She died on Whitsunday night.
And some descending courier from above
Had given her timely warning to remove;
Or counselled her to dress the nuptial room,
For on that night the bridegroom was to come.
He kept his hour, and found her where she lay,
Clothed all in white, the livery of the day:†
Scarce had she sinned in thought, or word, or
Unless omissions were to pass for fact;
That hardly death a consequence could draw,
To make her liable to nature's law.
And, that she died, we only have to show
The mortal part of her she left below;
The rest, so smooth, so suddenly she went,
Looked like translation through the firmament,
Or like the fiery car on the third errand sent.‡
O happy soul! if thou canst view from high,
Where thou art all intelligence, all eye,
If looking up to God, or down to us,
Thou find'st, that any way be pervious,
Survey the ruins of thy house, and see
Thy widowed and thy orphan family;
Look on thy tender pledges left behind;
And, if thou canst a vacant minute find
From heavenly joys, that interval afford
To thy sad children, and thy mourning lord.
See how they grieve, mistaken in their love,
And shed a beam of comfort from above;
* [Original "courtier," which is possible, but hardly.-ED.] † Whitsunday night. [Far be it from any prudent commentator to enter unnecessarily on the disputed etymology of Whitsun. The partisans of "white" may have this passage if they like.-ED.]
[Christie calls this an obscure line, and entirely mistakes "the third errand." Enoch and Elijah were the two former instances of course, though the car is not especially mentioned in Enoch's case.-ED.]
Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear,
A transient view of thy full glories there;
That they with moderate sorrow may sustain,
And mollify their losses in thy gain.
Or else divide the grief; for such thou wert,
That should not all relations bear a part,
It were enough to break a single heart.
Let this suffice: nor thou, great saint, refuse
This humble tribute of no vulgar muse;
Who, not by cares, or wants, or age deprest,
Stems a wild deluge with a dauntless breast;
And dares to sing thy praises in a clime
Where vice triumphs, and virtue is a crime;
Where e'en to draw the picture of thy mind,
Is satire on the most of humankind:
Take it, while yet 'tis praise; before my rage,
Unsafely just, break loose on this bad age;
So bad, that thou thyself hadst no defence
From vice, but barely by departing hence.
Be what, and where thou art; to wish thy
place
Were, in the best, presumption more than grace.
Thy relics (such thy works of mercy are)
Have, in this poem, been my holy care.
As earth thy body keeps, thy soul the sky,
So shall this verse preserve thy memory;
For thou shalt make it live, because it sings of
thee.*
* [This "Epiphonema" deserves exception from the low estimate usually made of the poem. It is Dryden very nearly, if not quite, at his best in that art of building the paragraph of heroic verse wherein he has no superior.-ED.]
WAS on a joyless and a gloomy morn, Wet was the grass, and hung with pearls the
When Damon, who designed to pass the day With hounds and horns, and chase the flying
Rose early from his bed; but soon he found
The welkin pitched with sullen clouds around,
An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.
Thus while he stood, and sighing did survey
The fields, and curst the ill omens of the day,
He saw Menalcas come with heavy pace:
Wet were his eyes, and cheerless was his face :
He wrung his hands, distracted with his care,
And sent his voice before him from afar.
Return," he cried, "return, unhappy swain, The spongy clouds are filled with gathering
The promise of the day not only crossed,
But even the spring, the spring itself is lost.
Amyntas-oh!"—he could not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for presaging Damon guessed.
Equal with heaven young Damon loved the boy, 20
The boast of nature, both his parents' joy.
His graceful form revolving in his mind ;
So great a genius, and a soul so kind,
Gave sad assurance that his fears were true;
Too well the envy of the gods he knew:
For when their gifts too lavishly are placed,
Soon they repent, and will not make them
last.
For sure it was too bountiful a dole,
The mother's features, and the father's soul. Then thus he cried :-"The morn bespoke the
The morning did her cheerful light diffuse;
But see how suddenly she changed her face,
And brought on clouds and rain, the day's
disgrace;
Just such, Amyntas, was thy promised race.
What charms adorned thy youth, where nature
And more than man was given us in a child!
His infancy was ripe; a soul sublime
In years so tender that prevented time:
Heaven gave him all at once; then snatched
Ere mortals all his beauties could survey; Just like the flower that buds and withers in a day."
The mother, lovely, though with grief opprest,
Reclined his dying head upon her breast.
The mournful family stood all around;
One groan was heard, one universal sound:
All were in floods of tears and endless sorrow
So dire a sadness sat on every look,
Even Death repented he had given the stroke.
He grieved his fatal work had been ordained, But promised length of life to those who yet re
The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace,
It seems, had bribed him to prolong their space.
The father bore it with undaunted soul,
Like one who durst his destiny control;
Yet with becoming grief he bore his part,
Resigned his son, but not resigned his heart.
Patient as Job; and may he live to see,
Like him, a new increasing family!
Such is my wish, and such my prophecy; For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould re
Long may she exercise her fruitful pains!
But, ah! with better hap, and bring a race
More lasting, and endued with equal grace!
Equal she may, but farther none can go;
For he was all that was exact below.
Damon, behold yon breaking purple cloud; Hear'st thou not hymns and songs divinely loud? There mounts Amyntas; the young cherubs play About their godlike mate, and sing him on his
He cleaves the liquid air; behold, he flies,
And every moment gains upon the skies.
The new-come guest admires the ethereal state,
The sapphire portal, and the golden gate;
And now admitted in the shining throng,
He shows the passport which he brought along. 75
His passport is his innocence and grace,
Well known to all the natives of the place.
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