan was a notorious punster. Derrick. Ver. 228. Rochester I despise, &c] Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, was naturally modest, till the court corrupted him. His wit had in it a brightness to which few could ever arrive. He gave himself up to all sorts of extrava- gance, and to the wildest frolics that a wanton wit could devise. He went about the streets as a beggar ; made love as a porter; set up a stage as an Italian mountebank; was, for some years, always drunk, ever doing mischief. The king loved his company for the diversion it afforded, better than his person: and there was no love lost between them. He took his revenges in many libels ; he found out a footman that knew all the court, whom he furnished with a red coat and a musket, as a sentinel, and kept him all the winter long, every night, at the doors of such ladies as he suspected of intrigues. In the court a sentinel is little minded, and is believed to be posted by a captain of the guards to hinder a combat ; so this man saw who walked about and visited at forbidden hours. By this means Lord Rochester made many discoveries ; and when he was well furnished with materials, he used to retire into the country for a month or two to write libels. Once, being drunk, he intended to give the king a libel that he had wrote on some ladies ; but, by a mistake, he gave him one written on himself, which brought him for that time into disgrace. He fell into an ill habit of body, and in several fits of sickness he had deep remorses, for he was guilty of much impiety, and of great immoralities ; but as he recovered, he threw these off, and returned again to his former ill courses. This is the account given of Lord Rochester by Bishop Burnet, who attended him in his illness ; and who says he is sure he would have continued to live a regular religious life, in case he had survived. He had served as a volunteer in the Dutch war, and behaved with such undaunted resolution, that it can scarcely be reconciled to bis dastardly conduct afterwards in private life; for it is certain, that he was not only capable of satirising in the severest manner, but of sus- taining the due reward of his abuse without resentment : so that he is said to have " His own kickings notably contrived." And we can only reconcile these contradictions in conduct, AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. 45 For while he mischief means to all mankind, *" 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 ; s" 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. Z4 by remembering his uninterrupted course of riot and debauchery, which had enervated all mental as well as corporeal faculties, and eradicated every virtue ; besides, it is a just observation, that no two things can be more opposite than one and the same man at different times. He envied Dryden's great success, while he acknowledged his superior abilities, and supported Crown against him, whom he forsook, and opposed with equal virulence, when his Conquest of Jerusalem procured him some reputation. This is one reason for his being introduced here, in a light so very unpleasing, though not untrue; for the picture resembles him in everything but want of wit, which is a misrepresentation. As he was one of the lewdest writers of his time, several collections of obscene poems, many of which he never saw, have been published under his name. He was looked upon to he master of so much insinuation, that no woman was seen talking to him three times without loBing her reputation ; and if he did not make himself master of her person, he scrupled not scandalising her to the world. Indeed, in his latter days, it was only talk ; for bis debaucheries had disabled him from action, and his inability was universally known. Derrick. Ver. 241. A very Killigrew without good-nature."] Thomas Killigrew, 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-chamber- lain 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, Combined 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 bitterest things without provoking resentment ; he tickled you while he made you smart, and you overlooked thB For what a Bessus has he always lived, And his own kickings notably contrived ? For there 's the folly that 's still mixt with fear ^ Cowards more blows than any hero bear ; Of fighting sparks some may their pleasure 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, 15 ° And then as meanly labours to get loose ; 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. Sometimes he has some humour, never wit, And if it rarely, very rarely, bit, 'Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid, To find it out's the cinderwoman's trade ; Who, for the wretched remnants of a fire, 2G " 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. 26,1 How vain a thing is man, and how unwise ) E'en he, who would himself the most despise 1 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 ; 271 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 ; v " 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 the bottom fall, :B " Learn to write well or not to write at all. pain, charmed by the pleasure. He died at Whitehall in March, 1682, aged seventy-one, bewailed by his friends, and truly wept for by the poor. Derrick. Ver. 242. For what a Bessus has Jie always lived,] Bessus is a remarkably cowardly character in Beaumont and Fletcher. Derrick. *6 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. |3art i. Si propiis stes Te capiet magis ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL : 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, Bedloe, &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 exultation, / won't pretend to pronounce who started the game, but I am swre I have had the full hwnting. 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 wildfire ; 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 enemies, and those in the opposition to the court-measures, could provide for his reception ; so that their schemes were thus for a while disconcerted. Lest his presence might revive commotion, he returned again to Brussels, and was then permitted (previously) 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 removed 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, and 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 Majesty, General of the land forces, Colonel of the life-guard of horse, Lord-lieutenant of the East Riding of Yorkshire, Governor of Kingston-upon-Hull, Chief Justice in Eyre on the south of the TO THE READER. 47 river Trent, Lord Chamberlain of Scotland, and Duke of Bucoleugh, 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 partisans of this earl, and other malecontents, had long pointed out his Grace as a proper successor to the crown, instead of the Duke of York, 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 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 government, and a tempest 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 murmurs of each party broke out into altercation and declamatory abuse. Every day produced new libels and disloyal pamphlets. To answer and expose them, their partisans and abettors, several authors were retained by authority, but none came up to the purpose so well as Sir Roger l'Estrange, in the Observator; and the poet laureat, in the poem under inspection, the elegance and severity of which raised his character prodigiously, and showed the proceedings of Shaftesbury and his followers in a most Bevere 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 for 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 followers ; so that the king forbid him the court, and he retired to Holland, from whence he returned in 1685, raised a rebellion 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. — Dekwck. 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 Popish ; 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 * It was now that the party-distinctions of "Whig and Tory were first adopted; the "courtiers were deridingly compared to the Irish handitti, who were called 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 huttermilk so called. These names still distinguish contending parties in England, though strangely varied from their original application. Derrick 48 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 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 commend- ation of adversaries is the greatest triumph 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 I confess 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 I have done my worst, may be convinced, at their own cost, that I can write severely, with more ease, than I can gently. I have but laughed at some men's follies, when I could have declaimed 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 return 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 unconscionable as to charge me for not subscribing of my name ; for that would reflect too grossly upon your own party, who never dare, though they have the advantage of a jury to secure them. If you like not my poem, the fault may, possibly, 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 favourably or too hardly drawn. But they are not the violent whom I desire to please. The fault on the right hand is to extenuate, palliate, and indulge ; and, to confess freely, I have endeavoured 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 excellent 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 forebore to prosecute, because I 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 Absalom 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 reason, in this poem, he is neither brought to set his house in order, nor to dispose of his person afterwards as he in his wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful ; and his vicegerent is only not so, because he is not infinite. The true end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction. 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 Erne recidenckm, which I 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 distempered state, as an opiate would be in a raging fever. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. In pious times ere priestcraft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin ; * This poem is said to he one of the most perfect alle- gorical pieces that our language ever produced. It is carried on through the whole with equal strength and pro- priety. The veil is no where laid aside. There is a just similarity in the characters, which are exactly pourtraycd ; the lineaments are well copied; the colouring is lively; the groupings show the hand of a master, and may serve to convince us, that Mr. Dryden knew his own power when he asserted, that he found it easier to write severely than gently. Many editions of this poem were sold in a very short time ; the name of the author was, for some time, a secret, and the real merits of it were allowed, even by the enemies of the cause it was meant to assist. Dr. William Coward, a physician of Merton College, Oxford, published a Latin translation of it in 1682 ; as did also the celebrated Dr. Francis Atterhury, afterwards Bishop of Rochester. A piece of such reputation and service to a particular party could not appear without much censure and many answers ; | among the most remarkable of which we may reckon "Azariah and Hushai ;" and "Absalom senior, or Achitophel transprosed;" a poem, dedicated to the Tories, as this was to the Whigs. Here the satire is transferred to the Duke of York : and from the four following lines in the second part of Absalom and Achitophel, we are to suppose, that Elkanah Settle was the author of it, to whom also the other piece is attributed. " Instinct he follows, and no farther knows, For to write verse with him is to transprose. 'Twere petty treason at his door to lay, Who makes heaven's lock a door to its own key." Wood tells us, that the Duke of Buckingham printed a loose sheet of paper soon after the publication of this poem, intitled, " Reflections upon it," which contained nothing material and were sold very dear. The application of the story of Absalom to this part of King Charles II.'s I'eign, was first made by a clergyman in the pulpit, and his sermon was printed with the title of " Absalom and Achitophel." Derrick. Ver, 1. In pious times'] The application of Scripture stories, in the way of allegory, as in the piece before us, to modern and political events, has been practised by more than one eminent poet. Bacine is supposed to have alluded to the situation of Madame Maintenon in his Esther. But the most striking example of tliis practice, is the Samson Agonistes of Milton, throughout which noble drama there is a constant reference to the case and condition of the great poet himself, exposed to the derision and insults of the debauched and dissolute Philistines of Charles II.'s court, and wishing to pull down the temple of Dagon on their heads. This is particularly visible in the chorus at verse 667. The very trials and the condemnations of Sir Henry Vane, his favourite, and' of the other regicides, is plainly pointed out in these lines : " Or to th' unjust tribunals, under change of times And condemnation of th' ingrateful multitude." And the following lines clearly relate to his own losses in the excise, and his severe fits of the gout : " If these they 'scape, perhaps in poverty, Painful diseases and deform'd ; Tho' not disordinate, yet causeless suffering The punishment of dissolute days. " It is observed by my very ingenious friend, Mr. Hayleyi f 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, 1682. Todd. When man on many multiplied his kind, Ere one to one was cursedly confined ; When nature prompted, and no law denied 8 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, iS No true succession could their seed attend. Of all this numerous progeny was none So beautiful, so brave, as Absalon : who has certainly given us the most candid and exact life of Milton extant, that the lot of Milton had a marvellous coincidence with that of his hero Samson in three remark- able points : " First, he had been tormented by a beautiful hut disaffectionate and disobedient wife ; secondly, he had been the great champion of his country, and as such the idol of public admiration ; lastly, he had fallen from that height of unrivalled glory, and had experienced the most humili- ating reverse of fortune : 'His foe's derision, captive, poor, and blind.' In delineating the greater part of Samson's sensations under calamity, he had only to describe his own." I can- not forbear adding what the same candid writer has observed concerning Milton's political principles : " That had his life been extended long enough to witness the Revolution, he would probably have exulted as warmly as the staunchest friend of our present constitution can exult, in that temperate and happy reformation of monarchical enormities." Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 6. Promiscuous use] These lines are insufferably gross and offensive. It is curious to see how Atterhury, who, from a veneration for Tory principles, translated the whole poem, has rendered them. " Cognovere pias nondum pia sfficula fraudes Arte sacerdotum, nondum vetuere maritos Multiplici celehrare jugo connubia leges, Cum vir sponsarum numeraverat agmen, et uni Non servare toro, fato adversante, coactus Plurima fertilibus produxit stemmata lumbis. Cum stimulos natura daret, nee legibus ullis Et sponsffl et lense vetitum est commune cubile, Tunc Israelis, ccelo cedente, monarcha Concubitu vario vernas nuptasque fovehat." The poem was so popular, that another Latin translation was also published, in 4to, 1682, at Oxford, by Dr. William Coward, a physician of Merton College. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 18. So beautiful, so brave,'] The Duke of Mon- mouth was young, exquisitely beautiful, brave, generous, affecting popularity, and tenderly beloved by his father ; had been educated with one part of the flower of the English youth at Oxford, and served with another in the army ; so that he had all the advantages of private friend- ships joined to those which attend upon royal extraction. His tutor, one Ross, a Scotchman, either from love to his pupil, or to gain importance to himself, was the first per- son who inflamed his mind with high ambition, by making him believe, or persuading him to make others believe, that the King had been privately married to his mother. Ross went further, for he advised Couzens, Bishop of Durham, to write a certificate of the marriage, and. to deposit it in a strong box in his own house ; making use of this argument, that, if the Duke of York should be 50 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. Whether inspired by some diviner lust, His father got him with a greater gust : m 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, 25 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 : His 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 t) His father could not, or he would not see. x Some warm excesses which the law forbore, Were construed youth that purged by boiling o'er, And Amnon's murder, by a specious name, Was oall'd a just revenge for injured fame. 40 Thus praised and loved, the noble youth remain'd, While David, undisturb'd, in Sion reign'd. 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 ; 46 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 god-smiths could produce, or priests devise :) These Adam-wits, too fortunately free, 61 Began to dream they wanted liberty ; And when no rule, no precedent was found, Of men, by laws less circumscribed and bound ; They led their wild desires to woods and caves, 55 And thought that all but savages were slaves. converted from popery, there would be no need of bringing the certificate to public view ; and if he should not, that all arts were justifiable to exclude a papist from the throne ; circumstances which Couzens immediately communicated to the King, but which that prince disregarded, acquitting Monmouth and imputing them only to the petulance of his tutor. Yet Ross, after Couzens died, spread a report abroad, that he had left such a certificate behind him. Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 19. Whether inspired] How gross and indelicate must the taste of that age have been, when St. Evremont could quote these very filthy and abominable lines in a letter addressed to the celebrated Duchess of Mazarine 1 Dr. J. Warton. Ibid. inspired by some diviner lust,"] Inspired with some diviner lust. First edition. Ver. 30. And pwadise 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 ingenuity of the poet, in the local adaptation, is truly admirable : " You raised these hallow'd walls ; the desart smiled, And paradise was open'd in the wild." Todd. Ver. 61. 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 than the happiest, by persuasion of Eve, eat of the forbidden fruit, and thereby forfeited the divine favour, and was excluded the garden of Eden. Derrick. Ver. 55. They led their wild desires to woods and caves. And thought that all out savages were slaves.] Pope, whose eye was perpetually on his master, adopted this rhyme: " Cities laid waste, they storm'd the woods and caves, (For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.)" "Windsor Forest, ver. 49. 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: M Those very Jews, who, at their very best, Their humour more than loyalty express'd, 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, 65 Or melt him to that golden calf a state. 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 ; W And, looking backward with a wise affright, Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight : In contemplation of whose ugly scars, They cursed the memory of civil wars. The moderate sort of men thus qualified, '* Inclined the balance to the better side ; And David's mildness managed it so well, The bad found no occasion to rebel. But when to sin our biass'd nature leans, The careful devil is still at hand with means ; M 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 M Were Jebusites; the town so call'd from them; And theirs the native right But when the chosen people grew more^trong, The rightful cause at length became the wrong ; And every loss the men of Jebus bore, 90 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, 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, 10 ° Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, In his defence his servants are as bold, As if he had been born of beaten gold. Altering the original : " From towns laid waste, to dens and caves they ran, (For who first stoop'd to be a slave was man.)" John Warton . Ver. 92. Thus worn or weaken'd,] First edition : worn and weaken'd. Ver. 99. For priests of alt] It is not my intention to add anything to the many just censures that have been passed on this sweeping, indiscriminating piece of satire of the priest- hood, which by vulgar use is become almost proverbial. But I cannot forbear adding an extraordinary passage from Mr. Hume's Essays : — "It is a trite, but not altogether a false maxim, that priests of all religions are the same ; and though the character of the profession will not, in every instance, prevail over the personal character, yet it is sure always to predominate with the greater number." He has added a long note, in which he says, page 547, 8vo, that " tliis profession leads to dissimulation and hypocrisy, to amibition, to self-conceit, to pride and arrogance, to impatience of contradiction, to intolerance, and to revenge." He after- wards softens these sarcastical strokes, and adds, " Who- ever possesses the other noble virtues of humanity, meek- ness, and moderation, as very many of them, no doubt, do, is beholden for them to nature and reflection, not to the genius of his calling." Dr. J. Warton. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 51 The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, In this conclude them honest men and wise : 10fi 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 ; Eaised in extremes, and in extremes decried ; 110 With oaths affirm'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 embraced ; Where gods were recommended by their taste. Such savoury deities must needs be good, 12 ° 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 sacrificer's trade : Fools are more hard to conquer than persuade. Their busy teachers mingled with the Jews, 126 And raked 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 slay By guns, invented since full many a day : 131 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, I4 ° Work up to foam, and threat the government. Some by their friends, more by themselves thought wise, Opposed 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. 145 Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown From pardon'd rebels kinsmen to the throne, Were raised in power and public office high ; Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie. Of these the false Achitophel was first ; 15 ° A name to all succeeding ages cursed : Ver. 110. liaised in extremes] There are many vigorous lines, and aome bold truths, in this account of a plot that disgraces the annals of this country, and produced so much cruelty, perjury, injustice, fraud, and revenge. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 112. Not weigh'd nor winnow'd] First edition, incor- rectly : Not weigh'd, or winnow'd. Ver. 121. As served at once for worship and for food.] And served at once for worship and for food. First edition. Ver. 150. Of these the false] This is the introduction of the chief hero of this piece, the celebrated Earl of Shaftes- bury, under the name of Achitophel. A man, insinuating, imposing in 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 education, knew well the power of popu- lar 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. Shaftes- For close designs, and crooked counsels fit ; Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit ; Ver. 152. For close designs, and crooked counsels fit;] First edition : For close designs, and crooked counsel fit. bury was stimulated, too, by offences, both given and received ; for the King having said to him, — " Shaftesbury, thou art the greatest rogue in the kingdom," 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 High- ness 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 popu- lace. By making the Duke one of the objects of the pretended assassination, it prevented the suspicion of its being directed against him; and, by accusing the Queen, whom the King did not love, it gave a chance for separating the interests of the brothers. The information, as soon as given, flew instantly abroad. Even the marvellousness of the story gave credit to what it was almost impossible to believe human fiction could have invented. Accident after accident, arising in a manner unparalleled in history, con- curred to maintain the delusion. Coleman's letters were seized, which discovered that the Duke had been carrying on a correspondence with France, against the religion of his country and its interests. 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 exposed 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 clergy- men walking before, near a thousand persons of condition 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 every thing has been written against him, and nothing for him ; upon which account, I am happy to hear, that his family have thoughts of endeavouring to vindicate his memory in public. Far from the intention to injure it, I flatter my- self that the papers published in this Appendix will set his character, in several respects, in 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 interests 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 him- self 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 curious 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 acliteness 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, be said, e2 52 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. Restless, unfix'd in principles and place ; In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace : 155 A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy-body to decay, And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity ; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high 16u He sought the storms ; but for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit. Great wits are sure to madness near allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide ; Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest, 1W Refuse his age the needful hours of rest ? Punish a body which he could not please ; Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease ? 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 supprest 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 everything at the table, renders this suspicion of mine indisputable." Lord Southampton laughed at the time at the improbability of this conjecture, 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 deserves to he 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. Warton. Ibid. the false Achitcphel ■ A name to all succeeding ages curst :] was Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper, raised to the degree of a baron at the Restoration, and afterwards created Earl of Shaftesbury. His first remarkable appearance was in the royal interest, 1642, being then in his twenty-first year. He soon deserted it in disgust, and joined the Parliament, cutting a notable figure during the interregnum, there being nothing of any consequence transacted, but what he had a hand in, the King's death excepted, of which he kept clear. He conceived a dislike to Cromwell, on being refused one of his daughters ; and though he had before struck in with all his measures, he now endeavoured to throw many difficulties in his way, but with so much caution, that he was not called to any account for so doing. Being nourished by variety, and fond of change, and having, at the same time, always an eye to his own advan- tage, he assisted, privately, Sir George Booth's designs in the "West in behalf of the King, which he denied with solemn imprecations, when charged therewith by the Rump Parliament. At the Restoration, in which he aided, he was one of the twelve members that were sent on that occasion to compliment the King at the Hague, when his wit and vivacity recommended him to much notice. It was at this time he received a hurt in his side, by being overturned in a chaise, which was attended with bad consequences; being some years after cut for it, an issue remained open. His enemies thence took occasion to ridicule him, by calling him Tapski. Independent of politics, we have no great room to -think highly of his moral character ; for King Charles, in one of his social hours, told him, " Shaftesbury, I believe you are one of the wickedest fellows in the king- dom." " Of a subject, sir," answered he smartly, " it may be." In 1672 he was removed from the exchequer, of which he was chancellor and undeivtreasurer, to be one of the five commissioners appointed to execute the office of lord high chancellor of England. He was also one of the privy-council, and a member of that famous cabal which engrossed the King's entire confidence. Derrick. Ver. 154. Bestless, unfix'd in principles and place ;] First edition : Restless, unfix'd in principle and place. Ver. 158. the tenement of clay.'] So Milton, OdeNativ.st.2:— " And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clap." Todd. And all to leave what "with his toil he won, To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son ; 1 ?° Got, while his soul did huddled notions try ; And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. In friendship false, implacable in hate ; Resolved to ruin or to rule the state. To compass this the triple bond he broke ; 175 The pillars of the public safety shook y. And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke : Then seized with fear, yet still affecting fame, Usurp'd a patriot's all-atoning name. So easy still it proves, in factious times, 18 ° 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, ! ,8S ~ Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge;- The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. Ver. 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 connection with Prance, Lord Shaftesbury 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 unpopular, as we have observed above, down to Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. "With all his failings it is on every hand allowed, that the business of the chancery was never transacted with more care and exactness than when Lord Shaftesbury presided in that court. His expedition was unparalleled ; he made it his study to bring matters to a speedy issue ; and his speeches from the bench were so strong and con- clusive, so fraught with knowledge, and so happily expressed, that his meaning was plain to the most indif- ferent conception. The poet shows himself truly impartial, in thus rendering him his due ; and, like a masterly painter, he has thereby thrown a strong light over a piece that cannot he viewed to great advantage, nor placed in a clear situation. He had in his younger days been of Lincoln's-Inn, where he studied the law with great attention ; hut his paternal inheritance was so considerable, that he thought the prac- tice of it superfluous, except in this elevated station, the dignity of which he carefully and judiciously observed. He proceeded every day from Exeter-house in the Strand, where he then lived, with vast solemnity, to "Westminster; for he said the credit of all great offices should be main- tained with state and ceremony. He altered nothing of his common garb, while he was lord-chancellor, only added an ash-coloured gown, thrown over his clothes, richly laced with gold. How amiable does the character, drawn of him in the passage now before us, represent him! and who, without grief, can see it so unhappily contrasted in almost all the rest of his life ? Derrick. Ver. 179. Usurp'd a patriot's all-atoning j name.~] The first edition reads : Assumed a patrols all-atoning name. This last variation, 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 : Assumed a patriot's all-atoning name, Ver. 180—191.] These twelve lines were added in the second edition. Ver. 187. The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge, 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 allov/d, Would keep him still depending on the crowd: w exerting all the powers of his eloquence on the side of justice ; we admire the able lawyer, the commanding orator, and the upright judge. But when be enters into all the iniquitous measures of the Cabal, when he prostitutes his eloquence to enslave his country, and hecomes the factiouB leader, and the popular incendiary, we regard him with an equal mixture of horror and regret."— Biog. Hist. vol. iii. p. 362, second edit. Todd. Ver. 198. But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand. And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.'] Quore: Whether from Seneca? Thyestes. " Stet, quicunque volet, potens Aula culmine lubrico." John Warton. Ver. 205. Be stood at bold defiance'] The particular cir- cumstance that drove Shaftesbury into a sudden opposi- tion to the court, was, that the King, alarmed at the strong remonstrances of the Commons against Popery, and a dis- pensing power, and breaking 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 exposed 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, "The prince who forsook himself, deserved to be forsaken." Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 228. For politicians] The faults and merits of ministers and politicians are, in all governments, especially those that are free, perpetually exaggerated and carried to an extreme. Deep-laid schemes that never entered their thoughts are ascribed to them ; and they are frequently accused of artful designs to introduce arbitrary power, when their sole view and aim has been merely to keep themselves in office. The line above insinuates, that as soon as they become ministers, they cease to be men ; an insinuation founded on faction, false zeal, and ignorance of human nature. Dr. J. Warton. 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 23u Some royal planet ruled 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 promised land : Whose dawning day in every distant age Has exercised 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, 240 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 ! 245 Content ingloriously to pass thy days, Like one of virtue's fools that feed on praise ; Till thy fresh glories, which now shine so bright, Grow stale, and tarnish with our daily sight ! Believe me, royal youth, thy fruit must be !M 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,) 266 Our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, And from the first impression takes the bent : But, if unseized, she glides away like wind, And leaves repenting folly far behind. Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize, s6 ° And spreads her locks before her as she flies. Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, Not dared 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. 26S Ver. 227. Drawn to the dregs of a democracy.] To this alliteration we may not unaptly apply the observation of the acute Dr. Clarke, in an alliterative passage in Homer : — Xuvto £«jtA<«S £oAa&Ef Rem lurpem consults verbonim xctxoymliz depingit. Ita Virgilius, belli civilis horrorem ; " Neu patriae validaa in viscera vertite vires." JEn. vi. 833. He uses this line again in The Hind and Fanther,-veT.2U. John Warton. Ver. 230. Auspicious prince,] All the most powerful topics that could be urged to kindle the latent sparks of ambition in a vain, young, spirited, unprincipled prince, are here brought together, placed in the most striking light, and so placed as each to strengthen the foregoing one with matchless dexterity and art; so that here appears what Dr. Johnson calls the predominant talent of our poet, Ratio- cination. In line 299, Dryden, like a true abject flatterer of despotic power, thought he depreciated the doctrine of a limited monarchy, by putting a commendation of it in the mouth of Shaftesbury. