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So, when a lion shakes his dreadful mane,
And angry grows, if he that first took pain
To tame his youth, approach the haughty beast,
He bends to him, but frights away the rest.

As the vex'd world, to find repose, at last
Itself into Augustus' arms did cast;
So England now does, with like toil opprest,
Her weary head upon your bosom rest.

Then let the Muses, with such notes as these,
Instruct us what belongs unto our peace!
Your battles they hereafter shall indite,
And draw the image of our Mars in fight;

Tell of towns storm'd, of armies over-run,
And mighty kingdoms by your conduct won;
How, while you thunder'd, clouds of dust did choke
Contending troops, and seas lay hid in smoke.

Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse,
And every conqueror creates a Muse:
Here in low strains your milder deeds we sing :
But there, my lord! we'll bays and olive bring

To crown your head, while you in triumph ride
O'er vanquish'd nations, and the sea beside;
While all your neighbor princes unto you,
Like Joseph's sheaves, pay reverence and bow.

Verse, thus design'd, has no ill fate,
If it arrive but at the date
Of fading beauty, if it prove
But as long-liv'd as present love.




THYRSIS, a youth of the inspired train,
Fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain :
Like Phoebus sung the no less amorous boy;
Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy!
With numbers he the flying nymph pursues;
With numbers, such as Phoebus' self might use !
Such is the chase, when Love and Fancy leads,
O'er craggy mountains, and through flowery meads;
Invok'd to testify the lover's care,

Or form some image of his cruel fair.
Urg'd with his fury, like a wounded deer,
O'er these he fled; and now, approaching near,
Had reach'd the nymph with his harmonious lay,
Whom all his charms could not incline to stay.
Yet, what he sung in his immortal strain,
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain:
All, but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion, and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arms with bays.

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Beauty like a shadow flies,
And our youth before us dies.
Or, would youth and beauty stay,
Love hath wings, and will away.
Love hath swifter wings than Time;
Change in love to Heaven does climb:
Gods, that never change their state,
Vary oft their love and hate.

Phyllis to this truth we owe
All the love betwixt us two:
Let not you and I inquire,
What has been our past desire;

On what shepherd you have smil'd,
Or what nymphs I have beguil'd:
Leave it to the planets too,
What we shall hereafter do:

For the joys we now may prove,
Take advice of present love.


THAT, which her slender waist confin'd,
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer: My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:
Give me but what this ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the Sun goes round.


FAIREST piece of well-form'd earth!
Urge not thus your haughty birth;
The power which you have o'er us, lies
Not in your race, but in your eyes.
None but a prince!-Alas! that voice
Confines you to a narrow choice.
Should you no honey vow to taste,
But what the master-bees have plac'd
In compass of their cells, how small
A portion to your share would fall!

Nor all appear, among those few,
Worthy the stock from whence they grew
The sap, which at the root is bred,
In trees, through all the boughs is spread
But virtues, which in parent shine,
Make not like progress through the line.
"Tis not from whom, but where, we live:
The place does oft those graces give.
Great Julius, on the mountains bred,
A flock perhaps, or herd, had led;
He, that the world subdued, had been
But the best wrestler on the green.

"Tis art, and knowledge, which draw forth
The hidden seeds of native worth:
They blow those sparks, and make them rise
Into such flames as touch the skies.
To the old heroes hence was given
A pedigree, which reach'd to heaven:
Of mortal seed they were not held,
Which other mortals so excell'd.
And beauty too, in such excess
As yours, Zelinda! claims no less.
Smile but on me, and you shall scorn,
Henceforth, to be of princes born.

I can describe the shady grove,

Where your lov'd mother slept with Jove,
And yet excuse the faultless dame,

Caught with her spouse's shape and name:
Thy matchless form will credit bring
To all the wonders I shall sing.



CHLORIS, yourself you so excel,

When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, That, like a spirit, with this spell

Of my own teaching, I am caught.

That eagle's fate and mine are one,

Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espy'd a feather of his own,

Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

Had Echo with so sweet a grace Narcissus' loud complaints return'd, Not for reflection of his face,

But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.



