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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11488-0.txt b/11488-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebba36f --- /dev/null +++ b/11488-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12615 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11488 *** + + EDINBURGH + PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, + PAUL'S WORK. + + + + THE POETICAL WORKS + OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + With Life, Critical Dissertation, and + Explanatory Notes + + + + BY THE + REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + + + VOL. I. + + + + + M. DCCC. LV. + + + + +THE LIFE OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + +John Dryden was born on the 9th of August 1631, at a place variously +denominated Aldwincle, or Oldwincle, All Saints; or at Oldwincle, St +Peter's, in Northamptonshire. The name Dryden or Driden, is from the +North. There are Drydens still in the town of Scotland where we now +write; and the poet's ancestors lived in the county of Cumberland. One +of them, named John, removed from a place called Staff-hill, to +Northamptonshire, where he succeeded to the estate of Canons-Ashby, by +marriage with the daughter of Sir John Cope. John Dryden was a +schoolmaster, a Puritan, and honoured, it is said, with the friendship +of the celebrated Erasmus, after whom he named his son, who succeeded to +the estate of Canons-Ashby, and, besides becoming a sheriff of the +county of Northamptonshire, was created a knight under James I. Sir +Erasmus had three sons, the third of whom, also an Erasmus, became the +father of our poet. His mother was Mary, the daughter of the Rev. Henry +Pickering, whose father, a zealous Puritan, had been one of the marked +victims in the Gunpowder Plot. Dryden thus had connexions both on his +father's and mother's side with that party, by deriding, defaming, and +opposing which he afterwards gained much of his poetical glory. + +The poet was the eldest of fourteen children--four sons and ten +daughters. The honour of his birth is claimed, as already stated, by two +parishes, that of Oldwincle, All Saints, and that of Oldwincle, St +Peter's, as Homer's was of old by seven cities. His brothers and +sisters have been followed, by eager biographers, into their diverging +and deepening paths of obscurity--paths in which we do not choose to +attend them. Dryden received the rudiments of his education at Tichmarsh +or at Oundle--for here, too, we have conflicting statements. It is +certain, however, that he was admitted a king's scholar at Westminster, +under the tuition of Dr Busby, whom he always respected, and who +discovered in him poetical power. He encouraged him to write, as a +Thursday's night's task, a translation of the third Satire of Persius, a +writer precisely of that vigorously rhetorical, rapidly satirical, and +semi-poetical school, which Dryden was qualified to appreciate and to +mirror; besides other pieces of a similar kind which are lost. During +the last year of his residence at Westminster, and when only eighteen +years of age, he wrote one among the ninety-eight elegies which were +called forth by the sudden death of Henry Lord Hastings, and published +under the title of "Lachrymæ Musarum." Hastings seems to have been an +amiable person, but he was besides a lord, and _hinc illoe lachrymæ_. +We know not of what quality the other tears were, but assuredly Dryden's +is one of very suspicious sincerity, and of very little poetical merit. +But even the crocodile tears of a great genius, if they fall into a +fanciful shape, must be preserved; and we have preserved his, +accordingly, notwithstanding the false taste as well as doubtful truth +and honesty of this his earliest poem. + +Shortly after, Dryden obtained a Westminster scholarship, and on the +11th of May 1650, entered on Trinity College, Cambridge. His tutor was +one John Templer, famous then as one of the many who had attempted to +put a hook in the jaws of old Hobbes, the Leviathan of his time, but +whose reply, as well as Hobbes' own book (like a whale disappearing from +a Shetland "voe" into the deep, with all the hooks and harpoons of his +enemies along with him) has been almost entirely forgotten. At +Cambridge, Dryden was noted for regularity and diligence, and took the +degree of B.A. in January 1653-4, and in 1657 was made A.M. by a +dispensation from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Once, indeed, he was +rusticated for a fortnight on account of some disobedience to the +vice-master. He resided, however, at his university three years after +the usual term; and although he did not become a Fellow, and made no +secret, in after days, of preferring Oxford to Cambridge, yet the reason +of this seems to have lain, not in any personal disgust, but in some +other cause, which, says Scott, "we may now search for in vain." + +Up till June 1654, his father had continued to reside at his estate at +Blakesley, in Northamptonshire, when he died, leaving Dryden two-thirds +of a property, which was worth, in all, only £60 a-year. The other third +was bequeathed to his mother, during her lifetime. With this miserable +modicum of £40 a-year, the poet returned to Cambridge, and continued +there, doing little, and little known as one who could do anything, till +the year 1657. The only records of the diligence of his college years, +are the lines on the death of Lord Hastings, and one or two other +inconsiderable copies of verses. He probably, however, employed much +time in private study. + +While at Cambridge, he met with a young lady, a cousin of his own--Honor +Driden, daughter of Sir John Driden of Chesterton--of whom he became +deeply enamoured. His suit was, however, rejected, although he continued +all his life on intimate terms with the family. Miss Driden died +unmarried, many years after her poet lover; and like the "Lass of +Ballochmyle" with Burns' homage, learned to value it more after he +became celebrated, and carefully preserved the solitary letter which +Dryden wrote her. + +But now the university was to lose, and the world of London to receive, +the poet. In the year 1657, when about six-and-twenty years of age, +Dryden repaired to London, "clad in homely drugget," and with more +projects in his head than pence in his pocket. He was first employed by +his relative, Sir Gilbert Pickering--called the "Fiery Pickering," from +his Roundhead zeal--as a clerk or secretary. Here he came in contact +with Cromwell; and saw very clearly those great qualities of sagacity, +determination, courage, statesmanship, insight and genuine godliness, +which made him, next to Alfred the Great, the first monarch who ever +sat on the English throne. Two years after Dryden came to London, +Cromwell expired, and the poet wrote and published his Heroic Stanzas on +the hero's death, which we consider really his earliest poem. When +Richard resigned, Dryden, in common with the majority of the nation, saw +that the Roundhead cause was lost, and hastened to carry over his +talents to the gaining side. For this we do not blame him very severely, +although it certainly had been nobler if, like Milton, he had clung to +his party. Sir Walter Scott remarks, that Dryden never retracted the +praise he gave to Cromwell. In "Absalom and Achitophel" he sneers at +Richard as Ishbosheth, but says nothing against the deceased giant Saul. +It is clear, too, that at first his desertion of the Cromwell party was +a loss to the poet. He lost the chance of their favour, in case a +reaction should come, his situation as secretary, and the shelter of +Pickering's princely mansion. As might have been expected, his ancient +friends were indignant at the change, and not less so at the alteration +he thought proper at the same time to make in the spelling of his +name--from Driden to Dryden. + +He went to reside in the obscure house of one Herringman, a bookseller, +in the New Exchange, and became for life a professional author. His +enemies afterwards reproached him bitterly for his mean circumstances at +this period of his life, and asserted that he was a mere drudge to +Herringman. He, at all events, did little in his own proper poetic +calling for two years. A poem on the Coronation of Charles, well fitted +to wipe away the stain of Cromwellism, and to attract upon the poet the +eye of that Rising-Sun, whose glory he sang with more zeal than truth; a +panegyric on the Lord Chancellor; and a satire on the Dutch; were all, +and are all short, and all savour of a vein somewhat hide-bound. He +planned, indeed, too, and partly wrote, one or more plays, and was +considered of consequence enough to be elected a member of the Royal +Society in 1662. Previous to this he had been introduced, through +Herringman, to Sir Robert Howard, son of the first Earl of Berkshire, +and a relation of Edward Howard, the author of "British Princes," and +the object of the witty wrath of Butler. Sir Robert, too, had a +poetical propensity, and Dryden and he became and continued intimate for +a number of years, the poet assisting the knight in his literary +compositions, particularly in a play entitled "The Indian Queen;" and +the latter inviting the former to the family seat at Charlton, where +Dryden met in an unlucky hour his future wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, +the sister of Sir Robert. It was on the 1st of December 1663, in St +Swithin's, London, and with the consent of the Earl, who settled about +£60 a-year on his daughter, that this unhappy union took place. The lady +seems to have had absolutely none of the qualities which tend either to +command a husband's respect or to conciliate his regard, but is +described as a woman of violent temper and weak understanding. Much of +the bitterness of Dryden's satire, some of the coarse licentiousness of +his plays, and all the sarcasms at matrimony which he has scattered in +multitudes, throughout his works, may be traced to his domestic +unhappiness. + +Otherwise, the match had some advantages. It broke up, for a time at +least, some licentious connexions he had formed, particularly, after a +time, one with Mrs Reeves the actress, with whom, having laid aside his +Norwich drugget, he used to eat tarts at the Mulberry Gardens, "with a +sword and a Chadreux wig." It secured to him, including his own +property, an income of about £100 a-year--a sum equal to £300 now--and +which, on the death of his mother, three years later, was increased by +£20 more, or £60 at the present value of money. He was thus protected +for life against the meaner and more miserable necessities of the +literary man, under which many of his unfortunate rivals were crushed; +and if he could not always command luxuries, he was always sure of +bread. + +To improve his circumstances, however, and to enable him to keep up a +style of living in unison with his lady's rank, he must write, and the +question arose, what mode of composition was likely to be the most +lucrative? Were he to continue to indite panegyrical verses, like those +to Clarendon, he stood a chance of having a few guineas tossed to him +now and then by a patron, like a crust to an unfortunate cur. Were he +to translate, or write prefaces for the booksellers, he might pay his +bill for salt, if diligent enough. For Satires as yet there was little +demand. The follies of the more fanatical of the Puritans were too +recent, although they were beginning to ripen for the hand of Butler; +and the far grosser absurdities of the Cavaliers were yet in blossom. +There remained nothing for an aspiring author but the stage, which +during the previous _regime_ had been abolished. While the French +Revolution was in progress, ay, even in the depths of the reign of +terror, the theatres were all open, and all crowded; but when Cromwell +was enacting his solemn and solitary part, before God, angels, and men, +the petty potentates--the gods and goddesses of the stage--vanished into +thin air. At his tremendous stamp their cue had been "_Exeunt omnes_" +and if the spirit of Shakspeare himself had witnessed the departure, he +would have added his Amen. And had he watched in their stead the +gigantic actor treading his trembling stage alone, with all the world +looking on, he might have remembered and re-applied his own magnificent +words-- + + "O for a muse of fire, that would ascend + The brightest heaven of invention! + A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, + And _monarchs_ to _behold_ the swelling scene! + Then should the warlike _Cromwell_ like himself + Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, + Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire + Crouch for employment." + +No sooner had this great man passed away, and an earnest age with him, +and Charles mounted the throne, than from the darkest recesses of the +stews and the taverns, from the depths within depths of Alsatia or Paris, +the whole tribe of dancers, fiddlers, drabs, mimes, stage-players, and +playwrights, knowing that their enemy was dead, and their hour of harvest +had come, emerged in swarming multitudes--multitudes swelled by the vast +tribe of play-goers, who had been counting the hours since a Falstaff +had made them laugh, an Ophelia made them weep, and a Lear made them +tremble. And had this only issued in the revival of the drama of +Shakspeare and Johnson, few could have had much to say in objection; for +that, in general, was as pure as it was powerful. But, alas, besides +them there had been a Beaumont, a Fletcher, and a Massinger, with their +unutterable abominations. Nay, the king and courtiers had imported from +France a taste which required for its gratification a licentiousness +still more abandoned, and to be cast, besides, into forms and shapes, as +stiff, stately, and elaborate as the material was vile, and were not +contented with pollution unless served up in a new, piquant, and +unnatural manner. Our poet understood this movement of his time right +well, and determined to conform to it. He knew that he could, better +than any man living, pander to the popular appetite for the +melodramatic, for the grandiloquent, and for the obscene. He knew the +taste of Charles, and that he, above all cooks, could dress up a +_ragout_ of that putrid perfection which his king relished. And he set +himself with his whole might so to do, and for thirty years and more +continued his degradation of genius--a degradation unexampled, whether +we consider the powers of the writer, the coarseness, quantity, and +elaboration of the pollutions he perpetrated, or the length of time in +which he was employed, in thus "profaning the God-given strength and +marring the lofty line." + +His other biographers--Dr Johnson, alone, with brevity and seeming +reluctance--have enumerated and characterised all Dryden's plays. We +have decided only to speak of them very generally, and that for the +following reasons:--1st, We are reprinting none of them; 2dly, From what +we have read of them, we are certain that, even as works of art, they +are utterly unworthy of their author, and that in morals they are, as a +whole, a disgrace to human nature. We are not the least lenient or +indulgent of critics. We have every wish to pity the errors, and to bear +with the frequent escapades and aberrations of genius. But when we see, +as in Dryden's case, what we are forced to consider either a deliberate +and systematic attempt to poison the sources of virtue, or, at least, an +elaborate and incessant habit of conformity to the bad tastes of a bad +age, we can think of no plea fully available for his defence. Vain to +say, "he wrote for bread." He did not--he wrote only for the luxuries, +not the staff of life. Vain to say, "he consulted the taste of his +audience, and suited their atmosphere." But why did he _select_ that +atmosphere as his? And why so much gratuitous and superfluous iniquity +in his works? "But he wrote to gratify his monarch." This would form a +good enough excuse for a Sporus, "a white curd of ass' milk," but not +for a strong man like Dryden. But he was "no worse than others of his +age." Pitiful apology! since, being the ablest man of his day, and +therefore bound to be before it, he was in reality behind it, his plays +excelling all contemporary productions in wickedness as well as in wit. +But his own "conduct was latterly irreproachable." This we doubt, and +Scott doubts so too. But even though it were true, it were damaging, +because it would deprive him of the plea of passion, and reduce him from +the warm human painter to the cold demon-like sculptor of unclean and +abominable ideas. It never can be forgotten, that whenever Dryden +translated a filthy play, he made it filthier than in the original, and +that he has once and again scattered his satyr-like fancies in spots +such as the Paradise of Milton, and the Enchanted Isle of Shakspeare, +which every imagination and every heart previously had regarded as holy +ground. The only extenuating circumstance we can mention is, that his +pruriency was latterly in part relinquished and much deplored by +himself, and that his poetry is, on the whole, free from it. In our +critical paper, prefixed to the Second Volume, we intend to examine the +question, how far an author's faults are, or are not, to be charged upon +his age. + +His next poem was "Annus Mirabilis," published in 1667, and counted +justly one of his most vigorous, though also one of the faultiest of his +poems. It includes glowing, although somewhat quaint and fantastic, +descriptions of the Dutch War and the Great Fire in London. In 1668, by +the death of Sir William Davenant, the post of Poet-Laureate became +vacant, and Dryden was appointed to it. He was also appointed +historiographer-royal. The salary of these two offices amounted to £200 +a year, besides the famous annual butt of canary, while his profits from +the theatre were equivalent to £300. His whole income was thus, at the +very least, equal to a thousand pounds of our money--a great sum for a +poet in that or in any age. He published, the same year, an Essay on +"Dramatic Poetry," vindicating his own practice of rhymed heroic verse +in plays;--a stupid French innovation, which all the ingenuity of a +Dryden defended in vain. It was cast into the shape of a dialogue,--the +Duke of Dorset being one of the respondents,--and formed the first +specimen of Dryden's easy, rambling, but most vivid, vigorous, and +entertaining prose. No one was ever more ready than he to render reasons +for his writings,--for their faults as well as merits,--and to show by +more ingenious arguments, that, if they failed, they _ought_ to have +succeeded. + +At this time we may consider Dryden's prosperity, although not his +powers, to have culminated. He had a handsome income, a run of +unparalleled popularity as a playwright; he was Poet-Laureate, a +favourite at court, and on terms of intimacy with many of the nobility, +and many of the eminent men of letters. The public would have at that +time bid high for his very snuff-papers, and were thankful for whatever +garbage he chose to throw at them from the stage. How different his +position from that of the great blind old man, at this time residing in +Bunhill-fields in obscurity and sorrow, and preparing to put off his +tabernacle, and take his flight to the Heavens of God! The one heard +every night the "claps of multitudes,"--the other the whispers of +angels, saying to his soul, "Sister-spirit, come away." The one was +revelling in reputation,--the other was listening to the far-off echoes +of a coming fame as wide as the world, and as permanent as the existence +of man. To do Dryden justice, he admired Milton; and although he did, +and that, too, immediately after Milton departed, venture to travestie +the "Paradise Lost" into a rhymed play, as dull as it is disgusting; and +although he knew that Milton had called him, somewhat harshly, a "good +rhymer, but no poet," yet he praised his genius at a time when it was +as little appreciated, as was the grandeur of his character. + +But now the slave, in the chariot of Dryden's triumph, was about to +appear. First came, in 1671, the "Rehearsal," a play concocted among +various wits of the time, including Sprat, Clifford, poor Butler, of +"Hudibras," and chiefly the Duke of Buckingham. The object of this play +was to turn rhymed heroic tragedy, and especially the great playwright +of the day, under the name of Bayes, his person, manners, conversation, +and habits, into unmitigated ridicule. The plan has often since been +followed, with various success. Minor wits have delighted in clubbing +their small but poisoned missiles, and in aiming flights of minnikin +arrows at the Gullivers of their different periods. Thus Pope was +assailed by the "Dunces," whom he afterwards preserved in amber--that +terrible old lion, Bentley, by Boyle and his associates; and Wordsworth, +by the critics or criticasters of his day. Dryden acted with greater +prudence than any of those we have named, except indeed Bentley, who, +being assailed upon points involving the integrity of his scholarship, +and on which demonstrative contradiction was possible, felt himself +compelled to leave his lair, and to rend his enemies in pieces. But +Dryden--feeling on this occasion, at least, that a squib, however +personal and severe, cannot harm any man worthy of the name; and that +the very force of the laughter it produces, drives out the +sting--determined to answer it by silence, and to bide his time. +"Zimri," in Absalom and Achitophel, shows how deep had been his secret +oath of vengeance, and how carefully the sweltered "venom" had been +kept, in which at last he baptizes Buckingham, and embalms him at the +same time for the wonder and contempt of posterity. Here is the danger +of the smaller wits in a controversy of this kind. Their squibs excite a +sensation at the moment, and sometimes annoy the assaulted giant much, +and his friends and publishers more; but he continues to live and grow, +while their spiteful effusions perish; or worse, are preserved to the +everlasting shame of their authors, on the lowest shelf of the records +of their enemy's fame. + +Two years after, occurred the famous controversy between Dryden and +Settle. Poor Elkanah Settle seemed raised up like another Mordecai to +poison the peace and disturb the false self-satisfaction of +Dryden,--raised up, rather--shall we say?--to wean the poet from a +sphere where his true place and power were not, and to prepare him for +other stages, where he was yet destined far more powerfully to play his +part. At all events, this should have been his inference from the +success of Settle. It should have taught him that a scene where a +pitiful poetaster, backed by mob-favour and the word of a Rochester, +could eclipse his glory, was no scene for him; and he ought instantly, +with proud humility, to have left the theatre for ever. Instead of this, +he fell into a violent passion with one who, like himself, had levelled +his desires to the "claps of multitudes," and had ravished the larger +share of the coveted prize! And so there commenced a long and ludicrous +controversy--dishonourable to Settle much; to Rochester and Dryden +more--between a mere insolent twaddler and a man of real and +transcendent genius. The particulars of the struggle are too humiliating +and contemptible to deserve a minute record. Suffice it, that Dryden, +assisted by his future foe, Shadwell, wrote a scurrilous attack on +Settle, and his successful play, "The Empress of Morocco;" to which +Settle, nothing daunted, replied in terms of equal coarseness, and that +Rochester, the patron of Settle, became mixed up in the fray, till, +having been severely handled by Dryden in his "Essay on Satire,"--a +production generally, and we think justly, attributed to Mulgrave and +Dryden in conjunction,--he took a mean and characteristic revenge. He +hired bravoes, who, waiting for Dryden as he was returning, on the 18th +December 1679, from Will's coffee-house to his own house in Gerard +Street, rushed out and severely beat and wounded him. That Dryden was +the author of the lines on Rochester has been doubted, although we think +they very much resemble a rough and hurried sketch from his pen; that +Rochester deserved the truculent treatment he received in them, this +anecdote sufficiently proves. It was partly, indeed, the manner of the +age. Had this nobleman existed _now_, and been pilloried by a true and +powerful pen, he would, in addition to his own anonymous assaults, have +stirred up a posse of his creatures to assist him in seeking, by +falsehoods, hypercriticisms, and abuse, to diminish the influence and +take away the good name of his opponent. The Satanic spirit is always +the same--its weapons and instruments are continually changing. + +Soon after this, Dryden translated the Epistles of Ovid, thus breathing +himself for the far greater efforts which were before him. His mind +seems, for a season, to have balanced between various poetic plans. On +the one hand, the finger of his good genius showed him the fair heights +of epic song, waiting to be crowned by the coming of a new Virgil; on +the other side, the fierce fires of his passions pointed him downwards +to his many rivals and foes--the Cliffords, Leighs, Ravenscrofts, +Rochesters, and Settles--who seemed lying as a mark for his satiric +vengeance. He meditated, we know, an epic on Arthur, the hero of the +Round Table, and had, besides, many arrears of wrath lying past for +discharge; but circumstances arose which turned his thoughts away, for a +season, in a different direction from either Arthur or his personal +foes. + +The political aspects of the times were now portentous in the extreme. +Charles II. had, partly by crime, partly by carelessness, and partly by +ill-fortune, become a most unpopular monarch, and the more so, because +the nation had no hope even from his death, since it was sure to hand +them over to the tender mercies of his brother, who had all his faults, +and some, in addition, of his own, without any of his merits. There was +but one hope, and that turned out a mere aurora borealis, connected with +the Duke of Monmouth, who, through his extraction by a bend sinister +from Charles, as well as through his popular manners, Protestant +principles, and gracious exterior, had become such a favourite with the +people, that strong efforts were made to exclude the Duke of York, and +to exalt him to the succession. These, however, were unsuccessful; and +Shaftesbury, their leading spirit, was accused of treason, and confined +to the Tower. It was at this crisis, when the nobility of the land were +divided, when its clergy were divided, when its literary men were +divided,--not in a silent feud, but in a raging rupture, that Dryden, +partly at the instigation of the Court, partly from his own impulse, +lifted up his powerful pen,--the sceptre of the press,--and, with +wonderful facility and felicity, wrote, and on the 17th November 1681, +published, the satire of "Absalom and Achitophel." Its poetical +merits--the choice of the names and period, although this is borrowed +from a previous writer--the appearance of the poem at the most critical +hour of the crisis--and, above all, the portraitures of character, so +easy and so graphic, so free and so fearless, distinguished equally by +their animus and their animation, and with dashes of generous painting +relieving and diversifying the general caricature of the +style,--rendered it instantly and irresistibly popular. It excited one +universal cry--from its friends, of admiration, and from its enemies, of +rage. Imitations and replies multiplies around it, and sounded like +assenting or like angry echoes. It did not, indeed, move the grand jury +to condemn Shaftesbury; but when, on his acquittal, a medal was struck +by his friends, bearing on one side the head and name of Shaftesbury, +and on the other, the sun obscured by a cloud rising over the Tower and +City of London, Dryden's aid was again solicited by the Court and the +King in person, to make this the subject of a second satire; and, with +great rapidity, he produced "The Medal--a Satire against Sedition," +which, completing and colouring the photograph of Shaftesbury, formed +the real Second Part of "Absalom and Achitophel." What bore that name +came a year afterwards, when the times were changed, was written partly +by a feebler hand--Nahum Tate; and flew at inferior game--Dryden's own +personal rivals and detractors. + +The principal of these was Shadwell, who had been an early friend of +Dryden's, and who certainly possessed a great deal of wit and talent, if +he did not attain to the measure of poetic genius. His principal power +lay in low comedy--his chief fault lay in his systematic and avowed +imitation of the rough and drunken manners of Ben Jonson. In the eye of +Dryden--whose own habits were convivial, although not to the same +extent--the real faults of his opponent were his popularity as a comic +writer, and his politics. Shadwell was a zealous Protestant, and the +bitterest of the many who replied to the "Medal." For this he became the +hero of "MacFlecknoe"--a masterly satire, holding him up to infamy and +contempt--besides sitting afterwards for the portrait of Og, in the +second part of "Absalom and Achitophel." Shadwell had, by and by, his +revenge, by obtaining the laureateship, after the Revolution, in room of +Dryden, and no doubt used the opportunity of drowning the memory of +defeat in the butt of generous canary which had now for ever passed the +door of his formidable rival. + +Dryden's circumstances, at this time, were considerably straitened. His +pension as laureate was not regularly paid; the profits from the theatre +had somewhat fallen off. He tried in various ways, by prefacing a +translation of "Plutarch's Lives," by publishing a miscellany of +versions from Greek and Latin authors, and by writing prologues to plays +and prefaces to books, to supply his exhausted exchequer. His +good-humoured but heartless monarch set him on another task, for which +he was never paid, writing a translation of Maimbourg's "History of the +League," the object of which was to damage Shaftesbury and his party, by +branding them as enemies to monarchy. In 1682 he wrote his "Religio +Laici." + +Not long after, in February 1684, Charles II. became, for the first time +in his life, serious, as he felt death--the proverbial terror of +kings--rapidly rushing upon him. He tried to hide the great and terrible +fact from his eyes under the shield of a wafer. He died suddenly--a +member of the "holy Roman Catholic Church,"--and much regretted by all +his mistresses; and apparently by Dryden, who had been preparing the +opera of "Albion and Albanius," to commemorate the king's triumph over +the Whigs, when this event turned his harp into mourning, and his organ +into the voice of them that weep. He set himself to write a poem which +should at once express regret for the set, and homage to the rising, +sun. This was his "Threnodia Augustalis," a very unequal poem, but full +of inimitable passages, and discovering all that careless greatness +which characterised the genius of the poet. + +Charles II. had, at Dryden's request, to whom arrears for four years had +been due, raised his laureate salary to £300. The additional hundred +dropped at the king's death, and James was mean enough even to curtail +the annual butt of sack. He probably had little hope of converting the +author of "Religio Laici" to his faith, else he would not have withheld +what Charles had so recently granted. Afterwards, when he ascertained +that an interesting process was going on in Dryden's mind, tending to +Popery, he perhaps thought that a little money cast into the crucible +might materially determine the projection in the proper way; or perhaps +the _prospect_ produced, or at least accelerated, the _process_. We +admire much in Scott's elaborate and ingenious defence of Dryden's +change of faith; and are ready to grant that it was only a Pyrrhonist, +not a Protestant, who became a Papist after all--but there was, as Dr +Johnson also thinks, an ugly _coincidence_ between the pension and the +conversion. Grant that it was not bestowed for the first time by James, +it had been withheld by him, and its restoration immediately followed +the change of his faith. Dr Johnson was pleased, when Andrew Miller said +that he "thanked God he was done with him," to know that Miller "thanked +God for anything;" and so, when we consider the blasphemy, profanity, +and filth of Dryden's plays, and the unsettled and veering state of his +religious and political opinions, we are almost glad to find him +becoming "anything," although it was only the votary of a dead and +corrupted form of Christianity. You like to see the fierce, capricious, +and destructive torrent fixed, although it be fixed in ice. + +That he found comfort in his new religion, and proved his sincerity by +rearing up his children in the faith which his wife had also embraced, +and by remaining a Roman Catholic after the Revolution, and to his own +pecuniary loss, has often been asserted. But surely there is a point +where the most inconsistent man is obliged to stop, if he would escape +the character of an absolute weather-cock; and that there are charms and +comforts in the Popish creed for one who felt with Dryden, that he had, +partly in his practice, and far more in his writings, sinned against the +laws of morality and common decency, we readily grant. Whether these +charms he legitimate, and these comforts sound, is a very different +question. Had Dryden, besides, turned Protestant again, we question if +it would have saved him his laureate pensions, and it would certainly +have blasted him for ever, under the charge of ingratitude to his +benefactor James. On the whole, this passage of the poet's life is not +very creditable to his memory, and his indiscriminate admirers had +better let it alone. It would have strained the ingenuity and the +enthusiasm of Claud Halcro himself to have extracted matter for a +panegyrical ode on this conversion of "glorious John." + +Admitted into the bosom of the Church, he soon found that he must prove +his faith by his works. He was employed by James to defend the reasons +of conversion to the Catholic faith alleged by Anne Duchess of York, and +the two other papers on the same subject which, found in Charles' strong +box, James had imprudently given to the world. This led him to a contest +with Stillingfleet, in which Dryden came off only second best. He next, +in an embowered walk, in a country retirement at Rushton, near his +birthplace, composed his strange, unequal, but brilliant and ingenious +poem, "The Hind and the Panther," the object of which was to advocate +King James' repeal of the Test Act, and to prove the immeasurable +superiority of the Church of Rome to that of England, as well as to all +the dissenting sects. This piece produced a prodigious clamour against +the author. Its plan was pronounced ridiculous--its argument +one-sided--its zeal assumed--and Montague and Prior, two young men then +rising into eminence, wrote a clever parody on it, entitled the "Town +and Country Mouse." In addition to this, he wrote a translation of +Varilla's "History of Heresies," and a life of Francis Xavier, the +famous apostle of the Indies, whose singular story, a tale of heroic +endurance and unexampled labours, but bedropt with the most flagrant +falsehoods, whether it be read in Dryden's easy and fascinating +narrative, or in the more gorgeous and coloured account of Sir James +Stephen, in the "Edinburgh Review," forms one of the most impressive +displays of human strength and folly, of the greatness of devoted +enthusiasm, and of the weakness and credulity of abject superstition. + +In spite of all these attempts to bolster up a tottering throne and an +_effete_ faith, the Revolution came, and Dryden's hopes and prospects +sank like a vision of the night. And now came the hour of his enemies' +revenge! How the Settles, the Shadwells, and the Ravenscrofts, rejoiced +at the downfall of their great foe! and what ironical condolence, or +bitter satirical exultation, they poured over his humiliation! And, +worst of all, he durst not reply. "His powers of satire," says Scott, +"at this period, were of no more use to Dryden than a sword to a man who +cannot draw it." The fate of Milton in miniature had now befallen him; +and it says much for the strength of his mind, that, as in Milton's +case, Dryden's purest and best titles to fame date from his discomfiture +and degradation. Antæus-like, he had now reached the ground, and the +touch of the ground to him, as to all giants, was inspiration. + +His history, from this date, becomes, still more than in the former +portions of it, a history of his publications. He was forced back by +necessity to the stage. In 1690, and in the next two years, he produced +four dramas,--one of them, indeed, adapted from the French, but the +other three, original; and one, Don Sebastian, deemed to rank among the +best of his dramatic works. In 1693, another volume of miscellanies, +with more translations, appeared. He also published, about this time, a +new version of "Juvenal and Persius," portions of which were contributed +by his sons John and Charles. His last play, "Love Triumphant," was +enacted--as his first, the "Wild