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 234. whose extended wand Divides the seas, and shows the promised land:] First edition : — whose extended wand Shuts up the seas, and shews the promised land. Ver. 261. And spreads her locks before her as she flies.] First edition. Derrick incorrectly has — And spreads her locks before you as she flies. 54 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 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 %° 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 : W (Our only blessing since his cursed return :) Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind, Blown ofF and scattered by a puff of wind. What strength can he to your designs oppose, Naked of friends and round beset with foes ? !ao 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 285 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, andyliberty. 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 a5 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, wi Yet sprung from high is of celestial seed v- In God 'tis glory ; and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire. The ambitious youth too covetous of fame, Too full of angel's mettle in his frame, 310 Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, Made drunk with honour, and debauch'd with praise. Half loth, 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 ? Ver. 272. Covering the beach, and blackening aU the strand;'] This latter expression Pope has adopted : " While the long funerals blacken all the way." John Waeton. Ver. 291. and His their general cry,] First edi- tion : and 'tis the general cry. Ver. 314. For royal blood] First edition : loyal. Ver. 315, And what pretence have 7] The seem- ing reluctance of Monmouth, not yet totally depraved, to comply with the dangerous advice of his seducer, his pro- fessions of affection, loyalty, and respect for his father, to whom he fondly ascribes many virtues and excellencies, and gratitude for favours received from him, all these circum- stances are ably and judiciously painted, and the break in his speech at line 347, where he comes to mention the Duke of York as successor to the crown, is particularly artful. As is the wish at line 363, that fate had given his mind another turn, and fortune made him either greater or meaner. Dr. J. "Warton. My father governs with unquestion'd right ; The faith's defender, and mankind's delight ; Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws ; m And Heaven by wonders has espoused 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 ; is 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? Ml) Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. If David's rule Jerusalem displease, The dog-star heats their brains to this disease. Why then should I, encouraging the bad, s* Turn rebel and run popularly mad ? Were he a tyrant, who by lawless might Oppress'd the Jews and raised the Jebusite, Well might I mourn ; but nature's holy bands Would curb my spirits and restrain my hands : m 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 out-runs desire ; What more can I expect while David lives 1 x All but his kingly diadem he gives : And that — But there he paused; then sighing, said — Is justly destined for a worthier head. 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 possess'd ; * ss 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. m Why should I then repine at Heaven's decree, Which gives me no pretence to royalty ? Yet oh that fate, propitiously inclined, Had raised my birth, or had debased my mind ; To my large soul not all her treasure lent, *" And then betray'd it to a mean descent ! I find, I find my mounting spirits bold, And David's part disdains my mother's mold. Why am I scanted by a niggard birth ? My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth ; 3 '° And, made for empire, whispers me within, Desire of greatness is a god-like 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 : 3?s The eternal God, supremely good and wise, Ver. 367. I find, I find my mounting spirits bold,'] He had his eye on Virgil's Nisus and Euryalus. " aliquid jam dudum invadere magnum Mens agitat mihi, nee placida contenta quiete est." But the repetition I find, more strongly reminds us of '' Est hie, est animus lucis contemptor." John Warton. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 55 Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain : What wonders are reserved to bless your reign ! A gainst your will your arguments have shown, Such virtue 's only given to guide a throne. 3a0 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 1 Let him give on till he can give no more, The thrifty Sanhedrim shall keep him poor ; 3W 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, 3D5 He must, with the remains of kingship, buy His faithful friends, our jealousies and fears 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, 406 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. 410 All empire is ho more than power in trust, Which, when resumed, 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, 416 Better one suffer than a nation grieve. The Jews well know their power : ere Saul they chose, 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 ; m 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, Or let him lay his vain pretence aside. God said, he loved your father ; could he bring A better proof, than to anoint him king? *" It surely show'd he loved the shepherd well, Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. Ver. 411. AH empire] He thinks he sufficiently exposes this notion of the origin and end of government, by putting it into the mouth of a seeming profligate politician. Yet this opinion was held by Hooker, by Locke, and Hoadly, and many other rational writers on government. And his successor was of a- contrary opinion, saying, " Th' enormous faith of many made for one." Dr. J. Waston. Ver. 416. Better one suffer than a nation grieve.] First edition: million. Would David have you thought his darling son ■ What means he then to alienate the crown 1 The name of godly he may blush to bear: ^ 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. * t0 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 ; 446 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, 451 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 : 455 Resolve on death, or conquest by the sword, Which for no less a stake than life you draw ; And self-defence is nature's eldest law. Leave the warm people no considering time : For then rebellion may be thought a crime. 46 ° 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 46s To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. And who can sound the depth of David's soul 1 Perhaps his fear his kindness may control. He fears his brother, though he loves his son, For plighted vows too late to be undone. 4 "° 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 c/use : i7i They who possess the prince possess %e laws. He said, and this advice above the rest, With Absalom's mild nature suited best ; Unblamed for life, ambition set aside, Not stain'd with cruelty, nor puff 'd with pride. 4S0 How happy had he been, if destiny Had higher placed his birth, or not so high ! His kingly virtues might have claim'd a throne, And bless'd all other countries but his own. But charming greatness since so few refuse, 4BS "Tis juster to lament him than accuse. Strong were his hopes a rival to remove, With blandishments to gain the public love : Ver. 436. Is 't after God's ovm heart to cheat his heir 7] The first edition has— 'Tis after God's own heart to cheat his heir. Eigawxa?. Ver. 447. And like a lion,] These lines are some of the most highly-finished and animated of any in the whole piece. But is not Shaftesbury, by introducing this fine simile in his speech to Monmouth, as much too great a poet, as jEneas is in the comparisons he has introduced in his narration to Dido in the second and third books of the JSneid? Dr. J. Waetos. Ver. 461. Avail yourself of what occasion gives,] First edition : Prevail, &c. 56 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. To head the faction while their zeal was hot, And popularly prosecute the plot. w 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, 49S "Who thought the power of monarchy too much ; Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts ; Wot wicked, but seduced by impious arts. By these the springs of property were bent, 4 " Aid 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 an useless heavy load, m 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. Si0 Who follow next a double danger bring, Not only hating David, but the king; The Solymsean rout ; well versed of old, In godly faction, and in treason bold ; Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword, 515 But lofty to a lawful prince restored ; Saw with disdain an Ethnic plot begun, 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, m Resumed their cant, and with a zealous cry, Pursued their old beloved Theocracy : Where Sanhedrim and priest enslaved the nation, And justified their spoils by inspiration : For who so fit to reign as Aaron's race, 525 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, Adored their fathers' God and property; 536 And by the same blind benefit of fate, The devil and the Jebusite did hate : Born to be saved, even in their own despite, Because they could not help behoving right. 54 ° 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 ; Ter. 525. For who so fit to reign as Aaron's race,'] In the first edition : For who so fit for reign as Aaron's race. Ver. 544. In the first rank] It will be difficult to find in Horace, Boileau, or Pope, any portrait drawn with such truth and spirit as this of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Pope entered the lists with his master, hut has not come up to the vigour, the variety of follies enumerated, the nice discriminations of foibles and weaknesses, the tone of pleasantry and contempt, the contrarieties and incon- sistencies, enumerated by Dryden. These lines were intended as a payment in full, for the bitter, but deserved satire of the Rehearsal, acted about nine years before A man so various, that he seem'd to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; Was every thing by starts, and nothing long ; "Whether BayeB or Zimri be placed in the more ridiculous light, I will not determine. But undoubtedly, the very unnatural and forced sentiments, the fustian and bombast language, the inartificial plots, the absurd situations, and total want of decorum in our author's plays, are exposed in the Rehearsal with much good manly sense and sound criticism. And I cannot but be surprised that Dr. John- son should speak of this piece in so contemptuous a manner, calling it a mere farce, and wondering it should be thought the production of several wits united in the scheme. But Dryden was so much his favourite, that he has endeavoured to palliate many of his faults, and almost to defend hiB rhyme-tragedies, saying, " that we know not the effect it might have on the passions of an audi- ence; but it has this convenience, that sentences stand more independent on each other, and striking passages are therefore easily selected and retained. Thus the description of night in the Indian Emperor, and the Rise and Fall of Empire in the Conquest of Granada, are more frequently repeated than any lines in All for Love, or Don Sebastian." "Woe to that tragedy whose merit depends on striking detached passages, on select sentences, and florid descriptions! Dr. J. Warton. Ibid. - Zimri • A man so various, that he seem'cL to be Not one, but all mankinds epitome .-] Was drawn for George Villiers, who succeeded to the title of Duke of Buckingham, on the death of his father, who was murdered by Felton. " He had some wit, great vivacity, was the minister of riot, the slave of intem- perance, a pretended atheist, without honour, principle, economy, or discretion." He bad a fine person, and the women deemed him handsome; he was capricious and sarcastic; sung well; told a story very facetiously; mimicked the failings of others admirably ; and possessed strong powers for ridicule ; versified with ease ; but knew all his accomplishments, and foiled them by his intole- rable vanity. He had shared in the King's exile, and coming into possession of more than 20,000Z. per annum, at the Restoration, was a great favourite. In 1666 it was discovered that he had endeavoured to stir up such of the people that were ill-disposed to the government, because he had been refused the trust of President of the North. In the following year he made his peace at court, and became a member of the Cabal, which was made up of five ministers, in whom alone the King for some time confided, and who led him into measures that were pro- ductive of all the uneasiness he afterwards sustained. In 1675 he became a favourer of the Nonconformists ; and in the affairs of the Popish plot, and bill of exclusion, stuck close to Shaftesbury, and) with- all his strength and influence, opposed the court. Having at length _ squan- dered away almost all his immense fortune, with the acquisition of an infamous character, he departed this life in 1687, lamented by nobody, according to "Wood, at his house in Yorkshire; but Pope says he died _ in the utmost misery, in a remote inn in Yorkshire, having run through a fortune of 50,000?. a year, and been possessed of some of the highest posts in the kingdom. " In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, The floors of plaister, and the walls of dung ; On once a flock-bed, but repair* d with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed, Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red ; Great Villiers lies, alas ! how changed from him, That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim, Gallant and gay, in Cliefden's proud alcove, The bower of wanton Shrewsbury, and love: Or just as gay at council, in a ring Of mimick'd statesmen, and a merry king. No wit to flatter left, of all his store ! No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, And fame ; this lord of useless thousands ends." His grace was the author of several pieces of entertain- ment, but particularly the Rehearsal ; the Bayes of which he intended for Dryden, who has fully avenged himself in the character of Zimri, with this advantage, that the picture is an exact resemblance. Derrick. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 57 But, in the course of one revolving moon, S49 Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon : Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ, "With something new to wish, No hour of his in fruitless ease destroy'd, But on the noblest subjects still employ'd : Whose steady soul ne'er learnt to separate Between his monarch's interest and the state, But heaps those blessings on the royal head, 645 Which he well knows must be on subjects shed. On what pretence could then the vulgar rage Against his worth, and native rights engage 1 Religious fears their argument are made, Religious fears his sacred rights invade I 66 ° Of future superstition they complain, And Jebusitic worship in his reign : With such alarms his foes the crowd deceive, With dangers fright which not themselves believe. Since nothing can our sacred rites remove, K5 Whate'er the faith of the successor prove : Our Jews their ark shall undisturb'd retain, At least while their religion is their gain, Who know by old experience Baal's commands 66a Not only claim'd their conscience, but their lands ; They grudge God's tithes; how therefore shall they yield An idol full possession of the field 1 Grant such a prince enthroned, we must confess The people's sufferings than that monarch's less, Who must to hard conditions still be bound, 66S And for his quiet with the crowd compound ; Or should his thoughts to tyranny incline, Where are the means to compass the design ] Our crown's revenues are too short a store, And jealous Sanhedrims would give no more. 6?0 As vain our fears of Egypt's potent aid, Not so has Pharaoh learnt ambition's trade, Nor ever with such measures can comply As shock the common rules of policy ; None dread like him the growth of Israel's king, And he alone sufficient aids can bring ; (i ' 6 Who knows that prince to Egypt can give law, That on our stubborn tribes his yoke could draw : At such profound expense he has not stood, Nor dyed for this his hands so deep in blood ; 6S " Would ne'er through wrong and right his progress take, Grudge his own rest, and keep the world awake, To fix a lawless prince on Judah's throne, First to invade our rights, and then his own ; His dear-gain'd conquests cheaply to despoil, 685 And reap the harvest of his crimes and toil. We grant his wealth vast as our ocean's sand, And curse its fatal influence on our land, Which our bribed Jews so numerously partake, That even an host his pensioners would make. 69 ° From these deceivers our divisions spring, Our weakness, and the growth of Egypt's king ; These, with pretended friendship to the Btate, Our crowd's suspicion of their prince create, Both pleased and frighten'd with the specious cry, 695 To guard their sacred rites and property. To ruin, thus, the chosen flock are sold, While wolves are ta'en for guardians of the fold ; Seduced by these we groundlessly complain, And loathe the manna of a gentle reign. 70 ° Thus our forefathers' crooked paths are trod ; We trust our prince no more than they their God. But all in vain our reasoning prophets preach To those whom sad experience ne'er could teach, Who can commence new broils in bleeding scars, And fresh remembrance of intestine wars ; 706 When the same household mortal foes did yield, And brothers stain'd with brothers' blood the field; When sons' cursed steel the fathers' gore did stain, And mothers mourn'd for sons by fathers slain ! When, thick as Egypt's locusts on the sand, 7 " Our tribes lay slaughter'd through the promised land, Whose few survivors with worse fate remain To drag the bondage of a tyrant's reign : Which scene of woes, .unknowing, we renew, 715 And madly, even those ills we fear, pursue ; While Pharaoh laughs at our domestic broils, And safely crowds his tents with nations' spoils. Yet our fierce Sanhedrim, in restless rage, Against our absent hero still engage, W And chiefly urge, such did their frenzy prove, The only suit their prince forbids to move, Which till obtain'd, they cease affairs of state, And real dangers waive for groundless hate. Long David's patience waits relief to bring, ^ With all the indulgence of a lawful king, Expecting till the troubled waves would cease, But found the raging billows still increase. The crowd, whose insolence forbearance swells, While he forgives too far, almost rebels. ™ At last his deep resentments silence broke ; Th' imperial palace shook, while thus he spoke : — Then Justice wake, and Rigour take her time, For, lo ! our mercy is become our crime. While halting Punishment her stroke delays, T 33 Our sovereign right, Heaven's sacred trust, decays ! For whose support even subjects' interest calls; Woe to that kingdom where the monarch falls ! That prince who yields the least of regal sway, So far his people's freedom does betray. 740 Right lives by law, and law subsists by power ; Disarm the shepherd, wolves the flock devour. Hard lot of empire o'er a stubborn race, Which Heaven itself in vain has tried with grace ! When will our reason's long-charm'd eyes unclose, And Israel j udge between her friends and foes 1 746 Ver. 705.] " Sanguine eivili rem conflant : divitiasque Conduplicant avidi, csedem csedi accumulantes. Crudeles gaudent in tristi fimere fratris : Et consanguineum mensas odere, timentque." John "Wabton. Ver. 735. While halting Punishment her stroke delays,'] " Rarb antecedentem scelestum Deseruit pede Poena claudo." John Warton. 72 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. When shall we see expired deceivers' sway, And credit what our God and monarchs say t Dissembled patriots bribed with Egypt's gold, Even Sanhedrims in blind obedience hold ; 750 Those patriots falsehood in their actions see, And judge by the pernicious fruit the tree : If aught for which so loudly they declaim, Religion, laws, and freedom, were their aim ; Our senates in due methods they had led 755 To avoid those mischiefs which they seem'd to dread ; • But first, ere yet they propp'd the sinking state, To impeach and charge, as urged by private hate, Proves that they ne'er believed the fears they press'd, But barbarously destroyed the nation's rest ! 76 ° Oh ! whither will ungovern'd senates drive, And to what bounds licentious votes arrive ? When their injustice we are press'd to share, The monarch urged to exclude the lawful heir ; Are princes thus distinguish'd from the crowd, 765 And this the privilege of royal blood 1 But grant we should confirm the wrongs they preSB, His sufferings yet were than the people's less ; Condemn'd for life the murdering sword to wield, And on their heirs entail a bloody field : 77 ° Thus madly their own freedom they betray, And for the oppression which they fear make way ; Succession fix'd by Heaven, the kingdom's bar, Which once dissolved, admits the flood of war ; Waste, rapine, spoil, without the assault begin, 775 And our mad tribes supplant the fence within. Since then their good they will not understand, 'Tis time to take the monarch's power in hand ; Authority and force to join with skill, And save the lunatics against their will. 78 ° The same rough means that 'suage the crowd, appease Our senate's raging with the crowd's disease. Henceforth unbiass'd measures let them draw From no false gloss, but genuine text of law ; Nor urge those crimes upon religion's score, 785 Themselves so much in Jebusites abhor. Whom laws convict, and only they, shall bleed, Nor Pharisees by Pharisees be freed. Impartial justice from our throne shall shower, All shall have right, and we our sovereign power. He said, the attendants heard with awfuljoy, ™ And glad presages their fix'd thoughts employ ; From Hebron now the suffering heir return'd, A realm that long with civil discord mourn'd ; Till his approach, like some arriving god, ?95 Composed and heal'd the place of his abode ; The deluge check'd, that to Judea spread, And stopp'd sedition at the fountain's head. Thus in forgiving David's paths he drives, And chased from Israel, Israel's peace contrives. The field confess'd his power in arms before, 8U1 And seas proclaim'd his triumphs to the shore ; As nobly has his sway in Hebron shown, How fit to inherit godlike David's throne. Ver. 752. And judge by the pernicious fruit the tree /] A scriptural allusion. John Warton. Ver. 803. nobly has his sway in Hebron shown,] When the Duke of York returned from Scotland, in the beginning of 1682, the murmurs against him seemed to have, in a good measure, subsided. He had shown himself so well inclined to support the reformed religion in that kingdom, that he was thanked for it by seven bishops Through Sion's streets his glad arrival 's £ And conscious Faction shrinks her snaky head ; His train their sufferings think o'erpaid to see The crowd's applause with virtue once agree. Success charms all, but zeal for worth d&tress'd, A virtue proper to the brave and best ; 81 ° 'Mongst whom was Jothran, Jothran always bent To serve the crown, and loyal by descent, Whose constancy so firm, and conduct just, Deserved at once two royal masters' trust ; Who Tyre's proud arms had manfully withstood On seas, and gather'd laurels from the flood ; s16 Of learning yet no portion was denied, Friend to the muses and the muses' pride. Nor can Benaiah's worth forgotten lie, Of steady soul when public storms were high ; 8i0 Whose conduct, while the Moor fierce onsets made, Secured at once our honour and our trade. Such were the chiefs who most his sufferings mourn'd, And view'd with silent joy the prince return'd; While those that sought his absence to betray, w Press first their nauseous false respects to pay ; Him still the officious hypocrites molest, And with malicious duty break his rest. While real transports thus his friends employ, And foes are loud in their dissembled joy, "*' His triumphs so resounded far and near, Miss'd not his young ambitious rival's ear ; And as when joyful hunters' clam'rous train Some slumbering lion wakes in Moab's plain, Who oft had forced the bold assailants yield, s3i And scatter'd his pursuers through the field, Disdaining, furls his mane and tears the ground, His eyes inflaming all the desert round, With roar of seas directs his chasers' way, Provokes from far, and dares them to the fray ; m Such rage storm'd now in Absalom's fierce breast, Such indignation his fired eyes confess'd. Where now was the instructor of his pride % Slept the old pilot in so rough a tide ? Whose wiles had from the happy shore betray'd, BB And thus on shelves the credulous youth conve/d. in an address which was published, to the satisfaction of all ranks of people ; and the citizens of London, particu- larly, treated him on that account with vast respect. Derrick. Ver. 806. And conscious Factum shrinks her snaky head;] An energetic line, the imagery of which Pope seems to have dilated, and perhaps weakened. " Then hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel, And Persecution mourn her broken wheel ; Then Faction roar " John Warton. Ver. 811. Jothran always bent To serve the crown, and loyal by descent,] Jothran, the Lord Dartmouth, a nobleman of great honesty, who, though inviolably attached to the Duke of York, had always the courage to tell him freely when he disliked any of his proceedings ; and his highness, was discreet enough to take his representations as they were meant. Derrick. Ver. 819. Nor can Benaiah 's worth forgotten lie,] Benaiah, Colonel, afterwards General Sackville, a gentleman of tried courage, and known good sense : he was of the Dorset family; had served at Tangier with reputation; and on account of his having expressed a disbelief of the Popish plot, was expelled the House of Commons, and committed to the Tower. He obtained his liberty, rank, and command, in a very short time, but not his seat in the house. Derrick. Ver. 833. And as when joyful hunters 1 &c] This is a faint imitation of Dryden, and abounds with what Quintilian calls " otiosa epitheta." John Warton. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 73 In deep revolving thoughts he weighs his state, Secure of craft, nor doubts to baffle fate ; At least, if his storm'd bark must go adrift, To baulk his charge, and for himself to shift. &» In which his dextrous wit had oft been shown, And in the wreck of kingdoms saved his own ; But now with more than common danger press'd, Of various resolutions stands possess'd, Perceives the crowd's unstable zeal decay, 855 Lest their recanting chief the cauBe betray, Who on a father's grace his hopes may ground, And for his pardon with their heads compound. Him, therefore, ere bis fortune slip her time, The statesman plots to engage in some bold crime Past pardon, whether to attempt his bed, m Or threat with open arms the royal head, Or other daring method, and unjust, That may confirm him in the people's trust. But failing thus to ensnare him, nor secure sc ° How long his foil'd ambition may endure, Plots next to lay him by as past his date, And try some new pretender's luckier fate ; Whose hopes with equal toil he would pursue, Nor cares what claimer's crown'd, except the true. *» Wake, Absalom, approaching ruin shun, And see, oh, see, for whom thou art undone ! How are thy honours and thy fame betray' d, The property of desperate villains made ? Lost power and conscious fears their crimes create, And guilt in them was little less than fate ; s ' 6 But why shouldst thou, from every grievance free, Forsake thy vineyards for their stormy sea '! For thee did Canaan's milk and honey flow, Love dress'd thy bowers, and laurels sought thy brow, sa " Preferment, wealth, and power thy vassals were, And of a monarch all things but the care. Oh, should our crimes again that curse draw down, And rebel-arms once more attempt the crown, Sure ruin waits unhappy Absalon, sss Alike by conquest or defeat undone ! Who could relentless see such youth and charms Expire with wretched fate in impious arms ! A prince so form'd, with earth's and Heaven's applause, To triumph o'er crown'd heads in David's cause : swl Or grant him victor, still his hopes must fail, Who conquering would not for himself prevail ; The faction, whom he trusts for future sway, Him and the public would alike betray ; Amongst themselves divide the captive state, 895 And found their hydra-empire in his fate ! Thus having beat the clouds with painful flight, The pitied youth, with sceptres in his sight, (So have their cruel politics decreed,) Must by that crew, that made him guilty, bleed ! 90 ° For, could their pride brook any prince's sway, Whom but mild David would they choose to obey? Who once at such a gentle reign repine, The fall of monarchy itself design ; From hate to that their reformations spring, SOi And David not their grievance, but the king. Seized now with panic fear the faction lies, Lest this clear truth strike Absalom's chami'd Ver. 864. Tliat may confirm him] First edition : That may secure him. Lest he perceive, from long enchantment free, What all beside the flatter^ youth must see. 91 ° But whate'er doubts his troubled bosom swell, Fair carriage still became Achitophel ; Who now an envious festival installs, And to survey their strength the faction calls, Which fraud, religious worship too must gild ; 915 But, oh, how weakly does sedition build ! For, lo ! the royal mandate issues forth, Dashing at once their treason, zeal, and mirth ! So have I seen disastrous chance invade, Where careful emmets had their forage laid, 9!0 Whether fierce Vulcan's rage the furzy plain Had seized, engendered by some careless swain, Or swelling Neptune lawless inroads made, And to their cell of store his flood conve/d ; The commonwealth broke up, distracted go, * SB And in wild haste their loaded mates o'erthrow : Even so our scatter'd guests confusedly meet, With boil'd, baked, roast, all justling in the street ; Dejected all, and ruefully dismay'd, For shekel, without treat, or treason, paid. 93 ° Sedition's dark eclipse now fainter shows, More bright each hour the royal planet grows. Of force the clouds of envy to disperse, In kind conjunction of assisting stars. Here, labouring muse, those glorious chiefs relate, That turn'd the doubtful scale of David's fate ; "« The rest of that illustrious band rehearse, Immortalised in laurell'd Asaph's verse : Hard task ! yet will not I thy flight recall, View heaven, and then enjoy thy glorious fall. M0 First write Bezaliel, whose illustrious name Forestalls our praise, and gives his poet fame. The Kenites' rocky province his command, A ban-en limb of fertile Canaan's land ; Which for its generous natives yet could be 945 Held worthy such a president as he ! Bezaliel with each grace and virtue fraught, Serene his looks, serene his life and thought ; On whom so largely nature heap'd her store, There scarce remain'd for arts to give him more ! To aid the crown and state his greatest zeal, 951 His second care that service to conceal ; - Achitophel; Who now an envious festival installs, And to survey their strength the /action calls,] The Duke of York being invited to dine at Merchant Tailors' Hall with the Company of Artillery, of which he was captain-general, on the 21st of April, 1682, tickets were dispersed in opposition to, and contempt of, this meeting ; inviting the nobility, gentry, and citizens, who wished well to the Protestant religion, to convene the same day at St. Michael's church, Cornhill, and thence proceed to dine at Haberdashers' Hall : but this association was stopped by an order of council. Derrick. Ver. 917. lo! the royal -mandate issues forth,] The substance of which was, that the power of appointing public days of fasts and thanksgivings being vested in the crown, a particular meeting, pretended to that end, and advertised to be held on the 21st of April, 1682, at St. Michael's, Cornhill, must be of a seditious tendency, as not having the royal sanction; and therefore the lord mayor and aldermen of London are, at their peril, ordered to hinder it as an unlawful assembly. Derrick. Ver. 929. Dejected all,] First edition : Derrick incor- rectly, Dejecting. Ver. 941. First write Bezaliel,] BezalieL the Marquis of Worcester, created Duke of Beaufort in 1682, a nobleman of great worth and honour, who had always taken part with the king, and one of those whom the Commons, in 1680, prayed his majesty to remove from about his person, as being a favourer cf Popery. Derrick. 