JOHN DRYDEN was born, probably in 1631, in post of poet-laureate, to which was added the sinethe parish of Aldwincle-Allsaints, in Northampton- cure place of historiographer royal; the joint salashire. His father possessed a small estate, acted ries of which amounted to 2001.

as a justice of the peace during the usurpation, and The tragedies composed by Dryden were written seems to have been a Presbyterian. John, at a in his earlier periods, in rhyme, which circumstance proper age, was sent to Westminster school, of which probably contributed to the poetical rant by which Busby was then master; and was thence elected they were too much characterized. For the corto a scholarship in Trinity college, Cambridge. rection of this fault, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, He took his degrees of Bachelor and Master of Arts in conjunction with other wits, wrote the celebrated in the university; but though he had written two burlesque drama, entitled "The Rehearsal," of short copies of verses about the time of his admis- which Dryden, under the name of Bayes, was made sion, his name does not occur among the academi- the hero; and, in order to point the ridicule, his cal poets of this period. By his father's death, in dress, phraseology, and mode of recitation, were 1654, he succeeded to the estate, and, removing to exactly imitated by the actor. It does not, however, the metropolis, he made his entrance into public appear that his solid reputation as a poet was injured life, under the auspices of his kinsman, Sir Gilbert by this attack. He had the candor to acknowledge Pickering, one of Cromwell's council and house that several of the strokes were just, and he wisely of lords, and staunch to the principles then predom- refrained from making any direct reply. inant. On the death of Cromwell, Dryden wrote some "Heroic Stanzas," strongly marked by the loftiness of expression and variety of imagery which characterized his more mature efforts. They were, however, criticised with some severity.

In 1681, and, as it is asserted, at the king's express desire, he wrote his famous political poem, entitled "Absalom and Achitophel;" in which the incidents in the life of David were adapted to those of Charles II. in relation to the Duke of At the Restoration, Dryden lost no time in oblit- Monmouth and the Earl of Shaftesbury. Its poetry erating former stains; and, as far as it was possible, and its severity caused it to be read with great rendered himself peculiarly distinguished for the eagerness; and as it raised the author to high favor base servility of his strains. He greeted the king's with the court party, so it involved him in irreconreturn by a poem, entitled "Astræa Redux," which cilable enmity with its opponents. These feelings was followed by "A Panegyric on the Corona- were rendered more acute by his "Medal, a Satire tion:" nor did Lord Chancellor Clarendon escape on Sedition," written in the same year, on occasion his encomiastic lines. His marriage with Lady of a medal struck by the whigs, when a grand Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Earl of Berk-jury returned Ignoramus to an indictment preferred shire, is supposed to have taken place in 1665. against Lord Shaftesbury, for high treason. The About this time he first appears as a writer for the rancor of this piece is not easily to be paralleled stage, in which quality he composed several pieces; among party poems. In 1682 he published “Macand though he did not display himself as a prime Flecknoe," a short piece, throwing ridicule upon favorite of the dramatic muse, his facility of har- his very unequal rival, Shadwell. In the same monious versification, and his splendor of poetic year, one of his most serious poems, the "Religio diction, gained him admirers. In 1667 he publish- Laici," made its appearance. Its purpose was ed a singular poem, entitled "Annus Mirabilis," to give a compendious view of the arguments for the subjects of which were, the naval war with revealed religion, and to ascertain in what the authe Dutch, and the fire of London. It was written thority of revelation essentially consists. in four-line stanzas, a form which has since gone Soon after this time, he ceased to write for the into disuse in heroic subjects; but the piece stage. His dramatic vein was probably exhausted, abounded in images of genuine poetry, though intermixed with many extravagances.

and his circumstances were distressed. To this period Mr. Malone refers a letter written by him to At this period of his life, Dryden became pro- Hyde, Earl of Rochester, in which, with modest fessionally a writer for the stage, having entered dignity, he pleads merit enough not to deserve to into a contract with the patentees of the King's starve, and requests some small employment in the Theatre, to supply them with three plays in a year, customs or excise, or, at least, the payment of half upon the condition of being allowed the profit of a year's pension for the supply of his present necesone share and a quarter out of twelve shares and sities. He never obtained any of the requested three quarters, into which the theatrical stock was places, and was doomed to find the booksellers his divided. Of the plays written upon the above con- best patrons.

tract, a small proportion have kept their place Charles II. died in 1685, and was succeeded by on the stage, or in the closet. On the death of his brother James II., who openly declared his at Sir W. Davenant, in 1668, Dryden obtained the tachment to the religion of Rome. It was not long