Gallant," had been--without success; +and it is remarkable, that while the curtain dropped heavily and slowly +upon Dryden, it was opening upon Congreve, whose first comedy was +enacted the same year with Dryden's last, and who became the lawful heir +of much of Dryden's licentiousness, and of more than his elegance and +wit. + +He next commenced the translation of "Virgil," which in the course of +three years he completed, and gave to the world. It was published in +July 1697. He had dashed it off with the utmost freedom and fire, and no +work was ever more thoroughly identified with its translator. It is +_Dryden's_ "Virgil," every line of it. A great and almost national +interest was felt in the undertaking, such as would be felt now, were it +announced that Tennyson was engaged in a translation of Goethe. Addison +supplied arguments, and an essay on the "Georgics." A dedication to the +new king was expected by the Court, but inexorably declined by the poet. +It came forth, notwithstanding, amidst universal applause; nor was the +remuneration for the times small, amounting to at least £1200 or £1400. + +So soon as this great work was off his hands, by way, we suppose, as +Scott was used to say, of "refreshing the machiner," Dryden wrote his +famous ode, "Alexander's Feast," for a meeting of the Musical Society on +St Cecilia's day,--wrote it, according to Bolingbroke, at one sitting, +although he spent, it is said, a fortnight in polishing it into its +present rounded and perfect form. It took the public by storm, and +excited a greater sensation than any of the poet's productions, except +"Absalom and Achitophel." Dryden himself, when complimented on it as the +finest ode in the language, owned the soft impeachment, and said, "A +nobler ode never was produced, and never will;" and in a manner, if not +absolutely, he was right. + +Dryden was now again at sea for a subject. Sometimes he revolved once +more his favourite plan of an Epic poem, and "Edward the Black Prince" +loomed for a season before him as its hero. Sometimes he looked up with +an ambitious eye to Homer, and we see his hand "pawing" like the hoof of +the war-horse in Job, as he smelled his battle afar off, and panted to +do for Achilles and Hector what he had done for Turnus and Æneas. He +meant to have turned the "Iliad" into blank verse; but, after all, +translated the only book of it which he published into rhyme. But, in +fine, he determined to modernise some of the fine old tales of Boccacio +and Chaucer; and in March 1699-1700, appeared his brilliant "Fables," +with some other poems from his pen, for which he received £300 at +Jonson's hands. + +This was his last publication of size, although he was labouring on when +death surprised him, and within the last three weeks of his life had +written the "Secular Margin," and the prologue and the epilogue to +Fletcher's "Pilgrim,"--productions remarkable as showing the ruling +passion strong in death,--the squabbling litterateur and satirist +combating and kicking his enemies to the last,--Jeremy Collier, for +having accused him of licentiousness in his dramas; Milbourne, for +having attacked his "Georgics;" and poor Blackmore for having doubted +the orthodoxy of "Religio Laici," and the decency of "Amphitryon" and +"Limberham." + +He had now to go a pilgrimage himself to a far country. He had long been +troubled with gout and gravel; but next came erysipelas in one of his +legs; and at last mortification, superinduced by a neglected +inflammation in his toe, carried him off at three o'clock on Wednesday +morning the 1st of May 1700. He died a Roman Catholic, and in "entire +resignation to the Divine will." He died so poor, that he was buried by +subscription, Lords Montague and Jeffries delaying the interment till +the necessary funds were raised. The body, after lying embalmed and in +state for ten days in the College of Physicians, was buried with great +pomp in Westminster Abbey, where now, between the graves of Chaucer and +Cowley, reposes the dust of Dryden. + +His lady survived him fourteen years, and died insane. His eldest son +Charles was drowned in 1704 at Datchett, while seeking to swim across +the Thames. John died at Rome of a fever in 1701. Erasmus, who was +supposed to inherit his mother's malady, died in 1710; and the title +which he had derived from Sir Robert passed to his uncle, the brother of +the poet, and thence to his grandson. Sir Henry Edward Leigh Dryden, of +Canons-Ashby, is now the representative of the ancient family. + +We reserve till our next volume a criticism on Dryden's genius and +works. As to his habits and manners, little is known, and that little is +worn threadbare by his many biographers. In appearance he became, in +his maturer years, fat and florid, and obtained the name of "Poet +Squab." His portraits show a shrewd, but rather sluggish face, with long +gray hair floating down his cheeks, not unlike Coleridge, but without +his dreamy eye, like a nebulous star. His conversation was less +sprightly than solid. Sometimes men suspected that he had "sold all his +thoughts to his booksellers." His manners are by his friends pronounced +"modest;" and the word modest has since been amiably confounded by his +biographers with "pure." Bashful he seems to have been to awkwardness; +but he was by no means a model of the virtues. He loved to sit at Will's +coffee-house, and be the arbiter of criticism. His favourite stimulus +was snuff, and his favourite amusement angling. He had a bad address, a +down look, and little of the air of a gentleman. Addison is reported to +have taught him latterly the intemperate use of wine; but this was said +by Dennis, who admired Dryden, and who hated Addison; and his testimony +is impotent against either party. We admire the simplicity of the +critics who can read his plays, and then find himself a model of +continence and virtue. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth +speaketh;" and a more polluted mouth than Dryden's never uttered its +depravities on the stage. We cannot, in fine, call him personally a very +honest, a very high-minded, or a very good man, although we are willing +to count him amiable, ready to make very considerable allowance for his +period and his circumstances, not disposed to think him so much a +renegado and deliberate knave as a fickle, needy, and childish +changeling, in the matter of his "perversion" to Popery; although we +yield to none in admiration of the varied, highly-cultured, masculine, +and magnificent forces of his genius. + + + + +CONTENTS + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS + + HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL + + ASTRÆA REDUX. A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN + OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II., 1660 + + TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION + + TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE. PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662 + + SATIRE ON THE DUTCH + + TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS, ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED + BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665; AND ON HER + JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH + + ANNUS MIRABILIS: THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. AN HISTORICAL POEM + + AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. BY MR DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE, 1679 + + ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL + + THE MEDAL. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION + + RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. AN EPISTLE + + THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO + THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES II + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED + + THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. A POEM, IN THREE PARTS + + MAC FLECKNOE + + BRITANNIA REDIVIVA. A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688 + + + + +DRYDEN'S POEMS. + + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS.[1] + + + Must noble Hastings immaturely die, + The honour of his ancient family; + Beauty and learning thus together meet, + To bring a winding for a wedding-sheet? + Must Virtue prove Death's harbinger? must she, + With him expiring, feel mortality? + Is death, Sin's wages, Grace's now? shall Art + Make us more learned, only to depart? + If merit be disease; if virtue death; + To be good, not to be; who'd then bequeath 10 + Himself to discipline? who'd not esteem + Labour a crime? study, self-murder deem? + Our noble youth now have pretence to be + Dunces securely, ignorant healthfully. + Rare linguist, whose worth speaks itself, whose praise, + Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise: + 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. 20 + His native soil was the four parts o' the Earth; + All Europe was too narrow for his birth. + A young apostle; and, with reverence may + I speak it, 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, his sublime soul + Did move on Virtue's and on Learning's pole: + Whose regular motions better to our view, + Than Archimedes[2] sphere, the Heavens did show. 30 + Graces and virtues, languages and arts, + Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts. + Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear + Scatter'd in others; all, as in their sphere, + Were fix'd, conglobate in his soul; and thence + Shone through his body, with sweet influence; + Letting their glories so on each limb fall, + The whole frame render'd was celestial. + Come, learned Ptolemy[3] and trial make, + If thou this hero's altitude canst take: 40 + But that transcends thy skill; thrice happy all, + Could we but prove thus astronomical. + Lived Tycho[4] 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 + 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 shrouds + Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds: 50 + 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? + So many spots, like næves on Venus' soil, + One jewel set off with so many a foil; + Blisters with pride swell'd, which through's flesh did sprout + Like rose-buds, stuck i' th' lily-skin about. + Each little pimple had a tear in it, + To wail the fault its rising did commit: 60 + Which, rebel-like, with its own lord at strife, + Thus made an insurrection 'gainst his life. + Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin, + The cabinet of a richer soul within? + No comet need foretell his change drew on, + Whose corpse might seem a constellation. + Oh! had he died of old, how great a strife + Had been, who from his death should draw their life! + Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er + Seneca, Cato, Numa, Cæsar, were,-- 70 + Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this + An universal metempsychosis! + Must all these aged sires in one funeral + Expire? all die in one so young, so small? + Who, had he lived his life out, his great fame + Had swoln '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: 80 + Must then old three-legg'd graybeards, with their gout, + Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three long ages out? + Time's offals, only fit for the hospital! + Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal! + Must drunkards, lechers, spent with sinning, live + With such helps as broths, possets, physic give? + None live, but such as should die? shall we meet + With none but ghostly fathers in the street? + Grief makes me rail; sorrow will force its way; + And showers of tears, tempestuous sighs best lay. 90 + The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes + Will weep out lasting streams of elegies. + + But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone, + Now thy beloved, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, + Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply + Medicines, when thy balm was no remedy,-- + With greater than Platonic love, O 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; 100 + 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, + Yet but the irradiations which he cast. + Erect no mausoleums: for his best + Monument is his spouse's marble breast. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: 'Lord Hastings:' the nobleman herein lamented, was styled +Henry Lord Hastings, son to Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon. He died before +his father in 1649, being then in his twentieth year, and on the day +preceding that which had been fixed for his marriage.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Archimedes:' a famous geometrician, who was killed at the +taking of Syracuse, in the 542d year of Rome. He made a glass sphere, +wherein the motions of the heavenly bodies were wonderfully described.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Ptolemy:' Claudius Ptolemæus, a celebrated mathematician +in the reign of M. Aurelius Antoninus.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Tycho:' Tycho Brahe] + + * * * * * + + + + +HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL, + + WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL. + + 1 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[5] fly. + + 2 Though our best notes are treason to his fame, + 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. + + 3 Though in his praise no arts can liberal be, + Since they, whose muses have the highest flown, + Add not to his immortal memory, + But do an act of friendship to their own: + + 4 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, + And claim a title in him by their praise. + + 5 How shall I then begin, or where conclude, + To draw a fame so truly circular? + For in a round what order can be show'd, + Where all the parts so equal perfect are? + + 6 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. + + 7 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. + + 8 Fortune (that easy mistress to the young, + But to her ancient servants coy and hard), + Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, + When she her best-loved Pompey did discard. + + 9 He, private, mark'd the faults 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, + 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. + + 12 War, our consumption, was their gainful trade: + We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain; + He fought to end our fighting, and essay'd + To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. + + 13 Swift and resistless through the land he past, + Like that bold Greek[6] who did the East subdue, + And made to battles such heroic haste, + As if on wings of victory he flew. + + 14 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. + + 15 His palms,[7] 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. + + 16 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, + Which war had banish'd, and did now restore: + Bologna's walls[8] thus mounted in the air, + To seat themselves more surely than before. + + 17 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes; + And treacherous Scotland, to no interest true, + Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose + Her land to civilize, as to subdue. + + 18 Nor was he like those stars which, only shine, + When to pale mariners they storms portend: + He had his calmer influence, and his mien + Did love and majesty together blend. + + 19 'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe; + And naturally all souls to his did bow, + As wands[9] of divination downward draw, + And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. + + 20 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. + + 21 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. + + 22 Fame of the asserted sea through Europe blown, + Made France and Spain ambitious of his love; + Each knew that side must conquer he would own; + And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. + + 23 No sooner was the Frenchman's cause[10] embraced, + Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd; + His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast, + Though Indian mines were in the other laid. + + 24 When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right: + For though some meaner artist's skill were shown + In mingling colours or in placing light, + Yet still the fair designment was his own. + + 25 For from all tempers he could service draw; + The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew; + And, as the confidant of Nature, saw + How she complexions did divide and brew. + + 26 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. + + 27 When such heroic virtue Heaven sets out, + The stars, like commons, sullenly obey; + Because it drains them when it comes about, + And therefore is a tax they seldom pay. + + 28 From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, + Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend; + Since their commencement to his arms they owe, + If springs as high as fountains may ascend. + + 29 He made us freemen of the Continent,[11] + Whom Nature did like captives treat before; + To nobler preys the English lion sent, + And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. + + 30 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[12] were her guard. + + 31 By his command we boldly cross'd the line, + And bravely fought where southern stars arise; + We traced the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine, + And that which bribed our fathers made our prize. + + 32 Such was our prince; yet own'd a soul above + The highest acts it could produce to show: + Thus poor mechanic arts in public move, + Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go. + + 33 Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less, + But when fresh laurels courted him to live: + He seem'd but to prevent some new success, + As if above what triumphs earth could give. + + 34 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,[13] under spoils decease. + + 35 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[14] conferr'd. + + 36 No civil broils have since his death arose, + But faction now by habit does obey; + And wars have that respect for his repose, + As winds for halcyons, when they breed at sea. + + 37 His ashes in a peaceful urn[15] shall rest; + His name a great example stands, to show + How strangely high endeavours may be blest, + Where piety and valour jointly go. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 5: 'Sacred eagle:' the Romans let fly an eagle from the pile +of a dead Emperor.] + +[Footnote 6: 'Bold Greek:' Alexander the Great.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Palms' were thought to grow best under pressure.] + +[Footnote 8: 'Bologna's walls,' &c.: alluding to a Popish story about +the wall of Bologna, on which was an image of the Virgin, being blown +up, and falling exactly into its place again.] + +[Footnote 9: 'Wands:' see the 'Antiquary.'] + +[Footnote 10: 'Frenchman's cause:' the treaty of alliance which Cromwell +entered into with France against the Spaniards.] + +[Footnote 11: 'Freemen of the Continent:' by the taking of Dunkirk.] + +[Footnote 12: 'Alexander:' Alexander VII., at this time Pope.] + +[Footnote 13: 'Vestal:' Tarpeia.] + +[Footnote 14: 'Loud sighs:' the tempest which occurred at Cromwell's +death.] + +[Footnote 15: 'Peaceful urn:' Dryden no true prophet--Cromwell's bones +having been dragged out of the royal vault, and exposed on the gibbet in +1660.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ASTRÆA REDUX. + +A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES +II., 1660. + + "Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna."--VIRG. + + "The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, + Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times + Roll round again." + + Now with a general peace the world was blest, + While ours, a world divided from the rest, + A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far + Than arms, a sullen interval of war: + Thus when black clouds draw down the labouring skies, + 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,[16] like restless billows tost, + 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 bequeath'd. + And Heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate, + For France and Spain did miracles create; + Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, + As nature bred, and interest did increase. + We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride[17] + Must grow a lily to the lily's side; + While our cross stars denied us Charles' bed, + Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed. 20 + For his long absence Church and State did groan; + Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne: + Experienced age in deep despair was lost, + To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd: + Youth that with joys had unacquainted been, + Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen: + We thought our sires, not with their own content, + Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. + Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt 30 + 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, + Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown. + Thus when the bold Typhoeus 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?) 40 + 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, + They own'd a lawless, savage liberty; + Like that our painted ancestors so prized, + Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized. + How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus + Was forced to suffer for himself and us! 50 + He, tost by fate, and hurried up and down, + Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, + Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, + But found his life too true a pilgrimage. + Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, + His manly courage overcame his fate. + His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, + Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. + 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, + Must be at once resolved and skilful too. + He would not, like soft Otho,[18] hope prevent, + But stay'd, and suffer'd fortune to repent. + These virtues Galba[19] in a stranger sought, + And Piso to adopted empire brought. 70 + How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, + That must his sufferings both regret and bless? + For when his early valour Heaven had 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; 80 + And when restored, made his proud neighbours rue + Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. + Nor is he only by afflictions shown + To conquer other realms, but rule his own: + Recovering hardly what he lost before, + 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: 90 + As they who first proportion understand, + With easy practice reach a master's hand. + Well might the ancient poets then confer + On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor, + Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, + We light alone in dark afflictions find. + In such adversities to sceptre train'd, + The name of Great his famous grandsire[20] gain'd: + Who yet a king alone in name and right, + With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; 100 + Shock'd by a covenanting league's vast powers, + As holy and as catholic as ours: + Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, + Her blows, not shook, but riveted, his throne. + + Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, + No action leave to busy chronicles: + Such, whose supine felicity but makes + In story chasms, in epoch's mistakes; + O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, + Till, with his silent sickle, they are mown. 110 + Such is not Charles' 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, which, secure before, + 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[21] who the sacred altar strews? + To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: 120 + A bull to thee, Portumnus,[22] shall be slain, + A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main: + For those loud storms that did against him roar, + Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore. + Yet as wise artists mix their colours so, + That by degrees they from each other go; + Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring 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. 130 + 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, + 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: 140 + 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's[23] forward valour only served to show + He durst that duty pay we all did owe. + The attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed 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. 150 + 'Twas Monk whom Providence design'd to loose + Those real bonds false freedom did impose. + The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scene, + Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean, + To see small clues draw vastest weights along, + Not in their bulk, but in their order, strong. + Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore + Smiles to that changed face that wept before. + With ease such fond chimeras we pursue, + As fancy frames for fancy to subdue: 160 + 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 + The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, + Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense; + The springs of motion from the seat of sense. + 'Twas not the hasty product of a day, + But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170 + He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, + Would let him play 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, + 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, 180 + 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, + 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. 190 + Religion's name against itself was made; + The shadow served the substance to invade: + Like zealous missions, they did care pretend + Of souls in show, but made the gold their end. + The incensed powers beheld with scorn from high + An heaven so far distant from the sky, + 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. 200 + Thus Sforza, cursed with a too fertile brain, + Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain. + Henceforth their fougue[24] must spend at lesser rate, + Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate. + Suffer'd to live, they are like helots set, + 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 + Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore, + To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made + So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade. + Oh! had you seen from Schevelin's[25] barren shore, + (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) 220 + Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring + True sorrow, Holland to regret a king! + While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, + And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied. + The wavering streamers, flags, and standard out, + The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout: + And last the cannon's voice, that shook the skies, + And as it fares in sudden ecstasies, + At once bereft us both of ears and eyes. + The Naseby,[26] now no longer England's shame, 230 + But better to be lost in Charles' name, + (Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets) + Receives her lord: the joyful London meets + The princely York, himself alone a freight; + The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's[27] 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' voyage bless'd, 240 + Which in his right had miracles confess'd. + The winds that never moderation knew, + Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew; + Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge + Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of their charge. + The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear, + In richer azure never did appear; + Proud her returning prince to entertain + With the submitted fasces of the main. + And welcome now, great monarch, to your own! 250 + Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion: + It is no longer motion cheats your view, + As you meet it, the land approacheth you. + The land returns, and, in the white it wears, + The marks of penitence and sorrow bears. + But you, whose goodness your descent doth show, + Your heavenly parentage and earthly too; + By that same mildness, which your father's crown + Before did ravish, shall secure your own. + Not tied to rules of policy, you find 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, 270 + 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 delight, 280 + Those, who had seen you, court a second sight; + Preventing still your steps, and making haste + To meet you often wheresoe'er you past. + How shall I speak of that triumphant day, + When you renew'd the expiring pomp of May![28] + (A month that owns an interest in your name: + You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.) + That star[29] that at your birth shone out so bright, + It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light, + Did once again its potent fires renew, 290 + 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. + Our nation with united interest blest, + Not now content to poise, 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, 300 + Besiege the petty monarchs of the land: + And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down, + Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown. + Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free, + Our merchants shall no more adventurers be: + Nor in the farthest East those dangers fear, + Which humble Holland must dissemble here. + Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes; + For what the powerful takes not, he bestows: + And France, that did an exile's presence fear, 310 + 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 those, your edicts some reclaim from sin, + But most your life and blest example win. + 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, 320 + By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne! + When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshow + The world a monarch, and that monarch you. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 16: 'Ambitious Swede:' Charles X., named also Gustavus, nephew +to the great Gustavus Adolphus.] + +[Footnote 17: 'Iberian bride:' the Infanta of Spain was betrothed to +Louis XIV.] + +[Footnote 18: 'Otho:' see Juvenal.] + +[Footnote 19: 'Galba:' Roman emperor, who adopted Piso.] + +[Footnote 20: 'Famous grandsire:' Charles II. was grandson by the +mother's side to Henry IV. of France.] + +[Footnote 21: 'With alga,' &c. : these lines refer to the ceremonies used +by such heathens as escaped from shipwreck. _Alga marina_, or sea-weed, +was strewed about the altar, and a lamb sacrificed to the winds.] + +[Footnote 22: 'Portumnus:' Palæmon, or Melicerta, god of shipwrecked +mariners.] + +[Footnote 23: 'Booth's:' Sir George Booth, an unsuccessful and premature +warrior on the Royal side in 1659.] + +[Footnote 24: 'Fougue:' a French word used for the fire and spirit of a +horse.] + +[Footnote 25: 'Schevelin:' a village about a mile from the Hague, at +which Charles II. embarked for England.] + +[Footnote 26: 'Naseby:' the ship in which Charles II. returned from +exile.] + +[Footnote 27: 'Great Gloster:' Henry, Duke of Gloucester, third son of +Charles I., landed at Dover with his brother in 1660, and died of the +smallpox soon afterwards.] + +[Footnote 28: Charles entered London on the 29th of May.] + +[Footnote 29: 'Star:' said to have shone on the day of Charles' birth, +and outshone the sun.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. + +A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION. + + In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, + When life and sin one common tomb had found, + The first small prospect of a rising hill + With various notes of joy the ark did fill: + Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd, + It left behind it false and slippery ground; + And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd, + Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd. + Thus, Royal Sir, to see you landed here, + Was cause enough of triumph for a year: 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, + 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. 20 + We had not yet exhausted all our store, + 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, 30 + To grace this happy day, while you appear, + Not king of us alone, but of the year. + All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart: + Of your own pomp, yourself the greatest part: + Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim, + And Heaven this day is feasted with your name. + Your cavalcade the fair spectators view, + From their high standings, yet look up to you. + From your brave train each singles out a prey, + And longs to date a conquest from your day. 40 + Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, + Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close; + And glorious dreams stand ready to restore + The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. + Next to the sacred temple you are led, + 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. 50 + 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, + And lie like bees in their own sweetness drown'd. + He that brought peace, all discord could atone, + His name is music of itself alone. + Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, + And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread 60 + 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, + 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: 70 + We know those blessings, which we must possess, + And judge of future by past happiness. + No promise can oblige a prince so much + Still to be good, as long to have been such. + A noble emulation heats your breast, + 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. 80 + 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 Cæsar 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 + From milder heavens you bring, without their crimes. 90 + 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. 100 + Hither in summer evenings you repair + To taste the _fraicheur_ of the purer air: + Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves, + With Cæsar's heart that rose above the waves. + More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays; + 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. 110 + Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide, + Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide: + Here in a royal bed[30] the waters sleep; + When tired at sea, within this bay they creep. + Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects, + 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. 120 + 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, + While that with incense does a god implore. + Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose, + This must receive a crown, or that must lose. + Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old, + Are answers sought, and destinies foretold: 130 + Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows, + And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs. + Your subjects, while you weigh the nation's fate, + Suspend to both their doubtful love or hate: + Choose only, Sir, that so they may possess, + With their own peace their children's happiness. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 30: 'Royal bed:' the river led from the Thames through St +James' Park.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.[31] + +PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662. + + My Lord, + While flattering crowds officiously appear + To give themselves, not you, a happy year; + And by the greatness of their presents prove + How much they hope, but not how well they love; + The Muses, who your early courtship boast, + 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; + From their own order chose, in whose high state, + They think themselves the second choice of fate. + When our great monarch into exile went, + Wit and religion suffer'd banishment. + Thus once, when Troy was wrapp'd in fire and smoke, + The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook; 20 + 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. 30 + + In open prospect nothing bounds our eye, + Until the earth seems join'd unto the sky: + So, in this hemisphere, our utmost view + Is only bounded by our king and you: + Our sight is limited where you are join'd, + 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. 