74 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. Of dues observant, firm to every trust : And to the needy always more than just : Who truth from specious falsehood can divide, 9fi5 Has all the gownsmen's skill without their pride ; Thus crown'd with worth from heights of honour won, Sees all his glories copied in his son, Whose forward fame should every muse engage ; Whose youth boasts skill denied to others' age. 96 ° Men, manners, language, books of noblest kind, Already are the conquest of his mind. Whose loyalty before its date was prime ; Nor waited the dull course of rolling time : The monster faction early he dismayed, 965 And David's cause long since confess'd his aid. Brave Abdael o'er the prophets' school was placed ; Abdael with all his father's virtue graced ; A hero, who, while stars look'd wondering down, Without one Hebrew's blood restored the crown. That praise was his; what therefore did remain y71 For following chiefs, but boldly to maintain That crown restored ; and in this rank of fame, Brave Abdael with the first a place must claim. Proceed, illustrious, happy chief, proceed, 975 Foreseize the garlands for thy brow decreed, While the inspired tribe attend with noblest strain To register the glories thou shalt gain : For sure the dew shall Gilboah's hills forsake, And Jordan mix his stream with Sodom's lake, Or seas retired their secret stores disclose, 981 And to the sun their scaly brood expose, Or swell'd above the clifts their billows raise, Before the muses leave their patron's praise. Eliab our next labour does invite, 985 And hard the task to do Eliab right : Ver. 953. firm to every trust,'] First edition : firm in every trust. Ver. 958. Sees all Ms glories copied in his son,'] Charles Somerset, Lord Herbert of Ragland in Monmouthshire, who, according to "Wood, was entered of Christ Church, Oxford, and took his degree as a master of arts in 1681. Derrick. Ver. 968. Abdael with all his father's virtue graced;] Abdael, the Duke of Albemarle, son to the brave General Monk, and president of Wales. He was liberal and loyal, and a leading man among the friends of the Xing and the Duke, on which account he was severely stigmatised by the Whig writers. In 1687 he was sent abroad governor of Jamaica, where he died. Derrick. Ver. 985. Eliab] Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, wrote a most severe satire on Lord Arlington, here introduced under the name of Eliab, called "Advice to a Painter." This Henry Bennet was a younger son of a private gentle- man, had followed the royal family into exile; at whose restoration he was made first privy purse, then secretary of state, earl of Arlington, knight of the garter, and at last lord chamberlain to Xing Charles II. and to his brother King James II. afterwards. He was for some years a kind of favourite minister, I mean conversant in his master's pleasures, as well as entrusted with his business : notwith- standing the constant enmity both of the Duke of York and Chancellor Clarendon, whose superior power, especially in state affairs, was yet unable to shake King Charles's inclination to this gentleman, who, therefore, at the other's banishment, remained, if not sole minister, at least the principal one for some time. He met with one thing very peculiar in his fortune, which I have scarce known happen to any man else : with all his advancement (which is wont to create malice, hut seldom contempt) he was believed in England, by most people, a man of much less abilities than he really had. For this unusual sort of mistake, I can only imagine two causes: first, his over-cautious avoiding to speak in parliament, as having been more conversant in affairs abroad ; though nobody performed it better when Long with the royal wanderer he roved, And firm in all the turns of fortune proved ! Such ancient service and desert so large, Well claim'd the royal household for his charge. His age with only one mild heiress bless'd, 991 In all the bloom of smiling nature dress'd, And bless'd again to see his flower allied To David's stock, and made young Othniel's bride ! The bright restorer of his father's youth, " 5 Devoted to a son's and subject's truth : Resolved to bear that prize of duty home, So bravely sought, while sought by Absalom. Ah prince ! the illustrious planet of thy birth, And thy more powerful virtue guard thy worth ; That no Achitophel thy ruin boast ! im Israel too much in one such wreck has lost. Even envy must consent to Helon's worth, Whose soul, though Egypt glories in his birth, Could for our captive ark its zeal retain, 1005 And Pharaoh's altars in their pomp disdain : To slight his gods was small ; with nobler pride, He all the allurements of his court defied : Whom profit nor example could betray, But Israel's friend, and true to David's sway. 101 ° What acts of favour in his province fall, On merit he confers, and freely all. Our list of nobles next let Amri grace, Whose merits claim'd the Abethdin's high place ; obliged to give account of some treaties to the House of Lords, or to defend himself in the House of Commons ; by which last he once brought himself off with great dexterity. The other reason of it I fancy to have come from the Duke of Buckingham, who being his rival in court, after the fall of Clarendon, and having an extraordinary talent for turn- ing any thing into ridicule, exercised it sufficiently on this lord, both with the king and every body else ; which had its effect at last, even to his being left out of his master's business, but not his favour, which in some measure con- tinued still ; and long after this his supplanter was totally discarded. Dr. J. Waiiton. Ver. 988. And firm in all the tarns of fortune proved /] First edition : fortunes. Ver. 991. His age with only one mild heiress bles'd, young OthnieVs bride, \ Othniel, Henry Duke of Grafton, one of the King's natural sons, begotten upon the body of the Duchess of Cleveland. She was averse to his marrying Lord Arlington's daughter, though a considerable heiress. I have seen a letter from her to Lord Treasurer Danby, dated from Paris, (I think in 1675) thanking him for his care in endea- vouring to prevent this match. It is in her own hand- writing. This Duke of Grafton soon joined the Prince of Orange at the revolution, and was killed at the siege of Cork, in the year 1690. He had great natural bravery, was very sincere, but rough as the sea, of which he was fond, and whereon, had he lived, he promised to make a gallant figure. Derrick. Ver. 999. Ah prince /] First edition. Derrick erro- neously, A prince ! Ver. 1003. Even envy must consent to Helorfs worth,] Helon, the Earl of Feversham, a Frenchman by birth, and nephew to Mareschal Turenne: he was honest, brave, and good-natured, but precipitate and injudicious. Derrick. Ver. 1007. To slight his gods was small ; with nobler pride, He all the allurements of his court defied :] His lordship professed himself a Protestant, though Burnet says there was reason to suspect his sincerity. Affection for King Charles II., who really esteemed him, made him prefer England to his own country, where he had great interest, and might have expected to be nobly provided for. Derrick. Ver. 1013. Our list of nobles next let Amri graced] Amri, Sir Heneage Finch, constituted lord keeper of the great ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 75 Who, with a loyalty that did excel, I016 Brought all the endowments of Achitophel. Sincere was Amri, and not only knew, But Israel's sanctions into practice drew ; Our laws, that did a boundless ocean seem, Were coasted all, and fathom'd all by him. 10so No rabbin speaks like him their mystic sense, So just, and with such charms of eloquence : To whom the double blessing does belong, With Moses' inspiration, Aaron's tongue. Than Sheva none more loyal zeal have shown, Wakeful as Judah's lion for the crown, 1(B6 Who for that cause still combats in his age, For which his youth with danger did engage. In vain our factious priests the cant revive ; In vain seditious scribes with libel strive 103 ° To inflame the crowd; while he with watchful eye Observes, and shoots their treasons as they fly ; Their weekly frauds his keen replies detect ; He undeceives more fast than they infect. So Moses when the pest on legions prey'd, ia& Advanced his signal, and the plague was stay'd. Once more, my fainting muse, thy pinions try, And strength's exhausted store let love supply. What tribute, Asaph, shall we render thee 1 We '11 crown thee with a wreath from thy own tree ! 1(M0 Thy laurel grove no envy's flash can blast ; The song of Asaph shall for ever last. With wonder late posterity shall dwell On Absalom and false Achitophel : Thy strains shall be our slumbering prophets' dream, 1W6 And when our Sion virgins sing their theme, Our jubilees shall with thy verse be graced ; The song of Asaph shall for ever last. How fierce his satire loosed; restrain'd, how tame ; 1Ma How tender of the offending young man's fame ! How well his worth, and brave adventures styled ; Just to his virtues, to his error mild. No page of thine that fears the strictest view, But teems with just reproof, or praise as due ; Not Eden eould a fairer prospect yield, 1055 All paradise without one barren field : Whose wit the censure of his foes has pass'd ; The song of Asaph shall for ever last. What praise for such rich strains shall we allow ? What just rewards the grateful crown bestow? 106 ° seal on Shaftesbury's dismission, and soon after advanced to a peerage and the chancellorship. He was a zealous Protestant, and yet conducted himself with such steadiness and integrity, as to give offence to no party ; which was a little surprising, as he held this important station at a time when party-feuds raged with unlicensed fury. His abilities were very great ; he was judicious, eloquent, and industrious, an able lawyer, and a statesman, endued with strong veracity and inflexible integrity. Derrick. Ver. 1025. Than Sheva none] Meaning Sir Roger L'Estrange, who of all venal and sordid scribblers that ever defended any administration, in any country or time, seems to have gone the greatest length in striving to defend any grievance and injustice that a government can be guilty of. His style is the masterpiece of what may be called, the Pert-Dull, and was vitiated by cant and affected vulgar phrases, and coffee-house expressions. In this sort of diction he translated, or rather travestied, the Offices of Tully, the Morals of Seneca, the Visions of Quevedo, and the History of Josephus ; and gave a nauseous caricatura of the simplicity of .Esup in his Fables. Dr. J. Wartos. While bees in flowers rejoice, and flowers in dew, While stars and fountains to their course are true ; While Judah's throne, and Sion's rock stand fast, The song of Asaph and the fame shall last. Still Hebron's honour'd happy soil retains I065 Our royal hero's beauteous dear remains ; Who now sails off with winds nor wishes slack, To bring his sufferings' bright companion back. But ere such transport can our sense employ, A bitter grief must poison half our joy ; 107 ° Nor can our coasts restored those blessings see Without a bribe to envious destiny ! Cursed Sodom's doom for ever fix the tide Where by inglorious chance the valiant died. Give not insulting Askalon to know, 107 " Nor let Gath's daughters triumph in our woe ! No sailor with the news swell Egypt's pride, By what inglorious fate our valiant died ! Weep, Arnon ! Jordan, weep thy fountains dry ! While Sion's rock dissolves for a supply. 10s * Calm were the elements, night's silence deep, The waves scarce murmuring, and the winds Yet fate for ruin takes so still an hour, And treacherous sands the princely bark devour ; Then death unworthy seized a generous race, lu65 To virtue's scandal, and the stars' disgrace ! Oh ! had the indulgent Powers vouchsafed to yield, Instead of faithless shelves, a listed field ; A Usted field of Heaven's and David's foes, Fierce as the troops that did his youth oppose, 1M0 Each life had on his slaughter'd heap retired, Not tamely, and unconquering thus expired : But destiny is now their only foe, And dying, even o'er that they triumph too ; With loud last breaths their master's 'scape applaud, lu96 Of whom kind force could scarce the fates defraud ; Who for such followers lost, oh, matchless mind ! At his own safety now almost repined ! Say, royal Sir, by all your fame in arms, Your praise in peace, and by Urania's charms ; 110 ° If all your sufferings past so nearly press'd, Or pierced with half so painful grief your breast ? Thus some diviner muse her hero forms, Not soothed with soft delights, but toss'd in storms. Ver. 1061. While bees in flowers rejoice, &c.] Virg. Erl.v.76. " Dum juga montis aper, flurios dum piscis amabit, Dumque thymo pascentur apes," &c. &c. Todd. Ver. 1065. Still Hebron's honour'd happy soil retains Our royal hero's beauteous dear remains ; &c.] The duke seeming to have now got the better of his enemies, the Popish plot having lost its credit, and the fears of Popery greatly subsided, he embarked for Scotland in the Gloster yacht on the 3rd of May, to bring up his family ; but here A bitter grief must poison half his joy. For early in the morning on the 5th, she struck upon a sand-bank, and soon went to the bottom, carrying with her one hundred and thirty stout men, several young people of quality, and many of the duke's servants, who With loud last breaths their master's 'scape applaud. For so well was he beloved, that it is said, even when they saw themselves sinking without hope of relief, they ex- pressed their joy at beholding their master safe. And he was highly complimented for his resolution, calmness, and humanity, on this melancholy occasion, in which he seemed less solicitous for himself than any other person. Derrick. 76 ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. Nor stretch'd on roses in the myrtle grove, 1105 .Nor crowns his days with mirth, his nights with love, But far removed in thundering camps is found, His slumbers short, his bed the herbless ground : In tasks of danger always seen the first, Feeds from the hedge, and slakes with ice his thirst. mo Long must his patience strive with fortune's rage, And long opposing gods themselves engage, Must see his country flame, his friends destroyed, Before the promised empire be enjoy'd : Such toil of fate must build a man of fame, 1115 And such, to Israel's crown, the godlike David came. What sudden beams dispel the clouds so fast, Whose drenching rains laid all our vineyards waste? The spring so far behind her course delayM, On the instant is in all her bloom arrayed ; 112 ° The winds breathe low, the element serene ; Yet mark what motion in the waves is seen ! Thronging and busy as Hyblsean swarms, Or straggled soldiers summon'd to their arms. See where the princely bark, in loosest pride, 112 ° With all her guardian fleet, adorns the tide ! Ver. 1105. Nor stretch'd on roses] First edition : Not. Ver. 1107. But far removed in thundering camps is found, Sis slumbers short, his bed the herbless ground : In tasks of danger always seen the first, Feeds from the hedge, and slakes with ice his thirst."] So Livy of Hannibal, lib. 19. cap. 4. "Nullo labore aut corpus fatigari, aut animus vinci poterat : caloris ac frigoris patientia par : cibi potionisque desiderio naturali, non voluptate modus finitus : vigiliarum somnique nee die nee nocte discriminata tempora ; id quod gerendis rebus superesset quieti datum : ea neque molli strato, neque silentio acceraita : multi ssepe militari sagulo opertum nunc jacentem inter -custodias, s'tationesque militum conspexerant : vestitus nihil inter sequales excel- lens : anna atque equi conspiciebantur : equitum pedi- tumque idem longe primus erat : princeps in prselium ibat : ultimus conserto prffilio excedebat." John Wabton. Ver. 1125. See where the princely baric, in loosest pride, With all her guardian fleet, adorns the tide ! High on her deck the royal lovers stand, &c.] Having settled the government of Scotland, the Duke of York, with his duchess and household, returned to England, arriving safely in the Gun-fleet on the 6th of May. They were met at Erith by the King and court, whom they accompanied by water to Whitehall, being saluted, as they High on her deck the royal lovers stand, Our crimes to pardon ere they touch'd our land. Welcome to Israel and to David's breast ! Here all your toils, here all your sufferings rest. This year did Ziloah rule Jerusalem, 1131 And boldly all sedition's surges stem, Howe'er encumber'd with a viler pair Than Ziph or Shimei to assist the chair ; Yet Ziloah's loyal labours so prevail'd, 1135 That faction at the next election fail'd, When even the common cry did justice sound, And merit by the multitude was crown'd : With David then was Israel's peace restored, Crowds mourn'd their error, and obeyM their lord. 1M0 came up, by the Tower guns, and by all the ships in the river. From Whitehall they went to Arlington-house in the Park, where they were sumptuously entertained ; and his royal highness received the congratulations of the city on his happy escape and return, and London and "West- minster blazed with bonfires, and echoed with rejoicing for this happy event. Derrick. Ver. 1129. Welcome to Israel] The Duke of Buckingham gave this character of the two royal brothers ; that Charles could see things if he would, and James would see things if he could. The conduct of James, and his behaviour in his visit to Oxford, is marvellously weak, preposterous, and absurd. It is recorded in Anthony Wood's Life. Charles II. used to say with respect to the mistresses of his brother, which were plain and homely, that his confessor had imposed such mistresses upon him as Mrs. Williams, Lady Bellasyse, Mrs. Sedley, and Mrs. Churchill, by way of penance. Charles II.'s favourite mistress retained her beauty till near seventy years of age. Sir Peter Lely, in a high strain of flattery, drew her portrait, and that of her son the Duke of Richmond, as a Madonna and Child,, for a convent in France. Dr. J. "Warton. Ver. 1131. This year did Ziloah rule Jerusalem, &c.] Sir John Moor, lord mayor of London in 1681, and one of the representatives of the city in Parliament, was a most zealous and corrupt partisan of the court. He nominated two sheriffs whom he knew would he perfectly subservient to the ministry and the arbitrary measures of the King. Dr. J. "Warton. In a congratulatory poem, addressed to Sir "William Pritchard, (the successor of Sir John Moor,) published on a half-sheet in 1682, the humble bard hurls his indignation, not without an allusion to Dryden's poem, against " That long-ear'd rout, and their Achitophel, That think it sin to live and not rebel ; Those pious elders, that Geneva rabble, That hope, once more, to make old Paul's a stable."" Todd. Ver. 1132. And boldly all sedition's surges stem,'] First edition : Syrges. Derrick, Syrtes. ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. 77 KEY TO ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. Abdael . . General Monk, Duke of Albemarle. r Helon ("The name given, through this HUSHAI .... Abethdin . . . . A Poem, to a Lord Chancellor in Jebdsites . Absalom . . . (^ general. . . Duke of Monmouth. Jerusalem ACHITOPHEL . . . . The Earl of Shaftesbury. Jews ..*,.. Adriel , . . . . Earl of Mulgrave. Jordan JOTHAM Agag .... . Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. Amiel ■ ( Mr. Seymour, Speaker of the House '\ of Commons. Jothran . . Amri . f Sir Heneage Finch, Earl of Win- '{ chelsea, and Lord Chancellor. ISHBOSHETH Israel . ... Annabel . . . . . Duchess of Monmouth. Issachar . . . Abod .... . Sir William Waller. Judas .... ("A Character drawn by Tate for Ishban Asaph . . . . .-< Dryden, in the Second Part of Mephibosueth . . . ( this Poem. MlCHAL ... Balaam . . Earl of Huntingdon. Nadab . . . Balak . . . . Barnet, Oo . . . Barzillai . . Duke of Ormond. PlIALEG Bathsheba . . . Duchess of Portsmouth. Pharaoh . . Benaiah . General Sackville. Rabsheka . . Ben Jochanan . Rev. Mr. Samuel Johnson. Sagan of Jerusalem . Bezaliel . . . . . Duke of Beaufort. Sanhedrim Caleb . Lord Grey. Saul . . Corah .... . . Dr. Oates. Shimei . David .... . Charles II. Siieva Doeo . . . . . Elkanah Settle. Solymean Rout . Egypt . . . . . France. Tyre . . Eliab . f Sir Henry Bennet, Earl of Arling- '\ ton. Uzza . . Ethnic Plot The Popish Plot. f The Land of Exile, more particu- Zadoc . . Gatii . x larly Brussels, where King ( Charles II. long resided. Zaken ZlMRI Hebron . Scotland. Ziloah . Hebrew Priests . . The Church of England Clergy. Earl of Feversham. Hyde, Earl of Rochester. Papists. London. English. Sir William JoneB. Dover. Marquis of Halifax. Lord Dartmouth. Richard Cromwell. England. Thomas Thynne, Esq. Mr. Ferguson, a canting Teacher. Sir Robert Clayton. Pordage. Queen Catharine. Lord Howard of Escrick. Shadwell. Forbes. King of France. Sir Thomas Player. Dr. Compton, Bishop of London. Parliament. Oliver Cromwell. Sheriff Bethel. Sir Roger Lestrange. London Rebels. Holland, Jack Hall. ( Sancroft, Archbishop of Canter- \ bury. S A Member of the House of Com- \ mons. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Sir John Moor. THE MEDAL. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. THE MEDAL. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. AN EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. Foe to whom can I dedicate this poem, with so much justice as to you? 'Tis the representation of your own hero : 'tis the picture drawn at length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your ornaments are wanting ; neither the landscape of the Tower, nor the rising sun ; nor the Anno Domini of your new sovereign's coronation. This must needs be a grateful undertaking to your whole party ; especially to those who have not been so happy as to purchase the original. I hear the graver has made a good market of it : all his kings are bought up already ; or the value of the remainder so inhanced, that many a poor Polander who would be glad to worship the image, is not able to go to the cost of him, but must be content to see Mm here. I must confess I am no great artist ; but sign-post painting will serve the turn to remember a friend by, especially when better is not to be had. Yet for your comfort the lineaments are true ; and though he sat not five times to me, as he did to B., yet I have consulted history, as the Italian painters do, when they would draw a Nero, or a Caligula ; though they have not seen the man, they can help their imagina- tion by a statue of him, and find out the colouring from Suetonius and Tacitus. Truth is, you might have spared one side of your Medal : the head would be seen to more advantage if it were placed on a spike of the Tower, a little nearer to the sun, which would then break out to better purpose. You tell us in your preface to the No-protestant Plot,* that you shall be forced hereafter to leave off your modesty : I suppose you mean that little which is left you ; for it was worn to rags when you put out this Medal. Never was there practised such a piece of notorious impudence in the face of an established government. I believe when he is dead you will wear him in thumb-rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg ; as if there were virtue in his bones to preserve you againBt monarchy. Yet all this while you pretend not only zeal for the public good, but a due veneration for the person of the king. But all men who can see an inch before them, may easily detect those gross fallacies. That it is necessary for men in your circumstances to pretend both, is granted you ; for without them there could be no ground to raise a faction. But I would ask you one civil question, what right has any man among you, or any association of men, (to come nearer to you), who, out of parliament, cannot be considered in a public capacity, to meet as you daily do in factious clubs, to vilify the government in your discourses, and to libel it in all your writings? Who made you judges in Israel? Or how is it consistent with your zeal to the public welfare to promote sedition ? Does your defini- tion of loyal, which is to serve the king according to the laws, allow you the licence of traducing the executive power with which you own he is invested? You complain that bis Majesty has lost the love and confidence of his people ; and by your very urging it, you endeavour what in you lies to make him lose them. All good subjects abhor the thought of arbitrary power, whether it be in one or many : if you were the patriots you would seem, you would not at this rate incense the multitude to assume it ; for no sober man can fear it, either from the king's disposition, or his practice, or even where you would odiously lay it, from his ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the government and the benefit of laws under which we were born, and which we desire to transmit to our posterity. You are not the » A folio pamphlet with this title, vindicating Lord Shaftesbury from being concerned in any plotting design against the king, was published in two parts, the first in 1681, the second in 1682. Wood says, that the general report was, that they were written by the earl himself, or that, at least, he found the materials ; and his servant, who put it into the printer's hands, was committed to prison. Derrick. AN EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. 79 trustees of the public liberty ; and if you have not right to petition in a crowd, much less have you to intermeddle in the management of affairs, or to arraign what you do not like, which in effect is every thing that is done by the king and council. Can you imagine that any reasonable man will believe you respect the person of his Majesty, when 'tis apparent that your seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him 1 If you have the confidence to deny this, 'tis easy to be evinced from a, thousand passages, which I only forbear to quote, because I desire they should die, and be forgotten. I have perused many of your papers ; and to show you that I have, the third part of your No-protestant Plot* is much of it stolen from your dead author's pamphlet, called the Growth of Popery ; as manifestly as Milton's Defence of the English People is from Buchanan De jure regni apud Scotos ; or your first Covenant and new Association from the holy league of the French Guisards. Any one who reads Davila, may trace your practices all along. There were the same pretences for reformation and loyalty, the same aspersions of the king and the same grounds of a rebellion. I know not whether you will take the historian's word, who says it was reported, that Poltrot, a Hugonot, murdered Francis, duke of Guise, by the instigations of Theodore Beza, or that it was a Hugonot minister, otherwise called a Presbyterian, (for our Church abhors so devilish a tenet) who first writ a treatise of the lawfulness of deposing and murdering kings of a different persuasion in religion : but I am able to prove, from the doctrine of Calvin, and principles of Buchanan, that they set the people above the magistrate ; which, if I mistake not, is your own fundamental, and which carries your loyalty no farther than your liking. When a vote of the House of Commons goes on your side, you are as ready to observe it as if it were passed into a law ; but when you are pinched with any former and yet unrepealed Act of Parliament, you declare that in some cases you will not be obliged by it. The passage is in the same third part of the No-protestant Plot, and is too plain to be denied. The late copy of your intended association, you neither wholly justify nor condemn ; but as the papists, when they are unopposed, fly out into all the pageantries of worship ; but in times of war, when they are hard pressed by arguments, lie close entrenched behind the Council of Trent : so now, when your affairs are in u, low condition, you dare not pretend that to be a legal combination, but whensoever you are afloat, I doubt not but it will be maintained and justified to purpose. For indeed there is nothing to defend it but the sword : 'tis the proper time to say any thing when men have all things in their power. In the mean time, you would fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this association^ and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there is this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly opposite to the other : one with the Queen's approbation and conjunction, as head of it, the other without either the consent or knowledge of the King, against whose authority it is manifestly designed. Therefore you do well to have recourse to your last evasion,^ that it was contrived by your enemies, and shuffled into the papers that were seized ; which yet you see the nation is not so easy to believe as your own jury ; but the matter is not difficult, to find twelve men in Newgate who would acquit a malefactor. I have one only favour to desire of you at parting, that when you think of answering this poem, you would employ the same pens against it, who have combated with so much success against Absalom and Achitophel : for then you may assure yourselves of a clear victory without the least reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a custom, do it without wit : by this method you will gain a considerable point, which is, wholly to waive the answer of my arguments. Never own the bottom of your principles, for fear they should be treason. Fall severely on the miscarriages of government ; * This third part, printed in quarto, was supposed to be written by Ferguson, under my lord's eye. It reflects on the proceedings against him in the points of high treason, whereof he stood accused; and strives to depreciate the characters of the witnesses, by painting them in the most odious colours. The Growth of Popery was written by Mr. Marvel, who published it a little before his death, which happened in 1678. A second part of it was written by Mr Ferguson above mentioned; for which, and other seditious practices, his body was demanded of the states of Holland, he being then at Brill, but refused ; though Sir Thomas Armstrong had been given np by them a little before. This is the same man who was concerned in the Ryehouse-plot ; and it is remarkable, that when the Secretary of State was giving out orders for the seizing of the rest of the conspirators, he privately bade the messenger to let Ferguson escape. Derrick. t When England, in the sixteenth century, was supposed in danger from the designs of Spain, the principal people, with the Queen at their head, entered into an association for the defence of their country, and of the Protestant religion, against popery, invasion, and innovation. Derrick. t The friends of the Earl of Shaftesbury insinuated everywhere, that the draught of that association, which was said to be found among his papers, was put there by the person who seized them, to advance the credit of the Tories, and give greater weight to the court charge. Derrick. 80 THE MEDAL. for if scandal be not allowed, you are no free-born subjects. If God has not blessed you with the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome ; let your verses run upon my feet ; and for the utmost refuge of notorious blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines upon me, and in utter despair of your own satire, make me satirize myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already ; but, above all the rest, commend me to the non-conformist parson, who writ the Whip and Key. I am afraid it is not read so much as the piece deserves, because the bookseller is every week crying help at the end of his Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a kindness, that it may be published as well as printed ; and that so much skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for waste paper in the shop. Yet I half suspect he went no further for his learning than the index of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of some English bibles. If Achitophel signify the brother of a fool, the author of that poem will pass with his readers for the next of kin. And perhaps it is the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verses are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity ; for I hear the conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service. Now footmen, you know, have the generosity to make a purse for a member of their society who has had his livery pulled over his ears ; and even Protestant socks are bought up among you, out of veneration to the name. A dissenter in poetry from sense and English will make as good a Protestant rhymer, as a dissenter from the Church of England a Protestant parson. Besides, if you encourage a young beginner, who knows but he may elevate his style a little above the vulgar epithets of pro- fane, and saucy Jack, and atheistical scribbler, with which he treats me, when the fit of enthusiasm is strong upon him : by which well-mannered and charitable expressions I was certain of his sect before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man ? He has damned me in your cause from Genesis to the Revelations ; and has half the texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to yourselves as to take him for your interpreter, and not to take them for Irish witnesses. After all, perhaps you will tell me, that you retained him only for the opening of your cause, and that your main lawyer is yet behind. Now if it so happen he meet with no more reply than his prede- cessors, you may either conclude that I trust to the goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or disdain him, or what you please, for the short on't is, 'tis indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your party says or thinks of him. THE MEDAL. Op all our antic sights and pageantry, Which English idiots run in crowds to see. Ver. 1. Of all our antic sights] The most candid and impartial account of Lord Shaftesbury's trial and acquittal, on which occasion this medal was struck, is given by Mr. Hume. "After the dissolution of the Parliament, and the subsequentvictoryof the Royalists, Shaftesbury's evidences, with Turberville, Smith, and others, addressed themselves to the ministers, and gave information of high treason against their former patron. It is sufficiently scandalous, that intelligence, conveyed by such men, should be attended to ; but there is some reason to think, that the court-agents, nay, the ministers, nay, the king himself, went further, and were active in endeavouring, though in vain, to find more reputable persons to support the blasted credit of the Irish witnesses. Shaftesbury was committed to prison, and his indictment was presented to the Grand Jury. The new Sheriffs of London, Shute and. Pilkington, were en- gaged as deeply as their predecessors in the country party ; and they took care to name a Jury extremely devoted to the same cause : a precaution quite requisite, when it was scarce possible to find men attached to neither party. As far as swearing could go, the treason was clearly, proved against Shaftesbury, or rather so clearly as to merit no kind of credit or attention. That veteran leader of a party, enured from his early youth to faction and intrigue to The Polish Medal bears the prize alone : A monster, more the favourite of the town cabals and conspiracies, was represented as opening, with- out reserve, his treasonable intentions to these obscure banditti, and throwing out such violent and outrageous re- proaches upon the king, as none but men of low education, like themselves, could be supposed to employ. The draught of an association, it is true, against Popery and the duke, was found in Shaftesbury's cabinet, and dangerous infer- ences might be drawn from many clauses of that paper ; but it did not appear that it had been framed by Shaftes- bury, or so much as approved by him; and as projects of an association had been proposed in Parliament, it was very natural for that nobleman to be thinking of some plan, which it might be proper to lay before that assembly. The Grand Jury, therefore, after weighing all these cir- cumstances, rejected the indictment, and the people, who attended the hall, testified their joy by the loudest acclama- tions, which were echoed through the whole city." Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 3. The Polish Afedat] The allusion is to the ex- pectation, which, it was pretended, Lord Shaftesbury en- tertained, of being elected king of Poland, when John Sobieski was chosen. — This ridiculous report gave rise to several squibs, both in poetry and prose ; but in none of the poetical pieces is the joke employed with advantage. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. 81 Than either fairs or theatres have shown. 6 Never did art so well with nature strive ; Nor ever idol seem'd so much alive : So like the man ; so golden to the sight, So base within, so counterfeit and light. One side is fill'd with title and with face ; 10 And, lest the king should want a regal place, On the reverse, a tower the town surveys ; O'er which our mounting sun his beams displays. The word, pronounced aloud by shrieval voice, Lmtamwr, which, in Polish, is Rejoice. 15 The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd : And a new canting holiday design'd. Five days he sat, for every cast and look ; Four more than God to finish Adam took But who can tell what essence angels are, 20 Or how long Heaven was making Lucifer ? Oh, could the style that copied every grace, And plough'd such furrows for an eunuch face, Could it have form'd his ever-changing will, The various piece had tired the graver's skill ! "•" A martial hero first, with early care, Blown, like a pigmy by the winds, to war. A beardless chief, a rebel, ere a man : So young his hatred to his prince began. Next this, (how wildly will ambition steer !) ^ A vermin wriggling in the Usurper's ear. Bartering his venal wit for sums of gold, He cast himself into the saint-like mould ; Groan'd, sigh'd, and pray"d, while godliness was gain, The loudest bagpipe of the squeaking train. 