before Dryden conformed to the same religion. to be told, that the ten concluding years of his life, This step has been the cause of much obloquy on in which he wrote for bread, and composed at a cerone side, and has found much excuse on the other; tain rate per line, were those of many of the pieces but if it be considered, from a view of his past life, which have most contributed to immortalize his that, in changing his religious profession, he could name. They were those of his translation of Juvehave had little difficulty to encounter, it will appear nal and Persius; of that of Virgil entire, a work no breach of candor to suppose that his immediate which enriches the English language, and has motive was nothing more than personal interest. greatly promoted the author's fame; of his celeThe reward he obtained for his compliance was an brated Alexander's Feast; and of his Fables, conaddition to his pension of 100l. per annum. Some taining some of the richest and most truly poetical time after he was engaged in a work which was the longest single piece he ever composed. This was his elaborate controversial poem of "The Hind and Panther." When completed, notwithstanding its unpromising subject, and signal absurdity of plan, such was the power of Dryden's verse, that it was read with avidity, and bore every mark of occupying the public attention. The birth of a prince called forth a congratulatory poem from Dryden, entitled "Britannia Rediviva," in which he ventured to use a poet's privilege of prophecy, foretelling a commencing era of prosperity to the nation and the church from this auspicious event; but in vain! for the revolution took place within a few months, and the hopes of the party were blasted for


pieces which he ever composed. Of these, several will appear in the subsequent collection of his works. Nor ought his prose writings to be neglected, which, chiefly consisting of the critical essays prefixed to his poems, are performances of extraordinary vigor and comprehension of mind, and afford, perhaps, the best specimens of genuine English.

Dryden died of a spreading inflammation in one of his toes, on the first of May, 1700, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, next to the tomb of Chaucer. No monument marked his grave, till a plain one, with his bust, was erected, at the expense of Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. He left behind him three sons, all brought up to letters. His own character was cold and reserved, backward in personal advances to the great, and rather heavy in

Dryden was a severe sufferer from the change: conversation. In fact, he was too much engaged his posts and pensions were taken away, and the poetical laurel was conferred upon his insignificant rival, Shadwell. He was now, in advanced life, to depend upon his own exertions for a security from absolute indigence. His faculties were equal to the emergency; and it will surprise some theorists

in literature to devote much of his time to society. Few writers of his time delighted so much to approach the verge of profaneness; whence it may be inferred, that though religion was an interesting topic of discussion to him, he had very little of its spirit in his heart.

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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.

He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes,
Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain;
Yet judg'd, like vapors that from limbecs rise,
It would in richer showers descend again.

At length resolv'd t' assert the watery ball,
He in himself did whole armadoes bring:
Him aged seamen might their master call,
And choose for general, were he not their king.

It seems as every ship their sovereign knows,
His awful summons they so soon obey;
So hear the scaly herd when Proteus blows,
And so to pasture follow through the sea.

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.

Whether they unctuous exhalations are,

Fir'd by the Sun, or seeming so alone; Or each some more remote and slippery star, Which loses footing when to mortals shown:

Or one, that bright companion of the Sun,
Whose glorious aspect seal'd our new-born king;
And now, a round of greater years begun,

New influence from his walks of light did bring.

Victorious York did first with fam'd success,

To his known valor make the Dutch give place: Thus Heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, Beginning conquest from his royal race.

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.

Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate,

Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament: Thus as an offering for the Grecian state,

He first was kill'd who first to battle went.

Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expir'd, To which his pride presum'd to give the law: The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retir'd, And all was Britain's the wide ocean saw.

To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, Where by our dreadful cannon they lay aw'd: So reverently men quit the open air,

When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.

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, [bring:
Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they
There first the North's cold bosom spices bore,
And Winter brooded on the eastern Spring.

By the rich scent we found our perfum'd prey,
Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in covert lie
And round about their murdering cannon lay,
At once to threaten and invite the eye.

Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard The English undertake th' unequal war: Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.

These fight like husbands, but like lovers those : These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy And to such height their frantic passion grows, That what both love, both hazard to destroy.

Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball,

And now their odors 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 valor left,

And only yielded to the seas and wind.

Nor wholly lost we so deserv'd a prey;

For storms, repenting, part of it restor❜d: Which, as a tribute from the Baltic sea,

The British ocean sent her mighty lord.

Go, mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain

For wealth, which so uncertainly must come : When what was brought so far, and with such pain Was only kept to lose it nearer home.

The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost,
Prepar'd to tell what he had pass'd before,
Now sees in English ships the Holland coast,
And parents' arms, in vain, stretch'd from the shore
This careful husband had been long away,
Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn
Who on their fingers learn'd to tell the day
On which their father promis'd 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!

The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill,

Heaven in his bosom from our knowledge hides And draws them in contempt of human skill, Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides.

Let Munster's prelate ever be accurst,

In whom we seek the German faith in vain : Alas, that he should teach the English first, That fraud and avarice in the church could reign

Happy, who never trust a stranger's will, Whose friendship's in his interest understood! Since money given but tempts him to be ill, When power is too remote to make him good.

Till now, alone the mighty nations strove ;

The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand; And threatening France, plac'd like a painted Jove, Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.

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