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, 50 + In your tribunal most herself does please; + There only smiles because she lives at ease; + And, like young David, finds her strength the more, + When disencumber'd from those arms she wore. + Heaven would our royal master should exceed + Most in that virtue which we most did need; + And his mild father (who too late did find + All mercy vain but what with power was join'd) + His fatal goodness left to fitter times, + Not to increase, but to absolve, our crimes: 60 + But when the heir of this vast treasure knew + How large a legacy was left to you + (Too great for any subject to retain), + He wisely tied it to the crown again: + Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, + As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their 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: 70 + Which should you veil, we might unwind the clew, + As men do nature, till we came to you. + And as the Indies were not found, before + Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore, + The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd, + 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: 80 + 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, + 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, 90 + 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, + Even 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, 100 + When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound, + She struck the warlike spear into the ground; + Which sprouting leaves did suddenly enclose, + And peaceful olives shaded as they rose. + + How strangely active are the arts of peace, + 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 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. + Let envy then those crimes within you see, + From which the happy never must be free; 120 + Envy, that does with misery reside, + The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride. + Think it not hard, if at so cheap a rate + You can secure the constancy of fate, + Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem, + By lesser ills the greater to redeem. + Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call, + But drops of heat, that in the sunshine fall. + + You have already wearied fortune so, + She cannot further be your friend or foe; 130 + But sits all breathless, and admires to feel + A fate so weighty, that it stops her wheel. + In all things else above our humble fate, + Your equal mind yet swells not into state, + But, like some mountain in those happy isles, + 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: 140 + 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, the impression wears + 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. 150 + 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, + Because the centre of it is above. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 31: 'Hyde:' the far-famed historian Clarendon.] + + * * * * * + + + + +SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.[32] + +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662. + + 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 compliment; + The dotage of some Englishmen is such, + 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 Guinea-trade, the herrings too; + Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. 10 + 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, + Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare. + Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true, + They have no more religion, faith! than you. + Interest's the god they worship in their state, + And we, I take it, have not much of that 20 + 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, + 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. 30 + Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; + For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: + And their new commonwealth has set them free + Only from honour and civility. + Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, + 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'[33] touch can cure the tumour. 40 + As Cato fruits of Afric did display, + Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: + All loyal English will like him conclude; + Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 32: 'Satire:' the same nearly with his prologue to 'Amboyna.'] + +[Footnote 33: 'Two kings:' alluding to projected union between France +and England.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS,[34] + +ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, +1665. 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 + (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, + 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 pass'd; + Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow, + These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. 20 + 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. + 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,[35] 30 + 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. + With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn, + Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. + Fortune and victory he did pursue, + To bring them as his slaves to wait on you. + Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame, 40 + And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame. + Then, as you meant to spread another way + By land your conquests, far as his by sea, + Leaving our southern clime you march'd along + The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupids strong. + Like commons the nobility resort + In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court: + To welcome your approach the vulgar run, + Like some new envoy from the distant sun; + And country beauties by their lovers go, 50 + 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, + And round him the pleased audience clap their wings. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 34: 'The Duchess:' daughter to the great Earl of Clarendon; +married privately to Duke of York. For account of this victory, see Hume +or Macaulay. The duchess accompanied the duke to Harwich, and thence +made a progress north-wards, referred to here.] + +[Footnote 35: 'Heard the cannon play:' the cannon were heard in London a +hundred miles from Lowestoff where the battle was fought.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ANNUS MIRABILIS: + + +THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. + +AN HISTORICAL POEM. + + * * * * * + +AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, IN A LETTER TO THE HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT +HOWARD. + + +Sir,--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 further 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 having served 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 nobles 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 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 Æneids. 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 slavery of any rhyme; and were less constrained in the +quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with spondees or +dactyls, besides so many other helps of grammatical figures, for the +lengthening or 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 is to carry it +further 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 among 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 +Alexandrius, 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. + + Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, + Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, Poeta salutor? + +For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the sea, yet I have +thought it no shame to learn: and if I have made some few mistakes, it +is only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity +to correct them; the whole poem being first written, and now sent you +from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any seaman. +Yet though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than +recompensed by the pleasure. I found myself so warm in celebrating the +praises of military men, two such especially as the prince[36] and +general, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my +ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that, as they are incomparably +the best subject I ever had, excepting only the royal family, so also, +that this I have written of them is much better than what I have +performed on any other. I have been forced to help out other arguments; +but this has been bountiful to me: they have been low and barren of +praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful; but +here--_Omnia sponte suâ reddit justissima tellus_. I have had a large, a +fair, and a pleasant field; so fertile that, without my cultivating, it +has given me two harvests in a summer, and in both 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 further +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 designed, 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. It is 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 jingle 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 then the first happiness of the poet's +imagination is properly invention or finding of the thought; the second +is fancy, or the variation, deriving or moulding of that thought, as the +judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or +the art of clothing and adorning that thought, so found 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 among the +poets; for the latter, Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and +affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, +or extremely discomposed by one. His words therefore are the least part +of his care; for he pictures 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, anything 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 +Althæa, 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 so corpore miscet. + + +We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus breathing +beauty upon her son Æneas. + + --lumenque juventæ + Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflârat 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 Æneas: 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 +superabat 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 egregiè, 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. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own +the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my master +in this poem: I have followed him everywhere, I 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; 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, habebunt verba fidem, si + Græco fonte cadunt, parcè 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! 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 antique gestures, at which we cannot +forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though the +same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the historic and +panegyric, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of sculpture is +to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, +_Stantes in curribus Æmiliani_, heroes drawn in their triumphal +chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of +Virgil, _Spirantia mollius oera_: 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 his 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 further 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, it is 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; _Nec sunt parum +multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant_: I am rather too secure +of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you +more remiss in 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 fame and +reputation; and therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my poem +fairer by many of your blots; if not, you know the story of the gamester +who married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the +portion, christened all the 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, it is +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, sir, +the most obedient, and most faithful of your servants, + +JOHN DRYDEN. + +From Charlton in Wiltshire, _Nov_. 10, 1666. + + * * * * * + + 1 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. + + 2 Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow, + 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. + + 3 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat; + In eastern quarries ripening precious dew: + For them the Idumæan balm did sweat, + And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew. + + 4 The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year; + Each waxing moon supplied her watery store, + To swell those tides, which from the line did bear + Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore. + + 5 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. + + 6 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. + + 7 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 his vast designs withstand. + + 8 See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, + To render us his timely friendship vain: + And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, + He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. + + 9 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 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. + + 12 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. + + 13 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, + Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain; + Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecks rise, + It would in richer showers descend again. + + 14 At length resolved to 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. + + 15 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. + + 16 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. + + 17 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. + + 18 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. + + 19 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. + + 20 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[37] should be slain. + + 21 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. + + 22 Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expired, + 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. + + 23 To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, + Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed: + So reverently men quit the open air, + When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad. + + 24 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. + + 25 Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, + Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring: + There first the north's cold bosom spices bore, + And winter brooded on the eastern spring. + + 26 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. + + 27 Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, + The English undertake the unequal war: + Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, + Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare. + + 28 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. + + 29 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. + + 30 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. + + 31 Nor wholly lost[38] 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. + + 32 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. + + 33 The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, + Prepared 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. + + 34 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 promised to return. + + 35 Such are the proud designs of human kind, + And so we suffer shipwreck every where! + Alas, what port can such a pilot find, + Who in the night of fate must blindly steer! + + 36 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. + + 37 Let Munster's prelate[39] 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! + + 38 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. + + 39 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove; + The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand: + And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, + Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand. + + 40 That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, + Who envies us what he wants power to enjoy; + Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, + And weak assistance will his friends destroy. + + 41 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. + + 42 With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: + France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave, + But when with one three nations join to fight, + They silently confess that one more brave. + + 43 Lewis had chased the English from his shore; + But Charles the French as subjects does invite: + Would Heaven for each some Solomon restore, + Who, by their mercy, may decide their right! + + 44 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. + + 45 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. + + 46 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. + + 47 With equal power he does two chiefs[40] create, + 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. + + 48 Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, + Yet neither envious of the other's praise; + Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, + Like mighty partners equally they raise. + + 49 The prince long time had courted fortune's love, + But once possess'd, did absolutely reign: + Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, + And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. + + 50 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. + + 51 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. + + 52 With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, + To infect a navy with their gaudy fears; + To make slow fights, and victories but vain: + But war severely like itself appears. + + 53 Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, + They make that warmth in others they expect; + Their valour works like bodies on a glass, + And does its image on their men project. + + 54 Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, + In number, and a famed commander, bold: + The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, + Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold. + + 55 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. + + 56 Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight; + Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air: + The Elean plains could boast no nobler sight, + When struggling champions did their bodies bare. + + 57 Borne each by other in a distant line, + The sea-built forts in dreadful order move: + So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, + But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove. + + 58 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, + To finish all the deaths they left behind. + + 59 On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, + Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go: + Such port the elephant bears, and so defied + By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe. + + 60 And as the build, 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. + + 61 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, + Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives: + All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, + He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves. + + 62 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought; + But he who meets all danger with disdain, + Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, + And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. + + 63 At this excess of courage, all amazed, + The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: + With such respect in enter'd Rome they gazed, + Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw. + + 64 And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, + Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek + Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, + And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. + + 65 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. + + 66 Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, + More fierce the important quarrel to decide: + Like swans, in long array his vessels show, + Whose crests advancing do the waves divide. + + 67 They charge, recharge, and all along the sea + They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet; + Berkeley[41] alone, who nearest danger lay, + Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet. + + 68 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. + + 69 In the 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. + + 70 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. + + 71 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. + + 72 The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, + Till from their main-top joyful news they hear + Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies, + And in their colours Belgian lions bear. + + 73 Our watchful general had discern'd from far + This mighty succour, which made glad the foe: + He sigh'd, but, like a father of the war, + His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow. + + 74 His wounded men he first sends off to shore, + Never till now unwilling to obey: + They, not their wounds, but want of strength deplore, + And think them happy who with him can stay. + + 75 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. + + 76 If number English courages could quell, + We should at first have shunn'd, not met, our foes, + Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell: + Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows. + + 77 He said, nor needed more to say: with haste + To their known stations cheerfully they go; + And all at once, disdaining to be last, + Solicit every gale to meet the foe. + + 78 Nor did the encouraged Belgians long delay, + But bold in others, not themselves, they stood: + So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, + But seem'd to wander in a moving wood. + + 79 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, + Till through their bowels we our passage wrought. + + 80 Never had valour, no not ours, before + Done aught 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. + + 81 The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, + And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, + To see this fleet among unequal foes, + By which fate promised them their Charles should rise. + + 82 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, + 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. + + 83 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on: + Such vapours once did fiery Cacus[42] hide: + In these the height of pleased revenge is shown, + Who burn contented by another's side. + + 84 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, + Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, + Two grappling Ætnas on the ocean meet, + And English fires with Belgian flames contend. + + 85 Now at each tack our little fleet grows less; + And like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main: + Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, + While they lose cheaper than the English gain. + + 86 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, + Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, + And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd, + Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind. + + 87 The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, + And sees the groves no shelter can afford, + With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, + Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird. + + 88 Among the Dutch thus Albemarle[43] did fare: + He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly; + Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, + Like falling Cæsar, decently to die. + + 89 Yet pity did his manly spirit move, + To see those perish who so well had fought; + And generously with his despair he strove, + Resolved to live till he their safety wrought. + + 90 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. + + 91 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. + + 92 His fiery cannon did their passage guide, + And following smoke obscured them from the foe: + Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, + By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go. + + 93 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. + + 94 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. + + 95 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. + + 96 So Lybian 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. + + 97 But if some one approach to dare his force, + 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. + + 98 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; + Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore; + And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, + Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore: + + 99 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, + Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, + Upon the deck our careful general stood, + And deeply mused on the succeeding day. + + 100 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. + + 101 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. + + 102 Restless he pass'd the remnant of the night, + Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh: + And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, + With paler fires beheld the eastern sky. + + 103 But now, his stores of ammunition spent, + His naked valour is his only guard; + Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, + And solitary guns are scarcely heard. + + 104 Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, + Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife: + This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, + For all the glories of so great a life. + + 105 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. + + 106 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, + And from that length of time dire omens drew + Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, + Who never fought three days, but to pursue. + + 107 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: + + 108 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, + The broken air loud whistling as she flies: + She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, + And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries. + + 109 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. + + 110 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, + And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain, + And first the martlet meets it in the sky, + And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train. + + 111 With such glad hearts did our despairing men + Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet; + And each ambitiously would claim the ken, + That with first eyes did distant safety meet. + + 112 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, + To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, + Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, + And sheets of lightning blast the standing field. + + 113 Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand, + And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay; + Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, + And seamen with dissembled depths betray. + + 114 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd + This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, + And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, + To tempt his courage with so fair a bait. + + 115 But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, + Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight: + His cold experience tempers all his heat, + And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight. + + 116 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, + And he the substance, not the appearance chose + To rescue one such friend he took more pride, + Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes. + + 117 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, + Rupert and Albemarle together grow; + He joys to have his friend in safety found, + Which he to none but to that friend would owe. + + 118 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, + Now long to execute their spleenful will; + And, in revenge for those three days they tried, + Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still. + + 119 Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, + Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way: + With the first blushes of the morn they meet, + And bring night back upon the new-born day. + + 120 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. + + 121 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. + + 122 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends + His open side, and high above him shows: + Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, + And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows. + + 123 Behind the general mends his weary pace, + And sullenly to his revenge he sails: + So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, + And long behind his wounded volume trails. + + 124 The 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. + + 125 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. + + 126 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. + + 127 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest + Two giant ships, the pride of all the main; + Which with his one so vigorously he prest, + And flew so home they could not rise again. + + 128 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, + In rain upon the passing winds they call: + The passing winds through their torn canvas play, + And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall. + + 129 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, + Dreadful as day let into shades below: + Without, grim Death rides barefaced in their sight, + And urges entering billows as they flow. + + 130 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, + Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore: + All three now helpless by each other lie, + And this offends not, and those fear no more. + + 131 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain + 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. + + 132 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; + His warm breath blows her flix[44] up as she lies; + She trembling creeps upon the ground away, + And looks back to him with beseeching eyes. + + 133 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, + Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on; + For what they to his courage did refuse, + By mortal valour never must be done. + + 134 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. + + 135 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. + + 136 He casts a frown on the departing foe, + And sighs to see him quit the watery field: + His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, + For all the glories which the fight did yield. + + 137 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, + He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch: + He only does his conquest disavow, + And thinks too little what they found too much. + + 138 Return'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay; + No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; + Domestic joys and cares he puts away; + For realms are households which the great must guide. + + 139 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: + + 140 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. + + 141 Heaven ended not the first or second day, + Yet each was perfect to the work design'd; + God and king's work, when they their work survey, + A passive aptness in all subjects find. + + 142 In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, + His plenteous stores do seasoned timber send; + Thither the brawny carpenters repair, + And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend. + + 143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, + His navy's molted wings he imps once more: + Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, + And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore. + + 144 All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm: + Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, + Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm. + And some on bells of tasted lilies play. + + 145 With gluey wax some new foundations 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. + + 146 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. + + 147 With boiling pitch another near at hand, + 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. + + 148 Some the gall'd ropes with dauby marline bind, + Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpaulin coats: + To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, + And one below their ease or stiffness notes. + + 149 Our careful monarch stands in person by, + His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore: + The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, + And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore. + + 150 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 fallen into the road. + + 151 The goodly London in her gallant trim + (The Phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old). + Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, + And on her shadow rides in floating gold. + + 152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to 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. + + 153 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. + + 154 This martial present, piously design'd, + The loyal city give their best-loved King: + And with a bounty ample as the wind, + Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring. + + 155 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. + + 156 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, + An useless drift, which, rudely cut within, + And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, + And cross some rivulet passage did begin. + + 157 In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, + 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. + + 158 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, + When from lost empire he to exile went, + And with the golden age to Tiber steer'd, + Where coin and commerce first he did invent. + + 159 Rude as their ships was navigation then; + No useful compass or meridian known; + Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, + And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone. + + 160 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. + + 161 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. + + 162 The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow, + We, as art's elements, shall understand, + And as by line upon the ocean go, + Whose paths shall be familiar as the land. + + 163 Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce, + By which remotest regions are allied; + Which makes one city of the universe, + Where some may gain, and all may be supplied. + + 164 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, + And view the ocean leaning on the sky: + From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, + And on the lunar world securely pry. + + 165 This I foretell 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. + + 166 O truly royal! who behold the law + And rule of beings in your Maker's mind: + And thence, like limbecks, rich ideas draw, + To fit the levell'd use of human-kind. + + 197 But first the toils of war we must endure, + And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas. + War makes the valiant of his right secure, + And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease. + + 168 Already were the Belgians on our coast, + Whose fleet more mighty every day became + By late success, which they did falsely boast, + And now by first appearing seem'd to claim. + + 169 Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, + They knew to manage war with wise delay: + Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, + And by their pride their prudence did betray. + + 170 Nor stay'd the English long; but, well supplied, + Appear as numerous as the insulting foe: + The combat now by courage must be tried, + And the success the braver nation show. + + 171 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. + + 172 Old expert Allen,[45] 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. + + 173 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 + The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold. + + 174 With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, + Whom his high courage to command had brought: + Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save, + And in his burning ship undaunted fought. + + 175 Young Hollis, on a Muse by Mars begot, + Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds: + Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, + His right hand doubly to his left succeeds. + + 176 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. + + 177 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. + + 178 Now anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, + That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings: + A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, + And rests in those high beds his downy wings. + + 179 