35 But, as 'tis hard to cheat a juggler's eyes, His open lewdness he could ne"er disguise. There split the saint : for hypocritic zeal Allows no sins but those it can conceaL Whoring to scandal gives too large a scope : 40 Saints must not trade ; but they may interlope. The ungodly principle was all the same ; But a gross cheat betrays his partner's game. Besides, their pace was formal, grave, and slack ; His nimble wit outran the heavy pack. w Yet still he found his fortune at a stay ; Whole droves of blockheads choking up his way; They took, but not rewarded, his advice ; Villain and wit exact a double price. Power was his aim : but, thrown from that pretence, 50 The wretch turn'd loyal in his own defence ; And malice reconciled him to his prince. Him in the anguish of his soul he served ; Rewarded faster still than he deserved. The reader would derive no satisfaction from " The last Will and Testament of Anthony, King of Poland" or from " The King of Poland's last Speech to his Countrymen," or from " Tony's Lamentation, or Pvtapski's City-Case, being his last farewell to the consecrated Whigs," all published in 1682, although to the last of them the tune is prefixed, in musical characters, Let Oliver now be forgotten! The close of 1682, or rather the beginning of 1683, produced also " Dagon's Fall, or the Whigs' Lament for Anthony, King of Poland ;" and in 16S3 was also published, " The Case is altered now, or the Conversion of Anthony, King of Poland, published for satisfaction of the Sanctifyed Brethren." Todd. Ver. 19. Four more than God] This line is very offen- sively profane, as is a succeeding one, How long was Heaven in making Lucifer? There are too many such in this poem. See also line 216:— — his thunder could they shun, He should be forced to crown another son. Dr. J. Waeton. Behold him now exalted into trust; M His counsel 's oft convenient, seldom just. Even in the most sincere advice he gave, He had a grudging still to be a knave. The frauds he learn'd in his fanatic years Made him uneasy in his lawful gears. At best as little honest as he could, And, like white witches, mischievously good. To his first bias longingly he leans ; And rather would be great by wicked means. Thus framed for ill, he loosed our triple hold ; K Advice unsafe, precipitous and bold. From hence those tears ! that Ilium of our woe ! Who helps a powerful friend, fore-arms a foe. What wonder if the waves prevail so far, When he cut down the banks that made the bar? '" Seas follow but their nature to invade ; But he by art our native strength betray'd. So Samson to his foe his force confess'd ; And to be shorn, lay slumbering on her breast. But when this fatal counsel, found too late, ' 4 Exposed its author to the public hate ; When his just sovereign, by no impious way Could be seduced to arbitrary sway ; Forsaken of that hope he shifts the sail, Drives down the current with a popular gale ; 80 And shows the fiend confess'd without a veil. He preaches to the crowd, that power is lent, But not convey 'd to kingly government ; That claims successive bear no binding force, That coronation oaths are things of course ; m Maintains the multitude can never err ; And sets the people in the papal chair. The reason's obvious ; interest never lies ; The most have still their interest in their eyes ; The power is always their's, and power is ever wise. 90 Almighty crowd, thou shortenest all dispute ; Power is thy essence, wit thy attribute ! Nor faith nor reason make thee at a stay, Thou leap'st o'er all eternal truths in thy Pindaric way ! Athens no doubt did righteously decide, K When Phocion and when Socrates were tried ; As righteously they did those dooms repent ; Still they were wise whatever way they went : Crowds err not, though to both extremes they run ; To kill the father, and recal the son. 10 ° Some think the fools were most as times went then, But now the world 's o'erstock'd with prudent men. The common cry is even religion's test, The Turk's is at Constantinople best ; Idols in India ; Popery at Rome ; m And our own worship only true at home. And true, but for the time 'tis hard to know How long we please it shall continue so. This side to-day, and that to-morrow bums ; So all are God-a'mighties in their turns. no A tempting doctrine, plausible and new ; What fools our fathers were, if this be true ! Who, to destroy the seeds of civil war, Inherent right in monarchs did declare : And, that a lawful power might never cease, 115 Secured succession to secure our peace. Thus property and sovereign sway, at last, In equal balances were justly cast : 82 THE MEDAL. But this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd horse ; Instructs the beast to know his native force ; 12 ° To take the bit between his teeth, and fly To the next headlong steep of anarchy. Too happy England, if our good we knew, Would we possess the freedom we pursue ! The lavish government can give no more : 125 Yet we repine, and plenty makes us poor. God tried us once ; our rebel-fathers fought, He glutted them with all the power they sought : Till master'd by their own usurping brave, The free-born subject sunk into a slave. I3 ° We loathe our manna, and we long for quails ; Ah, what is man when his own wish prevails ! How rash, how swift to plunge himself in ill ! Proud of his power, and boundless in his will ! That kings can do no wrong we must believe ; 135 None can they do, and must they all receive? Help, Heaven ! or sadly we shall see an hour, When neither wrong nor right are in their power ! Already they have lost their best defence, The benefit of laws which they dispense : 14 ° No justice to their righteous cause allowM : But baffled by an arbitrary crowd : And medals graved their conquest to record, The stamp and coin of their adopted lord. The man who laugh'd but once, to see an ass Mumbling to make the cross - grain'd thistles pass, , m Might laugh again to see a jury chaw The prickles of unpalatable law. The witnesses, that leech-like lived on blood, Sucking for them were med'cinally good ; 15 ° But when they fasten'd on their feste^d sore, Then justice and religion they forswore; Their maiden oaths debaueh'd into a whore. Thus men are raised by factions, and decried; And rogue and saint distinguish'd by their side. 155 They rack even Scripture to confess their cause, And plead a call to preach in spite of laws. But that 's no news to the poor injured page, It has been used as ill in every age : And is constrain'd with patience all to take, I6 ° For what defence can Greek and Hebrew make ? Happy who can this talking trumpet seize ; They make it speak whatever sense they please ; 'Twas framed at first our oracle to enquire ; But since our sects in prophecy grow higher, I6S The text inspires not them, but they the text inspire. London, thou great emporium of our isle, thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile ! How shall I praise or curse to thy desert? Or separate thy sound from thy corrupted part ? 1 call'd thee Nile ; the parallel will stand ; H 1 Thy tides of wealth o'erflow the fatten'd land ; Yet monsters from thy large increase we find, EngenderM on the slime thou leaVst behind. Sedition has not wholly seized on thee, 1?5 Thy nobler parts are from infection free. Ver. 167. London, thou great emporium of our isle,] So Cowper in his usual nervous and animated strains :— " O thou, resort and mart of ail the earth, Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind, And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see Much that I love, and more that I admire, And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, That pleasest and yet shock'st me, I can laugh, And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, Feel wrath, and pity, when I think on thee !" John Warton. Of Israel's tribes thou hast a numerous band, But still the Canaanite is in the land. Thy military chiefs are brave and true ; Nor are thy disenchanted burghers few. 18 ° The head is loyal which thy heart commands, But what 's a head with two such gouty hands ? The wise and wealthy love the surest way, And are content to thrive and to obey. But wisdom is to sloth too great a slave ; ls5 None are so busy as the fool and knave. Those let me curse; what vengeance will they urge, Whose ordures neither plague nor fire can purge ? Nor sharp experience can to duty bring, Nor angry Heaven, nor a forgiving king ! 19 ° In gospel phrase their chapmen they betray ; Their shops are dens, the buyer is their prey. The knack of trades is living on the spoil ; They boast even when each other they beguile. Customs to steal is such a trivial thing, 105 That 'tis their charter to defraud their king. All hands unite of every jarring sect ; They cheat the country first, and then infect. They for God's cause their monarchs dare de- throne, lw And they'll be sure to make his cause their own. Whether the plotting Jesuit laid the plan Of murdering kings, or the French Puritan, Our sacrilegious sects their guides outgo, And kings and kingly power would murder too. What means their traitorous combination less, Too plain to evade, too shameful to confess ! 200 But treason is not own'd when 'tis descried ; Successful crimes alone are justified. The men, who no conspiracy would find, Who doubts, but had it taken, they had join'd, 21u Join'd in a mutual covenant of defence; At first without, at last against their prince ? If sovereign right by sovereign power they scan, The same bold maxim holds in God and man : God were not safe, his thunder could they shun, He should be forced to crown another son. 21a Thus when the heir was from the vineyard thrown, The rich possession was the murderers' own. In vain to sophistry they have recourse : By proving theirs no plot, they prove 'tis worse; w Unmask'd rebellion, and audacious force : Which though not actual, yet all eyes may see 'Tis working in the immediate power to be ; For from pretended grievances they rise, First to dislike, and after to despise. ^ Then Cyclop-like in human flesh to deal, Chop up a minister at every meal : Perhaps not wholly to melt down the king ; But clip his regal rights within the ring : From thence to assume the power of peace and war, 230 And ease him by degrees of public care. Yet to consult has dignity and fame, He should have leave to exercise the name ; And hold the cards while commons playM the game. For what can power give more than food and drink, *® To live at ease, and not be bound to think ? These are the cooler methods of their crime, But their hot zealots think 'tis loss of time ; On utmost bounds of loyalty they stand, And grin and whet like a Croatian band, S40 That waits impatient for the last command. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. 83 Thus outlaws open villany maintain, They steal not, but in squadrons scour the plain : And if their power the passengers subdue, The most have right, the wrong is in the few. ^ Such impious axioms foolishly they show, For in some soils republics will not grow : Our temperate isle will no extremes sustain, ' Of popular sway or arbitrary reign : But slides between them both into the best, ^ Secure in freedom, in a monarch blest : And though the climate, vex'd with various winds, Works through our yielding bodies on our minds; The wholesome tempeBt purges what it breeds, To recommend the calmness that succeeds. 3S But thou, the pander of the people's hearts, crooked soul and serpentine in arts, Whose blandishments a loyal land have whored, And broke the bond she plighted to her lord ; What curses on thy blasted name will fall ! m Which age to age their legacy shall call ; For all must curse the woes that must descend on all. Religion thou hast none : thy Mercury Has pass'd through every sect, or theirs through thee. ' M But what thou giv'st, that venom still remains ; And the pox'd nation feels thee in their brains. What else inspires the tongues and swells the breasts Of all thy bellowing renegado priests, - curses on thy blasted name'] Can this verse, or verse 270, 277, 296, 60, 65, 81, and indeed many Ver. 260. others, be called just satire ? and ought they not rather to be deemed offensive, gross, and downright ribaldry ? " Hie succus nigra loliginis, hrec est jErugo mora " Neither the Shaftesbury of Dryden, nor the Harvey of Pope, give us any favourable idea of their hearts and tempers. The author of the Characteristics, the grandson of Shaftesbury, did not let Dryden escape for this usage of his ancestor. " To see," says he, " the incorrigiblcness of our poets, in their pedantic manner, their vanity, their defiance of criticism, their rhodomontade, and poetical bravado, we need only turn to our famous poet laureat, the very Bayes himself, in one of his latest and most valued pieces, his Don Sebastian, writ many years after the in- genious author of the Rehearsal had drawn his picture." —Vol.111., p. 276. Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 267. What else inspires the tongues and swells the breasts Of all thy bellowing renegado priests, &c] Dryden seems to have borrowed some of these severe remarks upon the fanatical ministers from The Geneva Ballad, published on a single half sheet in 1674, which equals in bitterness (and is not deficient in poetical spirit) the passage before us. I select a stanza or two in unison with Dryden. "He whom the Sisters so adore, Counting his actions all divine ! Who, when the Spirit hints, can roar, And, if occasion serves, can whine; Nay, he can bellow, bray, or bark. Was ever sike a beuk-larn'd clerk, That speaks all linguas of the ark ! " To draw in proselytes like bees, With pleasing twang he tones his prose, He gives his handkerchief a squeeze, And draws John Calvin through his nose. Motive on motive he obtrudes, With slip-stocking similitudes, Eight uses more, and so concludes. " Wheu monarchy began to bleed, And treason had a fine new name ; When Thames was balderdash'd with Tweed, And pulpits did like beacons flame ; That preach up thee for God; dispense thy laws; And with thy stum ferment thy fainting cause ? Fresh fumes of madness raise ; and toil and sweat 271 To make the formidable cripple great. Yet should thy crimes succeed, should lawless power Compass those ends thy greedy hopes devour, Thy canting friends thy mortal foes would be, ^ Thy God and their's will never long agree ; For thine (if thou hast any) must be one That lets the world and human-kind alone : A jolly god, that passes hours too well To promise heaven, or threaten us with hell : 33 ° That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit, And wink at crimes he did himself commit. A tyrant their's ; the heaven their priesthood paints A conventicle of gloomy sullen saints ; A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad ; !85 Fore-doom'd for souls, with false religion mad. Without a vision poets can foreshow What all but fools by common sense may know : If true succession from our isle should fail, 2S9 And crowds profane with impious arms prevail, Not thou, nor those thy factious arts engage, Shall reap that harvest of rebellious rage, With which thou flatterest thy decrepit age. The swelling poison of the several sects, M ' Which, wanting vent, the nation's health infects, Shall burst its bag ; and fighting out their way, The various venoms on each other prey. The presbyter, puff'd up with spiritual pride, Shall on the necks of the lewd nobles ride : His brethren damn, the civil power defy ; 3U0 And parcel out republic prelacy. But short shall be his reign : his rigid yoke And tyrant power will puny sects provoke ; And frogs and toads, and all their tadpole train, Will croak to heaven for help, from this devouring crane. 3 "' > The cut-throat sword and clamorous gown shall jar, In sharing their ill-gotten spoils of war : Chiefs shall be grudged the part which they pretend ; Lords envy lords, and friends with every friend About their impious merit shall contend. 310 The surly commons shall respect deny, And justle peerage out with property. Their general either shall his trust betray, And force the crowd to arbitrary sway ; Or they, suspecting his ambitious aim, 315 When Jeroboam's calves were rear'd, And Laud was neither loved nor fear'd, This Gospel-Comet first appear'd." Todd. Ver. 293. thy decrepit age.'] This appearance of Shaftesbury, who however was now little more than sixty, is also described in " Tony's Lamentation," published about the same time as " The Medal " was. " Alas ! poor unfortunate Tony, Where now must thou hide thy old head? That has not so much as one crony Dares own the great things thou hast said. " Ungrateful, unsensible cullies, To leave your decrepit patroon To the merciless rage of the bullies And tories in every lampoon ! " Todd. 62 84 RELIGIO LAICI; In hate of kings shall oast anew the frame ; And thrust out Collatine that bore their name. Thus inborn broils the factions would engage, Or wars of exiled heirs, or foreign rage, Till halting vengeance overtook our age : 320 And our wild labours wearied into rest, Reclined us on a rightful monarch's breast. Pudet hsec opprobria, vobis Et dici potuisse, & non potuisse refelli. KELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. THE PEEEACE. A Poem with so bold a title, and a, name prefixed from which the handling of so serious a subject would not be expected, may reasonably oblige the author to say somewhat in defence, both of himself and of his undertaking. In the first place, if it be obj ected to me that, being a layman, I ought not to have concerned myself with speculations, which belong to the profession of divinity ; I could answer, that perhaps laymen, with equal advantages of parts and knowledge, are not the most incompetent judges of sacred things; but in the due sense of my own weakness and want of learning I plead not this : I pretend not to make myself a judge of faith in others, but only to make a confession of my own. I lay no unhallowed hand upon the ark, but wait on it with the reverence that becomes me at a distance. In the next place I will ingenuously confess, that the helps I have used in this small treatise, were many of them taken from the works of our own reverend divines of the Church of England; so that the weapons with which I combat irreligion, are already consecrated; though I suppose they may be taken down as lawfully as the sword of Goliah was by David, when they are to be employed for the common cause against the enemies of piety. I intend not by this to entitle them to any of my errors, which yet I hope are only those of charity to mankind ; and such as my own charity has caused me to commit, that of others may more easily excuse. Being naturally inclined to scepticism in philosophy, I have no reason to impose my opinions in a subject which is above it ; but whatever they are, I submit them with all reverence to my mother Church, accounting them no further mine, than as they are authorised, or at least uncondemned by her. And, indeed, to secure myself on this side, I have used the necessary precaution of showing this paper before it was published to a judicious and learned friend, a man indefatigably zealous in the service of the Church and State ; and whose writings have highly deserved of both. He was pleased to approve the body of the discourse, and I hope he is more my friend than to do it out of complaisance : it is true he had too good a taste to like it all; and, amongst some other faults, recommended to my second view, what I have written perhaps too boldly on St. Athanasius, which he advised me wholly to omit. I am sensible enough that I had done more prudently to have followed his opinion : but then I could not have satisfied myself that I had done honestly not to have written what was my own. It has always been my thought, that heathens who never did, nor without miracle could, hear of the name of Christ, were yet in a possibility of salvation. Neither will it enter easily into my belief, that before the coming of our Saviour, the whole world, excepting only the Jewish nation, should lie under the inevitable necessity of everlasting punishment, for want of that revelation, which was confined to so small a spot of ground as that of Palestine. Among the sons of Noah we read of one only who was accursed ; and if a blessing in the ripeness of time was reserved for Japheth. (of whose progeny we are) it seems unaccountable to me, why so many generations of the same offspring, as preceded our Saviour in the flesh, should be all involved in one common condemnation, and yet that their posterity Bhould be entitled to the hopes of salvation : as if a bill of exclusion had passed only on the fathers, which debarred not the sons from their succession. Or that so many ages had been delivered over to hell, and so many reserved for heaven, and that the devil had the first choice, and God the next. OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. 85 Truly I am apt to think, that the revealed religion which was taught by Noah to all his sons, might continue for some ages in the whole posterity. That afterwards it was included wholly in the family of Shem is manifest ; but when the progenies of Cham and Japheth swarmed into colonies, and those colonies were subdivided into many others, in process of time their descendants lost by little and little the primitive and purer rites of divine worship, retaining only the notion of one deity ; to which succeeding generations added others : for men took their degrees in those ages from conquerors to gods. Revelation being thus eclipsed to almost all mankind, the light of nature as the next in dignity was substituted ; and that is it which St. Paul concludes to be the rule of the heathens, and by which they are hereafter to be judged. If my supposition be true, then the consequence which I have assumed in my poem may be also true ; namely, that Deism, or the principles of natural worship, are only the faint remnants or dying flames of revealed religion in the posterity of Noah : and that our modern philosophers, nay and some of our philosophising divines, have too much exalted the faculties of our souls, when they have maintained that, by their force, mankind has been able to find out that there is one supreme agent or intellectual being which we call God : that praise and prayer are his due worship ; and the rest of those deducements, which I am confident are the remote effects of revelation, and unattainable by our discourse, I mean as simply considered, and without the benefit of divine illumination. So that we have not lifted up ourselves to God, by the weak pinions of our reason, but he has been pleased to descend to us ; and what Socrates said of him, what Plato writ, and the rest of the heathen philosophers of several nations, is all no more than the twilight of revela- tion, after the sun of it was set in the race of Noah. That there is something above us, some principle of motion, our reason can apprehend, though it cannot discover what it is by its own virtue. And indeed 'tis very improbable, that we, who by the strength of our faculties cannot enter into the knowledge of any Being, not so much as of our own, should be able to find out, by them, that supreme nature, which we cannot otherwise define than by saying it is infinite ; as if infinite were definable, or infinity a subject for our narrow understanding. They who would prove religion by reason, do but weaken the cause which they endeavour to support ; it is to take away the pillars from our faith, and to prop it only with a twig ; it is to design a tower like that of Babel, which, if it were possible, as it is not, to reach heaven, would come to nothing by the confusion of the workmen. For every man is building a several way ; impotently conceited of his own model and his own materials : reason is always striving, and always at a loss ; and of necessity it must so come to pass, while it is exercised about that which is not its own proper object. Let us be content at last to know God by his own methods ; at least, so much of him as he is pleased to reveal to us in the sacred Scriptures : to apprehend them to be the word of God is all our reason has to do ; for all beyond it is the work of faith, which is the seal of heaven impressed upon our human understanding. And now for what concerns the holy bishop Athanasius, the preface of whose creed seems incon- sistent with my opinion ; which is, that heathens may possibly be saved : in the first place I desire it may be considered that it is the preface only, not the creed itself, which, till I am better informed, is of too hard a digestion for my charity. 'Tis not that I am ignorant how many several texts of Scripture seemingly support that cause ; but neither am I ignorant how all those texts may receive a kinder, and more mollified interpretation. Every man who is read in Church history, knows that belief was drawn up after a long contestation with Arius, concerning the divinity of our blessed Saviour, and his being one substance with the Father ; and that thus compiled it was sent abroad among the Christian Churches, as a kind of test, which whosoever took was looked on as an orthodox believer. It is manifest from hence, that the" heathen part of the empire was not concerned in it ; for its business was not to distinguish betwixt Pagans and Christians, but betwixt Heretics and true Believers. This, well considered, takes off the heavy weight of censure, which I would willingly avoid, from so venerable a man ; for if this proportion, " whosoever will be saved," be restrained only to those to whom it was intended, and for whom it was composed, I mean the Christians ; then the anathema reaches not the Heathens, who had never heard of Christ, and were nothing interested in that dispute. After all I am for from blaming even that prefatory addition to the creed, and as far from cavilling at the continuation of it in the liturgy of the Church, where on the days appointed it is publicly read : for I suppose there is the same reason for it now, in opposition to the Socinians, as there was then against the Arians; the one being a Heresy, which seems to have been refined out of the other ; and with how much plausibility of reason it combats our religion, with so much more caution to be avoided : and therefore the prudence of our Church is to be commended, which has RELIGIO LAICI ; interposed lier authority for the recommendation of this creed. Yet to such as are grounded in the true belief, those explanatory creeds, the Nicene and this of Athanasius, might perhaps be spared; for what is supernatural, will always be a, mystery in spite of exposition, and for my own part, the plain Apostles' creed is most suitable to my weak understanding, as the simplest diet is the most easy of digestion. I have dwelt longer on this subject than I intended, and longer than perhaps I ought; for having laid down, as my foundation, that the Scripture is a rule ; that in all things needful to salvation it is clear, sufficient, and ordained by God Almighty for that purpose, I have left myself no right to interpret obscure places, such as concern the possibility of eternal happiness to heathens : because whatsoever is obscure is concluded not necessary to be known. But, by asserting the Scripture to be the canon of our faith, I have unavoidably created to myself two sorts of enemies : the Papists indeed, more directly, because they have kept the Scripture from us what they could ; and have reserved to themselves a right of interpreting what they have delivered under the pretence of infallibility : and the Fanatics more collaterally, because they have assumed what amounts to an infallibility, in the private spirit : and have detorted those texts of Scripture which are not necessary to salvation, to the damnable uses of sedition, disturbance, and destruction of the civil government. To begin with the Papists, and to speak freely, I think them the less dangerous, at least in appearance, to our present state, for not only the penal laws are in force against them, and their number is contemptible ; but also their peerage and commons are excluded from parliament, and consequently those laws in no probability of being repealed. A general and uninterrupted plot of their Clergy, ever since the Reformation, I suppose all Protestants believe ; for it is not reasonable to think but that so many of their orders, as were outed from their fat possessions, would endeavour a re-entrance against those whom they account heretics. As for the late design, Mr. Coleman's letters, for aught I know, are the best evidence ; and what they discover, without wire- drawing their sense, or malicious glosses, all men of reason conclude credible. If there be anything more than this required of me, I must believe it as well as I am able, in spite of the witnesses, and out of a decent conformity to the votes of parliament ; for I suppose the Fanatics will not allow the private spirit in this ease. Here the infallibility is at least in one part of the government; and our understandings as well as our wills are represented. But to return to Roman Catholics, how can we be secure from the practice of Jesuited Papists in that religion ? For not two or three of that order, as some of them would impose upon us, but almost the whole body of them are of opinion, that their infallible master has a, right over kings, not only in spirituals but temporals. Not to name Mariana, Bellarmine, Emanuel Sa, Molina, Santarel, Simancha, and at least twenty others of foreign countries ; we can produce of our own nation, Campian, and Doleman or Parsons, besides many are named whom I have not read, who all of them attest this doctrine, that the Pope can depose and give away the right of any sovereign prince, si velpcmbwm, deflexerit, if he shall never so little warp : but if he once comes to be excommunicated, then the bond of obedience is taken off from subjects; and they may and ought to drive him, like another Nebuchadnezzar, ex homimm Christicmorwm domimatu, from exercising dominion over Christians ; and to this they are bound by virtue of divine precept, and by all the ties of conscience under no less penalty than damnation. If they answer me, as a learned priest has lately written, that this doctrine of the Jesuits is not de fide ; and that consequently they are not obliged by it, they must pardon me, if I think they have said nothing to the purpose; for it is a maxim in their Church, where points of faith are not decided, and that doctors are of contrary opinions, they may follow which part they please; but more safely the most received and most authorized. And their champion Bellarmine has told the world, in his apology, that the king of England is a vassal to the Pope, ratione directi dominii, and that he holds in villanage of his Roman andlord. Which is no new claim put in for England. Our chronicles are his authentic witnesses, that king John was deposed by the same plea, and Philip Augustus admitted tenant. And which makes the more for Bellarmine, the French king was again ejected when our king submitted to the Church, and the crown received under the sordid condition of a vassalage. It is not sufficient for the more moderate and well-meaning Papists, of which I doubt not there are many, to produce the evidences of their loyalty to the late king, and to declare their innocency in this plot : I will grant their behaviour, in the first, to have been as loyal and as brave as they desire ; and will be willing to hold them excused as to the second, I mean when it comes to my turn, and after my betters ; for it is a madness to be sober alone, while the nation continues drunk : but that OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. 87 saying of their father Cres. is still running in my head, that they may be dispensed with in their obedience to an heretic prince, while the necessity of the times shall oblige them to it : for that, as another of them tells us, is only the effect of Christian prudence ; but when once they shall get power to shake him off, an heretic is no lawful king, and consequently to rise against him is no rebellion. I should be glad, therefore, that they would follow the advice which was charitably given them by a reverend prelate of our Church ; namely, that they would join in a public act of disowning and detest- ing those Jesuitic principles; and subscribe to all doctrines which deny the Pope's authority of deposing kings, and releasing subjects from their oath of allegiance : to which I should think they might easily be induced, if it be true that this present Pope has condemned the doctrine of king- killing, a thesis of the Jesuits, amongst others, ex eathedrd, as they call it, or in open consistory. Leaving them therefore in so fair a way, if they please themselves, of satisfying all reasonable men of their sincerity and good meaning to the government, I shall make bold to consider that other extreme of our religion, I mean the Fanatics, or Schismatics, of the English Church. Since the Bible has been translated into our tongue, they have used it so, as if their business was not to be saved but to be damned by its contents. If we consider only them, better had it been for the English nation that it had still remained in the original Greek and Hebrew, or at least in the honest Latin of St. Jerome, than that several texts in it should have been prevaricated to the destruction of that govern- ment which put it into so ungrateful hands. How many heresies the first translation of Tindal produced in few years, let my lord Herbert's history of Henry the Eighth inform you ; insomuch, that for the gross errors in it, and the great mischiefs it occasioned, a sentence passed on the first edition of the Bible, too shameful almost to be repeated. After the short reign of Edward the Sixth, who had continued to carry on the Reformation on other principles than it was begun, every one knows that not only the chief promoters of that work, but many others, whose consciences would not dispense with Popery, were forced, for fear of persecution, to change climates : from whence returning at the beginning of queen Elizabeth's reign, many of them who had been in France, and at Geneva, brought back the rigid opinions and imperious discipline of Calvin, to graft upon our Reformation. Which, though they cunningly concealed at first, as well knowing how nauseously that drug would go down in a lawful Monarchy, which was prescribed for a rebellious Commonwealth, yet they always kept it in reserve; and were never wanting to themselves either in court or parliament, when either they had any prospect of a numerous party of fanatic members of the one, or the encouragement of any favourite in the other, whose covetousness was gaping at the patrimony of the Church. They who will consult the works of our venerable Hooker, or the account of his life, or more particularly the letter written to him on this subject, by George Cranmer, may see by what gradations they proceeded; from the dislike of cap and surplice, the very next step was admonitions to the parliament against the whole government ecclesiastical : then came out volumes in English and Latin in defence of their tenets : and immediately practices were set on foot to erect their discipline without authority. Those not succeeding, satire and railing was the next : and Martin Mar-prelate, the Marvel of those times, was the first presbyterian scribbler, who sanctified libels and scurrility to the use of the good old cause. Which was done, says my author, upon this account ; that their serious treatises having been fully answered and refuted, they might compass by railing what they had lost by reasoning; and, when their cause was sunk in court and parliament, they might at least hedge in a stake amongst the rabble : for to their ignorance all things are wit which are abusive ; but if Church and State were made the theme, then the doctoral degree of wit was to be taken at Billingsgate : even the most saintlike of the party, though they durst not excuse this contempt and vilifying of the government, yet were pleased, and grinned at it with a pious smile; and called it a judgment of God against the hierarchy. Thus sectaries, we may Bee, were born with teeth, foul-mouthed and scurrilous from their infancy : and if spiritual pride venom, violence, contempt of superiors, and slander, had been the marks of orthodox belief ; the presbytery and the rest of our schismatics, which are their spawn, were always the most visible church in the Christian world. It is true, the government was too strong at that time for a rebellion; but to show what proficiency they had made in Calvin's school, even then their mouths watered at it : for two of their gifted brotherhood, Hacket and Coppinger, as the story tells us, got up into a pease-cart, and harangued the people, to dispose them to an insurrection, and to establish their discipline by force : so that however it comes about, that now they celebrate queen Elizabeth's birth-night, as that of their saint RELIGIO LAICI ; and patroness ; yet then they were for doing the work of the Lord by arms against her ; and in all probability they wanted but a fanatic lord mayor and two sheriffs of their party, to have com- passed it. Our venerable Hooker, after many admonitions which he had given them, towards the end of his preface, breaks out into this prophetic speech : " There is in every one of these considerations most just cause to fear, lest our hastiness to embrace a thing of so perilous consequence," (meaning the presbyterian discipline,) " should cause posterity to feel those evils, which as yet are more easy for us to prevent, than they would be for them to remedy." How fatally this Cassandra has foretold we know too well by sad experience : the seeds were sown in the time of queen Elizabeth, the bloody harvest ripened in the reign of king Charles the Martyr : and because all the sheaves could not be carried off without shedding some of the loose grains, another crop is too likely to follow ; nay, I fear it is unavoidable if the conventiclers be permitted still to scatter. A man may be suffered to quote an adversary to our religion, when he speaks truth : and it is the observation of Maimbourg, in his History of Calvinism, that wherever that discipline was planted and embraced, rebellion, civil war, and misery, attended it. And how indeed should it happen otherwise % Reformation of Church and State has always been the ground of our divisions in England. While we were Papists, our holy father rid us, by pretending authority out of the Scriptures to depose princes ; when we shook off his authority, the sectaries furnished themselves with the same weapons ; and out of the same magazine, the Bible : so that the Scriptures, which are in themselves the greatest security of governors, as commanding express obedience to them, are now turned to their destruction ; and never since the Reformation has there wanted a text of their interpreting to authorise a rebel. And it is to be noted by the way, that the doctrines of king-killing and deposing, which have been taken up only by the worst party of the Papists, the most frontless flatterers of the Pope's authority, have been espoused, defended, and are still maintained by the whole body of Nonconformists and republicans. It is but dubbing themselves the people of God, which it is the interest of their preachers to tell them they are, and their own interest to believe ; and after that, they cannot dip into the Bible, but one text or other will turn up for their purpose : if they are under persecution, as they call it, then that is a mark of their election ; if they flourish, then God works miracles for their deliverance, and the saints are to possess the earth. They may think themselves to be too roughly handled in this paper ; but I who know best how far I could have gone on this subj ect, must be bold to tell them they are spared : though at the same time I am not ignorant that they interpret the mildness of a writer to them, as they do the mercy of the government ; in the one they think it fear, and conclude it weakness in the other. The best way for them to confute me is, as I before advised the Papists, to disclaim their principles and renounce their practices. We shall all be glad to think them true Englishmen when they obey the King, and true Protestants when they conform to the Church-discipline. It remains that I acquaint the reader, that these verses were written for an ingenious young gentleman my friend, upon his translation of The Critical History of the Old Testament, composed by the learned father Simon : the verses therefore are addressed to the translator of that work, and the style of them is, what it ought to be, epistolary. If any one be so lamentable a critic as to require the smoothness, the numbers, and the turn of heroic poetry in this poem ; I must tell him, that if he has not read Horace, I have studied him, and hope the style of his epistles is not ill imitated here. The expressions of a poem designed purely for instruction, ought to be plain and natural, and yet majestic; for here the poem is presumed to be a kind of lawgiver, and those three qualities which I have named, are proper to the legislative style. The florid, elevated, and figurative way is for the passions ; for love and hatred, fear and anger, are begotten in the soul, by showing their objects out of their true proportion, either greater than the life or less : but instruction is to be given by showing them what they naturally are. A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth. OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. 