The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, + And durst not bide it on the English coast: + Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, + And there lay snares to catch the British host. + + 180 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, + Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly. + + 181 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 drags the little wretch in triumph home. + + 182 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 one. + + 183 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, + 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. + + 184 It seem'd as there the British Neptune stood, + With all his hosts of waters at command. + Beneath them to submit the officious flood; + And with his trident shoved them off the sand. + + 185 To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, + And summon them to unexpected fight: + They start like murderers when ghosts appear, + And draw their curtains in the dead of night. + + 186 Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, + The midmost battles hastening up behind, + Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, + And hear their thunder rattling in the wind. + + 187 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. + + 188 The distance judged for shot of every size, + The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires: + The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, + And adds his heart to every gun he fires! + + 189 Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, + For honour, which they seldom sought before! + But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, + And forced at least in show to prize it more. + + 190 But sharp remembrance on the English part, + And shame of being match'd by such a foe, + Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, + And seeming to be stronger makes them so. + +191 Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, + Which did two generals' fates, and Cæsar's bear: + Each several ship a victory did gain, + As Rupert or as Albemarle were there. + + 192 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. + + 193 Never did men more joyfully obey, + Or sooner understood the sign to fly: + With such alacrity they bore away, + As if to praise them all the States stood by. + + 194 O famous leader[46] of the Belgian fleet, + Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, + As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, + Because he did not of his Rome despair. + + 195 Behold that navy, which a while before, + Provoked the tardy English close to fight, + Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, + As larks lie, dared, to shun the hobby's flight. + + 196 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. + + 197 Or if too busily they will inquire + Into a victory which we disdain; + Then let them know the Belgians did retire + Before the patron saint[47] of injured Spain. + + 198 Repenting England this revengeful day + To Philip's manes did an offering bring: + England, which first by leading them astray, + Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her King. + + 199 Our fathers bent their baneful industry, + To check a, monarchy that slowly grew; + But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, + Whose rising power to swift dominion flew. + + 200 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, + And wander after pathless destiny; + Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, + In vain it would provide for what shall be. + + 201 But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go, + And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; + Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, + And him detesting a Batavian fleet. + + 202 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. + + 203 So, close behind some promontory lie + The huge leviathans to attend their prey; + And give no chase, but swallow in the fry, + Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. + + 204 Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, + Destructive fires among whole fleets we send: + Triumphant flames upon the water float, + And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. + + 205 Those various squadrons variously design'd, + Each vessel freighted with a several load, + Each squadron waiting for a several wind, + All find but one, to burn them in the road. + + 206 Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find, + Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear; + Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd, + For folded turbans finest Holland bear. + + 207 Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom, + And into cloth of spungy softness made, + Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom, + To ruin with worse ware our staple trade. + + 208 Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, + 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. + + 209 But ah! how insincere are all our joys! + Which, sent from heaven, like lightning make no stay; + Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, + Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way. + + 210 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. + + 211 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. + + 212 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! + + 213 As when some dire usurper[48] Heaven provides, + To scourge his country with a lawless sway; + His birth perhaps some petty village hides, + And sets his cradle out of fortune's way. + + 214 Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, + And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on: + His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt, + And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known. + + 215 Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, + Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred, + From thence did soon to open streets aspire, + And straight to palaces and temples spread. + + 216 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. + + 217 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. + + 218 Then in some close-pent room it crept along, + And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed; + Till the infant monster, with devouring strong, + Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head. + + 219 Now like some rich or mighty murderer, + Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold; + Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear, + And dares the world to tax him with the old: + + 220 So 'scapes the 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. + + 221 The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld + His flames from burning, but to blow them more: + And every fresh attempt he is repell'd + With faint denials weaker than before. + + 222 And now no longer letted[49] of his prey, + He leaps up at it with enraged desire: + O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, + And nods at every house his threatening fire. + + 223 The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, + With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice: + About the fire into a dance they bend, + And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice. + + 224 Our guardian angel saw them where they sate + Above the palace of our slumbering king: + He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to fate, + And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing. + + 225 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. + + 226 The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, + Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire: + And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, + For helpless infants left amidst the fire. + + 227 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 jostle as they meet. + + 228 So weary bees in little cells repose; + 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. + + 229 Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day: + Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire: + Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play; + And some more bold mount ladders to the fire. + + 230 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. + + 231 A quay 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. + + 232 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. + + 233 The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross; + To either hand his wings he opens wide: + He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, + And plays his longing flames on the other side. + + 234 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. + + 235 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. + + 236 One mighty squadron with a side-wind sped, + Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste, + By powerful charms of gold and silver led, + The Lombard bankers and the 'Change to waste. + + 237 Another backward to the Tower would go, + And slowly eats his way against the wind: + But the main body of the marching foe + Against the imperial palace is design'd. + + 238 Now day appears, and with the day the King, + Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest: + Far off the cracks of falling houses ring, + And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast. + + 239 Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke + With gloomy pillars cover all the place; + Whose little intervals of night are broke + By sparks, that drive against his sacred face. + + 240 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; + So much the pity of a king has power. + + 241 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. + + 242 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. + + 243 Himself directs what first is to be done, + And orders all the succours which they bring, + The helpful and the good about him run, + And form an army worthy such a king. + + 244 He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, + That, where it seizes, all relief is vain: + And therefore must unwillingly lay waste + That country, which would else the foe maintain. + + 245 The powder blows up all before the fire: + The amazèd flames stand gather'd on a heap; + And from the precipice's brink retire, + Afraid to venture on so large a leap. + + 246 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. + + 247 Part stay for passage, till a gust of wind + Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet: + Part creeping under ground their journey blind, + And climbing from below their fellows meet. + + 248 Thus to some desert plain, or old woodside, + 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. + + 249 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. + + 250 The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud; + Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more: + So void of pity is the ignoble crowd, + When others' ruin may increase their store. + + 251 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 tempests which the others fly: + + 252 So these but wait the owners' last despair, + And what's permitted to the flames invade; + Even from their jaws they hungry morsels tear, + And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade. + + 253 The days were all in this lost labour spent; + 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. + + 254 Night came, but without darkness or repose,-- + A dismal picture of the general doom, + Where souls, distracted when the trumpet blows, + And half unready, with their bodies come. + + 255 Those who have homes, when home they do repair, + To a last lodging call their wandering friends: + Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care, + To look how near their own destruction tends. + + 256 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. + + 257 Some stir up coals, and watch the vestal fire, + Others in vain from sight of ruin run; + And, while through burning labyrinths they retire, + With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun. + + 258 The most in fields like herded beasts lie down, + To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor; + And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, + Sad parents watch the remnants of their store. + + 259 While by the motion of the flames they guess + What streets are burning now, and what are near; + An infant waking to the paps would press, + And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear. + + 260 No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, + Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort sing: + Even those whom want might drive to just despair, + Think life a blessing under such a king. + + 261 Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, + Out-weeps an hermit, and out-prays a saint: + All the long night he studies their relief, + How they may be supplied, and he may want. + + 262 O God, said he, thou patron of my days, + Guide of my youth in exile and distress! + Who me, unfriended, brought'st by wondrous ways, + The kingdom of my fathers to possess: + + 263 Be thou my judge, with what unwearied care + 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. + + 264 Thou who hast taught me to forgive the ill, + And recompense, as friends, the good misled; + If mercy be a precept of thy will, + Return that mercy on thy servant's head. + + 265 Or if my heedless youth has stepp'd astray, + Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand; + On me alone thy just displeasure lay, + But take thy judgments from this mourning land. + + 266 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. + + 267 O let it be enough what thou hast done; + 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. + + 268 The living few, and frequent funerals then, + Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place; + And now those few who are return'd again, + Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. + + 269 O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, + Or bind thy sentence unconditional! + But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, + And in that foresight this thy doom recall. + + 270 Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine thou mayst revoke: + But if immutable and fix'd they stand, + Continue still thyself to give the stroke, + And let not foreign foes oppress thy land. + + 271 The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire + Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword; + And bade him swiftly drive the approaching fire + From where our naval magazines were stored. + + 272 The blessed minister his wings display'd, + And like a shooting star he cleft the night: + He charged the flames, and those that disobey'd + He lash'd to duty with his sword of light. + + 273 The fugitive flames chastised went forth to prey + On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd; + By which to heaven they did affect the way, + Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard. + + 274 The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes, + Their founder's charity in dust laid low; + And sent to God their ever-answered cries, + For He protects the poor, who made them so. + + 275 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; + And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. + + 276 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. + + 277 Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, + And widely opening did on both sides prey: + This benefit we sadly owe the flame, + If only ruin must enlarge our way. + + 278 And now four days the sun had seen our woes: + Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire: + It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, + And farther from the feverish north retire. + + 279 In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode, + The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie, + Not daring to behold their angry God; + And a hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. + + 280 At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye, + And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast: + He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, + And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. + + 281 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. + + 282 The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, + Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: + Each household genius shows again his face, + And from the hearths the little Lares creep. + + 283 Our King this more than natural change beholds; + With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: + To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, + And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. + + 284 As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth, + A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain; + And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, + And straight the green fields laugh with promised grain: + + 285 By such degrees the spreading gladness grew + In every heart which fear had froze before: + The standing streets with so much joy they view, + That with less grief the perish'd they deplore. + + 286 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. + + 287 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. + + 288 But so may he live long, that town to sway, + Which by his auspice they will nobler make, + As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, + And not their humble ruins now forsake. + + 289 They have not lost their loyalty by fire; + Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, + That from his wars they poorly would retire, + Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. + + 290 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. + + 291 The utmost malice of their stars is past, + And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, + In their own plague and fire have breathed the last, + Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. + + 292 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. + + 293 Methinks already from this chemic flame, + 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. + + 294 Already labouring with a mighty fate, + She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, + And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, + Which Heaven will to the death of time allow. + + 295 More great than human now, and more august, + Now deified she from her fires does rise: + Her widening streets on new foundations trust, + And opening into larger parts she flies. + + 296 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. + + 297 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, + From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; + The East with incense, and the West with gold, + Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom! + + 298 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, + Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; + And often wind, as of his mistress proud, + With longing eyes to meet her face again. + + 299 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, + 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. + + 300 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, + And touches on our hospitable shore, + Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, + Shall here unlade him, and depart no more. + + 301 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, + The wealth of France or Holland to invade; + The beauty of this town without a fleet, + From all the world shall vindicate her trade. + + 302 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. + + 303 Already we have conquer'd half the war, + 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. + + 304 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, + And gently lay us on the spicy shore. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 36: Prince Rupert and General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.] + +[Footnote 37: 'Lawson:' Sir John Lawson, rear admiral of the red, killed +by a ball that wounded him in the knee.] + +[Footnote 38: 'Wholly lost:' the Dutch ships on their return home, being +separated by a storm, the rear and vice-admirals of the East India +fleet, with four men of war, were taken by five English frigates. Soon +after, four men of war, two fire-ships, and thirty merchantmen, being +driven out of their course, joined our fleet instead of their own, and +were all taken. These things happened in 1665.] + +[Footnote 39: 'Munster's prelate:' the famous Bertrand Von Der Chalen, +Bishop of Munster, excited by Charles, marched twenty thousand men into +the province of Overyssel, under the dominion of the republic of +Holland, where he committed great outrages.] + +[Footnote 40: 'Two chiefs:' Prince Rupert and Monk.] + +[Footnote 41: 'Berkeley:' Vice-admiral Berkeley fought till his men were +all killed, and was found in the cabin dead and covered with blood.] + +[Footnote 42: 'Cacus:' see Virgil in Cowper's translation, 2d vol. of +this edition.] + +[Footnote 43: 'Albemarle:' Monk.] + +[Footnote 44: 'Flix:' old word for hare fur.] + +[Footnote 45: 'Allen:' Sir Thomas Allen, admiral of the white. 'The +Achates:' Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white.] + +[Footnote 46: 'Leader:' De Ruyter.] + +[Footnote 47: 'Patron saint:' St James, on whose day the victory was +gained.] + +[Footnote 48: 'Usurper:' this seems a reference to Cromwell; if so, it +contradicts Scott's statement quoted above in the 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 49: 'Letted:' hindered.] + + * * * * * + + + + +AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. + +BY ME DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE,[50] 1679. + + How dull, and how insensible a beast + Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest! + Philosophers and poets vainly strove + In every age the lumpish mass to move: + But those were pedants, when compared with these, + Who know not only to instruct, but please. + Poets alone found the delightful way, + Mysterious morals gently to convey + In charming numbers; so that as men grew + 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, + 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 rightest when they shoot in jest. 20 + Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides, + And censure those who censure all besides, + In other things they justly are preferr'd. + In this alone methinks the ancients err'd,-- + Against the grossest follies they declaim; + 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,[51] or dull Aston teach? 30 + 'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball, + Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall. + But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find, + Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind; + That little speck which all the rest does spoil, + 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; 40 + 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, + To see their antiquated wit laid by; + Like her, who miss'd her name in a lampoon, + And grieved to find herself decay'd so soon. + No common coxcomb must be mentioned here: + Not the dull train of dancing sparks appear; 50 + 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 other are but fools. + Who would not be as silly as Dunbar? + As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr?[52] + 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 Æsop's fox becomes a prey at last. 60 + 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,[53] + Meets with dissembling still in either place, + 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? + Was ever prince by two at once misled, + False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred? + Earnely[54] and Aylesbury[55] with all that race + Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place; + At council set as foils on Danby's[56] 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; 80 + Their very names have tired my lazy pen: + 'Tis time to quit their company, and choose + Some fitter subject for sharper muse. + + First, let's behold the merriest man alive[57] + Against his careless genius vainly strive; + 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.[58] + But when he aims at reason or at rule, 90 + He turns himself the best to ridicule; + Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit, + Show him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit; + That shadow of a jest shall be enjoy'd, + Though he left all mankind to be destroy'd. + So cat transform'd sat gravely and demure, + Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself secure; + But soon the lady had him in her eye, + And from her friend did just as oddly fly. + Reaching above our nature does no good; 100 + We must fall back to our old flesh and blood; + As by our little Machiavel we find + That nimblest creature of the busy kind, + His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes; + Yet his hard mind which all this bustle makes, + No pity of its poor companion takes. + What gravity can hold from laughing out, + To see him drag his feeble legs about, + Like hounds ill-coupled? Jowler lugs him still + Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's ill. 110 + 'Twere crime in any man but him alone, + To use a body so, though 'tis one's own: + Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, + That whilst he creeps his vigorous thoughts can soar; + Alas! that soaring to those few that know, + Is but a busy grovelling here below. + So men in rapture think they mount the sky, + Whilst on the ground the entranced wretches lie: + So modern fops have fancied they could fly. + As the new earl,[59] with parts deserving praise, 120 + And wit enough to laugh at his own ways, + Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights, + Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights; + Striving against his quiet all he can, + For the fine notion of a busy man. + 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'll not only pay him, but admire him too. + But is there any other beast that lives, + Who his own harm so wittingly contrives? + Will any dog that has his teeth and stones, + Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones, + To turn a wheel, and bark to be employ'd, + While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd? + Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, + Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame. + + Though satire, nicely writ, with humour stings 140 + But those who merit praise in other things; + Yet we must needs this one exception make, + And break our rules for silly Tropos'[60] sake; + Who was too much despised to be accused, + And therefore scarce deserves to be abused; + Raised only by his mercenary tongue, + For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong, + As boys, on holidays, let loose to play, + Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way; + Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 150 + Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress: + So have I mighty satisfaction found, + To see his tinsel reason on the ground: + To see the florid fool despised, and know it, + By some who scarce have words enough to show it: + For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker + The finer, nay sometimes the wittier speaker: + But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence + Should be acquirèd by such little sense; + For words and wit did anciently agree, 160 + And Tully was no fool, though this man be: + At bar abusive, on the bench unable, + Knave on the woolsack, fop at council-table. + These are the grievances of such fools as would + Be rather wise than honest, great than good. + + Some other kind of wits must be made known, + Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone; + Excess of luxury they think can please, + And laziness call loving of their ease: + To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign, 170 + Though their whole life's but intermitting pain: + So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen, + We scarce perceive the little time between: + Well-meaning men who make this gross mistake, + And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake; + 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: + And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 180 + Like Pembroke's mastives at his kindest time; + Then for one night sold all his slavish life, + A teeming widow, but a barren wife; + Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, + He lugg'd about the matrimonial load; + 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,[61] 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, + To see him catch his Tartar for his prize; + The impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, + And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge; + Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 200 + As his estate, his person too was free: + Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move; + To gold he fled from beauty and from love; + Yet, failing there, he keeps his freedom still, + Forced to live happily against his will: + 'Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power + Break not his boasted quiet every hour. + + And little Sid,[62] for simile renown'd, + Pleasure has always sought but never found: + Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 210 + His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. + The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong, + His meat and mistresses are kept too long. + But sure we all mistake this pious man, + Who mortifies his person all he can: + 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; + And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 220 + No nastiness offends his skilful nose: + Which from all stink can with peculiar art + Extract perfume and essence from a f--t. + Expecting supper is his great delight; + He toils all day but to be drunk at night: + Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits, + Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall[63] for wits. + + Rochester I despise for want of wit, + Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet; + For while he mischief means to all mankind, 230 + Himself alone the ill effects does find: + And so like witches justly suffer 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; + 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, 240 + A very Killigrew[64] without good nature. + For what a Bessus[65] has he always lived, + And his own kickings notably contrived! + For, there's the folly that's still mix'd with fear, + Cowards more blows than any hero bear; + Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures say, + But 'tis a bolder thing to run away: + The world may well forgive him all his ill, + For every fault does prove his penance still: + Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose, 250 + And then as meanly labours to get loose; + 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, hit, + 'Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid, + To find it out's the cinderwoman's trade; + Who for the wretched remnants of a fire, 260 + Must toil all day in ashes and in mire. + So lewdly dull his idle works appear, + The wretched texts deserve no comments here; + Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone, + For a whole page of dulness must atone. + + How vain a thing is man, and how unwise! + Even he, who would himself the most despise! + I, who so wise and humble seem to be, + Now my own vanity and pride can't see; + While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown, 270 + We pull down others' but to raise our own; + That we may angels seem, we paint them elves, + And are but satires to set up ourselves. + I, who have all this while been finding fault, + Even with my master, who first satire taught; + 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, 280 + Learn to write well, or not to write at all. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 50: 'Mulgrave:' Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. It was for this +satire, the joint composition of Dryden and Sheffield, that Rochester +hired bravoes to cudgel Dryden.] + +[Footnote 51: 'Armstrong:' Sir Thomas Armstrong, a notorious character +of the time--hanged at Tyburn.] + +[Footnote 52: 'Carr:' Sir Carr Scrope, a wit of the time.] + +[Footnote 53: 'Beastly brace:' Duchess of Portsmouth and Nell Gwynn.] + +[Footnote 54: 'Earnely:' Sir John Earnely, one of the lords of the +treasury.] + +[Footnote 55: 'Aylesbury:' Robert, the first Earl of Aylesbury.] + +[Footnote 56: 'Danby:' Thomas, Earl of Danby, lord high-treasurer of +England.] + +[Footnote 57: 'Merriest man alive:' Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of +Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 58: 'Nokes and Lee:' two celebrated comedians in Charles II.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 59: 'New earl:' Earl of Essex.] + +[Footnote 60: 'Tropos:' Sir William Scroggs. See Macaulay.] + +[Footnote 61: 'Ned Howard:' Edward Howard, Esq., a dull writer. See +Butler's works.] + +[Footnote 62: 'Sid:' brother to Algernon Sidney.] + +[Footnote 63: 'Hewet and Jack Hall:' courtiers of the day.] + +[Footnote 64: 'Killigrew:' Thomas Killigrew, many years master of the +revels, and groom of the chamber to King Charles II.] + +[Footnote 65: 'Bessus:' a remarkable cowardly character in Beaumont and +Fletcher's play of 'A King and no King.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.[66] + +TO THE READER. + +It is 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 consequence 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 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 genius, it will force its own +reception in the world. For there is a sweetness in good verse, which +tickles even while it hurts; and no man can be heartily angry with him +who pleases him against his will. The commendation of adversaries is +the greatest 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 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 it is hard for +an author to judge against himself); but more probably it is 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; it is no more +a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it +was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the +woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute, +because 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, it is 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; +hereafter 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 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 _Ense rescindendum_, 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. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 66: See 'Life' for explanation for circumstances; and the key +at the close of the poem, for the real names of this satire.] + + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + + --Si propiùs stes + Te capiet magis-- + + In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, + Before polygamy was made a sin; + When man on many multiplied his kind, + Ere one to one was cursedly confined; + When nature prompted, and no law denied + 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, + No true succession could their seed attend. + Of all the numerous progeny was none + So beautiful, so brave, as Absalom: + Whether inspired by some diviner lust, + His father got him with a greater gust; 20 + Or that his conscious destiny made way, + By manly beauty to imperial sway. + Early in foreign fields he won renown, + With kings and states allied to Israel's crown: + In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, + And seem'd as he were only born for love. + Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease, + In him alone 'twas natural to please: + 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 Annabell[67] his bride. + What faults he had (for who from faults is free?) + His father could not, or he would not see. + 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 call'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; + 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): 50 + These Adam-wits,[68] too fortunately free, + 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, + And thought that all but savages were slaves. + They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow, + Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego; + Who banish'd David did from Hebron bring, + And with a general shout proclaim'd him king: 60 + 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, + 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; 70 + 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; 80 + 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 + Were Jebusites; the town so call'd from them; + And theirs the native right-- + But when the chosen people grew more strong, + The rightful cause at length became the wrong; + And every loss the men of Jebus bore, 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, 100 + Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, + In his defence his servants are as bold, + As if he had been born of beaten gold. + The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, + In this conclude them honest men and wise: + For 'twas their duty, all the learned think, + To espouse his cause by whom they eat and drink. + From hence began that Plot, the nation's curse, + Bad in itself, but represented worse; + Raised 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. + Succeeding times did equal folly call, + Believing nothing, or believing all. + The Egyptian rites the Jebusites embraced, + Where gods were recommended by their taste. + Such savoury deities must needs be good, 120 + 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, + 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 130 + By guns, invented since full many a day: + Our author swears it not; but who can know + How far the devil and Jebusites may go? + This Plot, which fail'd for want of common sense, + Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence: + 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, 140 + 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. + 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; 150 + A name to all succeeding ages cursed: + For close designs, and crooked counsels fit; + Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; + Restless, unfix'd in principles and place; + In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace: + 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, 160 + 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, + Refuse his age the needful hours of rest? + Punish a body which he could not please; + Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease? + And all to leave what with his toil he won, + To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son; 170 + Got, while his soul did huddled notions try; + And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. + In friendship false, implacable in hate; + Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state. + To compass this, the triple bond[69] he broke; + The pillars of the public safety shook; + 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, 180 + 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! + Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; + The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. + In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin + With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, + Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress; 190 + Swift of despatch, and easy of access. + Oh! had he been content to serve the crown, + With virtues only proper to the gown; + Or had the rankness of the soil been freed + From cockle, that oppress'd the noble seed; + David for him his tuneful harp had strung, + And Heaven had wanted one immortal song. + But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand, + And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land. + Achitophel, grown weary to possess 200 + A lawful fame, and lazy happiness, + Disdain'd the golden fruit to gather free, + And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree. + Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since, + He stood at bold defiance with his prince; + Held up the buckler of the people's cause + Against the crown, and skulk'd behind the laws. + The wish'd occasion of the plot he takes; + Some circumstances finds, but more he makes; + By buzzing emissaries fills the ears 210 + Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears + Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, + And proves the king himself a Jebusite. + Weak arguments! which yet he knew full well + Were strong with people easy to rebel. + For, govern'd by the moon, the giddy Jews + Tread the same track, when she the prime renews; + And once in twenty years, their scribes record, + By natural instinct they change their lord. + Achitophel still wants a chief, and none 220 + Was found so fit as warlike Absalom. + Not that he wish'd his greatness to create, + For politicians neither love nor hate: + But, for he knew his title not allow'd, + Would keep him still depending on the crowd: + That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be + Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. + Him he attempts with studied arts to please, + And sheds his venom in such words as these: + + Auspicious prince! at whose nativity 230 + 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! + 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 250 + Or gather'd ripe, or rot upon the tree. + Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, + Some lucky revolution of their fate: + Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill, + (For human good depends on human will,) + 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, 260 + And spreads her locks before her as she flies. + Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, + Not dared when fortune called him to be king, + At Gath an exile he might still remain, + And Heaven's anointing oil had been in vain. + 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 270 + 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: + (Our only blessing since his cursed return:) + Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind, + Blown off and scatter'd by a puff of wind. + What strength can he to your designs oppose, + Naked of friends, and round beset with foes? 280 + 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 + With Pharaoh's arms to assist the Jebusite; + Or if they should, their interest soon would break, + And with such odious aid make David weak. + All sorts of men, by my successful arts, + Abhorring kings, estrange their alter'd hearts 290 + From David's rule: and 'tis their general cry-- + Religion, commonwealth, and liberty. + If you, as champion of the public good, + Add to their arms a chief of royal blood, + What may not Israel hope, and what applause + Might such a general gain by such a cause? + Not barren praise alone--that gaudy flower, + Fair only to the sight--but solid power: + And nobler is a limited command, + Given by the love of all your native land, 300 + Than a successive title, long and dark, + Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark. + + What cannot praise effect in mighty minds, + When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds? + Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, + Yet sprung from high, is of celestial seed: + 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 angels' metal in his frame, 310 + Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, + Made drunk with honour, and debauch'd with praise. + Half loath, and half consenting to the ill, + For royal blood within him struggled still, + He thus replied:--And what pretence have I + To take up arms for public liberty? + My father governs with unquestion'd right, + The faith's defender, and mankind's delight; + Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws; + And Heaven by wonders has espoused his cause. 320 + 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; + Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood. + If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit, + His crime is God's beloved attribute. + What could he gain his people to betray, + Or change his right for arbitrary sway? 330 + Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign + His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. + If David's rule Jerusalem displease, + The dog-star heats their brains to this disease. + Why then should I, encouraging the bad, + 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: 340 + The people might assert their liberty; + But what was right in them were crime in me. + His favour leaves me nothing to require, + Prevents my wishes, and outruns desire. + What more can I expect while David lives? + All but his kingly diadem he gives: + And that--But here 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; + 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 even the offending crowd will find; + For sure he comes of a forgiving kind. 360 + 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 mould. + Why am I scanted by a niggard birth? + My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth; 370 + And, made for empire, whispers me within, + Desire of greatness is a 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: + + The eternal God, supremely good and wise, + Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain; + What wonders are reserved to bless your reign! + Against your will your arguments have shown, + Such virtue's only given to guide a throne. 380 + 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, + And more his goodness than his wit proclaim. + But when should people strive their bonds to break, + If not when kings are negligent or weak? + Let him give on till he can give no more, + The thrifty Sanhedrim shall keep him poor; 390 + And every shekel which he can receive, + Shall cost a limb of his prerogative. + To ply him with new plots shall be my care; + Or plunge him deep in some expensive war; + Which, when his treasure can no more supply, + 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, + 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 no 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, + 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; 420 + The public good, that universal call, + To which even 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, + 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? 430 + It surely show'd he loved the shepherd well, + Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. + Would David have you thought his darling son? + What means he then to alienate the crown? + The name of godly he may blush to bear: + 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. 440 + Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, + Already looks on you with jealous eyes; + Sees through the thin disguises of your arts, + And marks your progress in the people's hearts; + Though now his mighty soul its grief contains: + He meditates revenge who least complains; + And like a lion, slumbering in the way, + Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey, + His fearless foes within his distance draws, + Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws; 450 + Till at the last his time for fury found, + He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground; + The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares, + But with a lordly rage his hunters tears. + Your case no tame expedients will afford: + 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. 460 + Avail yourself of what occasion gives, + But try your title while your father lives: + And that your arms may have a fair pretence, + Proclaim you take them in the king's defence; + Whose sacred life each minute would expose + To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. + And who can sound the depth of David's soul? + Perhaps his fear, his kindness may control. + He fears his brother, though he loves his son, + For plighted vows too late to be undone. 470 + If so, by force he wishes to be gain'd: + By women's lechery to seem constrain'd. + Doubt not; but, when he most affects the frown, + Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown. + Secure his person to secure your cause: + They who possess the prince possess the laws. + + He said, and this advice above the rest, + With Absalom's mild nature suited best; + Unblamed of life, ambition set aside, + Not stain'd with cruelty, nor puff'd with pride, 480 + 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, + 'Tis juster to lament him than accuse. + Strong were his hopes a rival to remove, + With blandishments to gain the public love: + To head the faction while their zeal was hot, + And popularly prosecute the Plot. 490 + 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-- + Who thought the power of monarchy too much; + Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts; + Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts. + By these the springs of property were bent, + And wound so high, they crack'd the government. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + Who follow next a double danger bring, + Not only hating David, but the king; + The Solyimaean rout; well versed of old + In godly faction, and in treason bold; + Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword, + 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, 520 + 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, + 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; + 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 believing right. 540 + + Such were the tools: but a whole Hydra more + Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. + Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: + In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; + A man so various, that he seem'd to be + Not one, but all mankind's epitome: + Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; + Was everything by starts, and nothing long; + But, in the course of one revolving moon, + Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon: 550 + 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, or to enjoy! + Railing and praising were his usual themes; + And both, to show his judgment, in extremes: + So over violent, or over civil, + That every man with him was God or Devil. + In squandering wealth was his peculiar art: + Nothing went unrewarded but desert. 560 + Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late; + He had his jest, and they had his estate. + He laugh'd himself from court; then sought relief + By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief: + For, spite of him the weight of business fell + On Absalom and wise Achitophel: + Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, + He left not faction, but of that was left. + + Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse + Of lords, below the dignity of verse. 570 + Wits, warriors, commonwealth's-men, were the best: + Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest. + And therefore, in the name of dulness, be + The well-hung Balaam and cold Caleb free: + And canting Nadab let oblivion damn, + Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. + Let friendship's holy band some names assure; + Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure. + Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place, + Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace: 580 + Not bull-faced Jonas, who could statutes draw + To mean rebellion, and make treason law. + But he, though bad, is follow'd by a worse, + The wretch who Heaven's anointed dared to curse; + Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring + Of zeal to God and hatred to his king, + Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, + And never broke the Sabbath but for gain; + Nor ever was he known an oath to vent, + Or curse, unless against the government. 590 + Thus heaping wealth by the most ready way + Among the Jews, which was to cheat and pray; + The city, to reward his pious hate + Against his master, chose him magistrate. + His hand a vare[70] of justice did uphold; + His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. + During his office treason was no crime; + The sons of Belial had a glorious time: + For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, + Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself. 600 + When two or three were gather'd to declaim + Against the monarch of Jerusalem, + Shimei was always in the midst of them; + And if they cursed the king when he was by, + Would rather curse than break good company. + If any durst his factious friends accuse, + He pack'd a jury of dissenting Jews; + Whose fellow-feeling in the godly cause + Would free the suffering saint from human laws. + For laws are only made to punish those 610 + Who serve the king, and to protect his foes. + If any leisure time he had from power + (Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour), + His business was, by writing to persuade, + That kings were useless and a clog to trade; + And, that his noble style he might refine, + No Rechabite more shunn'd the fumes of wind. + Chaste were his cellars, and his shrivel board + The grossness of a city feast abhorr'd; + His cooks with long disuse their trade forgot; 620 + Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot. + Such frugal virtue malice may accuse, + But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews; + For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require + As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. + With spiritual food he fed his servants well, + But free from flesh that made the Jews rebel: + And Moses' laws he held in more account, + For forty days of fasting in the mount. + To speak the rest who better are forgot, 630 + Would tire a well-breathed witness of the plot. + Yet Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass; + Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, + High as the serpent of thy metal made, + While nations stand secure beneath thy shade. + What though his birth were base, yet comets rise + From earthly vapours, ere they shine in skies. + Prodigious actions may as well be done + By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. + This arch attestor for the public good 640 + By that one deed ennobles all his blood. + Who ever ask'd the witness's high race, + Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace? + Ours was a Levite, and as times went then, + His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen. + Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud, + Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud. + His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace + A church vermilion, and a Moses' face. + His memory miraculously great, 650 + Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat; + Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, + For human wit could never such devise. + Some future truths are mingled in his book; + But where the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke. + Some things like visionary flights appear; + The spirit caught him up the Lord knows where; + And gave him his rabbinical degree, + Unknown to foreign university. + His judgment yet his memory did excel; 660 + Which pieced his wondrous evidence so well, + And suited to the temper of the times, + Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes. + Let Israel's foes suspect his heavenly call, + And rashly judge his wit apocryphal; + Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made; + He takes his life who takes away his trade. + Were I myself in witness Corah's place, + The wretch who did me such a dire disgrace, + Should whet my memory, though once forgot, 670 + To make him an appendix of my plot. + His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise, + And load his person with indignities. + But zeal peculiar privilege affords, + Indulging latitude to deeds and words: + And Corah might for Agag's murder call, + In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul. + What others in his evidence did join, + The best that could be had for love or coin, + In Corah's own predicament will fall: 680 + For witness is a common name to all. + + Surrounded thus with friends of every sort, + Deluded Absalom forsakes the court: + Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown, + And fired with near possession of a crown. + The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, + And on his goodly person feed their eyes. + His joy conceal'd he sets himself to show; + On each side bowing popularly low: + His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames, 690 + And with familiar ease repeats their names. + Thus form'd by nature, furnish'd out with arts, + He glides unfelt into their secret hearts. + Then, with a kind compassionating look, + And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke, + Few words he said; but easy those and fit, + More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet. + + I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate; + Though far unable to prevent your fate: + Behold a banish'd man for your dear cause 700 + Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws! + Yet oh! that I alone could be undone, + Cut off from empire, and no more a son! + Now all your liberties a spoil are made; + Egypt and Tyrus intercept your trade, + And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. + My father, whom with reverence yet I name, + Charm'd into ease, is careless of his fame; + And bribed with petty sums of foreign gold, + Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old; 710 + Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys, + And all his power against himself employs. + He gives, and let him give, my right away: + But why should he his own and yours betray? + He, only he, can make the nation bleed, + And he alone from my revenge is freed. + Take then my tears (with that he wiped his eyes), + 'Tis all the aid my present power supplies: + No court-informer can these arms accuse; + These arms may sons against their fathers use: 720 + And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign, + May make no other Israelite complain. + + Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail; + But common interest always will prevail: + And pity never ceases to be shown + To him who makes the people's wrongs his own. + The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress, + With lifted hands their young Messiah bless: + Who now begins his progress to ordain + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train: 730 + From east to west his glories he displays, + And, like the sun, the promised land surveys. + Fame runs before him as the morning-star, + And shouts of joy salute him from afar: + Each house receives him as a guardian god, + And consecrates the place of his abode. + But hospitable treats did most commend + Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend. + This moving court, that caught the people's eyes, + And seem'd but pomp, did other ends disguise: 740 + Achitophel had form'd it, with intent + To sound the depths, and fathom where it went, + The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes, + And try their strength, before they came to blows. + Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence + Of specious love, and duty to their prince. + Religion, and redress of grievances, + Two names that always cheat, and always please, + Are often urged; and good king David's life + Endanger'd by a brother and a wife. 750 + Thus in a pageant show a plot is made; + And peace itself is war in masquerade. + O foolish Israel! never warn'd by ill! + Still the same bait, and circumvented still! + Did ever men forsake their present ease, + In midst of health imagine a disease; + Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee, + Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree? + What shall we think? Can people give away, + Both for themselves and sons, their native sway? 760 + Then they are left defenceless to the sword + Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord: + And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy, + If kings unquestion'd can those laws destroy. + Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, + And kings are only officers in trust, + Then this resuming covenant was declared + When kings were made, or is for ever barr'd. + If those who gave the sceptre could not tie, + By their own deed, their own posterity, 770 + How then could Adam bind his future race? + How could his forfeit on mankind take place? + Or how could heavenly justice damn us all, + Who ne'er consented to our father's fall? + Then kings are slaves to those whom they command, + And tenants to their people's pleasure stand. + Add, that the power for property allow'd + Is mischievously seated in the crowd; + For who can be secure of private right, + If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? 780 + Nor is the people's judgment always true: + The most may err as grossly as the few? + And faultless kings run down by common cry, + For vice, oppression, and for tyranny. + What standard is there in a fickle rout, + Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out? + Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be + Infected with this public lunacy, + And share the madness of rebellious times, + To murder monarchs for imagined crimes. 790 + If they may give and take whene'er they please, + Not kings alone, the Godhead's images, + But government itself at length must fall + To nature's state, where all have right to all. + Yet, grant our lords the people kings can make, + What prudent men a settled throne would shake? + For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before, + That change they covet makes them suffer more. + All other errors but disturb a state; + But innovation is the blow of fate. 800 + If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, + To patch their flaws, and buttress up the wall, + Thus far 'tis duty: but here fix the mark; + For all beyond it is to touch the ark. + To change foundations, cast the frame anew, + Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; + At once divine and human laws control, + And mend the parts by ruin of the whole, + The tampering world is subject to this curse, + To physic their disease into a worse. 810 + + Now what relief can righteous David bring? + How fatal 'tis to be too good a king! + Friends he has few, so high the madness grows; + Who dare be such must be the people's foes. + Yet some there were, even in the worst of days; + Some let me name, and naming is to praise. + + In this short file Barzillai first appears; + Barzillai, crown'd with honour and with years. + Long since, the rising rebels he withstood + In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood: 820 + Unfortunately brave to buoy the state; + But sinking underneath his master's fate: + In exile with his godlike prince he mourn'd; + For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd. + The court he practised, not the courtier's art: + Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart, + Which well the noblest objects knew to choose, + The fighting warrior, and recording muse. + His bed could once a fruitful issue boast; + Now more than half a father's name is lost. 830 + His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd, + By me, so Heaven will have it, always mourn'd, + And always honour'd, snatch'd in manhood's prime + By unequal fates, and providence's crime: + Yet not before the goal of honour won, + All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son: + Swift was the race, but short the time to run. + O narrow circle, but of power divine, + Scanted in space, but perfect in thy line! + By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, 840 + Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own: + Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians propp'd; + And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd. + O ancient honour! O unconquer'd hand, + Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand! + But Israel was unworthy of his name; + Short is the date of all immoderate fame. + It looks as Heaven our ruin had design'd, + And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind. + Now, free from earth, thy disencumber'd soul 850 + Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and starry pole: + From thence thy kindred legions mayst thou bring, + To aid the guardian angel of thy king. + + Here stop, my muse, here cease thy painful flight: + No pinions can pursue immortal height: + Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, + And tell thy soul she should have fled before: + Or fled she with his life, and left this verse + To hang on her departed patron's hearse? + Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see 860 + If thou canst find on earth another he: + Another he would be too hard to find; + See then whom thou canst see not far behind. + Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, + His lowly mind advanced to David's grace. + With him the Sagan of Jerusalem, + Of hospitable soul, and noble stem; + Him[71] of the western dome, whose weighty sense + Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence. + The prophets' sons, by such example led, 870 + To learning and to loyalty were bred: + For colleges on bounteous kings depend, + And never rebel was to arts a friend. + To these succeed the pillars of the laws, + Who best can plead, and best can judge a cause. + Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; + Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' friend, + Himself a Muse: in Sanhedrim's debate + True to his prince, but not a slave of state: + Whom David's love with honours did adorn, 880 + That from his disobedient son were torn. + Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought; + Endued by nature, and by learning taught + To move assemblies, who but only tried + The worse awhile, then chose the better side: + Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too,-- + So much the weight of one brave man can do. + Hushai, the friend of David in distress; + In public storms of manly steadfastness: + By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, 890 + And join'd experience to his native truth. + His frugal care supplied the wanting throne-- + Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: + 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow; + But hard the task to manage well the low; + For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, + When kings are forced to sell, or crowds to buy. + Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, + For Amiel: who can Amiel's praise refuse? + Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet 900 + In his own worth, and without title great: + The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled, + Their reason guided, and their passion cool'd: + So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, + So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, + That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, + So fit was he to represent them all. + Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, + Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: + They, like the unequal ruler of the day,[72] 910 + Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; + While he withdrawn, at their mad labours smiles, + And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. + + These were the chief, a small but faithful band + Of worthies, in the breach who dared to stand, + And tempt the united fury of the land: + With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, + To batter down the lawful government. + A numerous faction, with pretended frights, + In Sanhedrims to plume the regal rights; 920 + The true successor from the court removed; + The plot, by hireling witnesses, improved. + These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, + They show'd the King the danger of the wound; + That no concessions from the throne would please, + But lenitives fomented the disease: + That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, + Was made the lure to draw the people down: + That false Achitophel's pernicious hate + Had turn'd the Plot to ruin church and state: 930 + The council violent, the rabble worse: + That Shimei taught Jerusalem to curse. + + With all these loads of injuries oppress'd, + And long revolving in his careful breast + The event of things, at last his patience tired, + Thus, from his royal throne, by Heaven inspired, + The god-like David spoke; with awful fear, + His train their Maker in their master hear. + + Thus long have I, by native mercy sway'd, + My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd: 940 + So willing to forgive the offending age; + So much the father did the king assuage. + But now so far my clemency they slight, + The offenders question my forgiving right: + That one was made for many, they contend; + But 'tis to rule; for that's a monarch's end. + They call my tenderness of blood, my fear: + Though manly tempers can the longest bear. + Yet, since they will divert my native course, + 'Tis time to show I am not good by force. 950 + Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, + Are burdens for a camel, not a king. + Kings are the public pillars of the state, + Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight: + If my young Samson will pretend a call + To shake the column, let him share the fall: + But oh, that yet he would repent and live! + How easy 'tis for parents to forgive! + With how few tears a pardon might be won + From nature, pleading for a darling son! 960 + Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care, + Raised up to all the height his frame could bear! + Had God ordain'd his fate for empire born, + He would have given his soul another turn: + Gull'd with a patriot's name, whose modern sense + Is one that would by law supplant his prince; + The people's brave, the politician's tool; + Never was patriot yet, but was a fool. + Whence comes it, that religion and the laws + Should more be Absalom's than David's cause? 970 + His old instructor, ere he lost his place, + Was never thought endued with so much grace. + Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint! + My rebel ever proves my people's saint. + Would they impose an heir upon the throne, + Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own. + A king's at least a part of government; + And mine as requisite as their consent: + Without my leave a future king to choose, + Infers a right the present to depose. 980 + True, they petition me to approve their choice: + But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice. + My pious subjects for my safety pray, + Which to secure, they take my power away. + From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, + But save me most from my petitioners! + Insatiate as the barren womb or grave, + God cannot grant so much as they can crave. + What then is left, but with a jealous eye + To guard the small remains of royalty? 990 + The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, + And the same law teach rebels to obey: + Votes shall no more establish'd power control, + Such votes as make a part exceed the whole. + No groundless clamours shall my friends remove, + Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove; + For gods and god-like kings their care express, + Still to defend their servants in distress. + O that my power to saving were confined! + Why am I forced, like Heaven, against my mind; 1000 + To make examples of another kind? + Must I at length the sword of justice draw? + Oh, cursed effects of necessary law! + How ill my fear they by my mercy scan! + Beware the fury of a patient man! + Law they require, let law then show her face; + They could not be content to look on grace, + Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye + To tempt the terror of her front and die. + By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, 1010 + Those dire artificers of death shall bleed. + Against themselves their witnesses will swear, + Till, viper-like, their mother-plot they tear; + And suck for nutriment that bloody gore, + Which was their principle of life before. + Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight: + Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right. + Nor doubt the event: for factious crowds engage, + In their first onset, all their brutal rage. + Then let them take an unresisted course; 1020 + Retire, and traverse, and delude their force; + But when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, + And rise upon them with redoubled might-- + For lawful power is still superior found; + When long driven back, at length it stands the ground. + + He said: The Almighty, nodding, gave consent; + And peals of thunder shook the firmament. + Henceforth a series of new time began, + The mighty years in long procession ran: + Once more the god-like David was restored, 1030 + And willing nations knew their lawful lord. + + * * * * * + +PART II. + +"Si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis captus amore leget." + + +TO THE READER. + +In the year 1680, Mr Dryden undertook the poem of Absalom and +Achitophel, upon the desire of King Charles the Second. The performance +was applauded by every one; and several persons pressing him to write a +second part, he, upon declining it himself, spoke to Mr Tate[73] to +write one, and gave him his advice in the direction of it; and that part +beginning with + +"Next these, a troop of busy spirits press," + +and ending with + +"To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee," + +containing near two hundred verses, mere entirely Mr Dryden's +composition, besides some touches in other places. + +DERRICK. + + * * * * * + + Since men like beasts each other's prey were made, + Since trade began, and priesthood grew a trade, + Since realms were form'd, none sure so cursed as those + That madly their own happiness oppose; + There Heaven itself and god-like kings, in vain + Shower down the manna of a gentle reign; + While pamper'd crowds to mad sedition run, + And monarchs by indulgence are undone. + Thus David's clemency was fatal grown, + While wealthy faction awed the wanting throne. 