89 RELIGIO LAICI. Dim as the borroWd beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers, Is Reason to the soul : and as on high, Those rolling fires discover but the sky, Not light us here : so Reason's glimmering ray 6 Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guidejis upward to a better day. And as those nightly tapers disappear, When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere ; So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight ; 10 So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light. Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led Prom cause to cause, to nature's secret head ; And found that one first principle must be : But what, or who, that universal He ; u Whether some soul incompassing this ball, Unmade, unmoved ; yet making, moving all ; Or various atoms' interfering dance Leap'd into form, the noble work of chance ; Or this great all was from eternity ; M Not even the Stagirite himself could see ; And Epicurus guess'd as well as he : As blindly groped they for a future state ; As rashly judged of providence and fate : But least of all could their endeavours find* 2S What most concern'd the good of human kind : For happiness was never to be found ; But vanish'd from 'em like enchanted ground. One thought Content the good to be enjoy'd : This every little accident destroy'd : 30 The wiser madmen did for Virtue toil, A thorny or at best a barren soil : Ver. 5. Reasons glimmering ray] If man was really corrupted, and had lost in great measure the know- ledge of the true religion of nature ; then, the expediency and the usefulness of a revelation was not the less, merely because reason, if rightly exercised, (and it was not) was capable of discovering all the necessary principles of mo- rality : nay, indeed, the advantage of revelation is as evident, as it would have been, if men were actually and unavoidably ignorant of the great truths of religion. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 15. that universal He;] In the valuable and curious translations lately given us from the Sanskreet language, we find many wonderful and sublime descriptions of the Deity, particularly in the Baghvat-Geeta, an episode in the Mahabarat, a poem of the highest antiquity in India; where are the following words; pages 94 and 95, translated by Mr. Wilki-is. "O mighty being," says Arjoon, "who art the prime Creator, eternal God of gods, the world's mansion. Thou art the incorruptible being, distinct from all tilings tran- sient. Thou art before all gods, the ancient Poorosh and the supreme supporter of the universe. Thou knowest all things, and art worthy to be known ; thou art the supreme mansion, and by thee, infinite form, the universe was spread abroad. Reverence be unto thee before and behind ; reverence be unto thee on all sides : O thou who art all in all. Infinite is thy power and thy glory. Thou art the father of all things, animate and inanimate." Dr. J. Warton. * Opinions of the several sects of philosophers concerning the mmmum bonum. Marginal Note, orig. edit. In Pleasure some their glutton souls would steep, But found their line too short, the well too deep ," And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep. 3 ° Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll, Without a centre where to fix the soul : In this wild maze their vain endeavours end : How can the less the greater comprehend t Or finite reason reach Infinity ? * For what could fathom God were more than He. The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground;* Cries ?upe/ca, the mighty secret 's found : Ood is that Bpring of good ; supreme, and best ; We made to serve, and in that service blest ; 4S If so, some rules of worship must be given, Distributed alike to all by Heaven : Else God were partial, and to some denied The means his justice should for all provide. This general worship is to phaise and prat : m One part to borrow blessings, one to pay : And when frail nature slides into offence, The sacrifice for crimes is penitence. Yet since the effects of providence, we find, Are variously dispensed to human kind ; M That vice triumphs, and virtue suffers here, A brand that sovereign justice cannot bear ; Our reason prompts us to a future state : The last appeal from fortune and from fate : Where God's all-righteous ways will be declared ; The bad meet punishment, the good reward. 61 Thus man by his own strength to heaven would soar : + And would not be obliged to God for more. Vain, wretched creature, how art thou misled To think thy wit these god-like notions bred ! K These truths are not the product of thy mind, But dropt from Heaven, and of a nobler kind Reveal'd Religion first inform'd thy sight, And Reason saw not, till Faith sprung the light. * System of Deism. Marginal Note, orig. edit. Ver. 42. The Deist thinks] To a serious and religions deist, who should say, he cannot embrace Christianity, on account of the many difficulties and seeming absurdities with which it is overloaded, we might surely reply — first, Are you certain that these seeming absurdities are the true and genuine doctrines of Christianity, and not added to it by fantastic and fanatical commentators? and secondly, Are there no such difficulties and absurdities as you com- plain of in revelation, to be found also in deism ? What can you say, of an uncaused cause of every thing ? of a being who has no relation to time or space ? of a being whose infinite goodness lay dormant for so many ages? and, as Milton says, who built so late ? How do you re- concile omniscience and prescience with the contingency and freedom of the human will ? How will you fully and adequately account for the introduction and existence of moral and natural evil, under the government of a being infinitely powerful, good and wise ? "What clear ideas have you on these subjects? If you reject Christianity on the score of the difficulties which yon complain of, you ought, to act consistently, to reject deism also. Dr. J. Warton. t Of revealed religion. Marginal Note, orig. edit. RELIGIO LAICI ; Hence all thy natural worship takes the source : "Pis revelation what thou think'st discourse. 71 Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, Which so obscure to Heathens did appear 1 Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found : Nor he whose wisdom oracles reuown'd.* ? 5 Hast thou a wit so deep, or so sublime, Or canst thou lower dive, or higher climb ? Canst thou by reason more of Godhead know Than Plutarch, Seneca, or Cicero ? Those giant wits in happier ages born, * (When arms and arts did Greece and Rome adorn,) Knew no such system : no such piles could raise Of natural worship, built on prayer and praise To one sole God. Nor did remorse to expiate sin prescribe : ^ But slew their fellow-creatures for a bribe : The guiltless victim groan'd for their offence ; And cruelty and blood was penitence. If sheep and oxen could atone for men, Ah ! at how cheap a rate the rich might sin ; 90 And great oppressors might Heaven's wrath beguile, By offering his own creatures for a spoil ! Dar'st thou, poor worm, offend Infinity ? And must the terms of peace be given by thee ? Then thou art Justice in the last appeal ; D5 Thy easy God instructs thee to rebel : And, like a king remote, and weak, must take What satisfaction thou art pleased to make. But if there be a power too just and strong, To wink at crimes, and bear unpunish'd wrong; m Look humbly upward, see his will disclose The forfeit first, and then the fine impose : A mulct thy poverty could never pay, Had not eternal wisdom found the way : And with celestial wealth supplied thy store : 105 His justice makes the fine, his mercy quits the score. See God descending in thy human frame ; The offended suffering in the offender's name ; All thy misdeeds to him imputed see, And all his righteousness devolved on thee. n0 For granting we have sinn'd, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid ; And infinite with infinite be weigh'd. See then the Deist lost : remorse for vice, 115 Not paid ; or paid, inadequate in price : What farther means can Reason now direct, Or what relief from human wit expect ? * Socrates. Marginal Note, orig. edit. Ver. 76. Hast thou a wit so deep, or so subUme, Or canst thou lowei- dive, or higher climb? Canst thou by reason more of Godhead know, &c] Although, in the manner of these interrogations, Dryden has obviously borne in mind the solemn language of Scrip- ture, it is also plain that in his application of it he has de- tracted from its grandeur and impressiveness. From the conceit of the poet we turn with admiration to the words of the patriarch :— " Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven ; what canst thou do ? deeper than hell ; what canst thou know?" Jobxi.7,8. Todd. Ver. 98. What satisfaction] "Though by the light of nature it was indeed exceeding probable and to he hoped for, that God would forgive sin upon true and real repent- ance ; yet it could not be proved, that he was absolutely obliged to do so, or that he would certainly do so. Hence arises the importance, utility, and comfort of revelation." Dr. J. Warton. That shows us sick ; and sadly are we sure Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure : 12 ° If then Heaven's will must needs be understood, (Which must, if we want cure, and Heaven be good,) Let all records of will reveal'd be shown ; With Scripture all in equal balance thrown, And our one sacred book will be that one. 125 Proof needs not here, for whether we compare That impious, idle, superstitious ware Of rites, lustrations, offerings, (which before, In various ages, various countries bore,) With Christian faith and virtues, we shall find m None answering the great ends of human kind, But this one rule of life, that shows us best How God may be appeased, and mortals blest. Whether from length of time its worth we draw, The world is scarce more ancient than the law : Heaven's early care prescribed for every age ; 136 First, in the soul ; and after, in the page. Or, whether more abstractedly we look, Or on the writers, or the written book, Whence, but from Heaven, could men unskill'd in arts, 14 ° In several ages born, in several parts, Weave such agreeing truths ? or how, or why, Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie ? Unask'd their pains, ungrateful their advice, Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price. W5 If on the book itself we cast our view, Concurrent heathens prove the story true : The doctrine, miracles ; which must convince. For Heaven in them appeals to human sense : And though they prove not, they confirm the cause, li0 When what is taught agrees with nature's laws. Then for the style, majestic and divine, It speaks no less than God in every line : Commanding words; whose force is still the same As the first fiat that produced our frame. I55 All faiths beside, or did by arms ascend, Or sense indulged has made mankind their friend : This only doctrine does our lusts oppose : Unfed by nature's soil, in which it grows ; Cross to our interests, curbing sense and sin ; 16 ° Oppress'd without, and undermined within, It thrives through pain ; its own tormentors tires ; And with a stubborn patience still aspires. To what can Reason such effects assign Transcending nature, but to laws divine ? I65 Which in that sacred volume are contain'd ; Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordain'd. But stay : the Deist here will urge anew, * No supernatural worship can be true : Because a general law is that alone 1 '° Which must to all, and every where, be known : Ver. 162. its own tormentors tires ;] Origen says clearly and decisively, that but few persons died for their faith in Christ ; a passage that of itself is sufficient to show, that the number of martyrs has been greatly exaggerated, and confirms the famous opinion of Dodwell, in his Dissert. Cyprianicse. But Dodwell has been frequently answered- Dr. J. "Warton. * Objection of the Deist. M.N. Orig. edit. Ver. 170. Because a general law] The objections, which are futile enough, that are urged against Christianity, from the want of its universality, are all of them fully answered by Law, in his " Considerations on the Theory of Religion," and by that close reasoner, Mr. Soame Jmyns, in his " Trea- tise of the Origin of Evil," p. 168, where he demonstrates OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. 91 A style so large as not this book can claim, Nor aught that bears reveal'd religion's name. 'Tis said the sound of a Messiah's birth Is gone through all the habitable earth : y ? 5 But still that text must be confined alone To what was then inhabited and known : And what provision could from thence accrue To Indian souls, and worlds discover'd new 1 In other parts it helps, that, ages past, 18tf The Scriptures there were known, and were embraced, Till Sin spread once again the shades of night : What 's that to these who never saw the light 1 Of all objections this indeed is chief * To startle reason, stagger frail belief : 185 We grant, 'tis true, that Heaven from human sense Has hid the secret paths of Providence : But boundless wisdom, boundless mercy, may Find even for those bewilder'd souls a way : If from his nature foes may pity claim, 19n Much more may strangers who ne'er heard his name. And though no name be for salvation known, But that of his eternal Son's alone ; Who knows how far transcending goodness can Extend the merits of that Son to man ? 195 Who knows what reasons may his mercy lead ; Or ignorance invincible may plead ? Not only charity bids hope the best, But more the great apostle has express'd : That if the Gentiles, whom no law inspired, 2un By nature did what was by law required ; They, who the written rule had never known, Were to themselves both rule and law alone : To nature's plain indictment they shall plead ; 204 And by their conscience be condemn'd or freed. the impossibility of this universality of revelation from the modes of existence of all human affairs. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 177. To what was then inhabited,"] The whole earth itself is but a little spot, that hears no proportion at all to the universe; and in all probability the large and number- less orbs of heaven cannot but be supposed to be filled with beings more capable than we to show forth the praise and glory of their Almighty Creator, and more worthy to be the objects of his care and love. To which other beings, in other parts of the universe, God may have made discoveries of his will, according to their several wants and capacities, in ways of which we can know nothing, and in which we have no concern. Dr. J. Warton. * The objection answered. M. N. Orig. edit. Ver. 187. the. secret paths] " In the common affairs of life," says Balguy most admirably, " common ex- perience is sufficient to direct us. But will common expe- rience serve to guiclo our judgment concerning the fall and redemption of mankind? From what we see every day, can we explain the commencement, or foretel the dissolution of the world? Or can we undertake to prescribe to infinite Wisdom, at what time, and in what manner, and by what steps, he shall convey the knowledge of true religion over the face of the whole earth ? To judge of events like these, we should be conversant with the history of other planets ; should know the nature, the circumstances, the conduct of their several inhabitants; should be distinctly informed of G od's various dispensations to all the different orders of rational beings." This, the reader must allow, is a most rational and complete comment on this whole passage of Dryden, and is worth his most Eerious attention. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 195. Extend the merits] " As no man ever denied," says Clarke, " but that the benefit of the death of Christ extended backwards to those who lived before his appear- ance in the world, so no man can prove but that the same benefit may likewise extend itself forwards to those who never heard of his appearance, though they lived after it." Dr. J. Warton. Most righteous doom ! because a rule reveal'd Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd. Then those who followed Reason's dictates right, Lived up, and lifted high their natural light ; With Socrates may see their Maker's face, 21 ° While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. Nor does it balk my charity, to find The Egyptian bishop of another mind : For though his creed eternal truth contains, 'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains 21S All who believed not all his zeal required ; Unless he first could prove he was inspired. Then let us either think he meant to say This faith, where publish'd, was the only way ; Or else conclude, that, Arius to confute, 22 ° The good old man, too eager in dispute, Flew high ; and, as his Christian fury rose, Damn'd all for heretics who durst oppose. Thus far my charity this path has tried ; * (A much unskilful, but well-meaning guide :) -^ Yet what they are, eVn these crude thoughts were bred By reading that which better thou hast read : Thy matchless author's work : which thou, my friend, By well translating better dost commend : Ver. 213. The Egyptian bishop] Itaronius, Bona, Bellar- mine, and Jiivet, think Athanasttis wrote the creed that goes under his name ; but many modern critics ascribe it to a Latin writer, Vigilius, bishop of Tapsus, in Africa ; and it is not to be found in almost any manuscript of Athanasius's works; and the style is more like a Latin than a Greek writer; nor dees St.Cyril, of Alexandria, nor theCouncilof Ephesus, ever urge it, or make mention of it in the arguments used against the heresies of N'Storius and Etitydies. The famous book of Servetus, De Trinitatis Erroribus, is in a vile obscure style. Libri 7. per Mich. Servetum, alias Sieves ab Arragone Hispanum, 1531. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 214. For though his creed] Many very Berious Chris- tians devoutly wish with Tillotson, " that we were fairly rid of this creed, which they look upon as the greatest blemish in our Liturgy. This is not a place to enter into contro- versy concerning it. We may just transiently observe the wonderful absurdity of declaring in one sentence, that the doctrine of the Trinity is incompi-thensible, and in the very next an attempt to explain it. Nothing can be more im- perfect and unsatisfactory than the history of the famous and important Council of Nice on this subject, for neither the time or place in which it was assembled, nor the num- ber of those who sat in it, nor even the name of the bishop who presided on it, have ever been clearly ascertained. See Valesius on Eusebius, and Asseman's Bibl. Oriental, and Mosheim, Vol. I. p. 337. That excellent man and writer, Dr. Clarke, has thus expressed himself on this im- portant doctrine, in words that contain all that can justly be said on it:— "The self-existent Cause and Father of all things did, before all ages," says Clarke, "in an incom- prehensible manner, beget or produce a Divine person, styled the Logos, the Word, or Son of God, in whom dwells the fulness of divine perfections, excepting absolute Supre- macy, Independency, or Self- Origination" Bishop Pearson maintains the very same opinion of the Son with Dr. Clarke, concerning the absolute equality of the Son to the Father, yet was never censured for this opinion, as Clarke has been, with much acrimony and injustice. Dr. J. Warton. * Digression to the translator of Father Simon's Critical History of the Old Testament. M. N. Orig. edit Ver. 2'28. Thy matchless author's] The professed design of Father Simon, in his Critical History, was to collect and represent the many difficulties that are to ho found in the text of the Sacred Scriptures, in order to infer the absolute necessity of receiving the Romish doctrine of oral tradition, and some infallible interpreter. The Church of Rome, therefore, embraced his opinion, which was certainly artful and insidious, and aimed at the truth and authenticity of the Scriptures ; and such it was deemed to be by many able divines both at home and abroad. And I remember Dr. Balguy often mentioned it, as a work intended to un- dermine Christianity. Infidel writers have not failed to 92 RELIGIO LAICI ; Those youthful hours which, of thy equals most In toys have squandered, or in vice have lost, 231 Those hours hast thou to nobler use employ'd ; And the severe delights of truth enjoyed. Witness this weighty book, in which appears The crabbed toil of mkny thoughtful years, m Spent by thy author, m the sifting care Of Rabbins' old sophisticated ware From gold divine ; which he who well can sort May afterwards make algebra a sport. A treasure, which if country curates buy, am They Junius and Tremellius may defy : Save pains in various readings and translations, And without Hebrew make most learn'd quota- tions. A work so full with various learning fraught, So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought, 245 As Nature's height and Art's last hand required : As much as man could compass, uninspired. Where we may see what errors have been made Both in the copiers' and translators' trade : How Jewish, Popish, interests have prevail'd, S5 ° And where infallibility has fail'd. For some, who have his secret meaning guess'd, Have found our author not too much a priest : For fashion-sake he seems to have recourse To Pope, and Councils, and Tradition's force : 255 But he that old traditions could subdue, Could not but find the weakness of the new ; If Scripture, though derived from heavenly birth, Has been but carelessly preserved on earth ; If God's own people, who of God before S6 ° Knew what we know, and had been promised more, In fuller terms, of Heaven's assisting care, And who did neither time nor study spare To keep this book untainted, unperplex'd, Let in gross errors to corrupt the text, 265 Omitted paragraphs, embroil'd the sense, With vain traditions stopp'd the gaping fence, Which every common hand pull'd up with ease : What safety from such brushwood-helps as these ? If written words from time are not secured, 2 '° How can we think have oral sounds endured 1 Which thus transmitted, if one mouth has fail'd, Immortal lies on ages are entail'd : And that some such have been, is proved too plain ; If we consider Interest, Church, and Gain. ^ 5 Oh, but, says one, Tradition set aside,* Where can we hope for an unerring guide 1 For since the original Scripture has been lost, All copies disagreeing, maim'd the most, avail themselves of these objections. Collins, in his Dis- course on Free-thinking, has dwelt much on the various readings of the Scriptures, and he was most effectually and most irrefragably answered by Bentley, in his Phileleutherus Lipsiensis. No part of the Characteristics seems to have been more elaborately written, than the last part of his third volume, where he ridicules various readings, texts, glosses, compilements, editions, &c. and where the old gentleman, whom he introduces as the chief speaker, cer- tainly meant himself. Dryden certainly did not perceive the mischief that lurked in this treatise of Simon, which he so highly commends his young friend Hampden for translating. Dr. J. Warton. Dr. Warton's authority for calling Dryden's young friend by the name of Hampden is probably derived from Derrick's assertion; for which there appears no authority; the initials of this young friend being given as II. D. * Of the infallibility of tradition in general. M. N. Orig. edit. Or Christian faith can have no certain ground, ^ Or truth in Church Tradition must be found. Such an omniscient Church we wish indeed ; 'Twere worth both Testaments ; and cast in the Creed : But if this mother be a guide so sure, As can all doubts resolve, all truth secure, S8S Then her infallibiUty, as well, Where copies are corrupt or lame, can tell ; Restore lost canon with as little pains, As truly explicate what still remains : Which yet no Council dare pretend to do, 290 Unless like Esdras they could write it new : Strange confidence, still to interpret true, Yet not be sure that all they have explain'd, Is in the blest original contain'd. More safe, and much more modest 'tis, to say ^ God would not leave mankind without a way : And that the Scriptures, though not every where Free from corruption, or entire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire, In all things which our needful faith require. an If others in the same glass better see, 'Tis for themselves they look, but not for me : For my salvation must its doom receive, Not from what others but what I believe. Must all tradition then be set aside ? * 30s This to affirm were ignorance or pride. Are there not many points, some needful sure To saving faith, that Scripture leaves obscure 1 Which every sect will wrest a several way, (For what one sect interprets, all sects may :) 31 ° We hold, and say we prove from Scripture plain, That Christ is God ; the bold Socinian From the same Scripture urges he 's but man. Now what appeal can end the important suit ? Both parts talk loudly, but the rule is mute. 31s Shall I speak plain, and in a nation free Assume an honest layman's liberty ? I think, (according to my little skill, , To my own mother-church submitting still) That many have been saved, and many may, 32 ° Who never heard this question brought in play. The unletter'd Christian, who believes in gross, Plods on to Heaven, and ne'er is at a loss : For the strait-gate would be made straiter yet, Were none admitted there but men of wit. 325 Ver. 282. Such an omniscient Church'] The doctrines of Popery have soiled and obscured the pure doctrines of Christianity, just as the smoke of their many tapers and incense-pots have damaged the figures oi Michael Angelo in the Last Judgment. Dr. J. "Waeton. Ver. 286. Then her infallibUityA Bnt in this infallible Church there have been as many different and discordant opinions, as among the various sects of Protestants. One Pope has excommunicated another, and one Council issued a severe anathema against another. The'idea of establish ing an uniformity of opinions on religious subjects, is founded on a perfect ignorance of the nature of man. " solos credis habendos Esse Deos, quos ipse colis ? " Juvenal. S. 15, v. 35. Dr. J. "Warton. Ver. 300. In all '.things'] This argument is urged with much force and precision, in the Eloquence Chretienne, of M. Gisoert: which was a favourite book of the great Lord Somers, and wrought a great effect in his way of thinking in religious matters. Elijah Fenton communicated this anecdote, as a fact he well knew, to Mr. Walter Harte. Dr. J. Warton. * Objection in behalf of tradition nrged by Father Simon. M. N. Orig. edit. OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. 93 The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught, Born to instruct, as others to be taught, Must study well the saered page ; and see Which doctrine, this, or that, does best agree With the whole tenor of the work divine : 33 ° And plainliest points to Heaven's reveal'd design : Which exposition flows from genuine sense ; And which is forced by wit and eloquence. Not that tradition's parts are useless here : When general, old, disinteress'd and clear : s35 That ancient Fathers thus expound the page, Gives truth the reverend majesty of age : Confirms its force, by biding every test ; For best authority's next rules are best. And still the nearer to the spring we go, 34 ° More limpid, more unsoil'd the waters flow. Thus, first traditions were a proof alone ; Could we be certain such they were, so known : But since some flaws in long descent may be, They make not truth but probability. 345 Even Arius and Pelagius durst provoke To what the centuries preceding spoke. Such difference is there in an oft-told tale : But truth by its own sinews will prevail. Tradition written therefore more commends 350 Authority, than what from voice descends : And this, as perfect as its kind can be, Rolls down to us the sacred history : Which from the Universal Church received, Is tried, and after, for itself believed. 356 The partial Papists would infer from hence * Their Church, in last resort, should judge the sense. But first they would assume, with wond'rous art,+ Themselves to be the whole, who are but part Of that vast frame, the Church ; yet grant they were 3 * 1 The handers down, can they from thence infer A right to interpret % or would they alone, Who brought the present, claim it for their own? The book's a common largess to mankind ; Not more for them than every man design'd ; s6b The welcome news is in the letter found ; The carrier 's not commission'd to expound. It speaks itself, and what it does contain, In all things needful to be known, is plain. In times o'ergrown with rust and ignorance, A gainful trade their clergy did advance : 3 '' When want of learning ljept the laymen low, And none but priests were authorised to know : When what small knowledge was, in them did dwell, And he a god who could but read or spell : * 5 Then mother Church did mightily prevail : She parcell'd out the Bible by retail : But still expounded what she sold or gave, To keep it in her power to damn and save. Scripture was scarce, and as the market went, 3S0 Poor laymen took salvation on content ; As needy men take money good or bad : God's word they had not, but the priest's they had. Yet, whate'er false conveyances they made, The lawyer still was certain to be paid. 3 - 5 • The second objection. M. N. Orig. edit, t Answer to the objection. M. N. Orig. edit. In those dark times they learn'd their knack so well, That by long use they grew infallible : At last, a knowing age began to inquire If they the book, or that did them inspire : And, making narrower search, they found, though late, 3a " That what they thought the priest's, was their estate ; Taught by the will produced, (the written word,) How long they had been cheated on record. Then, every man who saw the title fair Claim'd a child's part, and put in for a share : 3% Consulted soberly his private good, And saved himself as cheap as e'er he could. "Tis true, my friend, (and far be flattery hence,) This good has full as bad a consequence : The book thus put in every vulgar hand, 40 ° Which each presumed he best could understand, The common rule was made the common prey ; And at the mercy of the rabble lay. The tender page with horny fists was gall'd ; And he was gifted most that loudest bawl'd : * 6 The spirit gave the doctoral degree : And every member of a company Was of his trade, and of the Bible, free. Plain truths enough for needful use they found : But men would still be itching to expound : 41 ° Each was ambitious of the obscurest place, No measure ta'en from knowledge, all from grace. Study and pains were now no more their care ; Texts were explain'd by fasting and by prayer : This was the fruit the private spirit brought : 416 Occasion'd by great zeal and little thought. While crowds unleam'd, with rude devotion warm, About the sacred viands buzz and swarm, The fly-blown text creates a crawling brood ; And turns to maggots what was meant for food. *" A thousand daily sects rise up and die ; A thousand more the perish'd race supply : So all we make of Heaven's discover'd will, Is, not to have it, or to use it ill. The danger's much the same ; on several shelves If others wreck us, or we wreck ourselves. 42G What then remains, but, waiving each extreme, The tides of ignorance and pride to stem ? Neither so rich a treasure to forego ? Nor proudly seek beyond our power to know : Faith is not built on disquisitions vain ; 431 The things we must believe are few and plain : But since men will believe more than they need, And every man will make himself a creed, In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way 43i To learn what unsuspected ancients say : For 'tis not likely we should higher soar In search of Heaven, than all the Church before : Nor can we be deceived, unless we see The Scripture and the Fathers disagree. 440 If after all they stand suspected still, (For no man's faith depends upon his will ;) "Tis some relief, that points not clearly known, Without much hazard may be let alone : And after hearing what our Church can say, * a If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb. For points obscure are of small use to learn : But common quiet is mankind's concern. 