10 + For now their sovereign's orders to contemn + Was held the charter of Jerusalem; + His rights to invade, his tributes to refuse, + A privilege peculiar to the Jews; + As if from heavenly call this licence fell, + And Jacob's seed were chosen to rebel! + + Achitophel with triumph sees his crimes + Thus suited to the madness of the times; + And Absalom, to make his hopes succeed, + Of flattering charms no longer stands in need; 20 + While fond of change, though ne'er so dearly bought, + Our tribes outstrip the youth's ambitious thought; + His swiftest hopes with swifter homage meet, + And crowd their servile necks beneath his feet. + Thus to his aid while pressing tides repair, + He mounts and spreads his streamers in the air. + The charms of empire might his youth mislead, + But what can our besotted Israel plead? + Sway'd by a monarch, whose serene command + Seems half the blessing of our promised land: 30 + Whose only grievance is excess of ease; + Freedom our pain, and plenty our disease! + Yet, as all folly would lay claim to sense, + And wickedness ne'er wanted a pretence, + With arguments they'd make their treason good, + And righteous David's self with slanders load: + That arts of foreign sway he did affect, + And guilty Jebusites from law protect, + Whose very chiefs, convict, were never freed, + Nay, we have seen their sacrificers bleed! 40 + Accusers' infamy is urged in vain, + While in the bounds of sense they did contain; + But soon they launch into the unfathom'd tide, + And in the depths they knew disdain'd to ride. + For probable discoveries to dispense, + Was thought below a pension'd evidence; + Mere truth was dull, nor suited with the port + Of pamper'd Corah when advanced to court. + No less than wonders now they will impose, + And projects void of grace or sense disclose. 50 + Such was the charge on pious Michal brought,-- + Michal that ne'er was cruel, even in thought,-- + The best of queens, and most obedient wife, + Impeach'd of cursed designs on David's life! + His life, the theme of her eternal prayer, + 'Tis scarce so much his guardian angel's care. + Not summer morns such mildness can disclose, + The Hermon lily, nor the Sharon rose. + Neglecting each vain pomp of majesty, + Transported Michal feeds her thoughts on high. 60 + She lives with angels, and, as angels do, + Quits heaven sometimes to bless the world below; + Where, cherish'd by her bounties' plenteous spring, + Reviving widows smile, and orphans sing. + Oh! when rebellious Israel's crimes at height, + Are threaten'd with her Lord's approaching fate, + The piety of Michal then remain + In Heaven's remembrance, and prolong his reign! + + Less desolation did the pest pursue, + That from Dan's limits to Beersheba flew; 70 + Less fatal the repeated wars of Tyre, + And less Jerusalem's avenging fire. + With gentler terror these our state o'erran, + Than since our evidencing days began! + On every cheek a pale confusion sate, + Continued fear beyond the worst of fate! + Trust was no more; art, science useless made; + All occupations lost but Corah's trade. + Meanwhile a guard on modest Corah wait, + If not for safety, needful yet for state. 80 + Well might he deem each peer and prince his slave, + And lord it o'er the tribes which he could save: + Even vice in him was virtue--what sad fate, + But for his honesty had seized our state! + And with what tyranny had we been cursed, + Had Corah never proved a villain first! + To have told his knowledge of the intrigue in gross, + Had been, alas! to our deponent's loss: + The travell'd Levite had the experience got, + To husband well, and make the best of's Plot; 90 + And therefore, like an evidence of skill, + With wise reserves secured his pension still; + Nor quite of future power himself bereft, + But limbos large for unbelievers left. + And now his writ such reverence had got, + 'Twas worse than plotting to suspect his Plot. + Some were so well convinced, they made no doubt + Themselves to help the founder'd swearers out. + Some had their sense imposed on by their fear, + But more for interest sake believe and swear: 100 + Even to that height with some the frenzy grew, + They raged to find their danger not prove true. + + Yet, than all these a viler crew remain, + Who with Achitophel the cry maintain; + Not urged by fear, nor through misguided sense,-- + Blind zeal and starving need had some pretence; + But for the good old cause, that did excite + The original rebels' wiles--revenge and spite. + These raise the plot, to have the scandal thrown + Upon the bright successor of the crown, 110 + Whose virtue with such wrongs they had pursued, + As seem'd all hope of pardon to exclude. + Thus, while on private ends their zeal is built, + The cheated crowd applaud, and share their guilt. + + Such practices as these, too gross to lie + Long unobserved by each discerning eye, + The more judicious Israelites unspell'd, + Though still the charm the giddy rabble held. + Even Absalom, amidst the dazzling beams + Of empire, and ambition's flattering dreams, 120 + Perceives the plot, too foul to be excused, + To aid designs, no less pernicious, used. + And, filial sense yet striving in his breast, + Thus to Achitophel his doubts express'd: + + Why are my thoughts upon a crown employ'd. + Which, once obtain'd, can be but half enjoy'd? + Not so when virtue did my arms require, + And to my father's wars I flew entire. + My regal power how will my foes resent, + When I myself have scarce my own consent! 130 + Give me a son's unblemish'd truth again, + Or quench the sparks of duty that remain. + How slight to force a throne that legions guard + The task to me! to prove unjust, how hard! + And if the imagined guilt thus wound my thought, + What will it when the tragic scene is wrought! + Dire war must first be conjured from below, + The realm we rule we first must overthrow; + And, when the civil furies are on wing, + That blind and undistinguish'd slaughters fling, 140 + Who knows what impious chance may reach the king? + Oh, rather let me perish in the strife, + Than have my crown the price of David's life! + Or if the tempest of the war he stand, + In peace, some vile officious villain's hand + His soul's anointed temple may invade; + Or, press'd by clamorous crowds, myself be made + His murderer; rebellious crowds, whose guilt + Shall dread his vengeance till his blood be spilt. + Which, if my filial tenderness oppose, 150 + Since to the empire by their arms I rose, + Those very arms on me shall be employ'd, + A new usurper crown'd, and I destroy'd: + The same pretence of public good will hold, + And new Achitophels be found as bold + To urge the needful change--perhaps the old. + + He said. The statesman with a smile replies, + A smile that did his rising spleen disguise: + My thoughts presumed our labours at an end; + And are we still with conscience to contend? 160 + Whose want in kings as needful is allow'd, + As 'tis for them to find it in the crowd. + Far in the doubtful passage you are gone, + And only can be safe by pressing on. + The crown's true heir, a prince severe and wise, + Has view'd your motions long with jealous eyes, + Your person's charms, your more prevailing arts, + And mark'd your progress in the people's hearts, + Whose patience is the effect of stinted power, + But treasures vengeance for the fatal hour; 170 + And if remote the peril he can bring, + Your present danger's greater from the king. + Let not a parent's name deceive your sense, + Nor trust the father in a jealous prince! + Your trivial faults if he could so resent, + To doom you little less than banishment, + What rage must your presumption since inspire! + Against his orders you return from Tyre. + Nor only so, but with a pomp more high, + And open court of popularity, 180 + The factious tribes.--And this reproof from thee! + The prince replies; Oh, statesman's winding skill, + They first condemn that first advised the ill! + + Illustrious youth! returned Achitophel, + Misconstrue not the words that mean you well; + The course you steer I worthy blame conclude, + But 'tis because you leave it unpursued. + A monarch's crown with fate surrounded lies, + Who reach, lay hold on death that miss the prize. + Did you for this expose yourself to show, 190 + And to the crowd bow popularly low? + For this your glorious progress next ordain, + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train? + With fame before you, like the morning star, + And shouts of joy saluting from afar? + Oh, from the heights you've reach'd but take a view, + Scarce leading Lucifer could fall like you! + And must I here my shipwreck'd arts bemoan? + Have I for this so oft made Israel groan? + Your single interest with the nation weigh'd, 200 + And turn'd the scale where your desires were laid; + Even when at helm a course so dangerous moved + To land your hopes, as my removal proved.-- + + I not dispute, the royal youth replies, + The known perfection of your policies; + Nor in Achitophel yet grudge or blame + The privilege that statesmen ever claim; + Who private interest never yet pursued, + But still pretended 'twas for others good: + What politician yet e'er 'scaped his fate, 210 + Who, saving his own neck, not saved the state? + From hence, on every humorous wind that veer'd, + With shifted sails a several course you steer'd. + What form of sway did David e'er pursue, + That seem'd like absolute, but sprung from you? + Who at your instance quash'd each penal law, + That kept dissenting factious Jews in awe; + And who suspends fix'd laws, may abrogate, + That done, form new, and so enslave the state. + Even property whose champion now you stand, 220 + And seem for this the idol of the land, + Did ne'er sustain such violence before, + As when your counsel shut the royal store; + Advice, that ruin to whole tribes procured, + But secret kept till your own banks secured. + Recount with this the triple covenant broke, + And Israel fitted for a foreign yoke; + Nor here your counsel's fatal progress stay'd, + But sent our levied powers to Pharaoh's aid. + Hence Tyre and Israel, low in ruins laid, 230 + And Egypt, once their scorn, their common terror made. + Even yet of such a season can we dream, + When royal rights you made your darling theme. + For power unlimited could reasons draw, + And place prerogative above the law; + Which, on your fall from office, grew unjust, + The laws made king, the king a slave in trust: + Whom with state-craft, to interest only true, + You now accuse of ills contrived by you. + + To this hell's agent: Royal youth, fix here, 240 + Let interest be the star by which you steer. + Hence to repose your trust in me was wise, + Whose interest most in your advancement lies. + A tie so firm as always will avail, + When friendship, nature, and religion fail; + On ours the safety of the crowd depends; + Secure the crowd, and we obtain our ends, + Whom I will cause so far our guilt to share, + Till they are made our champions by their fear. + What opposition can your rival bring, 250 + While Sanhedrims are jealous of the king? + His strength as yet in David's friendship lies, + And what can David's self without supplies? + Who with exclusive bills must now dispense, + Debar the heir, or starve in his defence. + Conditions which our elders ne'er will quit, + And David's justice never can admit. + Or forced by wants his brother to betray, + To your ambition next he clears the way; + For if succession once to nought they bring, 260 + Their next advance removes the present king: + Persisting else his senates to dissolve, + In equal hazard shall his reign involve. + Our tribes, whom Pharaoh's power so much alarms, + Shall rise without their prince to oppose his arms; + Nor boots it on what cause at first they join, + Their troops, once up, are tools for our design. + At least such subtle covenants shall be made, + Till peace itself is war in masquerade. + Associations of mysterious sense, 270 + Against, but seeming for, the king's defence: + Even on their courts of justice fetters draw, + And from our agents muzzle up their law. + By which a conquest if we fail to make, + 'Tis a drawn game at worst, and we secure our stake. + + He said, and for the dire success depends + On various sects, by common guilt made friends. + Whose heads, though ne'er so differing in their creed, + I' th' point of treason yet were well agreed. + 'Mongst these, extorting Ishban first appears, 280 + Pursued by a meagre troop of bankrupt heirs. + Blest times when Ishban, he whose occupation + So long has been to cheat, reforms the nation! + Ishban of conscience suited to his trade, + As good a saint as usurer ever made. + Yet Mammon has not so engross'd him quite, + But Belial lays as large a claim of spite; + Who, for those pardons from his prince he draws, + Returns reproaches, and cries up the cause. + That year in which the city he did sway, 290 + He left rebellion in a hopeful way, + Yet his ambition once was found so bold, + To offer talents of extorted gold; + Could David's wants have so been bribed, to shame + And scandalize our peerage with his name; + For which, his dear sedition he'd forswear, + And e'en turn loyal to be made a peer. + Next him, let railing Rabsheka have place, + So full of zeal he has no need of grace; + A saint that can both flesh and spirit use, 300 + Alike haunt conventicles and the stews: + Of whom the question difficult appears, + If most i' th' preacher's or the bawd's arrears. + What caution could appear too much in him + That keeps the treasure of Jerusalem! + Let David's brother but approach the town, + Double our guards, he cries, we are undone. + Protesting that he dares not sleep in 's bed + Lest he should rise next morn without his head. + + Next[74] these, a troop of busy spirits press, 310 + Of little fortunes, and of conscience less; + With them the tribe, whose luxury had drain'd + Their banks, in former sequestrations gain'd; + Who rich and great by past rebellions grew, + And long to fish the troubled streams anew. + Some future hopes, some present payment draws, + To sell their conscience and espouse the cause. + Such stipends those vile hirelings best befit, 318 + Priests without grace, and poets without wit. + Shall that false Hebronite escape our curse, + Judas, that keeps the rebels' pension-purse; + Judas, that pays the treason-writer's fee, + Judas, that well deserves his namesake's tree; + Who at Jerusalem's own gates erects + His college for a nursery of sects; + Young prophets with an early care secures, + And with the dung of his own arts manures! + What have the men of Hebron here to do? + What part in Israel's promised land have you? + Here Phaleg the lay-Hebronite is come, 330 + 'Cause like the rest he could not live at home; + Who from his own possessions could not drain + An omer even of Hebronitish grain; + Here struts it like a patriot, and talks high + Of injured subjects, alter'd property: + An emblem of that buzzing insect just, + That mounts the wheel, and thinks she raises dust. + Can dry bones live? or skeletons produce + The vital warmth of cuckoldising juice? + Slim Phaleg could, and at the table fed, 340 + Return'd the grateful product to the bed. + A waiting-man to travelling nobles chose, + He his own laws would saucily impose, + Till bastinadoed back again he went, + To learn those manners he to teach was sent. + Chastised he ought to have retreated home, + But he reads politics to Absalom. + For never Hebronite, though kick'd and scorn'd, + To his own country willingly return'd. + --But leaving famish'd Phaleg to be fed, 350 + And to talk treason for his daily bread, + Let Hebron, nay let hell, produce a man + So made for mischief as Ben-Jochanan. + A Jew of humble parentage was he, + By trade a Levite, though of low degree: + His pride no higher than the desk aspired, + But for the drudgery of priests was hired + To read and pray in linen ephod brave, + And pick up single shekels from the grave. + Married at last, but finding charge come faster, 360 + He could not live by God, but changed his master: + Inspired by want, was made a factious tool, + They got a villain, and we lost a fool. + Still violent, whatever cause he took, + But most against the party he forsook; + For renegadoes, who ne'er turn by halves, + Are bound in conscience to be double knaves. + So this prose-prophet took most monstrous pains + To let his masters see he earn'd his gains. + But, as the devil owes all his imps a shame, 370 + He chose the apostate for his proper theme; + With little pains he made the picture true, + And from reflection took the rogue he drew. + A wondrous work, to prove the Jewish nation + In every age a murmuring generation; + To trace them from their infancy of sinning, + And show them factious from their first beginning. + To prove they could rebel, and rail, and mock, + Much to the credit of the chosen flock; + A strong authority which must convince, 380 + That saints own no allegiance to their prince; + As 'tis a leading-card to make a whore, + To prove her mother had turn'd up before. + But, tell me, did the drunken patriarch bless + The son that show'd his father's nakedness? + Such thanks the present church thy pen will give, + Which proves rebellion was so primitive. + Must ancient failings be examples made? + Then murderers from Cain may learn their trade. + As thou the heathen and the saint hast drawn, 390 + Methinks the apostate was the better man: + And thy hot father, waving my respect, + Not of a mother-church but of a sect. + And such he needs must be of thy inditing; + This comes of drinking asses' milk and writing. + If Balak should be call'd to leave his place, + As profit is the loudest call of grace, + His temple, dispossess'd of one, would be + Replenished with seven devils more by thee. + + Levi, thou art a load, I'll lay thee down, 400 + And show Rebellion bare, without a gown; + Poor slaves in metre, dull and addle-pated, + Who rhyme below even David's psalms translated; + Some in my speedy pace I must outrun, + As lame Mephibosheth the wizard's son: + To make quick way I'll leap o'er heavy blocks, + Shun rotten Uzza, as I would the pox; + And hasten Og and Doeg to rehearse, + Two fools that crutch their feeble sense on verse: + Who, by my muse, to all succeeding times 410 + Shall live in spite of their own doggrel rhymes. + + Doeg, though without knowing how or why, + Made still a blundering kind of melody; + Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin, + Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in; + Free from all meaning, whether good or bad, + And, in one word, heroically mad: + He was too warm on picking-work to dwell, + But fagoted his notions as they fell, + And if they rhymed and rattled, all was well. 420 + Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire, + For still there goes some thinking to ill-nature: + He needs no more than birds and beasts to think, + All his occasions are to eat and drink. + If he call rogue and rascal from a garret, + He means you no more mischief than a parrot; + The words for friend and foe alike were made, + To fetter them in verse is all his trade. + For almonds he'll cry whore to his own mother: + And call young Absalom king David's brother. 430 + Let him be gallows-free by my consent, + And nothing suffer, since he nothing meant. + Hanging supposes human soul and reason-- + This animal's below committing treason: + Shall he be hang'd who never could rebel? + That's a preferment for Achitophel. + The woman....... + Was rightly sentenced by the law to die; + But 'twas hard fate that to the gallows led + The dog that never heard the statute read. 440 + Railing in other men may be a crime, + But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: + Instinct he follows, and no further knows, + For to write verse with him is to transpose. + 'Twere pity treason at his door to lay, + _Who makes heaven's gate a lock to its own key_:[75] + Let him rail on, let his invective muse + Have four and twenty letters to abuse, + Which, if he jumbles to one line of sense, + Indict him of a capital offence. 450 + In fireworks give him leave to vent his spite-- + Those are the only serpents he can write; + The height of his ambition is, we know, + But to be master of a puppet-show; + On that one stage his works may yet appear, + And a month's harvest keeps him all the year. + + Now stop your noses, readers, all and some, + For here's a tun of midnight work to come; + Og, from a treason-tavern rolling home, + Round as a globe, and liquor'd every chink, 460 + Goodly and great he sails behind his link; + With all this bulk there's nothing lost in Og, + For every inch that is not fool is rogue: + A monstrous mass of foul corrupted matter, + As all the devils had spued to make the batter. + When wine has given him courage to blaspheme, + He curses God, but God before cursed him; + And if man could have reason, none has more, + That made his paunch so rich, and him so poor. + With wealth he was not trusted, for Heaven knew 470 + What 'twas of old to pamper up a Jew; + To what would he on quail and pheasant swell, + That even on tripe and carrion could rebel? + But though Heaven made him poor (with reverence speaking), + He never was a poet of God's making; + The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull, + With this prophetic blessing--Be thou dull; + Drink, swear, and roar, forbear no lewd delight + Fit for thy bulk--do anything but write: + Thou art of lasting make, like thoughtless men, 480 + A strong nativity--but for the pen! + Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink, + Still thou mayst live, avoiding pen and ink. + I see, I see, 'tis counsel given in vain, + For treason botch'd in rhyme will be thy bane; + Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck, + 'Tis fatal to thy fame and to thy neck: + Why should thy metre good king David blast? + A psalm of his will surely be thy last. + Dar'st thou presume in verse to meet thy foes, 490 + Thou whom the penny pamphlet foil'd in prose? + Doeg, whom God for mankind's mirth has made, + O'ertops thy talent in thy very trade; + Doeg to thee, thy paintings are so coarse, + A poet is, though he's the poet's horse. + A double noose thou on thy neck dost pull, + For writing treason, and for writing dull; + To die for faction is a common evil, + But to be hang'd for nonsense is the devil: + Hadst thou the glories of thy king express'd, 500 + Thy praises had been satire at the best; + But thou in clumsy verse, unlick'd, unpointed, + Hast shamefully defied the Lord's anointed: + I will not rake the dunghill for thy crimes, + For who would read thy life that reads thy rhymes? + But of king David's foes, be this the doom, + May all be like the young man Absalom; + And, for my foes, may this their blessing be, + To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee! + + Achitophel, each rank, degree, and age, 510 + For various ends neglects not to engage; + The wise and rich, for purse and counsel brought, + The fools and beggars, for their number sought: + Who yet not only on the town depends, + For even in court the faction had its friends; + These thought the places they possess'd too small, + And in their hearts wish'd court and king to fall: + Whose names the muse disdaining, holds i' the dark, + Thrust in the villain herd without a mark; + With parasites and libel-spawning imps, 520 + Intriguing fops, dull jesters, and worse pimps. + Disdain the rascal rabble to pursue, + Their set cabals are yet a viler crew: + See where, involved in common smoke, they sit; + Some for our mirth, some for our satire fit: + These, gloomy, thoughtful, and on mischief bent, + While those, for mere good-fellowship, frequent + The appointed club, can let sedition pass, + Sense, nonsense, anything to employ the glass; + And who believe, in their dull honest hearts, 530 + The rest talk reason but to show their parts; + Who ne'er had wit or will for mischief yet, + But pleased to be reputed of a set. + + But in the sacred annals of our plot, + Industrious Arod never be forgot: + The labours of this midnight-magistrate, + May vie with Corah's to preserve the state. + In search of arms, he fail'd not to lay hold + On war's most powerful, dangerous weapon--gold. + And last, to take from Jebusites all odds, 540 + Their altars pillaged, stole their very gods; + Oft would he cry, when treasure he surprised, + 'Tis Baalish gold in David's coin disguised; + Which to his house with richer relics came, + While lumber idols only fed the flame: + For our wise rabble ne'er took pains to inquire, + What 'twas he burnt, so 't made a rousing fire. + With which our elder was enrich'd no more + Than false Gehazi with the Syrian's store; + So poor, that when our choosing-tribes were met, 550 + Even for his stinking votes he ran in debt; + For meat the wicked, and, as authors think, + The saints he choused for his electing drink; + Thus every shift and subtle method past, + And all to be no Zaken at the last. + + Now, raised on Tyre's sad ruins, Pharaoh's pride + Soar'd high, his legions threatening far and wide; + As when a battering storm engender'd high, + By winds upheld, hangs hovering in the sky, + Is gazed upon by every trembling swain-- 560 + This for his vineyard fears, and that, his grain; + For blooming plants, and flowers new opening these, + For lambs yean'd lately, and far-labouring bees: + To guard his stock each to the gods does call, + Uncertain where the fire-charged clouds will fall: + Even so the doubtful nations watch his arms, + With terror each expecting his alarms. + Where, Judah! where was now thy lion's roar? + Thou only couldst the captive lands restore; + But thou, with inbred broils and faction press'd, 570 + From Egypt needst a guardian with the rest. + Thy prince from Sanhedrims no trust allow'd, + Too much the representers of the crowd, + Who for their own defence give no supply, + But what the crown's prerogatives must buy: + As if their monarch's rights to violate + More needful were, than to preserve the state! + From present dangers they divert their care, + And all their fears are of the royal heir; + Whom now the reigning malice of his foes 580 + Unjudged would sentence, and e'er crown'd depose. + Religion the pretence, but their decree + To bar his reign, whate'er his faith shall be! + By Sanhedrims and clamorous crowds thus press'd, + What passions rent the righteous David's breast! + Who knows not how to oppose or to comply-- + Unjust to grant, or dangerous to deny! + How near, in this dark juncture, Israel's fate, + Whose peace one sole expedient could create, + Which yet the extremest virtue did require, 590 + Even of that prince whose downfall they conspire! + His absence David does with tears advise, + To appease their rage. Undaunted he complies. + Thus he, who, prodigal of blood and ease, + A royal life exposed to winds and seas, + At once contending with the waves and fire, + And heading danger in the wars of Tyre, + Inglorious now forsakes his native sand, + And like an exile quits the promised land! + Our monarch scarce from pressing tears refrains, 600 + And painfully his royal state maintains, + Who now, embracing on the extremest shore, + Almost revokes what he enjoin'd before: + Concludes at last more trust to be allow'd + To storms and seas than to the raging crowd! + Forbear, rash muse! the parting scene to draw, + With silence charm'd as deep as theirs that saw! + Not only our attending nobles weep, + But hardy sailors swell with tears the deep! + The tide restrain'd her course, and more amazed, 610 + The twin-stars on the royal brothers gazed: + While this sole fear-- + Does trouble to our suffering hero bring, + Lest next the popular rage oppress the king! + Thus parting, each for the other's danger grieved, + The shore the king, and seas the prince received. + Go, injured hero! while propitious gales, + Soft as thy consort's breath, inspire thy sails; + Well may she trust her beauties on a flood, + Where thy triumphant fleets so oft have rode! 620 + Safe on thy breast reclined, her rest be deep, + Rock'd like a Nereid by the waves asleep; + While happiest dreams her fancy entertain, + And to Elysian fields convert the main! + Go, injured hero! while the shores of Tyre + At thy approach so silent shall admire, + Who on thy thunder still their thoughts employ, + And greet thy landing with a trembling joy! + + On heroes thus the prophet's fate is thrown, + Admired by every nation but their own; 630 + Yet while our factious Jews his worth deny, + Their aching conscience gives their tongue the lie. + Even in the worst of men the noblest parts + Confess him, and he triumphs in their hearts, + Whom to his king the best respects commend + Of subject, soldier, kinsman, prince, and friend; + All sacred names of most divine esteem, + And to perfection all sustain'd by him; + Wise, just, and constant, courtly without art, + Swift to discern and to reward desert; 640 + No hour of his in fruitless ease destroy'd, + But on the noblest subjects still employ'd: + Whose steady soul ne'er learn'd to separate + Between his monarch's interest and the state; + But heaps those blessings on the royal head, + Which he well knows must be on subjects shed. + + On what pretence could then the vulgar rage + Against his worth and native rights engage? + Religious fears their argument are made-- + Religious fears his sacred rights invade! 650 + 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, + 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 + Not only claim'd their conscience, but their lands; 660 + They grudge God's tithes, how therefore shall they yield + An idol full possession of the field? + 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, + 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. 670 + + As vain our fears of Egypt's potent aid, + Not so has Pharaoh learn'd 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; + 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; 680 + 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, + 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. 690 + From these deceivers our divisions spring, + Our weakness, and the growth of Egypt's king; + These, with pretended friendship to the state, + Our crowds' suspicion of their prince create; + Both pleased and frighten'd with the specious cry, + 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: 700 + 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; + 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! 710 + When thick as Egypt's locusts on the sand, + 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, + 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, 720 + 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 still 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. 730 + At last his deep resentments silence broke, + The imperial palace shook, while thus he spoke-- + + Then Justice wait, and Rigour take her time, + For lo! our mercy is become our crime: + While halting Punishment her stroke delays, + 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 judge between her friends and foes? + When shall we see expired deceivers' sway, + And credit what our God and monarchs say? + 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, + To avoid those mischiefs which they seem'd to dread: + But first, e'er 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 destroy'd the nation's rest! 760 + 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, + And this the privilege of royal blood? + But grant we should confirm the wrongs they press, + 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. 770 + 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, + 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. 780 + The same rough means that 'suage the crowd, appease + Our senates 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, + 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. 790 + + He said, the attendants heard with awful joy, + 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, + 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. 800 + The field confess'd his power in arms before, + 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. + Through Sion's streets his glad arrival's spread, + 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 distress'd, + A virtue proper to the brave and best; 810 + '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; + 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; 820 + 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, + 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, 830 + His triumphs, so resounded far and near, + Miss'd not his young ambitious rival's ear; + And as when joyful hunters' clamorous train, + Some slumbering lion wakes in Moab's plain, + Who oft had forced the bold assailants yield, + 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: 840 + 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, + And thus on shelves the credulous youth convey'd? + 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 balk his charge, and for himself to shift, 850 + In which his dexterous 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 + Lest their recanting chief the cause betray, + Who on a father's grace his hopes may ground, + And for his pardon with their heads compound. + Him therefore, e'er his fortune slip her time. + The statesman plots to engage in some bold crime 860 + Past pardon--whether to attempt his bed, + 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 + 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 care what claimer's crown'd, except the true. 870 + Wake, Absalom! approaching ruin shun, + And see, O 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; + 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; 880 + 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 Absalom, + 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: 890 + 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, + 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! 900 + 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, + And David not their grievance, but the king. + Seized now with panic fear the faction lies, + Lest this clear truth strike Absalom's charm'd eyes, + Lest he perceive, from long enchantment free, + What all beside the flatter'd youth must see: 910 + 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. + 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, 920 + Whether fierce Vulcan's rage the furzy plain + Had seized, engender'd by some careless swain; + Or swelling Neptune lawless inroads made, + And to their cell of store his flood convey'd; + The commonwealth broke up, distracted go, + 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; + Dejecting all, and ruefully dismay'd, + For shekel without treat or treason paid. 930 + 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, + Immortalized in laurell'd Asaph's verse: + Hard task! yet will not I thy flight recall, + View heaven, and then enjoy thy glorious fall. 940 + + First write Bezaliel, whose illustrious name + Forestalls our praise, and gives his poet fame. + The Kenites' rocky province his command, + A barren limb of fertile Canaan's land; + Which for its generous natives yet could be + 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! 950 + To aid the crown and state his greatest zeal, + His second care that service to conceal; + Of dues observant, firm to every trust, + And to the needy always more than just; + Who truth from specious falsehood can divide, + 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. 960 + 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 dismay'd, + And David's cause long since confess'd his aid. + + Brave Abdael o'er the prophet's 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. 970 + That praise was his; what therefore did remain + 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, + 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 Gilboa's hills forsake, + And Jordan mix his stream with Sodom's lake; 980 + Or seas retired, their secret stores disclose, + And to the sun their scaly brood expose, + Or swell'd above the cliffs their billows raise, + Before the muses leave their patron's praise. + + Eliab our next labour does invite, + And hard the task to do Eliab right. + 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. 990 + His age with only one mild heiress bless'd, + 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, + 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! 1000 + That no Achitophel thy ruin boast; + 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. + 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. 1010 + 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; + Who, with a loyalty that did excel, + 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. 1020 + 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; + 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 1030 + 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, + 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? + We'll crown thee with a wreath from thy own tree! 1040 + 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, + 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! + How tender of the offending young man's fame! 1050 + 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 could a fairer prospect yield, + 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? 