4 * 94 THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. Thus have I made my own opinions clear ; Yet neither praise expect nor censure fear ; Ter. 451. my own opinions clear:] All the argu- ments which Dryden has here put together in defence of revelation, must appear stale and trite to us, who since his time have had the happiness of reading such treatises as Clarke on the Attributes, Butler's Analogy, Berkley's Alciphron, Bishop Sherlock's Sermons, "Watson's Apology, Hurd on Prophecy, Soame Jenyns' Treatises, Jortin's Discourses, Faley's Evidences, and Lardner's Credibility. Dr. J. Warton. And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose, As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose : For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, 455 Tom Sternhold's, or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. Ver. 453. rugged verse] An old expression. Thus in P. Fletcher's Pise. Eclogues, edit. 1633, p. 19 :— " Time is my foe, and hates my rugged rimes." And Fletcher adopted it from Spenser. Todd. THKENODIA AUGUSTALIS: A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM. SACKED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KINO CHARLES II. Thus long my grief has kept me dumb : Sure there 's a lethargy in mighty woe, Tears stand congeal'd, and cannot flow ; And the sad soul retires into her inmost room : Tears, for a stroke foreseen, afford relief; 5 But, unprovided for a sudden blow, Like Niobe we marble grow ; And petrify with grief. Our British heaven was all serene, No threatening cloud was nigh, w Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky ; We lived as unconeern'd and happily As the first age in nature's golden scene ; Supine amidst our flowing store, We slept securely, and we dreamt of more : 15 When suddenly the thunder-clap was heard, It took us unprepared and out of guard, Already lost before we fear'd. The amazing news of Charles at once were spread, At once the general voice declared, 2 ° " Our gracious prince was dead." No sickness known before, no slow disease, To soften grief by just degrees : But like an hurricane on Indian seas, The tempest rose ; 25 An unexpected burst of woes : Ter. 1. Thus long my grief] The following just, though severe sentence, has been passed on this Threnodia, by one who was always willing, if possible, to extenuate the blemishes of our poet. "Its first and obvious defect is the irregularity of its metre, to which the ears of that age, however, were accustomed. What is worse, it has neither tenderness nor dignity; it is neither magnificent nor pathetic. He seems to look round him for images which he cannot find, and what he has he distorts by endeavouring to enlarge them. He is, he says, petrified with grief, but the marble relents, and trickles in a joke. There is throughout the composition a desire of splendour without wealth. In the conclusion, he seems too much pleased with the prospect of the new reign, to have lamented his old master with much sincerity." — Dr. Johnson. Dr. J. "Wakton. Ver. 22. No sickness known before.] Original edition. Todd. With scarce a breathing space betwixt, This now becalm'd, and perishing the next. As if great Atlas from his height Should sink beneath his heavenly weight, And with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall (As onee it shall,) Should gape immense, and rushing down, o whelm this nether ball ; So swift and so surprising was our fear : Out Atlas fell indeed ; but Hercules was near. His pious brother, sure the best Who ever bore that name, Was newly risen from his rest, And, with a fervent flame, His usual morning vows had just address'd 40 For his dear sovereign's health ; And hoped to have them heard, In long increase of years, In honour, fame, and wealth : Guiltless of greatness thus he always prayM, 4i Nor knew nor wish'd those vows he made On his own head should be repaid. Soon as the ill-omen'd rumour reach'd his ear, (111 news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,) Who can describe the amazement of his face ! Horror in all his pomp was there, 5l Mute and magnificent without a tear : And then the hero first was seen to fear. Half unarray'd he ran to his relief, So hasty and so artless was his grief : 55 Approaching greatness met him with her charms Of power and future state ; But look'd so ghastly in a brother's fate, He shook her from his arms. Arrived within the mournful room, he saw G0 A wild distraction, void of awe, And arbitrary grief, unbounded by a law. God's image, God's anointed lay Without motion, pulse, or breath, A senseless lump of sacred clay, a An image now of death. THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. 95 Amidst his sad attendants' groans and cries, The lines of that adored forgiving face, Distorted from their native grace ; An iron slumber sat on his majestic eyes. '° The pious duke — Forbear, audacious muse, No terms thy feeble art can use Are able to adorn so vast a woe : The grief of all the rest like subject-grief did show, His like a sovereign did transcend ; 75 No wife, no brother, such a grief could know, Nor any name but friend. wondrous changes of a fatal scene, Still varying to the last ! Heaven, though its hard decree was past, 80 Seem'd pointing to a gracious turn again : And Death's uplifted arm arrested in its haste. Heaven half repented of the doom, And almost grieved it had foreseen, What by foresight it will'd eternally to come. ^ Mercy above did hourly plead For her resemblance here below ; And mild forgiveness intercede To stop the coming blow. New miracles approach'd the etherial throne, 90 Such as his wondrous life had often lately known, And urged that still they might be shown. On earth his pious brother pray'd and vow'd, Renouncing greatness at so dear a rate, Himself defending what ho cou'd, From all the glories of his future fate. With him the innumerable crowd, Of armed prayers Knock'd at the gates of heaven, and knock'd aloud ; The first well-meaning rude petitioners. 10 ° All for his life assail'd the throne, All would have bribed the skies by offering up their own. So great a throng not heaven itself could bar ; 'Twas almost borne by force as in the giants' war. The prayers, at least, for his reprieve were His death, like Hezekiah's, was deferr'd : Against the sun the shadow went ; Five days, those five degrees, were lent To form our patience and prepare the event. The second causes took the swift command, u0 The medicinal head, the ready hand, Ver. 70. An iron slumber sat on his majestic eyes.] From Virgil, JEn. x. 746. " Olli dura quies oculos et ferrous urget Somnus," &c. See Sir P. Sidney's Arcadia, Lib. iii. " But with that Argalus came out of his sound, and lifting vp his languish- ing eyes (which a painefnll rest and iron sleep did seeke to lock vp) seeing her," &c. Todd. Vor. 74. The grief of oil the rest like subject-grief did show, Mis like a sovereign did transcend;] Just as the Dauphiness was dying, 1690, the bishop of Meaux, Bossuet, who attended her, said to Louis XlVth. who was then in her chamber, " Your Majesty bad better retire ■ " " No, no," cried the king, " it is right I should see how my equals die." John Warton. -y er< 95, . what he cou'd,] Orig. edit. Todd. Ver. 111. The medicinal head;] Orig. edit, med'cinal. Todd. All eager to perform their part; All but eternal doom was conquer'd by their art : Once more the fleeting soul came back To inspire the mortal frame ; And in the body took a doubtful stand, Doubtful and hovering like expiring flame, That mounts and falls by turns, and trembles o'er the brand. The joyful short-lived news soon spread around, Took the same train, the same impetuous bound : The drooping town in smiles again was dress'd, lsl Gladness in every face express' d, Their eyes before their tongues confess'd. Men met each other with erected look, The steps were higher that they took ; 12 ° Friends to congratulate their friends made haste, And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd : Above the heroic James appear'd Exalted more because he more had fear'd ; His manly heart, whose noble pride m Was still above Dissembled hate or vamish'd love, Its more than common transport could not hide ; But like an eagre* rode in triumph o'er the tide. Thus in alternate course, ,:i ' The tyrant passions, hope and fear, Did in extremes appear, And flash'd upon the soul with equal force. Thus, at half ebb, a rolling sea Returns and wins upon the shore ; 14 ° The watery herd, affrighted at the roar, Rest on their fins awhile, and stay, Then backward take their wondering way : The prophet wonders more than they, At prodigies but rarely seen before, 145 And cries, a king must fall, or kingdoms change their sway. Such were our counter-tides at land, and so Presaging of the fatal blow, In their prodigious ebb and flow. The royal soul, that, like the labouring moon, I5(l By charms of art was hurried down, Forced with regret to leave her native spbere, Came but awhile on liking here : Soon weary of the painful strife, And made but faint essays of life : 155 An evening light Soon shut in night ; A strong distemper, and a weak relief, Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. The sons of art all medicines tried, 16 ° And every noble remedy applied ; With emulation each essay'd His utmost skill, nay more, they pray'd : Never was losing game with better conduct pla/d. Ver. 126. Friends to congratulate, &c] Each to con- gratulate his friend, &c. Original edit. Todd. * An eagre is a tide swelling above another tide, which I myself observed on the river Trent. Marg.Note, orig. edit. Ver. 160. all medicines] Orig. edit. : all medicines. Todd. Ver. 164. Never was losing game] Orig. edit. : Was never losing game, &c. Todd. Ibid. Never was losing game] A most vulgar ill-placed allusion. Dr. J. Warton. Death never won a stake with greater toil, 16i Nor e'er was fate so near a foil : But like a fortress on a rock, The impregnable disease their vain attempts did mock; They mined it near, they batter'd from afar With all the cannon of the medicinal war ; 170 No gentle means could be essay'd, 'Twas beyond parley when the siege was laid : The extremest ways they first ordain, Prescribing such intolerable pain, As none but Csesar could sustain : 175 Undaunted Csesar underwent The malice of their art, nor bent Beneath whate'er their pious rigour could invent : In five such days he suffer'd more Than any suffer'd in his reign before ; ls0 More, infinitely more, than he, Against the worst of rebels, could decree, A traitor, or twice pardon'd enemy. Now art was tired without success, No racks could make the stubborn malady The vain insurancers of life, And he who most perform'd and promised less, Even Short himself forsook the unequal strife! Death and despair was 1 in their looks, 189 No longer they consult their memories or books ; Like helpless friends, who view from shore The labouring ship, and hear the tempest roar ; So stood they with their arms across ; Not to assist but to deplore The inevitable loss. 195 Death was denounced ; that frightful sound "Which even the best can hardly bear, He took the summons void of fear ; And unconcernedly cast his eyes around ; As if to find and dare the grisly challenger. 200 What death could do he lately triedj When in four days he more than died. The same assurance all his words did grace ; The same majestic mildness held its place : Nor lost the monarch in his dying face. S06 Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave, He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. As if some angel had been sent To lengthen out his government, And to foretel as many years again, 210 As he had number'd in his happy reign, So cheerfully he took the doom Of his departing breath ; Nor shrunk nor stept aside for death ; But with unalter'd pace kept on ; 21 ° Providing for events to come, When he resign'd the throne. Still he maintain'd his kingly state ; And grew familiar with his fate. Kind, good, and gracious, to the last, sa0 On all he loved before his dying beams he cast : Oh, truly good, and truly great, For glorious as he rose, benignly so he set ! All that on earth he held most dear, He recommended to his care, sss Ver. 170. - war. Todd. ■ medicinal war ;] Orig. edit. : mectcinal To whom both Heaven The right had given, And his own love bequeath'd supreme command : He took and press'd that ever loyal hand, Which could in peace secure his reign, S3n Which could in wars his power maintain, That hand on which no plighted vows were ever vain. Well for so great a trust he chose A prince who never disobey'd : Not when the most severe commands were laid ; m Nor want, nor exile with his duty weigh'd : A prince on whom, if Heaven its eyes could close, The welfare of the world it safely might repose. That king who lived to God's own heart, Yet less serenely died than he : M0 Charles left behind no harsh decree For schoolmen with laborious art To salve from cruelty : Those, for whom love could no excuses frame, He graciously forgot to name. 24i Thus far my muse, though rudely, has design'd Some faint resemblance of his godlike mind : But neither pen nor pencil can express The parting brothers' tenderness : Though that 's a term too mean and low ; ss0 The blest above a kinder word may know : But what they did, and what they said, The monarch who triumphant went, The militant who staid, Like painters when their height'ning arts are spent 25S I cast into a shade. That all-forgiving king, The type of Him above, That inexhausted spring Of clemency and love ; 2C0 Himself to his next self accused, And ask'd that pardon which he ne'er refused : For faults not his, for guilt and crimes Of godless men, and of rebellious times : For an hard exile, kindly meant, aB When his ungrateful country sent Their best Camillus into banishment : And forced their sovereign's act, they could not his consent. Oh, how much rather had that injured chief Repeated all his sufferings past ! ^ Than hear a pardon begg'd at last, Which given could give the dying no relief : He bent, he sunk beneath his grief : His dauntless heart would fain have held From weeping, but his eyes rebell'd. , 87i Perhaps the godlike hero in his breast Disdain'd, or was ashamed, to show So weak, so womanish a woe, Which yet the brother and the friend so plen- teously confess'd. Amidst that silent shower, the royal mind 280 An easy passage found, And left its sacred earth behind : Nor murmuring groan express'd, nor labouring sound, Nor any least tumultuous breath ; THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. 97 Calm was his life, and quiet was his death. *» Soft as those gentle whispers were, In which the Almighty did appear; By the still voice the prophet knew him there. That peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine, That peace thou leaVst to thy imperial line, ^ That peace, oh happy shade, be ever thine ! For all those joys thy restoration brought, For all the miracles it wrought, For all the healing balm thy mercy pourM Into the nation's bleeding wound, 296 And care that after kept it sound, For numerous blessings yearly shower'd, And property with plenty crown'd ; For freedom, still maintain'd alive, Freedom, which in no other land will thrive, m Freedom, an English subject's sole prerogative, Without whose charms even peace would be But a dull quiet slavery : For these and more, accept our pious praise ; 'Tis all the subsidy «* The present age can raise, The rest is charged on late posterity. Posterity is charged the more, Because the large abounding store To them and to their heirs is still entail'd by thee. 310 Succession of a long descent Which chastely in the channels ran, And from our demi-gods began, Equal almost to time in its extent, Through hazards numberless and great, 316 Thou hast derived this mighty blessing down, And tix'd the fairest gem that decks the imperial . crown : Not faction, when it shook thy regal seat, Not senates, insolently loud, Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd, 3M Not foreign or domestic treachery, Could warp thy soul to their unjust decree. So much thy foes thy manly mind mistook, Who judged it by the mildness of thy look : Like a well-temper'd sword it bent at will ; Ks But kept the native toughness of the steel. Be true, Clio, to thy hero's name ! But draw him strictly so. That all who view the piece may know ; He needs no trappings of fictitious fame : 330 Ver. 288. By the still voice] Orig. edit. : By the still sound, &c. Todd. Ibid. Alluding to 1 Kings xix. 12 : " And after the fire a still small voice." See also the marginal reading of Job iv. 16 : " I heard a still voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?" Todd. Ver. 319. Not senates, insolently loud, Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd,] So Cowper, in a nervous and animated strain — " Thy senate is a scene of civil jar, Chaos of contrarieties at war, Where sharp and solid, phlegmatic and light, Discordant atoms meet, contend, and fight ; Where Obstinacy takes its sturdy stand, To disconcert what Policy has plann'd; Where Polioy is busied all night long In setting right what Faction has set wrong." Expos. 118. Vol. I. John Warton. The load 's too weighty : thou may'st choose Some parts of praise, and some refuse : Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish than the muse. In scanty truth thou hast confined The virtues of a royal mind, 3K Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind : His conversation, wit, and parts, His knowledge in the noblest useful arts, Were such, dead authors could not give ; But habitudes of those who live ; 3t0 Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive : He drain'd from all, and all they knew ; His apprehension quick, his judgment true : That the most learn'd, with shame, confess His knowledge more, his reading only less. 345 Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, What wonder if the kindly beams he shed Revived the drooping arts again, If Science raised her head, And soft Humanity that from rebellion fled : 350 Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before ; But all uncultivated lay Out of the solar walk and heaven's high way ; With rank Geneva weeds run o'er, And cockle, at the best, amidst the com it bore : The royal husbandman appeared, SM And plough'd, and sow'd, and till'd, The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd, And bless'd the obedient field. When straight a double harvest rose ; 3eo Such as the swarthy Indian mows ; Or happier climates near the line, Or paradise manured, and drest by hands divine. As when the newborn phoenix takes his way, His rich paternal regions to survey, * te Ver. 348. Revived the drooping arts] Charles was very instrumental in founding and promoting the Royal Society ; but it has been said, it may be doubted whether the insti- tutions of academies have contributed to the promotion of science and literature. Neither Copernicus nor Kepler were members of any academy ; nor was Newton member of our J ; oval Society till he had made his most important discoveries. None of the great inventions have been owing to academies. But it may be added, that Alexander assisted Aristotle with a vast collection of animals; the caliph Almoran encouraged philosophy ; and without the French academy, Mauptrtuis would not have undertaken his Phi- losophical Journey ; nor Tournefort Ms Voyages, without the encouragement of Louis XIV. Dr. J. Waeton. Ver. 364. As when the new-iorn pheenix, &c] Dryden had probably Sannazarius in view, De Partu Virg. lib. H. '* Qualis nostrum cum tendit in orbem, PnrpUreis rutilat pennis nitidissima pheenix, Quam variffi circum volucres comitantur euntem," &©. Todd. Ibid. As when the new-born phoenix takes his may, Sis rich paternal regions to survey, Of airy choristers a numerous train A ttend his wondrous progress o'er the plain ;] Imitated from Buchanan : " Sic ubi de patrio redivivus funere Pheenix Anrorffl ad populos redit, et cunabula serum Ipse sua, et cineres patris, inferiasque decoris Fert humeris ; quacunque citis aremigat alis, Indigence comitantur aves, celebrantque canoro Agmine : non illas species incognita tantnm Aut picturata capiunt spectacula penna?." Buchanan. Silv. p. 59. John Waeton. 98 THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS. Of airy choristers a numerous train Attend his wondrous progress o'er the plain; So, rising from his father's urn, So glorious did our Charles return ; The officious Muses came along, sw A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young : The Muse that mourns him now his happy tri- umph sung. Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign; And such a plenteous crop they bore Of purest and well-winnowM grain, W5 As Britain never knew before. Though little was their hire, and light their gain, Yet somewhat to their share he threw ; Fed from his hand they sung and flew, Like birds of paradise that lived on morning dew. »» Oh, never let their lays his name forget ! The pension of a prince's praise is great. Live then, thou great encourager of arts, Live ever in our thankful hearts ; Live blest above, almost invoked below ; Live and receive this pious vow, Our patron once, our guardian angel now. Thou Fabius of a sinking state, Who didst by wise delays divert our fate, When faction like a tempest rose, 39 ° In death's most hideous form, Then art to rage thou didst oppose, To weather out the storm : Not quitting thy supreme command, Thou held'st the rudder with a steady hand, 395 Till safely on the shore the bark did land : The bark that all our blessings brought, Charged with thyself and James, a doubly royal fraught. Oh frail estate of human things, And slippery hopes below ! 400 Now to our cost your emptiness we know, For 'tis a lesson dearly bought, Assurance here is never to be sought. The best, and best beloved of kings, And best deserving to be so, 405 When scarce he had escaped the fatal blow Of faction and conspiracy, Death did his promised hopes destroy : He toil'd, he gain'd, but lived not to enjoy. What mists of Providence are these 41 ° Through which we cannot see ! So saints, by supernatural power set free, Are left at last in martyrdom to die ; Such is the end of oft repeated miracles. Forgive me, Heaven, that impious thought ; 4,s 'Twas grief for Charles, to madness wrought, That question'd thy supreme decree ! Thou didst his gracious reign prolong, Even in thy saints' and angels' wrong, His fellow-citizens of immortality : 420 For twelve long years of exile borne, Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return : Ver. 380. lake hirds of paradise that lived en morning dew.] Tavernier, the excellent French traveller, says, that it is a vulgar error that the birds of paradise have no legs: the fact is, that they gorge and over-fill themselves by feeding on the nutmeg-trees, from which they fall down in a kind of intoxication, and the emmet eats off their legs. Louis XIII. had one of these birds, and a very beautiful one, that had two legs. John Waeton. So strictly wert thou just to pay, Even to the driblet of a day. Yet still we murmur, and complain ** The quails and manna should no longer rain; Those miracles 'twas needless to renew ; The chosen flock has now the promised land, in A warlike prince ascends the regal state, A prince long exercised by fate : 4ao Long may he keep, though he obtains it late. Heroes in Heaven's peculiar mould are cast, They and their poets are not form'd in haste ; Man was the first in God's design, and man was made the last. False heroes, made by flattery so, 4M Heaven can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow ; But ere a prince is to perfection brought, He costs Omnipotence a second thought. With toil and sweat, With hardening cold, and forming heat, 44 ° The Cyclops did their strokes repeat, Before the impenetrable shield was wrought. It looks as if the Maker would not own The noble work for his, Before 'twas tried and found a masterpiece. ** View then a monarch ripen'd for a throne. Alcides thus his race began, O'er infancy he swiftly ran ; The future god at first was more than man : Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate, *" Even o'er his cradle lay in wait ; And there he grappled first with fate : In his young hands the hissing snakes he press'd, So early was the deity confess'd ; Thus by degrees he rose to Jove's imperial seat ; ' ^ Thus difficulties prove a soul legitimately great. Like his, our hero's infancy was tried : Betimes the furies did their snakes provide ; And to his infant arms oppose His father's rebels, and his brother's foes ; 460 The more opprest, the higher still he rose ; Those were the preludes of his fate, That form'd his manhood, to subdue The hydra of a many-headed hissing crew. As after Numa's peaceful reign 46 ° The martial Ancus did the sceptre wield, Furbish'd the rusty sword again, Resumed the long-forgotten shield, And led the Latins to the dusty field ; So James the drowsy genius wakes 47 ° Of Britain long entranced in charms, Restive and slumbering on its arms : 'Tis roused, and with a new-strung nerve the spear already shakes. No neighing of the warrior steeds, No drum, or louder trumpet, needs 475 To inspire the coward, warm the cold ; His voice, his sole appearance, makes them bold. Gaul and Batavia dread the impending blow ; Too well the vigour of that arm they know ; They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal foe. *» VEESES TO J. NORTHLEIGH. Long may they fear this awful prince, And not provoke his lingering sword ; Peace is their only sure defence, Their best security his word : In all the changes of his doubtful state, m His truth, like Heaven's, was kept inviolate, For him to promise is to make it fate. His valour can triumph o'er land and main ; With broken oaths his fame he will not stain ; With conquest basely bought, and with inglorious gain. 490 XVIII. For once, Heaven, unfold thy adamantine book; And let his wondering senate see, If not thy firm immutable decree, At least the second page of strong contingency ; Such as consists with wills originally free : 495 Let them with glad amazement look On what their happiness may be : Let them not still be obstinately blind, Still to divert the good thou hast design'd, Or with malignant penury, s0 ° To starve the royal virtues of his mind. Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test ; Oh, give them to believe, and they are surely blest. They do ; and with a distant view I see The amended vows of English loyalty. m And all beyond that object, there appears ' The long retinue of a prosperous reign, A series of successful years, In orderly array, a martial, manly train. Behold eVn the remoter shores, 51 ° A conquering navy proudly spread ; The British cannon formidably roars ; While starting from his oozy bed, The asserted Ocean rears his reverend head, To view and recognize his ancient lord again ; 315 And with a willing hand restores The fasces of the main. Ver. 512. The British can-nan, &c.] This conclusion is truly spirited, and the prophecy has been abundantly ve- rified. Dryden gives the British king the proper title of ancient lord of the ocean. Camden, in his Britannia, had before denominated our island the lady of the sea ; a very just and emphatical distinction : Esto perpetua I Todd. TO MY FRIEND MR. J. NORTHLEIGH. AUTHOR OF "THE PARALLEL," ON FTIS TRIUMPH OF THE BRITISH MONARCHY. So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well The boding dream, and did th' event foretell ; Judged by the past, and drew the Parallel. Thus early Solomon the truth explored, The right awarded, and the babe restored. Thus Daniel, ere to prophecy he grew, The perjured Presbyters did first subdue, And freed Susanna from the canting crew. Well may our Monarchy triumphant stand, While warlike James protects both sea and land ; "> And, under covert of his sevenfold shield, Thou send'st thy shafts to scour the distant field. By law thy powerful pen has set us free ; Thou studiest that, and that may study thee. 100 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. A POEM. IN THREE PARTS. Antiquam exquirite matrem. Et vera, incessu, patuit Dea. — Virg. THE PEEFACE TO THE KEADEK, The nation is in too high a ferment for me to expect either fair war, or even so much as fair quarter, from a reader of the opposite party. All men are engaged either on this side or that ; and though Conscience is the common Word, which is given by both, yet if a writer fall among enemies, and cannot give the marks of fhevr conscience, he is knocked down before the reasons of his own are heard. A preface, therefore, which is but a bespeaking of favour, is altogether useless. What I desire the reader should know concerning me, he will find in the body of the poem, if he have but the patience to peruse it. Only this advertisement let him take beforehand, which relates to the merits of the cause. No general characters of parties (call them either Sects or Churches) can be so fully and exactly drawn, as to comprehend all the several members of them ; at least all such as are received under that denomination. For example : there are some of the Church by law established who envy not liberty of conscience to Dissenters ; as being well satisfied that, according to their own principles, they ought not to persecute them. Yet these, by reason of their fewness, I could not distinguish from the numbers of the rest, with whom they are embodied in one common name. On the other side, there are many of our Sects, and more indeed than I could reasonably have hoped, who have withdrawn themselves from the communion of the Panther, and embraced this gracious indulgence of his Majesty in point of toleration. But neither to the one nor the other of these is this satire any way intended : it is aimed only at the refractory and disobedient on either side. For those who are come over to the royal party are consequently supposed to be out of gun-shot. Our physicians have observed, that, in process of time, some diseases have abated of their virulence, and have in a manner worn out their malignity, so as to be no longer mortal ; and why may not I suppose the same con- cerning some of those who have formerly been enemies to Kingly Government, as well as Catholic Religion ? I hope they have now another notion of both, as having found, by comfortable experience, that the doctrine of persecution is far from being an article of our faith. It is not for any private man to censure the proceedings of a foreign prince ; but without suspicion of flattery, I may praise our own, who has taken contrary measures, and those more suitable to the spirit of Christianity. Some of the Dissenters, in their addresses to his Majesty, have said, "That he has restored God to his empire over conscience." I confess I dare not stretch the figure to so great a boldness ; but I may safely say, that conscience is the royalty and prerogative of every private man. He is absolute in his own breast, and accountable to no earthly power for that which passes only betwixt God and him. Those who are driven into the fold are, generally speaking, rather made hypocrites than converts. This indulgence being granted to all the sects, it ought in reason to be expected that they should both receive it, and receive it thankfully. For, at this time of day, to refuse the benefit, and adhere to those whom they have esteemed their persecutors, what is it eke but publicly to own that they suffered not before for conscience sake, but only out of pride and obstinacy, to separate from a Church for those impositions which they now judge may be lawfully obeyed ? After they have so long con- tended for their classical ordination (not to speak of rites and ceremonies), will they at length THE PREFACE TO THE READER. 101 submit to an episcopal? If they can go so far out of complaisance to their old enemies, methinks a little reason should persuade them to take another step, and see whither that would lead them. Of the receiving this toleration thankfully I shall say no more, than that they ought, and I doubt not, they will, consider from what hands they received it. It is not from a Cyrus, a heathen prince, and a foreigner, but from a Christian king, their native sovereign, who expects a return in "specie from them, that the kindness which he has graciously shown them may be retaliated on those of his own persuasion. As for the poem in general, I will only thus far satisfy the reader, that it was neither imposed on me, nor so much as the subject given me by any man. It was written during the last winter and the beginning of this spring, though with long interruptions of ill-health and other hindrances. About a fortnight before I had finished it, his Majesty's declaration for liberty of conscience came abroad ; which, if I had so soon expected, I might have spared myself the labour of writing many things which are contained in the third part of it. But I was always in some hope, that the Church of England might have been persuaded to have taken off the Penal Laws and the Test, which was one design of the poem when I proposed to myself the writing of it. It is evident that some part of it was only occasional, and not first intended : I mean that defence of myself, to which every honest man iB bound, when he is injuriously attacked in print ; and I refer myself to the judgment of those who have read the Answer to the Defence of the late King's papers and that of the Duchess (in which last I was concerned) how charitably I have been represented there. I am now informed both of the author and supervisors of his pamphlet, and will reply when I think he can affront me : for I am of Socrates's opinion, that all creatures cannot. In the mean time let him consider whether he deserved not a more severe reprehension than I gave him formerly, for using so little respect to the memory of those whom he pretended to answer ; and at his leisure look out for some original treatise of Humility, written by any Protestant in English (I believe I may say in any other tongue): for the magnified piece of Duncomb on that subject, which either he must mean or none, and with which another of his fellows has upbraided me, was translated from the Spanish of Rodriguez; though with the omission of the seventeenth, the twenty-fourth, the twenty-fifth, and the last chapter, which will be found in comparing of the books. He would have insinuated to the world that her late Highness died not a Roman Catholic. He de- clares himself to be now satisfied to the contrary, in which he has given up the cause ; for matter of fact was the principal debate betwixt us. In the mean time, he would dispute the motives of her change ; how preposterously, let all men judge, when he seemed to deny the subject of the controversy, the change itself. And because I would not take up this ridiculous challenge, he tells the world I cannot argue : but he may as well infer that a Catholic cannot fast, because he will not take up the cudgels against Mrs. James, to confute the Protestant religion. I have but one word more to say concerning the poem as such, and abstracting from the matters, either religious or civil, which are handled in it. The first part, consisting most in general characters and narration, I have endeavoured to raise, and give it the majestic turn of heroic poesy. The second, being matter of dispute, and chiefly concerning Church Authority, I was obliged to make as plain and perspicuous as possibly I could ; yet not wholly neglecting the numbers, though I had not frequent occasions for the magnificence of verse. The third, which has more of the nature of domestic conversation, is, or ought to be, more free and familiar than the two former. There are in it two Episodes, or Fables, which are interwoven with the main design ; so that they are properly parts of it, though they are also distinct stories of themselves. In both of these I have made use of the common places of Satire, whether true or ialse, which are urged by the members of the one Church against the other : at which I hope no reader of either party will be scandalised, because they are not of my invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccaoe and Chaucer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other. 102 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER.* A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged ; * This piece is a defence of the Roman Catholic Church, by way of dialogue between a Hind, who represents the Church of Rome, and a Panther, who sustains the character of the Church of England. These two beasts very learn- edly debate the principal points controverted between the two Churches, as transubstantiation, infallibility, church- authority, &c. This poem was immediately attacked by the wits; particularly by Montague, afterwards Earl of Halifax, and Prior, who joined in writing The Hind and Panther, parodied in the Story of the Country Mouse and the City Mouse. Derrick. There is a pointed allusion to this poem, in a satire entitled EceboUus Britannicus, or A Memento to the Jacobites of the higher order ; in which, indeed, many of Dryden's phrases and sentiments are introduced, and printed in the Italic character. This satire is worthy of perusal. It occurs in "The loyal and impartial Satyrist, containing eight Miscellany Poems, 4to. Lond. 1694." ECEBOLIDS BRITANNICUS, &C. You, whom Religion sits so loose about, That you want charity to fill it out; You that can't swear (that might consist with lore) Yet curse and damn like the great Lateran Jove ; Remember him w.ho lately seem'd to say, What is Religion but a solemn play ? "We do but act a while* and then give o'er ; And, when we quit this stage, we are no more. In vain men hope tK abyss of light to see, No spirits wait in hollow trees beneath, Nor is there any bellowing after death, 'Tis all hut vain and senseless poetry : Death shuts the comick scene ; when parted hence None ever cried, What am I, or from whence ? No daemons walk ; no glaring eye-balls rowl; But horrid stillness then invades the soul. Great souls discern not when the leap 's too wide ; Heroes will be for ever changing side : And since religions vary like the wind, "Who would to one be cursedly confined f He that can servilely creep after one Is safe, but ne'er shall reach promotion. Sell Plays for Legends, (that 's the way to prosper,) I'll part with scenes for a more costly shrine ; Phillis for Bridget, or Saint Katherine, Bizarre and Escapade for Pater Noster ; My Maximin for Lewis ; and I hope To find a new Almanzor in the Pope. Rome's Church, tho' once a whore, now cannot be ; She must be chaste, because she 's lov'd by me. How dear is Mother-Church, how charming fair, To a distressed sinner in despair 1 The world shall see I'll turn, because J As once Empedocles to get a name, "Wing'd with ambition to be thought a god, O'er unfrequented hills, and peaks untrod, Pass'd into scorching ^Etna's liquid fame : So to he dubb'd a saint, and fill a story, From fairy land, and dark enchanted isle, From mountains of the moon, and head of Nile, Immortal Bays will pass to Purgatory. 2. But, ha \ what strange new project here is shewn, So long kept secret, and so lately known f As if our old plot modestly withdrew, And here in private were brought forth anew. New almanacks foretel some change at hand, "When bear-skinrid men va. floating castles land; And all our hopes, like old men's children, he Blasted and wither'd in their infancy. Parsons and Curates careless of their charge, And safe in holy ease, now live at large ; uy me. arming fair, ~i ; I dare. ) Without unspotted, innocent within, She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin. Unguarded leave their posts, away they flie ; And all dissolved in New Allegiance lie. The Prelates are protected by the Bar, Dull heroes fatten still with spoils of war ; Ah I why should a worse fortune he design'd For him that wrote the Panther and the Hind ! Is this the state his Holiness has given ? Is this our Cape of Hope, and promised haven ? This province my Unhappy Change has got, This portion is the losing Convert's lot. This region my false wandering steps have found, And fortune flies me like enchanted ground. Best take th' occasion, and this clime forsake, "While time is given ; Ho, Brother Teague, awake, If thou art he ; but, ah I how sunk in tone I Mow changed from proud Bullero to Hone I How faded all thy laurels are I I see My fate too soon, and my own change in thee. Into what wild distraction am I brought ! I 'm lost, and caught in my own web of thought : I burn, I'm all on fire, I more than burn : Stand off, I have not leisure yet to turn. What have these bears, these boars, and dirty swine, These heretick dogs, to do with me or mine f I 'U ne'er repent of such a gallant crime : When Wits are down, dull Fops will watch their time. Our fame is hush'd, as hope itself lay dead, And Borne begins to nod her drooping head : The little Teagues in dreams their howls repeat, And weeping laurels with the nightnlew sweat : Panthers are now at rest, but fear denies Sleep to my Hind, and to her Poet's eyes. This spirited poem, I should add, is in the title-page only of the Miscellany inscribed, To the truly Orthodox Critic and Poet, J. D n, Esq. Todd. Ver. 1. A milk-white Hind,'] It is impossible to add any thing to the just criticism, the true wit, and well-pointed ridicule, with which Mr. Montague and Mr. Prior attacked and exposed the matchless absurdity of the plan of this poem in the following words : — " The favourers of the Hind and Panther will be apt to say in its defence, that the best things are capable of being turned to ridicule ; that Homer has been burlesqued, and Virgil travestied, without suffering any thing in their re- putation from that buffoonery ; and that, in like manner, the Hind and the Panther may be an exact poem, though 'tis the subject of our raillery. But there is this difference, that those authors are wrested from their true sense, and this naturally falls into ridicule ; there is nothing represented here as monstrous and unnatural, which is not so equally in the original. First, as to the general design, is it not as easy to imagine two mice bilking coachmen, and supping at the Devil, as to suppose a hind entertaining the panther at a hermit's cell, discussing the greatest mysteries of reli- gion, and telling you her son Rodriguez writ very good Spanish ? What can be more improbable and contradictory to the rules and examples of all fables, and to the very de- sign and use of them ? They were first begun and raised to the highest perfection in the eastern countries, where they wrote in signs, and spoke in parables, and delivered the most useful precepts in delightful stories : which for their aptness were entertaining to the most judicious, and led the vulgar into understanding by surprising them with their novelty, and fixing their attention. All their fables carry a double meaning ; the story is one and entire ; the characters the same throughout, not broken or changed, and always conformable to the nature of the creatures they introduce. They never tell you, that the dog which snapt at a shadow lost his troop of horse — that would be unin- telligible— a piece of flesh is proper for him to drop, and the reader will apply it to mankind. They would not say that the daw, who was so proud of her borrowed plumes, looked very ridiculous when Rodriguez came and took away all the book but the 17th, 24th, and 25th chapters, THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. 103 Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds, 5 And Scythian shafts ; and many winged wounds Aim'd at her heart ; was often forced to fly, And doom'd to death though fated not to die. Not so her young ; for their unequal line "Was hero's make, half human, half divine. 10 Their earthly mould obnoxious was to fate, The immortal part assumed immortal state. Of these a slaughtered army lay in blood, Extended o'er the Caledonian wood, Their native walk ; whose vocal blood arose, u And cried for pardon on their perjured foes. Their fate was fruitful, and the sanguine seed, Endued with souls, increased the sacred breed. So captive Israel multiplied in chains, A numerous exile, and enjoy"d her pains. 20 With grief and gladness mix'd the mother view"d Her martyr'd offspring, and their race renewed ; Their corpse to perish, but their kind to last, So much the deathless plant the dying fruit surpass'd. Panting and pensive now she ranged alone, ffi And wander'd in the kingdoms, once her own. The common hunt, though from their rage re- straint By sovereign power, her company disdain'd ; Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. m 'Tis true she bounded by, and tripp'd so light, They had not time to take a steady sight. For truth has such a face and such a mien, As to be loved needs only to be seen. which she stole from him. But this is his new way of tell- ing a story, and confounding the moral and the fable toge- ther. " Before the word was written, said the Hind, Our Saviour preach'd the faith to all mankind. " What relation has the hind to our Saviour? Or what notion have we of a panther's bible? If you say he means the Church, how does the Church feed on lawns, or range the forest? Let it be always a Church, or always the cloven-footed beast, for we cannot bear his shifting the scene every line. If it is absurd in comedies to make a peasant talk in the strain of a hero, or a country wench use the language of a court, how monstrous is it to make a priest of a hind, and a parson of a panther! To bring them in disputing with all the formalities and terms of the school 1 Though, as to the arguments themselves, those, we confess, are suited to the capacity of the beasts ; and if we would suppose a hind expressing herself about these matters, she would talk at that rate." Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 1. Hind,"] It is singular, that in the most curious account of old Sanskreet Fables, given to us by Mr. Wilkins, entitled Heeto-pades, or Amicable Instruction, animals, like our hind and panther, are sometimes absurdly introduced as arguing on subjects of theology; a tiger is described as devout, and praising charity and religious duties ; an old mouse is well versed in Neetee Sastras, or system of policy and ethics ; and a cat reads religious books. Mr. Wilkins translated the Mahabarat, an epic poem, and Sir William Jones the Sacontala, a drama of a surprising early date, and an invaluable curiosity on account of the manners described in it. Dr. J. Wabton. Ver. 14. the Caledonian wood,] The ravages and disorders committed by the Scotch covenanters gave occasion to these lines. Derrick. Ver. 21. the mother view'd] Original edition: their mother. Todd. Ver. 29. Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye Gave gloomy signs, &c.] Dryden here, I think, had Milton in his mind. See Par. Lost, x. 713. " or, with countenance grim, Glared on him passing." Todd. The bloody Bear, an independent beast, 35 Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd. Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear. Next her the buffoon Ape, as atheists use, Mimick'd all sects, and had his own to choose : 40 Still when the Lion look'd, his knees he bent, And paid at church a courtier's compliment. The bristled Baptist Boar, impure as he, (But whiten'd with the foam of sanctity,) Ver. 35. The bloody Bear, an independent beast,] The Inde- pendents were a sect of Protestants, who held, that " each church, within itself, had sufficient power to do everything relative to church-government." They sprung up amidst the confusions of Charles the First's reign, about the year 1643. Walker calls them a composition of Jews, Christians, and Turks. See his History of Independency, p. 1, 27; for which he was committed by Cromwell to the Tower. See Echard's History of England, vol. ii. p. 435, for an account of their rise. Butler calls them, " The maggots of corrupted texts." — Hud. p. 3. v. 10. And our author, in his Religio Laici, says, " The fly-blown text creates a crawling brood, And turns to maggots what was meant for food." Because that, in order to infuse into people a notion that they had a right to choose their own pastors, they corrupted this text : Where/ore, brethren, look you out from, among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost, whom ye (instead of we) may appoint over this business. Acts vi. 3. Field is Bald to have been the first printer of this forgery, and to have received for it £1500. Be that as it may, it is certainly to he found in several of his editions of the Bible, particularly in his fine folio of 1659-60, and his octavo of 1661. Derrick. Ver. 37. the quaking Hare Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear."] The Quakers : so called from certain tremblings and con- vulsions with which they appear to be seized at their religious meetings. They decline all military employments; reject the use of arms, which they call profane and carnal weapons ; and refuse the oaths. Their affirmation is now admitted, by act of Parliament, in our justiciary courts, as of equal force to an oath taken by a person of any other persuasion upon the gospel. Derrick, Ver. 39. Next her the buffoon Ape,] No particular sect is meant by the buffoon ape, but libertines and latitudi- narians, persons ready to conform to anything to serve their turn. Derrick. Ver. 43. The bristled Baptist Boar,] The unexampled absurdities of the principles and practices of the Anabaptists were too inviting and copious a subject for Swift not to seize, and enabled him to give some of the finest touches of ridicule in his Tale of a Tub. " Having, from his manner of living, frequent occasions to wash himself, he would often leap over head and ears into the water, though it were in the midst of the winter, but was always observed to come out again much dirtier, if possible, than when he went in. " He was the first that ever found out the secret of con- triving a soporiferous medicine to be conveyed in at the ears : it was a compound of sulphur and balm of Gileadf with a little Pilgrim's Progress salve. "He wore alarge plaister of artificial causiics on his stomach with the fervour of which he could set himself a groaning, like the famous board, upon application of a red-hot iron. " He would stand in the turning of a street, and calling to those who passed by, would cry to one, Worthy Sir, do me the honour of a good slap in the chops: to another, Honest friend, pray favour me with a handsome kick on the arse. Madam, shall I entreat a small box on the ear from your ladyship's fair handf Noble captain, lend a reasonable thwack, for the love of God, with that cane of yours, over these poor shoulders. And when he had, by such earnest solicitations, made a shift to procure a basting sufficient to swell up his fancy and sides, he would return home extremely comforted, and full of terrible accounts of what he had undergone for the public good. Observe this stroke (said he, shewing his bare shoulders) a plaguy janisary gave it me this very morning at seven o'clock, as with much ado I was driving off the great Turk. Neighbours of mine, this broken head deserves aplaister; had poor Jack been tender of his noddle, you would have seen the Pope and the French King long before this time of day among your wives and your warehouses. Bear Christians, the Great Mogul was come as 104 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place, 45 And mountains levell'd in his furious race ; So first rebellion founded was in grace. But since the mighty ravage, which he made In German forests, had his guilt betra/d, With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name, ^ He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal'd the shame; So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile False Reynard fed on consecrated spoil : The graceless beast by Athanasius first Was chased from Nice ; then, by Sociuus nursed, His impious race their blasphemy renewed, s6 And nature's King through nature's optics view'd. Reversed they view'd him lessen'd to their eye, Nor in an infant could a God descry ; New swarming sects to this obliquely tend, Let them declare by what mysterious arts He shot that body through the opposing might Of bolts and bars impervious to the light, And stood before his train confess'd in open sight. For since thus wondrously he pass'd, 'tis plain 10 ° One single place two bodies did contain. And sure the same Omnipotence as well Can make one body in more places dwell. Let reason then at her own quarry fly, But how can finite grasp infinity? 10s 'Tis urged again, that faith did first commence By miracles, which are appeals to sense, And thence concluded, that our sense must be The motive still of credibility. For latter ages must on former wait, n0 And what began belief, must propagate. But winnow well this thought, and you shall find 'Tis light as chaff that flies before the wind. Were all those wonders wrought by power divine, As means or ends of some more deep design 1 lld Most sure as means, whose end was this alone. To prove the Godhead of the eternal Son. God thus asserted, man is to believe Beyond what sense and reason can conceive, And for mysterious things of faith rely la0 On the proponent, Heaven's authority. If then our faith we for our guide admit, Vain is the farther search of human wit, Ver. 85, Can I my reason to my faith compel,] Dryden here advances the doctrine of transubstantiation, which he reconciles to the Divine Omnipotence, and entirely dis- claims the use of reason in discussing it. Derrick. Ver. 95. Impassable,] Impassible. Original edition. Todd. Ver. 99. And stood before his train confess'd in open sight.'] " pura per noctem in luce refulsit Alma parens, confessa Deam." HiB mind was so thoroughly imbued with Virgil, that he fell into perpetual and involuntary imitations of him. John Warton. Ver. 100. thus- wondrously he pasa'd,] This is urged as an irresistible defence of the doctrine of transub- stantiation. But how different the two cases! Our Saviour, by his own power, could miraculously enter the room where his disciples were assembled. But the priest himself makes this Saviour just before he swallows him. The disciples saw with their own eyes the figure and body of Christ, but in the wafer surely Christ is not seen. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 101. One single place"] The doctrine of transubstan- tiation is so singularly absurd (perhaps blasphemous) as hardly to deserve a serious refutation. Mr. Pope told Mr. Richardson, that Gay, going to Mr. Titcum, (who was the intimate friend of himself, Swift, Craggs, and Addison) to ask him,, when he was dying, as he was a papist, if he would have a priest, " No," said he, " what should I do with them ? But I would rather have one of them than one of yourB, of the two. Our fools (continued Titcum> write great books to prove that bread is God; but your booby (meaning Tillotsoa.) has wrote a long argument to prove that bread is bread." Dr. J. Warton. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. 105 As when the building gains a surer stay, We take the unuseful scaffolding away. 125 Reason by sense no more can understand ; The game is play'd into another hand ; Why choose we then like bilanders to creep Along the coast, and land in view to keep, When safely we may launch into the deep 1 130 In the same vessel which our Saviour bore, Himself the pilot, let us leave the shore, And with a better guide a better world explore. Could he his Godhead veil with flesh and blood, And not veil these again to be our food ] 135 His grace in both is equal in extent ; The first affords us life, the second nourishment. And if he can, why all this frantic pain To construe what his clearest words contain, And make a riddle what he made so plain ? 140 To take up half on trust, and half to try, Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry. Both knave and fool the merchant we may call, To pay great sums, and to compound the small : For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for all 1 14i Rest then, my soul, from endless anguish freed : Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed. Faith is the best ensurer of thy bliss ; The bank above must fail before the venture miss. But heaven and heaven-born faith are far from thee, 16 ° Thou first apostate to divinity. UnkennelTd range in thy Polonion plains ; A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf remains. Too boastful Britain, please thyself no more, That beasts of prey are banish'd from thy shore : The Bear, the Boar, and every savage name, 156 Wild in effect, though in appearance tame, Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissful bower, And, mufczled though they seem, the mutes devour. More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 16 ° Appear with belly gaunt, and famish'd face : Never was so deform'd a beast of grace. His ragged tail betwixt his legs he wears, Close clapp'd for shame ; but his rough crest he rears, And pricks up his predestinating ears. 1M His wild disorder'd walk, his haggard eyes, Did all the bestial citizens surprise. Though fear'd and hated, yet he ruled awhile As captain or companion of the spoil. Ver. IBS. the insatiate Wolf. &c.l Butler, in the first canto of Hudibras, says, that the Presbyterians 11 prove their doctrine orthodox By apostolic blows and knocks." The general description given of them here is very severe ; they hold the doctrine of predestination, or a decree of God from all eternity, to save a certain number of persons, from thence called the elect. "A sect" (of whom Hudibras says a little lower) "whose chief devotion lies In odd perverse antipathies." Such as reputing the eating of Christmas-pies and plum porridge sinful; nay, they prohibited all sorts of merri- ment at that holy festival, and not only abolished it by order of council, dated Dec. 22, 1657, but changed it into a fast. They wore, during the confusions about Oliver's time, black caps, that left their ears bare, their hair being cropped round quite close ; wherefore the wolf, the emblem of Presbytery, is here said to Prick up his predestinating ears. Derrick. Full many a year his hateful head had been 17 ° For tribute paid, nor since in Cambria seen ; The last of all the litter 'scaped by chance, And from Geneva first infested France. Some authors thus his pedigree will trace, But others write him of an upstart race ; *'° Because of Wickliff ' s brood no mark he brings, But his innate antipathy to kings. Ver. 172. The last of all the Utter] Calvin, the person here pointed at, was, it must be allowed, a man of very extensive genius, much learning, industry, penetration, and piety, and the most persuasive eloquence. He was born at Noyon, in Picardy, in July, 1509. To escape the threats of Francis the First, he retired to Basil, where he published his Christian Institutions, and prefixed to them his famous dedication to Francis I. Calvin was asthmatical, and de- livered his sermons slowly : a man at Geneva got his liveli- hood by writing them down as he pronounced them. " Sapit Calvinus (says Scaliger) quod in apocalypsim non scripsit." We might have expected that Dryden would have here censured the strong Calvinistical turn of some of the articles of the Church of England. Burnet has defeuded the article concerning predestination. The greatest part of the first English reformers were, says Mosheim, absolute Sublap- sarians. James I. censured a preacher, Ed. Symson, for advancing Bome Arminian tenets, 1616, and he was forced to make a public recantation before the king. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 176. Because of Wickliff' a brood] Wickliff flourished about the year 1384. John Husk, 1415. Jerome of Prague, 1415. This great triumvirate, we should remember, sowed the first seeds of that reformation, of which Luther and Calvin have alone reaped the glory, and of which our countryman had the honour of being the first. To whom justice is done by the learned and candid Mosheim, in his excellent Ecclesiastical History, much improved by the translation of the learned Mr. Maclain. Among all the enemies of the Mendicant orders, none has been transmitted to posterity with'more exalted encomiums on the one band, or blacker calumnies on the other, than John Wickliff, professor of divinity at Oxford, and after- wards rector of Lutterworth; who, according to the testi- mony of the writers of these times, was a man of an enter- prising genius, and extraordinary learning. In the year 1360, animated by the example of Richard, archbishop of Armagh, he first of all defended the statutes and privileges of the university of Oxford against all the orders of the Mendicants, and had the courage to throw out some slight reproofs against the popes, their principal patrons, which no true Briton ever imputed to him as a crime. After this, in the year 1367, he was deprived of the wardenship of Canterbury-hall, in the university of Oxford, by Simon Langham, archbishop of Canterbury, who substituted a monk in his place : upon which he appealed to pope Urban V., who confirmed the sentence of the archbishop against him, on account of the freedom with which he had inveighed ' against the monastic orders. Highly exasperated at this treatment, he threw off all restraint, and not only attacked all the monks, and their scandalous irregularities, but even the pontifical power itself, and other ecclesiastical abuses, both in his sermons and writiugs. From hence he pro- ceeded to yet greater lengths, and, detesting the wretched superstition of the times, refuted, with great acuteness and spirit, the absurd notions that were generally received in religious matters, and not only exhorted the laity to study the scriptures, but also translated into English these divine books, in order to render the perusal of them more universal. Though neither the doctrine of Wickliff was void of error, nor his life without reproach, yet it must be confessed that the changes he attempted to introduce, both in the faith and discipline of the Church, were, in many respects, wise, useful, and salutary. The monks, whom Wickliff had principally exasperated, commenced a violent prosecution against him at the court of Gregory XI., who, in the year 1377, ordered Simon Sudbury, archbishop of Canterbury, to take cognizance of the affair, in a council held at London. Imminent as this danger evidently was, Wickliff escaped it by the interest of the Duke of Lancaster, and some other peers, who had a high regard for him. And soon after the death of Gregory XI. the fatal schism of the Romish church commenced, during which there was one pope at Rome and another at Avignon ; so that, of course, this controversy lay dormant a long time. But no sooner was this embroiled state of affairs tolerably settled, than the process against him was 106 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. These last deduce him from the Helvetian kind, Who near the Leman lake hie consort lined : That fiery Zuinglius first the affection bred, 180 And meagre Calvin bless'd the nuptial bed. In Israel some believe him whelp'd long since, When the proud Sanhedrim oppress'd the prince, Or, since he will be Jew, derive him higher, When Corah with his brethren did conspire 18& From Moses* hand the sovereign sway to wrest, And Aaron of his ephod to devest : Till opening earth made way for all to pass, And could not bear the burden of a class. revived by "William de Courtenay, archbishop of Canter- bury, in the year 1385, and was carried on with great vehe- mence in two councils held at London and Oxford. The event was, that of the twenty-three opinions for which Wickliff had been prosecuted by the monks, ten were con- demned as heresies, and thirteen as errors. He himself, however, returned in safety to Lutterworth, where he died peaceably in the year 1387. This latter attack was much more dangerous than the former ; but by what means he got safely through it, whether by interest of the court, or by denying or abjuring his opinions, is to this day a secret. He left many followers in England, and other countries, who were styled Wickliffites and Lollards, which last was a term of popular reproach, translated from the Flemish tongue into English. Wherever they could be found, they were terribly persecuted by the inquisitors, and other instruments of papal vengeance; and, in the Council of Constance, in the year 1415, the memory and opinions of Wickliff were condemned by a solemn decree ; and about thirteen years after, his bones were dug up, and publicly burnt. Of all the reformers, Melancthon appears to have been the most elegant scholar, and to have had the best taste. His Latin translation of Euripides was excellent. Father Paul valued Occam above all the schoolmen. Luther objected to preaching on the Apocalypse. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 180. That fiery Zuinglius] His conduct and share in the Reformation is thus impartially stated by Mosheim : — " While the credit and authority of the Roman pontiff was thus upon the decline in Germany, they received a mortal wound in Switzerland from Ulric Zuingle, a canon of Zurich, whose extensive learning and uncommon saga- city were accompanied with the most heroic intrepidity and resolution. It must even be acknowledged, that this eminent man had perceived some rays of the truth before Luther came to an open rupture with the Church of Rome. He was, however, afterwards still farther animated by the example, and instructed by the writings, of the Saxon re- former ; and thus his zeal for the good cause acquired new strength and vigour. For he not only explained the sacred writings in his public discourses to the people, but also gave, in the year 1519, a signal proof of his courage, by opposing, with the greatest resolution and success, the ministry of a certain Italian monk, whose name was Samson, and who was carrying on, in Switzerland, the impious traffic of indulgences, with the same impudence that Tetzel had done in Germany. This was the first re- markable event that prepared the way for the reformation among the Helvetic cantons. In process of time, Zuingle pursued, with steadiness and resolution, the design that he had begun with such courage and success. His noble efforts were seconded by some other learned men, educated in Germany, who became his colleagues, and the com- panions of his labours, and who, jointly with him, succeeded so far in removing the credulity of a deluded people, that the pope's supremacy was rejected and denied in the greatest part of Switzerland. It is indeed to be observed, that Zuingle did not always use the same methods of con- version that were employed by Luther ; nor, upon particular occasions, did he discountenance the use of violent measures against such as adhered with obstinacy to the superstitions of their ancestors. He is also said to have attributed to the civil magistrate such an extensive power in ecclesiastical affairs as is quite inconsistent with the essence and genius of religion. But, upon the whole, even envy must acknow- ledge, that his intentions were upright, and his designs worthy of the highest approbation." Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 183. When the proud Sanhedrim, &c.] On this line, in the original edition, the following marginal note occurs : — " Vid. Pre/, to Heyl. Sist. of Fresh." Todd. Ver. 187. of his ephod to devest :] Thus the orig. edit., and rightly. Todd. The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark, 19 ° If ever they were stow*d in Noah's ark : Perhaps not made ; for all their barking train The Dog (a common species) will contain. And some wild curs, who from their masters ran, Abhorring the supremacy of man, 19S In woods and caves the rebel-race began. happy pair, how well have you increased ! What ills in Church and State have you redress'd ! With teeth untried, and rudiments of claws, Tour first essay was on your native laws : 20 ° Those having torn with ease, and trampled down, Your fangs you fasten'd on the mitred crown, And freed from God and monarchy your town. What though your native kennel still be small, Bounded betwixt a puddle and a wall j 20s Yet your victorious colonies are sent Where the north ocean girds the continent. Quicken'd with fire below, your monsters breed In fenny Holland, and in fruitful Tweed : And, like the first, the last affects to be 210 Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. As, where in fields the fairy rounds are seen, A rank sour herbage rises on the green ; So, springing where those midnight elves advance, Rebellion prints the footsteps of the dance. 21S Such are their doctrines, such contempt they show To Heaven above, and to their prince below, As none but traitors and blasphemers know. God, like the tyrant of the skies, is placed, And kings, like slaves, beneath the crowd debased. 220 So fulsome is their food, that flocks refuse To bite, and only dogs for physic use. As, where the lightning runs along the ground, No husbandry can heal the blasting wound ; Nor bladed grass, nor bearded corn succeeds, a2s But scales of scurf and putrefaction breeds : Such wars, such waste, such fiery tracks of dearth Their zeal has left, and such a teemless earth. But, as the poisons of the deadliest kind Are to their own unhappy coasts confined ; ®° As only Indian shades of sight deprive, And magic plants will but in Colchos thrive ; So Presbytery and pestilential zeal Can only flourish in a commonweal. From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew ; But ah ! some pity e'en to brutes is due : 236 Ver. 216. Such are their doctrines,'] He does not mention John Huss and Jerome of Prague, two chief promoters of the Reformation. L' Enfant, in his History of the War of the Hussites, says, that two English students becoming ac- quainted with John Huss at Prague, having painted, in the- porch of their house, a representation of our Saviour entering into Jerusalem upon an ass, with crowds following him on foot, and on the other side the pope riding a horse magnificently caparisoned, and attended with guards, drums, and hautboys, Huss was so delighted with this pic- ture, that he mentioned and commended it in his sermons, and the whole city crowded to see it. This was the begin- ning of John Huss's attachment to the opinions of Wickliff. Dr. J. Warton. Ver. 235. From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew, ;] This passage alludeB to the revocation of the edict of Nantz, by which two millions of the Reformed Church were pro- scribed, and two hundred thousand drove into foreign coun- tries ; a proceeding that must throw an eternal blemish on the reign of Louis XIV. The remainder of this paragraph does great honour to Dryden, as it manifests, that whatever faults he had, a-, persecuting spiiitwas not one of them. Derrick. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. 107 Their native walks, methinks, they might enjoy, Curb'd of their native malice to destroy. Of all the tyrannies on human kind, The worst is that which persecutes the mind, >* Let us but weigh at what offence we strike ; "Tis but because we cannot think alike. In punishing of this, we overthrow The laws of nations and of nature too. Beasts are the subjects of tyrannic sway, w Where still the stronger on the weaker prey. Man only of a softer mould is made, Not for his fellows' ruin, but their aid : Created kind, beneficent and free, The noble image of the Deity. ao One portion of informing fire was given To brutes, the inferior family of Heaven : The Smith Divine, as with a careless beat, Struck out the mute creation at a heat : But, when arrived at last to human race, "" The Godhead took a deep considering space ; And, to distinguish man from all the rest, Unlock'd the sacred treasures of his breast ; And mercy mix'd with reason did impart, One to his head, the other to his heart : "" Beason to rule, but mercy to forgive : The first is law, the last prerogative. And like his mind his outward form appear'd, When, issuing naked, to the wondering herd, He charm'd their eyes ; and, for they loved, they fear'd : ** Not arm'd with horns of arbitrary might, Or claws to seize their furry spoils in fight, Or with increase of feet to o'ertake them in their flight: Of easy shape, and pliant every way ; Confessing still the softness of his clay, "" And kind as kings upon their coronation day : With open hands, and with extended space Of arms, to satisfy a large embrace. Thus kneaded up with milk, the new-made man His kingdom o'er his kindred world began : W5 Till knowledge misapplied, misunderstood, And pride of empire sour'd his balmy blood. Then, first rebelling, his own stamp he coins ; The murderer Cain was latent in his loins : And blood began its first and loudest cry, 28 ° For differing worship of the Deity. Thus persecution rose, and farther space Produced the mighty hunter of his race. Not so the blessed Pan his flock increased, Content to fold them from the famish'd beast : 285 Mild were his laws; the Sheep and harmless Hind Were never of the persecuting kind. Such pity now the pious pastor shows, Such mercy from the British Lion flows, That both provide protection from their foes. 3S0 Oh happy regions, Italy and Spain, Which never did those monsters entertain ! The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance No native claim of just inheritance ; And self-preserving laws, severe in show, as May guard their fences from the invading foe. Where birth has placed them, let them safely share The common benefit of vital air. Ver. 290. protection from their foes.~} The original edition has — protection for their foes. Todd. ^Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd ; Their jaws disabled and their claws disarm'd : m Here, only in nocturnal howlings bold, They dare not seize the Hind, nor leap the fold. More powerful, and as vigilant as they, The Lion awfully forbids the prey. Their rage repressM though pinch'd with famine sore, ** They stand aloof, and tremble at his roar : Much is their hunger, but their fear is more. These are the chief : to number o'er the rest, And stand, like Adam, naming every beast, Were weary work : nor will the Muse describe m A slimy-born and sun-begotten tribe ; Who, far from steeples and their sacred sound, In fields their sullen conventicles found. These gross, half-animated lumps I leave ; Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive. But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher 316 Than matter, put in motion, may aspire : Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay : So drossy, so divisible are they, As would but serve pure bodies for allay : 3ao Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things As only buzz to heaven with evening wings ; Strike in the dark, offending but by chance, Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance. They know not beings, and but hate a name ; S2S To them the Hind and Panther are the same. The Panther, sure the noblest, next the Hind, And fairest creature of the spotted kind ; Oh, could her in-born stains be wash'd away, She were too good to be a beast of prey ! sa " How can I praise, or blame, and not offend, Or how divide the frailty from the friend 1 Her faults and virtues lie so mix'd, that she Nor wholly stands condemn'd, nor wholly free, Then, like her injured Lion, let me speak ; ™ He cannot bend her, and he would not break. Unkind already, and estranged in part, The Wolf begins to share her wandering heart. Though unpolluted yet with actual ill, She half commits, who sins but in her will. 34 ° If, as our dreaming Platonists report, There could be spirits of a middle sort, Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell, Who just dropp'd half way down, nor lower fell ; So poised, so gently she descends from high, Ms It seems a soft dismission from the sky. Her house not ancient, whatsoe'er pretence Her clergy heralds make in her defence ; A second century not half-way run, Since the new honours of her blood begun. 36 ° A Lion, old, obscene, and furious made By lust, compress'd her mother in a shade ; Then, by a left-hand marriage, weds the dame, Covering adultery with a specious name : So Schism begot ; and Sacrilege and she, M A well-match'd pair, got graceless Heresy. God's and kings' rebels have the same good cause, To trample down divine and human laws : Ver. 339. Though unpolluted yet Kith actual Ul, She half commits, who sins but in her will.'] So the energetic moralist Juvenal : " Nam scelus intra se taciturn qui cogitet ullum Facti crimen habet."— Sat. xiii. 209. John Warton. Ver. 354. Covering adultery with a specious name ;] " Con- jugium vocat, hoc pnetexit nomine culpam." — Virgil. .£neid. iv. John Wabton. 108 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. Both would be call'd reformers, and their hate ■ Alike destructive both to Church and State : S6 ° The fruit proclaims the plant ; a lawless prince By luxury reform'd incontinence ; By ruins, charity ; by riots, abstinence. Confessions, fasts, and penance set aside ; Oh, with what ease we follow such a guide, 36s Where souls are starved, and senses gratified ! Where marriage-pleasures midnight prayer supply, And matin bells (a melancholy cry) Are tuned to merrier notes, Increase and multiply. Religion shows a rosy-colour'd face ; w Not hatter'd out with drudging works of grace : A down,-hill reformation rolls apace. What flesh and blood would crowd the narrow _ gate, Or, till they waste their pamper'd paunches, wait? All would be happy at the cheapest rate. ^ 5 Though our lean faith these rigid laws has given, The full-fed Mussulman goes fat to heaven ; For his Arabian prophet with delights Of sense allured his eastern proselytes. The jolly Luther, reading him, began m To interpret Scriptures by his Alcoran ; To grub the thorns beneath our tender feet, And make the paths of Paradise more sweet : Bethought him of a wife ere half-way gone, For 'twas uneasy travelling alone ; 38 - 5 And, in this masquerade of mirth and love, Mistook the bliss of heaven for Bacchanals above. Sure he presumed of praise, who came to stock The ethereal pastures with so fair a flock, Burnish'd, and battening on their food, to show Their diligence of careful herds below. 391 Ver. 380. The jolly Luther^] This is a very undeserved and depreciating epithet applied to this great reformer. In the judicious reflections which my learned and ingenious friend Dr. Sturges has made, on what Mr. Milner calls a HiBtory of "Winchester, hut which ought to have been en- titled, An Apology for Popery, with hints and hopes of its re-estahlishment in this country, there is a character of Luther drawn with such truth, and so masterly a pencil, that I shall here give the reader the pleasure of considering it, as an antidote to the severe sarcasms scattered up and down in this poem by Dryden against this extraordinary man. " It required a degree of perseverance and intrepidity net less than that of which Luther was possessed, to make him engage in the arduous contest, to support him through- out its continuance, and finally to give him such success in it, as to carry off from the allegiance of Rome, either under his own immediate standard, or that of the allies connected with him by a common cause, so large a proportion of her subjects. For to him must he in great measure attributed all the branches of the Reformation, which spread over the different parts of Europe, after be had planted it in Ger- many. A wonderful achievement this, for a private German monk ; and an instance, amongst many others, with what inconsiderable and apparently inadequate instruments the most important purposes of Providence are accomplished. Luther was in his manners and writings coarse, presuming, and impetuous; but these were qualities allied to those which alone made him capable of supporting well the ex- traordinary character in which he appeared. I have always been struck with his translating the whole Bible into Ger- man, which is a classical book in that language, and has, I believe, as a translation, maintained high credit down to later times, as a singular proof of learning and ability. "Whoever well considers the difficulty of one man's executing such a work at a period when the knowledge of the original language was rare, and the assistances of sacred criticism and literature (which have been since so much multiplied) were inconsiderable and scanty, will probably be inclined to agree with me in this opinion." Dr. J. "Warton. Ver. 391. Their diligence, &c.] The diligence, &c. Ori- ginal edition. Todd. Our Panther, though like these she changed her head, Yet, as the mistress of a monarch's bed, Her front erect with majesty she bore, The crosier wielded, and the mitre wore. 39s Her upper part of decent discipline Show'd affectation of an ancient line ; And Fathers, Councils, Church and Church's head, Were on her reverend phylacteries read. But what disgraced and disavov/d the rest, *"> Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatised the beast. Thus, like a creature of a double kind, In her own labyrinth she lives confined. To foreign lands no sound of her is come, Humbly content to be despised at home. ** Such is her faith, where good cannot be had, At least she leaves the refuse of the bad : Nice in her choice of ill, though not of best, And least deform'd, because reform'd the least. In doubtful points betwixt her differing friends, 410 Where one for substance, one for sign contends, Their contradicting terms she strives to join; Sign shall be substance, substance shall be sign. A real presence all her sons allow, v And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow, 415 Because the Godhead's there they know not how. Her novices are taught that bread and wine Are but the visible and outward sign, Received by those who in communion join. But the inward grace, or the thing signified, m His blood and body, who to save us died ; The faithful this thing signified receive ; What is 't those faithful then partake or leave ? For what is signified and understood, Is, by her own confession, flesh and blood. 425 Then, by the same acknowledgment, we know They take the sign, and take the substance too. The literal sense is hard to flesh and blood, But nonsense never can be understood. Her wild belief on every wave is toss'd ; 43 ° But sure no church can better morals boast : True to her king her principles are found ; Oh, that her practice were but half so sound ! Steadfast in various turns of state she stood, And seal'd her voVd affection with her blood : 435 Nor will I meanly tax her constancy, That interest or ohligement made the tie, Bound to the fate of murder'd monarchy. Ver. 409. And least deform'd, because reform'd the least.] Original edition. Derrick has — because deformed the least. Todd. Ver. 411. one for substance, one for sign contends?] Luther asserted the real presence under the different sub- stances of bread and of wine ; but this only in the act of receiving the sacrament : whereas Zuinglius affirmed, that the bread and wine, or the elements, were only types, the figure and representation of the body and blood of Christ. Derrick. Ver. 429. But nonsense] The unparalleled absurdity and impiety of Borne questions proposed to be discussed in the schools, makes one shudder to read them, and improper to translate. — They are to he found in the third volume of Henry Stephens's Apology for Herodotus, p. 127. " Utrum Deus potuerit suppositare mulierem, vel diabohim, vel asinum, vel silicem, vel cucurbitam : et si suppositasset cucurbitam, quemadmodum fuerit concionatura, editura mi- racula, et quonam modo fuisset fixa cruci." Dr. J ."Warton. Ver. 430. Her wild belief on every wave is toss'd;] St. Paul, Eph. iv. 14. St. James, 1.6. — "He that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed'' ■ John Warton. Ver. 436. Nor will I meanly tax her constancy,] " No King, no Bishop ! " was a common saying in King Charles the THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. 109 Before the sounding axe so falls the vine, Whose tender branches round the poplar twine ; 44 ° She chose her ruin, and resign'd her life, In death undaunted as an Indian wife : A rare example ! but some souls we see Grow hard, and stiffen with adversity : Yet these by fortune's favours are undone ; 445 Resolved, into a baser form they run, And bore the wind, but cannot bear the sun. Let this be Nature's frailty, or her fate, Or * Isgrim's counsel, her new-chosen mate ; Still she 's the fairest of the fallen crew, 45 ° No mother more indulgent, but the true. Fierce to her foes, yet fears her force to try, Because she wants innate authority ; For how can she constrain them to obey, Who has herself cast off the lawful sway ? 45S Rebellion equals all, and those, who toil In common theft, will share the common spoil. Let her produce the title and the right Against her old superiors first to fight ; If she reform by text, e'en that 's as plain 46 ° For her own rebels to reform again, As long as words a different sense will bear, And each may be his own interpreter, Our airy faith will no foundation find : The word 's a weathercock for every wind : 4K The Bear, the Fox, the Wolf, by turns prevail ; The most in power supplies the present gale. The wretched Panther cries aloud for aid To Church and Councils, whom she first betray 'd ; No help from Fathers or Tradition's train : *™ Those ancient guides she taught us to disdain, And by that Scripture, which she once abused To reformation, stands herself accused. What bills for breach of laws can she prefer, Expounding which she owns herself may err 1 475 And, after all her winding ways are tried, If doubts arise, she slips herself aside, And leaves the private conscience for the guide. If then that conscience set the offender free, It bars her claim to Church authority. 4a0 How can she censure, or what crime pretend, But Scripture may be construed to defend 1 E'en those, whom for rebellion she transmits To civil power, her doctrine first acquits ; Because no disobedience can ensue, 48s Where no submission to a judge is due ; Each judging for himself, by her consent, Whom thus absolved she sends to punishment. Suppose the magistrate revenge her cause, 'Tis only for transgressing human laws. 49 ° First's time, and sufficiently verified during the interreg- num. This whole passage is a real compliment to the Church as by law established ; and shows that Dryden could speak impartially even of a cause that he had de- serted ; which cause he handsomely compares to ver. 442. an Indian wife:} Whose constancy is become a proverb : since when their deceased husbands are either to be buried or burned, to manifest their affection, they throw themselves either into the same grave, or on the funeral pile: Derrick. Ibid. In death undaunted as an Indian wife :] This bar- barous custom haB perhaps never been so well described as in the following lines of Propertius, 10th Elegy, 15 v. 3 lib. " Felix Eois lex funeris una mantis, " &c. &c. John Warton. Ver. 447, And bore the wind, but cannot bear the sun^\ An allusion to an J Esopic fable, to which he alludes again with more force and elegance in his character of the Good Far- son, where see the note. John Warton. * The wolf. Orig. edit How answering to its end a Church is made, Whose power is but to counsel and persuade ? Oh solid rock, on which secure she stands ! Eternal house, not built with mortal hands ! Oh sure defence against the infernal gate, 49S A patent during pleasure of the state ! Thus is the Panther neither loved nor fea/d, A meer mock queen of a divided herd ; Whom soon by lawful power she might con- trol, Herself a part submitted to the whole. so ° Then, as the moon who first receives the light By which she makes our nether regions bright, So might she shine, reflecting from afar The rays she borrow'd from a better star ; Big with the beams, which from her mother flow, m And reigning o'er the rising tides below : Now, mixing with a savage crowd, she goes, And meanly flatters her inveterate foes, Ruled while she rules, and losing every hour Her wretched remnants of precarious power. s '° One evening, while the cooler shade she sought, Revolving many a melancholy thought, Alone she walk'd, and look'd around in vain, With rueful visage, for her vanish'd train : None of her sylvan subjects made their court ; 5,s Levees and couchees pass'd without resort. So hardly can usurpers manage well Those whom they first instructed to rebel. More liberty begets desire for more ; The hunger still increases with the store. 5M Without respect they brush'd along the wood, Each in his clan, and, fill'd with loathsome food, Ask'd no permission to the neighbouring flood. The Panther, full of inward discontent, Since they would go, before them wisely went ; 626 Supplying want of power by drinking first ; As if she gave them leave to quench their thirst. Among the rest, the Hind, with fearful face, Beheld from far the common watering place, Nor durst approach ; till with an awful roar 63 ° The sovereign Lion bade her fear no more. Encouraged thus, she brought her younglings nigh, Watching the motions of her patron's eye, And drank a sober draught ; the rest amazed Stood mutely still, and on the stranger gazed ; 63s SurveyM her part by part, and sought to find The ten-horn'd monster in the harmless Hind, Such as the Wolf and Panther had design'd. They thought at first they dream'd; for 'twas offence With them to question certitude of sense, m Their guide in faith : but nearer when they drew, And had the faultless object full in view, Lord, how they all admired her heavenly hue ! Some, who before her fellowship disdain'd, Scarce, and but scarce, from in-born rage re- strain'd, s 44 Now frisk'd about her, and old kindred feign'd. Whether for love or interest, every sect Of all the savage nation showM respect. The viceroy Panther could not awe the herd ; The more the company, the less they fear'd. i5 ° The surly Wolf with secret envy burst, Yet could not howl ; the Hind had seen him first : But what he durst not speak, the Panther durst. For when the herd, sufficed, did late repair To ferny heaths, and to their foreBt lair, 65S 110 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. She made a mannerly excuse to stay, Proffering the Hind to wait her half the way : That, since the sky was clear, an hour of talk Might help her to beguile the tedious walk. With much good-will the motion was embraced, To chat a while on their adventures past : 661 Nor had the grateful Hind so soon forgot Her friend and fellow-sufferer in the plot. Yet wondering how of late she grew estranged, Her forehead cloudy, and her countenance changed, 56s She thought this hour the occasion would pre- sent To learn her secret cause of discontent, Which well she hoped might be with ease re- dress'd, Considering her a well-bred civil beast, And more a gentlewoman than the rest. 5?0 After some common talk what rumours ran, The lady of the spotted muff began. THE SECOND PART. Dame, said the Panther, times are mended well/ Since late among the Philistines you fell. The toils were pitch'd, a spacious tract of ground W 6 With expert huntsmen was encompass'd round ; The inclosure narrow'd; the sagacious power Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour. 'Tis true, the younger Lion 'scaped the snare, But all your priestly calves lay struggling there ; 680 As sacrifices on their altars laid ; While you, their careful mother, wisely fled, Not trusting destiny to save your heai For, whate'er promises you have applied To your unfailing Church, the surer side ss5 Is four fair legs in danger to provide. And whate'er tales of Peter's chair you tell, Yet, saving reverence of the miracle, The better luck was yours to 'scape so well. As I remember, said the sober Hind, ° 90 These toils were for your own dear self design'd, As well as me ; and with the self-same throw, To catch the quarry and the vermin too. (Forgive the slanderous tongues that call'd you so.) Howe'er you take it now, the common cry 59s Then ran you down for your rank loyalty. Besides, in Popery they thought you nursed, -. (As evil tongues will ever speak the worst,) Because some forms, and ceremonies some 6 " You kept, and stood in the main question dumb. Dumb you were born indeed ; but thinking long, The Test, it seems, at last has loosed your tongue. Ver. 562. Nor had the grateful Hind so soon forgot Her friend and fellow-sufferer in the plat.] The Popish plot ; the contrivers of which were Presby- terians, Latitudinarians, and Republicans, who had before shown themselves enemies to the Protestant as well aB the Popish Church. This explanation is farther confirmed in our notes on Absalom and Achitophel, and those on the Medal. Derrick. Ver. 602. The Test, it seems, at last has loosed your tongue.'] And to explain what your forefathers meant By real presence in the sacrament, After long fencing push'd against a wall, 605 Your Balvo. comes, that he's not there at all : There changed your faith, and what may change may fall. Who can believe what varies every day, Nor ever was, nor will be at a stay? Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell, "» And I ne'er own'd myself infallible, Replied the Panther : grant such presence were, Yet in your sense I never own'd it there. A real virtue we by faith receive, And that we in the sacrament believe. 615 Then, said the Hind, as you the matter state, Not only Jesuits can equivocate ; For real, as you now the word expound, From solid substance dwindles to a sound. Methinks an jEsop's fable you repeat ; 620 You know who took the shadow for the meat : Your Church's substance thus you change at will, And yet retain your former figure still I freely grant you spoke to save your life ; For then you lay beneath the butcher's knife. w Long time you fought, redoubled battery bore. But, after all, against yourself you swore ; The Test act, passed in 1672-3, enjoined the abjuration of the real presence in the sacrament. Derrick. Ver. 609. Nor ever was, nor wiU he at a stay f] " And never continueth in one stay." — Burial Service. John Wabton. Ver. 617. Not only Jesuits] It is worth remarking that many years before the French Revolution, the greatest blow the Church of Rome ever received was by the expulsion of the large, and opulent, and able body of the Jesuits ; effected on the very same day in conjunction by the crowns of Spain, Portugal, and France, and authorized by the Pope himself. It is marvellous that this society could continue so long, after it had been so irresistibly exposed and sa- tirized by the wit, the eloquence, and the piety of Pascal. This perhaps is the most capital piece of controversy that ever was written. The Jesuits, when they were expelled, had long lost their character for literature. For near fifty years before this event, they had produced no extraordinary work, and had turned all their thoughts and abilities to mean court intrigues, and to various branches of commerce. It is well if they do not turn this very disposition to some unforeseen advantage, and disseminate principles, and form sects, injurious to the peace of society, and the liberty and prosperity of Europe. I beg leave to add, that among this learned body, I have always looked up to one with particular regard and respect; I mean, the great father Petau, of whom it is painful to add that he died in the Jesuits' College at Paris, abandoned and in want, for hav- ing said, that before the Council of Nice, the Church had not made any decision about the divinity of the Word. When Petau's physician told him on his death-bed he could not live two hours longer, " Then " said the father, " I beg you to accept of this book," giving him bis Rationarium Temporum, " for the messenger of good news should always be rewarded." The Abbe Boileau used to say of the Jesuits, " These gen- tlemen lengthen the creed, and shorten the decalogue." And in some MS. letters of Cardinal Fleury he says, " The Jesuits are excellent valets, but sad masters." " If the Jesuits," said Montesquieu, " had lived before Luther and Calvin, they would have been masters of the world." There was a college of ex-Jesuits still left at Rome, 1793, who were often consulted by Pope PiuB the Sixth, and the cardinals, particularly father Zacchariah, who was intimate with the Jacobin Mamuchi. Charles III., king of Spain, never forgave the Jesuits for spreading the report that he was the son of Cardinal Alberoni, and not of Philip the Fifth. These Jesuits at Rome attributed the French re- volution to their expulsion: saying, that they were the only, order that kept alive and propagated the principles of the Christian religion. Dr. J. Wahton. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. Ill Tour former self : for every hour your form Is chopp'd and changed, like winds before a storm. Thus fear and interest will prevail with some ; Or deviate from undoubted doctrine there, This oral fiction, that old faith declare. Hind. The Council steer'd, it seems, a, dif- ferent course : They tried the Scripture by tradition's force : But you tradition by the Scripture try ; " s5 Pursued by sects, from this to that you fly, Nor dare on one foundation to rely. The word is then deposed, and in this view,^^ You rule the Scripture, not the Scripture you. ^ Thus said the dame, and, smiling, thus pursued : I see, tradition then is disallow'd, 761 which enjoined every priest to keep a concubine, to prevent their attacking their neighbours' wives. See Father Paul, Book 1. Dr. J. "Warton. Ver. 714. Misjoins the sacred] Transubstantiation is a doctrine so marvellously absurd, that it deserves not to be treated in a serious, but only in a ludicrous way. When Anne Askew was put to the torture in the Tower, for being a Protestant, during the tyranny of Henry VIII., she ex- claimed, " I have taken pains to believe in God who made the world, and all men in it ; but cannot be easily persuaded that man was quits, and made Gad again" Christianity will never make any progress in the East Indies, wherever any missionary preaches this doctrine. A gentleman who had re- sided at Benares told me, that a sensible Brahmin said one day to him, " You see I abstaiu from all animal food ; but you, dreadful and blasphemous idea ! say you eat your own God." Dr. J. Waetoh. Ver. 730. to that the rebel, &c.] To those the rebel, &c. Orig. edit. Todd. When not evinced by Scripture to be true, And Scripture, as interpreted by you. But here you tread upon unfaithful ground ; Unless you could infallibly expound : 766 Which you reject as odious Popery, And throw, that doctrine back with scorn on me. Suppose we on things traditive divide, And both appeal to Scripture to decide ; By various texts we both uphold our claim, 77 ° Nay, often, ground our titles on the same : After long labour lost, and time's expense, Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense. Thus all disputes for ever must depend ; For no dumb rule can controversies end. ?7 ° Thus, when you said, Tradition must be tried By sacred writ, whose sense yourselves decide, You said no more, but that yourselves must be The judges of the Scripture sense, not we. Against our Church-tradition you declare, ?a0 And yet your clerks would sit in Moses' chair : At least 'tis proved against your argument, The rule is far from plain, where all dissent. — If not by Scriptures, how can we be sure, Replied the Panther, what tradition 's pure 1 78S For you may palm upon us new for old : All, as they say, that glitters, is not gold. How but by following her, replied the dame, To whom derived from sire to son they came ; Where every age does on another move, 79 ° And trusts no farther than the next above ; Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise, The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skies. Sternly the savage did her answer mark, Her glowing eyeballs glittering in the dark, W And said but this : Since lucre was your trade, Succeeding times such dreadful gaps have made, 'Tis dangerous climbing : to your sons and you I leave the ladder, and its omen too. Hind. The Panther's breath was ever famed for sweet ; m But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet : You learn'd this language from the Blatant Beast, Or rather did not speak, but were possess'd. As for your answer, 'tis but barely urged ; You must evince tradition to be forged ; "^ Produce plain proofs ; unblemish'd authors use, As ancient as those ages they accuse ; 'Till when, 'tis not sufficient to defame : An old possession stands till elder quits the claim. Then for our interest, which is named alone 81 ° To load with envy, we retort your own. For when traditions in your faces fly, Resolving not to yield, you must decry. As, when the cause goes hard, the guilty man Excepts, and thins his jury all he can ; 81S So, when you stand of other aid bereft, You to the Twelve Apostles would be left. Ver. 802. You learn'd this language from the Blatant Beast,'] Spenser, in his excellent poem, called " The Fairy Queen," shadows the moral virtues under the fictitious names of gallant heroes ; and some of the worst vices, (in regard they are most opposite to rational nature) under the counterfeit names of certain monstrous brutes ; particularly he represents that pernicious vice of calumny or slander, by a deformed creature, which he calls The Blatant Beast; whose property it was to defame all states and sorts of mankind, not sparing even princes, nor leaving the clear- est honour untainted, that came within the steam of its contagious breath. Derrick. THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. 113 Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide To set those toys, traditions, quite aside ; And Fathers too, unless when, reason spent, m He cites them but sometimes for ornament. But, madam Panther, you, though more sincere, Are not so wise as your adulterer : The private spirit is a better blind, 824 Than all the dodging tricks your authors find. For they, who left the Scripture to the crowd, Each for his own peculiar judge allow'd ; The way to please them was to make them proud. Thus, with full sails, they ran upon the shelf; Who could suspect a cozenage from himself? m On his own reason safer 'tis to stand, Than be deceived and damn'd at second hand. But you, who Fathers and traditions take, And garble some, and some you quite forsake, Pretending Church-authority to fix, "^ And yet some grains of private spirit mix, Are, like a mule, made up of differing seed, And that 's the reason why you never breed ; At least not propagate your kind abroad, For home-dissenters are by statutes awed. m And yet they grow upon you every day, While you, to speak the best, are at a stay, For sects, that are extremes, abhor a middle way. Like tricks of state, to stop a raging flood, Or mollify a mad-brain'd senate's mood : 8ii Of all expedients never one was good. Well may they argue, (nor can you deny) If we must fix on Church-authority, Best on the best, the fountain, not the flood ; That must be better still, if this be good. 85 ° Shall she command, who has herself rebell'd ? Is Antichrist by Antichrist expell'd ? Did we a lawful tyranny displace, To set aloft a bastard of the race ? Why all these wars to win the book, if we s55 Must not interpret for ourselves, but she 1 Either be wholly slaves, or wholly free. For purging fires traditions must not fight ; But they must prove episcopacy's right. Thus those led horses are from service freed ; 8S0 You never mount them but in time of need. Like mercenaries, hired for home defence, They will not serve against their native prince. Against domestic foes of hierarchy These are drawn forth, to make fanatics fly ; S65 But, when they see their countrymen at hand, Marching against them under Church-command, Straight they forsake their colours, and disband. Thus she, nor could the Panther well enlarge With weak defence against so strong a charge ; *" But said : For what did Christ his word provide, If still his Church must want a living guide ? And if all saving doctrines are not there, Or sacred penmen could not make them clear, From after-ages we should hope in vain 8 ' 5 For truths, which men inspired could not explain. Before the word was written, said the Hind, Our Saviour preach'd his faith to human kind : From his apostles the first age received Eternal truth, and what they taught believed. Ver. 840. home-dissenters are by statutes awed,"] When Dryden wrote this, the penal statutes against dis- senters were not repealed. Derrick. Ver. 868. forsake their colours, &c.] Orig. edit. Derrick reads — forsake their color, Todd. Thus by tradition faith was planted first ; s 81 Succeeding flocks succeeding pastors nursed. This was the way our wise Redeemer chose, (Who sure could all things for the best dispose) To fence his fold from their encroaching foes. 885 He could have writ himself, but well foresaw The event would be like that of Moses' law; Some difference would arise, some doubts remain, Like those which yet the jarring Jews maintain. No written laws can be so plain, so pure, 890 But wit may gloss, and malice may obscure ; Not those indited by his first command, A prophet graved the text, an angel held his hand. Thus faith was ere the written word appear'd, And men believed, not what they read, but heard. ^ But since the apostles could not be confined To these, or those, but severally design'd Their large commission round the world to blow, To spread their faith, they spread their labours too. Yet still their absent flock their pains did share ; They hearken'd still, for love produces care. m And, as mistakes arose, or discords fell, Or bold seducers taught them to rebel, As charity grew cold, or faction hot, Or long neglect their lessons had forgot, sos For all their wants they wisely did provide, And preaching by epistles was supplied : So great physicians cannot all attend, But some they visit, and to some they send. Yet all those letters were not writ to all ; 910 Nor first intended but occasional, Their absent sermons ; nor if they contain All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain. Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought ; They writ but seldom, but they daily taught. 916 And what one saint has said of holy Paul, " He darkly writ," is true applied to all. For this obscurity could Heaven provide More prudently than by a living guide, As doubts arose, the difference to decide % K0 A guide was therefore needful, therefore made ; And, if appointed, sure to be obey'd. Thus, with due reverence to the apostles' writ, By which my sons are taught, to which submit ; I think, those truths, their sacred works contain, The Church alone can certainly explain ; 926 That following ages, leaning on the past, May rest upon the primitive at last. Nor would I thence the word no rule infer, But none without the Church-interpreter. 93 ° Because, as I have urged before, 'tis mute, And is itself the subject of dispute. But what the apostles their successors taught, They to the next, from them to us is brought, The undoubted sense which is in Scripture sought. ms From hence the Church is arm'd, when errors rise, To stop their entrance, and prevent surprise ; And, safe entrench'd within, her foes without defies. By these all festering sores her councils heal, Which time or has disclosed, or shall reveal ; °*> For discord cannot end without a last appeal Nor can a council national decide, But with subordination to her guide : (I wish the cause were on that issue tried.) 114 THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate W5 Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate, Bequeathed by some legator's last intent ; (Such is our dying Saviour's testament :) The will is proved, is open'd, and is read ; The doubtful heirs their differing titles plead : 9S0 All vouch the words their interest to maintain, And each pretends by those his cause is plain. Shall then the Testament award the right ? No, that 's the Hungary for which they fight ; The field of battle, subject of debate ; 955 The thing contended for, the fair estate. The sense is intricate, 'tis only clear What vowels and what consonants are there. Therefore 'tis plain, its meaning must be tried Before some judge appointed to decide. 96 ° Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant, The faithful flock some living guide should want, Your arguments an endless chace pursue : Produce this vaunted leader to our view, This mighty Moses of the chosen crew. s