1060 + 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 + Our royal hero's beauteous, dear remains; + Who now sails off with winds nor wishes slack, + To bring his sufferings' bright companion back. + But e'er such transport can our sense employ, + A bitter grief must poison half our joy; 1070 + 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 Askelon to know, + 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. 1080 + + Calm were the elements, night's silence deep, + The waves scarce murmuring, and the winds asleep; + Yet fate for ruin takes so still an hour, + And treacherous sands the princely bark devour; + Then death unworthy seized a generous race, + To virtue's scandal, and the stars' disgrace! + Oh! had the indulgent powers vouchsafed to yield, + Instead of faithless shelves, a listed field; + A listed field of Heaven's and David's foes, + Fierce as the troops that did his youth oppose, 1090 + 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, + Of whom kind force could scarce the fates defraud; + Who for such followers lost, O 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, 1100 + 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; + Nor stretch'd on roses in the myrtle grove, + 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, 1110 + Long must his patience strive with fortune's rage, + And long-opposing gods themselves engage; + Must see his country flame, his friends destroy'd, + Before the promised empire be enjoy'd. + Such toil of fate must build a man of fame, + 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 delay'd, + On the instant is in all her bloom array'd; 1120 + The winds breathe low, the element serene; + Yet mark what motion in the waves is seen! + Thronging and busy as Hyblaean swarms, + Or straggled soldiers summon'd to their arms, + See where the princely bark in loosest pride, + With all her guardian fleet, adorns the tide! + High on her deck the royal lovers stand, + Our crimes to pardon, e'er they touch'd our land. + Welcome to Israel and to David's breast! + Here all your toils, here all your sufferings rest. 1130 + + This year did Ziloah rule Jerusalem, + 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, + That faction at the next election fail'd, + When even the common cry did justice found, + And merit by the multitude was crown'd: + With David then was Israel's peace restored, + Crowds mourn'd their error, and obey'd their lord. 1140 + + * * * * * + +A KEY TO BOTH PARTS OF ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. + + _Aldael_--General Monk, Duke of Albemarle. + + _Abethdin_--The name given, through + this poem, to a Lord-Chancellor + in general. + + _Absalom_--Duke of Monmouth, natural + son of King Charles II. + + _Achitophel_--Anthony Ashley Cooper, + Earl of Shaftesbury. + + _Adriel_--John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. + + _Agag_--Sir Edmundbury Godfrey. + + _Amiel_--Mr Seymour, Speaker of the + House of Commons. + + _Amri_--Sir Heneage Finch, Earl of + Winchelsea, and Lord Chancellor. + + _Annabel_--Duchess of Monmouth. + + _Arod_--Sir William Waller. + + _Asaph_--A character drawn by Tate + for Dryden, in the second part + of this poem. + + _Balaam_--Earl of Huntingdon. + + _Balak_--Barnet. + + _Barzillai_--Duke of Ormond. + + _Bathsheba_--Duchess of Portsmouth. + + _Benaiah_--General Sackville. + + _Ben Jochanan_--Rev. Samuel Johnson. + + _Bezaliel_--Duke of Beaufort. + + _Caleb_--Ford, Lord Grey of Werk. + + _Corah_--Dr Titus Oates. + + _David_--King Charles II. + + _Doeg_--Elkanah Settle, the city poet. + + _Egypt_--France. + + _Eliab_--Sir Henry Bennet, Earl of + Arlington. + + _Ethnic-Plot_--The Popish Plot. + + _Gath_--The Land of Exile, more particularly + Brussels, where King + Charles II. long resided. + + _Hebrew Priests_--The Church of + England Clergy. + + _Hebron_--Scotland. + + _Helon_--Earl of Feversham, a Frenchman + by birth, and nephew to + Marshal Turenne. + + _Hushai_--Hyde, Earl of Rochester. + + _Ishban_--Sir Robert Clayton, Alderman, + and one of the City Members. + + _Ishbosheth_--Richard Cromwell. + + _Israel_--England. + + _Issachar_--Thomas Thynne, Esq., + who was shot in his coach. + + _Jebusites_--Papists. + + _Jerusalem_--London. + + _Jews_--English. + + _Jonas_--Sir William Jones, a great + lawyer. + + _Jordan_--Dover. + + _Jotham_--Saville, Marquis of Halifax. + + _Jothram_--Lord Dartmouth. + + _Judas_--Mr Ferguson, a canting + teacher. + + _Mephibosheth_--Pordage. + + _Michal_--Queen Catharine. + + _Nadab_--Lord Howard of Escrick. + + _Og_--Shadwell. + + _Othniel_--Henry, Duke of Grafton, + natural son of King + Charles II. by the Duchess of Cleveland. + + _Phaleg_--Forbes. + + _Pharaoh_--King of France. + + _Rabsheka_--Sir Thomas Player, one + of the City Members. + + _Sagan of Jerusalem_--Dr Compton, + Bishop of London, youngest son + to the Earl of Northampton. + + _Sanhedrim_--Parliament. + + _Saul_--Oliver Cromwell. + + _Sheva_--Sir Roger Lestrange. + + _Shimei_--Slingsby Bethel, Sheriff of + London in 1680. + + _Sion_--England. + + _Solymaean Rout_--London Rebels. + + _Tyre_--Holland. + + _Uzza_--Jack Hall. + + _Zadoc_--Sancroft, Archbishop of + Canterbury. + + _Zaken_--A Member of the House of + Commons. + + _Ziloah_--Sir John Moor, Lord Mayor + in 1682. + + _Zimri_--Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 67: 'Annabel:' Lady Ann Scott, daughter of Francis, third Earl +of Buccleuch.] + +[Footnote 68: 'Adam-wits:' comparing the discontented to Adam and his +fall.] + +[Footnote 69: 'Triple bond:' alliance between England, Sweden, and +Holland; broken by the second Dutch war through the influence of France +and Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 70: 'Vare:' _i.e._, wand, from Spanish _vara_.] + +[Footnote 71: 'Him:' Dr Dolben, Bishop of Rochester.] + +[Footnote 72: 'Ruler of the day:' Phaeton.] + +[Footnote 73: The second part was written by Mr Nahum Tate, and is by no +means equal to the first, though Dryden corrected it throughout. The +poem is here printed complete.] + +[Footnote 74: 'Next:' from this to the line, 'To talk like Doeg, and to +write like thee,' is Dryden's own.] + +[Footnote 75: 'Who makes,' &c.: a line quoted from Settle.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE MEDAL.[76] + + +A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. + + +EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. + +For to whom can I dedicate this poem with so much justice as to you? It +is the representation of your own hero: it is the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of your 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 enhanced, 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 him 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 imagination 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",[77] 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 against 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 for the public welfare, to promote +sedition? Does your definition 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 his 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 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 everything 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 it is apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, it is 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 +Huguenot, murdered Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot 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 further 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 intrenched behind the Council of Trent: +so now, when your affairs are in a 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: it is the proper time to +say anything 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.[78] But there is +this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of 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 only one 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; for if scandal be not allowed, you are no +freeborn 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 nonconformist 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 signifies 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[79] 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 +profane, and saucy jack, and atheistic 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 +predecessors, 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 of it is, it is indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your +party says or thinks of him. + + * * * * * + + Of all our antic sights and pageantry, + Which English idiots run in crowds to see, + The Polish[80] Medal bears the prize alone: + A monster, more the favourite of the town + Than either fairs or theatres have shown. + 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, + Laetamur, which, in Polish, is rejoice. + The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd: + And a new canting holiday design'd. + Five days he sate, 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, e'er a man: + So young his hatred to his prince began. + Next this (how wildly will ambition steer!) 30 + 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. + 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. + 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. + Behold him now exalted into trust; + 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; 60 + At best, as little honest as he could, + And, like white witches[81], 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[82]; + Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold. + From hence those tears! that Ilium of our woe! + Who helps a powerful friend, forearms a foe. + What wonder if the waves prevail so far, + When he cut down the banks that made the bar? 70 + 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, + 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 his 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; + 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 theirs, 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, + 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 recall the son. 100 + 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; + 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 burns; + So all are God Almighties in their turns. 110 + 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, + Secured succession to secure our peace. + Thus property and sovereign sway, at last, + In equal balances were justly cast: + But this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd horse-- + Instructs the beast to know his native force; 120 + 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: + 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. 130 + 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; + 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. 140 + No justice to their righteous cause allow'd; + But baffled by an arbitrary crowd. + And medals graved their conquest to record, + The stamp and coin of their adopted lord. + + The man[83] who laugh'd but once, to see an ass + Mumbling make the cross-grain'd thistles pass, + Might laugh again to see a jury chaw + The prickles of unpalatable law. + The witnesses, that leech-like lived on blood, + Sucking for them was medicinally good; 150 + But when they fasten'd on their fester'd sore, + Then justice and religion they forswore, + Their maiden oaths debauch'd into a whore. + Thus men are raised by factions, and decried; + And rogue and saint distinguish'd by their side. + 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: 160 + 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 inquire; + But since our sects in prophecy grow higher, + The text inspires not them, but they the text inspire. + + London, thou great emporium of our isle, + O thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile! + How shall I praise or curse to thy desert? + Or separate thy sound from thy corrupted part? 170 + I call thee Nile; the parallel will stand; + Thy tides of wealth o'erflow the fatten'd land; + Yet monsters from thy large increase we find, + Engender'd on the slime thou leav'st behind. + Sedition has not wholly seized on thee, + Thy nobler parts are from infection free. + 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. 180 + The head[84] 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; + 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! 190 + 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, + 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 dethrone, + And they'll be sure to make his cause their own. 200 + 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! + 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, 210 + 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. + Thus when the heir was from the vineyard thrown, + The rich possession was the murderer's own. + In vain to sophistry they have recourse: + By proving theirs no plot, they prove 'tis worse-- 220 + 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 his dignity and fame, + He should have leave to exercise the name, + And hold the cards, while commons play'd 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, 240 + That waits impatient for the last command. + Thus outlaws open villainy 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, 250 + 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 tempest purges what it breeds, + To recommend the calmness that succeeds. + + But thou, the pander of the people's hearts, + O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts, + Whose blandishments a loyal land have whored, + And broke the bonds she plighted to her lord; + What curses on thy blasted name will fall! 260 + 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. + 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, + That preach up thee for God, dispense thy laws, + And with thy stum ferment their fainting cause? 270 + Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat + 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 theirs 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; 280 + That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit, + And wink at crimes he did himself commit. + A tyrant theirs; the heaven their priesthood paints + A conventicle of gloomy, sullen saints; + A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad, + Foredoom'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, + And crowds profane with impious arms prevail, 290 + 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, + 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; 300 + 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 the tadpole train, + Will croak to heaven for help, from this devouring crane. + 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, + In hate of kings shall cast 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 hæc opprobria, vobis + Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli." + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 76: 'The Medal:' see 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 77: A pamphlet vindicating Lord Shaftesbury from being +concerned in any plotting designs against the King. Wood says, the +general report was, that it was written by the earl himself.] + +[Footnote 78: 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.] + +[Footnote 79: 'Brother:' George Cooper, Esq., brother to the Earl of +Shaftesbury, was married to a daughter of Alderman Oldfield; and, being +settled in the city, became a great man among the Whigs and fanatics.] + +[Footnote 80: 'Polish:' Shaftesbury was said to have entertained hopes +of the crown of Poland.] + +[Footnote 81: 'White witches:' who wrought good ends by infernal means.] + +[Footnote 82: 'Loosed our triple hold:' our breaking the alliance with +Holland and Sweden, was owing to the Earl of Shaftesbury's advice.] + +[Footnote 83: 'The Man:' Crassus.] + +[Footnote 84: 'The head,' &c.: alluding to the lord mayor and the two +sheriffs: the former, Sir John Moor, being a Tory; the latter, Shute and +Pilkington, Whigs.] + + * * * * * + + + + +RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. + +AN EPISTLE. + + +THE PREFACE. + + +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 objected 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 farther +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 Japhet (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 should 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. 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 Ham and Japhet 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 revelation, 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, it is 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 inconsistent 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. It is 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 upon 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 far 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 more plausibility of reason it combats our religion, +with so much more caution it ought to be avoided: therefore the prudence +of our Church is to be commended, which has interposed her 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 oar faith, I have +unavoidably created to myself two sorts of enemies: the Papists indeed, +more directly, because they have kept the Scriptures 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 peers 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 wiredrawing 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 case. 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 the 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, Santare, Simancha,[85] 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 vel paulum +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 hominum Christianorum dominatu_, 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 authorised. And their champion +Bellarmine has told the world, in his Apology, that the king of England +is a vassal to the pope, _ratione directi domini_, and that he holds in +villanage of his Roman landlord: 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 was 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 drank: but that +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 detesting 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 maintained, amongst others, _ex cathedra_, 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 government +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 VIII. 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 VI., 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 saint-like 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 see, 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[86] and Coppinger, as the story tells us, got up into a +pease-cart and harangue 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 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 compassed 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 like 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 another 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 subject, 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,[87] 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 poet 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. + + * * * * * + + Dim as the borrow'd 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 + Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, + But guide us 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 + From cause to cause, to nature's secret head; + And found that one first principle must be: + But what, or who, that UNIVERSAL HE: + Whether some soul encompassing 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; 20 + Not even the Stagyrite 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 + What most concern'd the good of human kind: + For happiness was never to be found, + But vanish'd from them 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: + 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. + 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? + Or finite reason reach Infinity? 40 + For what could fathom God were more than He. + + The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground; + Cries [Greek: eureka], the mighty secret's found: + God is that spring of good; supreme and best; + We made to serve, and in that service blest; + 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 praise and pray: 50 + 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; + 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-- 60 + The bad meet punishment, the good reward. + + 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! + These truths are not the product of thy mind, + But dropp'd from heaven, and of a nobler kind. + Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy sight, + And reason saw not, till faith sprung the light. + Hence all thy natural worship takes the source: 70 + 'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse. + Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, + Which so obscure to heathens did appear? + Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found: + Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd. + 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, 80 + 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! + + Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity? + And must the terms of peace be given by thee? + Then thou art Justice in the last appeal; + 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, 100 + 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: + 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. 110 + 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 + Not paid; or paid, inadequate in price: + What further means can reason now direct, + Or what relief from human wit expect? + That shows us sick; and sadly are we sure + Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure: 120 + 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 Scripure all in equal balance thrown, + And our one Sacred Book will be that one. + + 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 130 + 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 word is scarce more ancient than the law: + Heaven's early care prescribed for every age; + 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, 140 + 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. + + 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, 150 + 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. + 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; 160 + 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? + 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 170 + Which must to all, and every where be known: + 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: + 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? + In other parts it helps, that ages past, 180 + 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? + + Of all objections this indeed is chief + To startle reason, stagger frail belief: + 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, 190 + Much more may strangers who ne'er heard His name. + And though no name be for salvation known, + But that of his Eternal Son alone; + Who knows how far transcending goodness can + Extend the merits of that Son to man? + 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, 200 + 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; + And by their conscience be condemn'd or freed. + Most righteous doom! because a rule reveal'd + Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd. + Then those who follow'd reason's dictates right, + Lived up, and lifted high their natural light; + With Socrates may see their Maker's face, 210 + While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. + Nor does it balk my charity to find + The Egyptian bishop[88] of another mind: + For though his creed eternal truth contains, + 'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains + 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, 220 + 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, even 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; + Those youthful hours which, of thy equals most 230 + In toys have squander'd, or in vice have lost, + Those hours hast thou to nobler use employ'd; + And the severe delights of truth enjoy'd. + Witness this weighty book, in which appears + The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years, + Spent by thy author, in 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, 240 + They Junius and Tremellius[89] may defy; + Save pains in various readings, and translations; + And without Hebrew make most learn'd quotations. + A work so full with various learning fraught, + So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought, + 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, 250 + 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: + 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 260 + 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, + 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, 270 + How can we think have oral sounds endured? + 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. + + O but, says one, tradition set aside, + Where can we hope for an unerring guide? + For since the original Scripture has been lost, + All copies disagreeing, maim'd the most, + Or Christian faith can have no certain ground, 280 + Or truth in Church Tradition must be found. + + Such an omniscient Church we wish indeed: + 'Twere worth both Testaments, cast in the Creed: + But if this mother be a guide so sure, + As can all doubts resolve, all truth secure, + Then her infallibility, 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. 300 + 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? + This to affirm were ignorance or pride. + Are there not many points, some needful sure + To saving faith, that Scripture leaves obscure? + Which every sect will wrest a several way, + For what one sect interprets, all sects may. 310 + 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. + + 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, 320 + Who never heard this question brought in play. + Th' 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. + The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught, + Born to instruct, as others to be taught, + Must study well the sacred page; and see + Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree + With the whole tenor of the work divine: 330 + 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: + 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, 340 + 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. + 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. + + The partial Papists would infer from hence, + Their Church, in last resort, should judge the sense. + But first they would assume, with wondrous art, + Themselves to be the whole, who are but part, + Of that vast frame the Church; yet grant they were 360 + 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: + The welcome news is in the letter found; + The carrier's not commissioned 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, 370 + A gainful trade their clergy did advance: + When want of learning kept 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 and spell: + 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, 380 + Poor laymen took salvation on content; + As needy men take money, good or bad: + God's Word they had not, but th' priest's they had. + Yet, whate'er false conveyances they made, + The lawyer still was certain to be paid. + 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, 390 + 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: + 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 had full as bad a consequence: + The Book thus put in every vulgar hand, 400 + 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. + 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: 410 + 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; + Occasion'd by great zeal and little thought. + While crowds unlearn'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. 420 + 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. + + 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: 430 + Faith is not built on disquisitions vain; + 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 + 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, + 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. 450 + + Thus have I made my own opinions clear; + Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear: + And this unpolish'd, rugged verse I chose, + As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose: + For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, + Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 85: 'Not to name Mariana, Bellarmine,' &c.: all Jesuits and +controversial writers in the Roman Catholic Church.] + +[Footnote 86: Hacket was a man of learning; he had much of the +Scriptures by heart, and made himself remarkable by preaching in an +enthusiastic strain. In 1591, he made a great parade of sanctity, +pretended to divine inspiration, and visions from God.] + +[Footnote 87: The son of the celebrated John Hampden. He was in the +Ryehouse Plot, and fined £15,000, which was remitted at the Revolution.] + +[Footnote 88: 'Bishop:' Athanasius.] + +[Footnote 89: 'Junius and Tremellius:' Francis Junius and Emanuel +Tremellius, two Calvinist ministers, who, in the sixteenth century, +joined in translating the Bible from Hebrew into Latin.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: + +A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES +II. + + I. + + 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; + 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, + Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky; + We lived as unconcern'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: + 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, + "Our gracious prince was dead." + No sickness known before, no slow disease, + To soften grief by just degrees: + But like a hurricane on Indian seas, + The tempest rose; + An unexpected burst of woes; + 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 + (At once it shall), + Should gape immense, and rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball; + So swift and so surprising was our fear: + Our Atlas fell indeed, but Hercules was near. + + II. + + 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 + 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 pray'd, + 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, + (Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,) + Who can describe the amazement of his face! + Horror in all his pomp was there, + 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: + 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 + 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, + An image now of death. + 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; + No wife, no brother, such a grief could know, + Nor any name but friend. + + III. + + O wondrous changes of a fatal scene, + Still varying to the last! + Heaven, though its hard decree was past, + 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 ethereal throne, + Such as his wondrous life had oft and 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 he could, + 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, + 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 heard; + 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, + The medicinal head, the ready hand, + 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. + + IV. + + 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, + 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; + Friends to congratulate their friends made haste; + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd: + Above the rest heroic James appear'd-- + Exalted more, because he more had fear'd: + His manly heart, whose noble pride + Was still above + Dissembled hate or varnish'd love, + Its more than common transport could not hide; + But like an eagre[90] rode in triumph o'er the tide. + Thus, in alternate course, + 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; + 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, + 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, + By charms of art was hurried down, + Forced with regret to leave her native sphere, + Came but awhile on liking here: + Soon weary of the painful strife, + And made but faint essays of life: + An evening light + Soon shut in night; + A strong distemper, and a weak relief, + Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. + + V. + + The sons of art all medicines tried, + 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 play'd. + Death never won a stake with greater toil, + 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; + 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 Cæsar could sustain: + 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; + More, infinitely more, than he, + Against the worst of rebels, could decree, + A traitor, or twice pardon'd enemy. + Now art was tried without success, + No racks could make the stubborn malady confess. + The vain insurancers of life, + And they who most perform'd and promised less, + Even Short and Hobbes[91] forsook the unequal strife. + Death and despair were in their looks, + 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. + + VI. + + Death was denounced; that frightful sound + Which even the best can hardly bear, + He took the summons void of fear; + And unconcern'dly cast his eyes around; + As if to find and dare the grisly challenger. + What death could do he lately tried, + 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. + Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave, + He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. + + VII. + + As if some angel had been sent + To lengthen out his government, + And to foretell as many years again, + As he had number'd in his happy reign, + So cheerfully he took the doom + Of his departing breath; + Nor shrunk nor stepp'd aside for death; + But with unalter'd pace kept on, + 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, + 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, + To whom both Heaven, + The right had given + And his own love bequeathed supreme command: + He took and press'd that ever loyal hand + Which could in peace secure his reign, + 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; + 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. + + VIII. + + That king[92] who lived to God's own heart, + Yet less serenely died than he: + 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. + 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; + 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 heightening arts are spent, + I cast into a shade. + That all-forgiving king, + The type of Him above, + That inexhausted spring + Of clemency and love; + Himself to his next self accused, + And asked 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, + 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. + 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 plenteously confess'd. + + IX. + + Amidst that silent shower, the royal mind + An easy passage found, + And left its sacred earth behind: + Nor murmuring groan express'd, nor labouring sound, + Nor any least tumultuous breath; + 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[93] knew him there. + That peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine, + That peace thou leavest to thy imperial line, + That peace, oh, happy shade, be ever thine! + + X. + + For all those joys thy restoration brought, + For all the miracles it wrought, + For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd + Into the nation's bleeding wound, + 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-- + 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. + 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, + Thou hast derived this mighty blessing down, + And fix'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, + Not foreign or domestic treachery, + Gould 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; + But kept the native toughness of the steel. + + XI. + + Be true, O 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: + The load's too weighty: thou mayest 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, + 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; + 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. + + XII. + + 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! + Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before; + But all uncultivated lay + Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway; + With rank Geneva weeds run o'er, + And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore. + The royal husbandman appear'd, + 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; + Such as the swarthy Indian mows; + Or happier climates near the line, + Or Paradise manured and dress'd by hands divine. + + XIII. + + As when the new-born Phoenix takes his way, + His rich paternal regions to survey, + Of airy choristers a numerous train + Attends 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-- + A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young: + The Muse that mourns him now, his happy triumph sung, + Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign; + And such a plenteous crop they bore + Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XIV. + + Oh, frail estate of human things, + And slippery hopes below! + 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, + 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, + 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! + '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: + For twelve long years of exile borne, + Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return: + 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 stock has now the promised land in view. + + XV. + + A warlike prince ascends the regal state, + A prince long exercised by fate: + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XVI. + + 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; + The more oppress'd, the higher still he rose: + Those were the preludes of his fate, + That form'd his manhood, to subdue + The Hydra of the many-headed hissing crew. + + XVII. + + As after Numa's peaceful reign, + 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 + 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 + 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. + 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, + 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. + + XVIII. + + For once, O 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: + 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, + To starve the royal virtues of his mind. + Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test, + O give them to believe, and they are surely blest! + They do; and with a distant view I see + The amended vows of English loyalty. + 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 even the remoter shores, + 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 recognise his ancient lord again: + And with a willing hand, restores + The fasces of the main. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 90: 'An eagre:' a tide swelling above another tide--observed + on the River Trent.] + + [Footnote 91: 'Short and Hobbes:' two physicians who attended on the + king.] + + [Footnote 92: 'King:' King David.] + + [Footnote 93: 'The prophet:' Elijah.] + + * * * * * + + + + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED. + + CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid + The world's foundations first were laid, + Come, visit every pious mind; + Come, pour thy joys on human kind; + From sin and sorrow set us free, + And make thy temples worthy thee. + + O source of uncreated light, + The Father's promised Paraclete! + Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, + Our hearts with heavenly love inspire; + Come, and thy sacred unction bring + To sanctify us, while we sing! + + Plenteous of grace, descend from high, + Rich in thy sevenfold energy! + Thou strength of his Almighty hand, + Whose power does heaven and earth command: + Proceeding Spirit, our defence, + Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, + And crown'st thy gift with eloquence! + + Refine and purge our earthly parts; + But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! + Our frailties help, our vice control, + Submit the senses to the soul; + And when rebellious they are grown, + Then lay thy hand, and hold them down! + + Chase from our minds the infernal foe, + And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; + And, lest our feet should step astray, + Protect and guide us in the way. + + Make us eternal truths receive, + And practise all that we believe: + Give us thyself, that we may see + The Father, and the Son, by thee. + + Immortal honour, endless fame, + Attend the Almighty Father's name + The Saviour Son be glorified, + Who for lost man's redemption died: + And equal adoration be, + Eternal Paraclete, to thee! + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. + + A POEM, IN THREE PARTS. + + --Antiquam exquirite matrem. + Et vera incessa patuit Dea. + VIRG. + + * * * * * + + +PREFACE. + +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 _their_ 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 concerning 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 else, 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 +contended for their classical ordination (not to speak of rites and +ceremonies) will they at length 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 hand 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 is +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 this 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 declares 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 +commonplaces of satire, whether true or false, which are urged by the +members of the one Church against the other: at which I hope no reader +of either party will be scandalized, because they are not of my +invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccace and +Chaucer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other. + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, + Fed on the 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. + + 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 slaughter'd army lay in blood, + Extended o'er the Caledonian wood, + Their native walk; whose vocal blood arose, + 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 renew'd; + 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, + And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own, + The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd + By sovereign power, her company disdain'd; + Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye + Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 30 + '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. + + The bloody Bear, an independent beast, + Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd. + Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare[94] + Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear. + Next her the buffoon Ape[95], 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, + With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place, + 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 betray'd, + With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name; 50 + He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal'd the shame: + So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile + False Reynard[96] fed on consecrated spoil: + The graceless beast by Athanasius first + Was chased from Nice, then by Socinus nursed: + His impious race their blasphemy renew'd, + 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, 60 + Hence they began, and here they all will end. + + What weight of ancient witness can prevail, + If private reason hold the public scale? + But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide + For erring judgments an unerring guide! + Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, + A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. + O teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, + And search no farther than thyself reveal'd; + But her alone for my director take, 70 + Whom thou hast promised never to forsake! + My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; + My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, + Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, + My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. + Such was I, such by nature still I am; + Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. + Good life be now my task; my doubts are done: + What more could fright my faith, than Three in One? + Can I believe Eternal God could lie 80 + Disguised in mortal mould and infancy? + That the great Maker of the world could die? + And after that trust my imperfect sense, + Which calls in question His Omnipotence? + Can I my reason to my faith compel, + And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebel? + Superior faculties are set aside; + Shall their subservient organs be my guide? + Then let the moon usurp the rule of day, + And winking tapers show the sun his way; 90 + For what my senses can themselves perceive, + I need no revelation to believe. + Can they who say the Host should be descried + By sense, define a body glorified? + Impassable, and penetrating parts? + 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, 100 + 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? + + '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, 110 + 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? + 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 120 + On the proponent, Heaven's authority. + If, then, our faith we for our guide admit, + Vain is the farther search of human wit; + As when the building gains a surer stay, + We take the unuseful scaffolding away. + Reason by sense no more can understand; + The game is play'd into another hand. + Why choose we, then, like bilanders,[97] to creep + Along the coast, and land in view to keep, + When safely we may launch into the deep? 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? + 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? + Rest, then, my soul, from endless anguish freed: + Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed. + Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss; + The bank above must fail before the venture miss. + + But heaven and heaven-born faith are far from thee, 150 + Thou first apostate[98] to divinity. + Unkennell'd range in thy Polonian plains; + A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf[99] 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, + Wild in effect, though in appearance tame, + Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissful bower, + And, muzzled though they seem, the mutes devour. + More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 160 + 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 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. + Full many a year[100] his hateful head had been 170 + 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. + These last deduce him from th' Helvetian kind, + Who near the Leman lake his consort lined: + That fiery Zuinglius first th' 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 + From Moses' hand the sovereign sway to wrest, + And Aaron of his ephod to divest: + Till opening earth made way for all to pass, + And could not bear the burden of a class. + The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark, 190 + 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, + In woods and caves the rebel race began. + + O happy pair, how well have you increased! + What ills in Church and State have you redress'd! + With teeth untried, and rudiments of claws, + Your first essay was on your native laws: 200 + 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[101] still be small, + Bounded betwixt a puddle[102] and a wall; + 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. + 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, + 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; 230 + As only Indian shades of sight deprive, + And magic plants will but in Colchos thrive; + So Presbytery and pestilential zeal + Can only nourish in a commonweal. + + From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew; + But ah! some pity even to brutes is due: + 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. 240 + 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, + 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. 250 + + One portion of informing fire was given + To brutes, the inferior family of heaven: + The Smith Divine, as with a careless beat, 253 + 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: 260 + Reason to rule, and 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, 270 + 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: + 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, 280 + For differing worship of the Deity. + Thus persecution rose, and further space + Produced the mighty hunter of his race[103]. + Not so the blessed Pan his flock increased, + Content to fold them from the famish'd beast: + Mild were his laws; the Sheep and harmless Hind 286 + 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. + + O 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, + May guard their fences from the invading foe. + Where birth has placed them, let them safely share + The common benefit of vital air. + Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd; + Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd: 300 + 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 repress'd, 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 310 + 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: 320 + 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; + To them the Hind and Panther are the same. + + The Panther[104] sure the noblest, next the Hind, + And fairest creature of the spotted kind; + Oh, could her inborn stains be wash'd away, + She were too good to be a beast of prey! 330 + How can I praise, or blame, and not offend, + Or how divide the frailty from the friend? + 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. 340 + 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 dropt half way down, nor lower fell; + So poised, so gently she descends from high, + 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. 350 + A Lion[105] 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, + A well match'd pair, got graceless Heresy. + God's and king's rebels have the same good cause, + To trample down divine and human laws: + Both would be call'd reformers, and their hate + Alike destructive both to Church and State: 360 + 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, + Where souls are starved, and senses gratified! + Where marriage pleasures midnight prayers supply, + And matin bells, a melancholy cry, + Are tuned to merrier notes, Increase and multiply. + Religion shows a rosy-colour'd face; 370 + Not batter'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. + + 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 380 + 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; + 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 390 + Their diligence of careful herds below. + 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. + 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 disavow'd the rest, 400 + Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatized 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, + And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow, + 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, 420 + 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. + 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; 430 + But sure no Church can better morals boast: + True to her king her principles are found; + O that her practice were but half so sound! + Steadfast in various turns of state she stood, + And seal'd her vow'd affection with her blood: + Nor will I meanly tax her constancy, + That interest or obligement made the tie + Bound to the fate of murder'd monarchy. + Before the sounding axe so falls the vine, + Whose tender branches round the poplar twine. 440 + 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; + 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[106] counsel, her new-chosen mate; + Still she's the fairest of the fallen crew, 450 + 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? + 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, even that's as plain 460 + 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: + 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: 470 + 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? + 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. 480 + How can she censure, or what crime pretend, + But Scripture may be construed to defend? + Even those, whom for rebellion she transmits 483 + To civil power, her doctrine first acquits; + Because no disobedience can ensue, + 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. 490 + 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,-- + A patent during pleasure of the state! + + Thus is the Panther neither loved nor fear'd, + A mere mock queen of a divided herd; + Whom soon by lawful power she might control, + Herself a part submitted to the whole. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + + 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; + Levées and couchées pass'd without resort. + So hardly can usurpers manage well 517 + Those whom they first instructed to rebel. + More liberty begets desire of more; + The hunger still increases with the store. + 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; + 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, 530 + The sovereign Lion[107] 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; + Survey'd 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, 540 + 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 restrain'd, + Now frisk'd about her, and old kindred feign'd. + Whether for love or interest, every sect + Of all the savage nation show'd respect. + The viceroy Panther could not awe the herd; 549 + The more the company, the less they fear'd. + 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 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, 560 + To chat a while on their adventures pass'd: + 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, + She thought this hour the 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. 570 + After some common talk what rumours ran, + The lady of the spotted muff began. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 94: 'Hare:' the Quakers.] + + [Footnote 95: 'Ape:' latitudinarians in general.] + + [Footnote 96: 'Reynard:' the Arians.] + + [Footnote 97: 'Bilanders:' an old word for a coasting boat.] + + [Footnote 98: 'First Apostate:' Arius.] + + [Footnote 99: 'Wolf:' Presbytery.] + + [Footnote 100: 'Many a year:' referring to the price put on the head of + wolves in Wales.] + + [Footnote 101: 'Kennel:' Geneva.] + + [Footnote 102: 'Puddle:' its lake.] + + [Footnote 103: 'Mighty hunter of his race:' Nimrod.] + + [Footnote 104: 'Panther:' Church of England.] + + [Footnote 105: 'Lion:' Henry VIII.] + + [Footnote 106: + 'Isgrim:' the wolf.] + + [Footnote 107: 'Lion:' James II.] + + + PART II. + + + Dame, said the Panther, times are mended well, + Since late among the Philistines[108] you fell. + The toils were pitch'd, a spacious tract of ground + With expert huntsmen was encompass'd round; + The enclosure narrow'd; the sagacious power 5 + Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour. + 'Tis true, the younger Lion[109] 'scaped the snare, + But all your priestly Calves[110] lay struggling there, + As sacrifices on their altar laid; + While you, their careful mother, wisely fled, 10 + Not trusting destiny to save your head; + For, whate'er promises you have applied + To your unfailing Church, the surer side + 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, + Those toils were for your own dear self design'd, + As well as me, and with the self-same throw, 20 + 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 + 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 + You kept, and stood in the main question dumb. + Dumb you were born indeed; but thinking long + The Test[111] it seems at last has loosed your tongue. 30 + And to explain what your forefathers meant, + By real presence in the sacrament, + After long fencing push'd against the wall. + Your salvo 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, 40 + Yet in your sense I never own'd it there. + A real virtue we by faith receive, + And that we in the sacrament believe. + 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 Æsop's fable you repeat; + You know who took the shadow for the meat: + Your Church's substance thus you change at will, 50 + 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. + Long time you fought, redoubled battery bore, + But, after all, against yourself you swore; + Your 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; + For all have not the gift of martyrdom. + + The Panther grinn'd at this, and thus replied: 60 + That men may err was never yet denied. + But, if that common principle be true, + The canon, dame, is levell'd full at you. + But, shunning long disputes, I fain would see + That wondrous wight Infallibility. + Is he from Heaven, this mighty champion, come; + Or lodged below in subterranean Rome? + First, seat him somewhere, and derive his race, + Or else conclude that nothing has no place. + + Suppose (though I disown it), said the Hind, 70 + The certain mansion were not yet assign'd; + The doubtful residence no proof can bring + Against the plain existence of the thing. + Because philosophers may disagree + If sight by emission or reception be, + Shall it be thence inferr'd, I do not see? + But you require an answer positive, + Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give; + For fallacies in universals live. + I then affirm that this unfailing guide 80 + In Pope and General Councils must reside; + Both lawful, both combined: what one decrees + By numerous votes, the other ratifies: + On this undoubted sense the Church relies. + 'Tis true, some doctors in a scantier space, + I mean, in each apart, contract the place. + Some, who to greater length extend the line, + The Church's after-acceptation join. + This last circumference appears too wide; + The Church diffused is by the Council tied; 90 + As members by their representatives + Obliged to laws which Prince and Senate gives. + Thus some contract, and some enlarge the space: + In Pope and Council, who denies the place, + Assisted from above with God's unfailing grace? + Those canons all the needful points contain; + Their sense so obvious, and their words so plain, + That no disputes about the doubtful text + Have hitherto the labouring world perplex'd. + If any should in after-times appear, 100 + New Councils must be call'd, to make the meaning clear: + Because in them the power supreme resides; + And all the promises are to the guides. + This may be taught with sound and safe defence; + But mark how sandy is your own pretence, + Who, setting Councils, Pope, and Church aside, + Are every man his own presuming guide. + The Sacred Books, you say, are full and plain. + And every needful point of truth contain: + All who can read interpreters may be: 110 + Thus, though your several Churches disagree, + Yet every saint has to himself alone + The secret of this philosophic stone. + These principles your jarring sects unite, + When differing doctors and disciples fight. + Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy chiefs, + Have made a battle royal of beliefs; + Or, like wild horses, several ways have whirl'd + The tortured text about the Christian world; + Each Jehu lashing on with furious force, 120 + That Turk or Jew could not have used it worse; + No matter what dissension leaders make, + Where every private man may save a stake: + Ruled by the Scripture and his own advice, + Each has a blind by-path to Paradise; + Where, driving in a circle, slow or fast, + Opposing sects are sure to meet at last. + A wondrous charity you have in store + For all reform'd to pass the narrow door: + So much, that Mahomet had scarcely more. 130 + For he, kind prophet, was for damning none; + But Christ and Moses were to save their own: + Himself was to secure his chosen race, + Though reason good for Turks to take the place, + And he allow'd to be the better man, + In virtue of his holier Alcoran. + + True, said the Panther, I shall ne'er deny + My brethren may be saved as well as I: + Though Huguenots condemn our ordination, + Succession, ministerial vocation; 140 + And Luther, more mistaking what he read, + Misjoins the sacred body with the bread: + Yet, lady, still remember, I maintain, + The Word in needful points is only plain. + + Needless, or needful, I not now contend, + For still you have a loop-hole for a friend; + Rejoin'd the matron: but the rule you lay + Has led whole flocks, and leads them still astray, + In weighty points, and full damnation's way. + For did not Arius first, Socinus now, 150 + The Son's Eternal Godhead disavow? + And did not these by gospel texts alone + Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own? + Have not all heretics the same pretence + To plead the Scriptures in their own defence? + How did the Nicene Council then decide + That strong debate? was it by Scripture tried? + No, sure; to that the rebel would not yield; + Squadrons of texts he marshall'd in the field: + That was but civil war, an equal set, 160 + Where piles with piles[112], and eagles eagles met. + With texts point-blank and plain he faced the foe. + And did not Satan tempt our Saviour so? + The good old bishops took a simpler way; + Each ask'd but what he heard his father say, + Or how he was instructed in his youth, + And by tradition's force upheld the truth. + + The Panther smiled at this; and when, said she, + Were those first Councils disallow'd by me? + Or where did I at sure Tradition strike, 170 + Provided still it were apostolic? + + Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground, + Where all your faith you did on Scripture found: + Now 'tis Tradition join'd with Holy Writ; + But thus your memory betrays your wit. + + No, said the Panther, for in that I view, + When your tradition's forged, and when 'tis true. + I set them by the rule, and, as they square, + Or deviate from, undoubted doctrine there, + This oral fiction, that old faith declare. 180 + + Hind: The Council steer'd, it seems, a different course; + They tried the Scripture by Tradition's force: + But you Tradition by the Scripture try; + 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, + When not evinced by Scripture to be true, 190 + And Scripture, as interpreted by you. + But here you tread upon unfaithful ground; + Unless you could infallibly expound: + 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, + Nay, often ground our titles on the same: + After long labour lost, and time's expense, 200 + Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense. + Thus all disputes for ever must depend; + For no dumb rule can controversies end. + 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, + And yet your clerks would sit in Moses' chair; + At least 'tis proved against your argument, 210 + 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? + 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, + And trusts no farther than the next above; + Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise, 220 + The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skies. + + Sternly the savage did her answer mark, + Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark, + 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; + But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet: + You learn'd this language from the Blatant Beast, 230 + 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 + To load with envy, we retort your own, + For when Traditions in your faces fly, 240 + Resolving not to yield, you must decry. + As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man + Excepts, and thins his jury all he can; + So when you stand of other aid bereft, + You to the Twelve Apostles would be left. + Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide + To set those toys, Traditions, quite aside; + And Fathers too, unless when, reason spent, + He cites them but sometimes for ornament. + But, madam Panther, you, though more sincere, 250 + Are not so wise as your adulterer: + The private spirit is a better blind, + 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? + On his own reason safer 'tis to stand, + Than be deceived and damn'd at second-hand. 260 + 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. + And yet they grow upon you every day, + While you, to speak the best, are at a stay, 270 + 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: + 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. + Shall she command who has herself rebell'd? + Is Antichrist by Antichrist expell'd? 280 + Did we a lawful tyranny displace, + To set aloft a bastard of the race? + Why all these wars to win the Book, if we + Must not interpret for ourselves, but she? + 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; + You never mount them but in time of need. + Like mercenaries, hired for home defence, 290 + They will not serve against their native prince. + Against domestic foes of hierarchy + These are drawn forth, to make fanatics fly; + 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? 300 + And if all saving doctrines are not there, + Or sacred penmen could not make them clear, + From after ages we should hope in vain + 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. + Thus by Tradition faith was planted first; + Succeeding flocks succeeding pastors nursed. 310 + 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. + 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, + But wit may gloss, and malice may obscure; + Not those indited by his first command, 320 + 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, + And, as mistakes arose, or discords fell, 330 + Or bold seducers taught them to rebel, + As charity grew cold, or faction hot, + Or long neglect their lessons had forgot, + 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; + Nor first intended but occasional, + Their absent sermons; nor if they contain 340 + All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain. + Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought: + They writ but seldom, but they daily taught. + 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? + A guide was therefore needful, therefore made; + And, if appointed, sure to be obey'd. 350 + Thus, with due reverence to the Apostle's writ, + By which my sons are taught, to which submit; + I think those truths their sacred works contain, + The Church alone can certainly explain; + 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. + Because, as I have urged before, 'tis mute, + And is itself the subject of dispute. 360 + 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. + 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, 370 + But with subordination to her guide; + (I wish the cause were on that issue tried.) + Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate + Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate, + Bequeath'd 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: + All vouch the words their interest to maintain, + And each pretends by those his cause is plain. 380 + Shall then the Testament award the right? + No, that's the Hungary for which they fight; + The field of battle, subject of debate; + 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. + + Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant, + The faithful flock some living guide should want, 390 + Your arguments an endless chase pursue; + Produce this vaunted leader to our view, + This mighty Moses of the chosen crew. + + The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired, + With force renew'd, to victory aspired; + And, looking upward to her kindred sky, + As once our Saviour own'd his Deity, + Pronounced his words:--"She whom ye seek am I," + Nor less amazed this voice the Panther heard, + Than were those Jews to hear a God declared. 400 + Then thus the matron modestly renew'd: + Let all your prophets and their sects be view'd, + And see to which of them yourselves think fit + The conduct of your conscience to submit: + Each proselyte would vote his doctor best, + With absolute exclusion to the rest: + Thus would your Polish diet disagree, + And end, as it began, in anarchy: + Yourself the fairest for election stand, + Because you seem crown-general of the land: 410 + But soon against your superstitious lawn + Some Presbyterian sabre would be drawn: + In your establish'd laws of sovereignty + The rest some fundamental flaw would see, + And call rebellion gospel-liberty. + To Church-decrees your articles require + Submission modified, if not entire. + Homage denied, to censures you proceed: + But when Curtana[113] will not do the deed. + You lay that pointless clergy-weapon by, 420 + And to the laws, your sword of justice, fly. + Now this your sects the more unkindly take + (Those prying varlets hit the blots you make), + Because some ancient friends of yours declare, + Your only rule of faith the Scriptures are, + Interpreted by men of judgment sound, + Which every sect will for themselves expound; + Nor think less reverence to their doctors due + For sound interpretation, than to you. + If then, by able heads, are understood 430 + Your brother prophets, who reform'd abroad; + Those able heads expound a wiser way, + That their own sheep their shepherd should obey. + But if you mean yourselves are only sound, + That doctrine turns the Reformation round, + And all the rest are false reformers found; + Because in sundry points you stand alone, + Not in communion join'd with any one; + And therefore must be all the Church, or none. + Then, till you have agreed whose judge is best, 440 + Against this forced submission they protest: + While sound and sound a different sense explains, + Both play at hardhead till they break their brains; + And from their chairs each other's force defy, + While unregarded thunders vainly fly. + I pass the rest, because your Church alone + Of all usurpers best could fill the throne. + But neither you, nor any sect beside, + For this high office can be qualified, + With necessary gifts required in such a guide. 450 + For that which must direct the whole must be + Bound in one bond of faith and unity: + But all your several Churches disagree. + The consubstantiating Church and priest + Refuse communion to the Calvinist: + The French reform'd from preaching you restrain, + Because you judge their ordination vain; + And so they judge of yours, but donors must ordain. + In short, in doctrine, or in discipline, + Not one reform'd can with another join: 460 + But all from each, as from damnation, fly; + No union they pretend, but in Non-Popery. + Nor, should their members in a Synod meet, + Could any Church presume to mount the seat, + Above the rest, their discords to decide; + None would obey, but each would be the guide: + And face to face dissensions would increase; + For only distance now preserves the peace. + All in their turns accusers, and accused: + Babel was never half so much confused: 470 + What one can plead, the rest can plead as well; + For amongst equals lies no last appeal, + And all confess themselves are fallible. + Now since you grant some necessary guide, + All who can err are justly laid aside: + Because a trust so sacred to confer 476 + Shows want of such a sure interpreter; + And how can he be needful who can err? + Then, granting that unerring guide we want, + That such there is you stand obliged to grant: 480 + Our Saviour else were wanting to supply + Our needs, and obviate that necessity. + It then remains, the Church can only be + The guide, which owns unfailing certainty; + Or else you slip your hold, and change your side, + Relapsing from a necessary guide. + But this annex'd condition of the crown, + Immunity from errors, you disown; + Here then you shrink, and lay your weak pretensions down. + For petty royalties you raise debate; 490 + But this unfailing universal state + You shun; nor dare succeed to such a glorious weight; + And for that cause those promises detest + With which our Saviour did his Church invest; + But strive to evade, and fear to find them true, + As conscious they were never meant to you: + All which the Mother Church asserts her own, + And with unrivall'd claim ascends the throne. + So, when of old the Almighty Father sate + In council, to redeem our ruin'd state, 500 + Millions of millions, at a distance round, + Silent the sacred consistory crown'd, + To hear what mercy, mix'd with justice, could propound: + All prompt, with eager pity, to fulfil + The full extent of their Creator's will. + But when the stern conditions were declared, + A mournful whisper through the host was heard, + And the whole hierarchy, with heads hung down, + Submissively declined the ponderous proffer'd crown. + Then, not till then, the Eternal Son from high 510 + Rose in the strength of all the Deity: + Stood forth to accept the terms, and underwent + A weight which all the frame of heaven had bent. + Nor he himself could bear, but as Omnipotent. + Now, to remove the least remaining doubt, + That even the blear-eyed sects may find her out, + Behold what heavenly rays adorn her brows, + What from his wardrobe her beloved allows + To deck the wedding-day of his unspotted spouse. + Behold what marks of majesty she brings; 520 + Richer than ancient heirs of eastern kings! + Her right hand holds the sceptre and the keys, + To show whom she commands, and who obeys: + With these to bind, or set the sinner free, + With that to assert spiritual royalty. + + One in herself, not rent by schism,[114] but sound, + Entire, one solid shining diamond; + Not sparkles shatter'd into sects like you: + One is the Church, and must be to be true: + One central principle of unity. 530 + As undivided, so from errors free, + As one in faith, so one in sanctity. + Thus she, and none but she, the insulting rage + Of heretics opposed from age to age: + Still when the giant-brood invades her throne, + She stoops from heaven, and meets them half way down, + And with paternal thunder vindicates her crown. + But like Egyptian sorcerers you stand, + And vainly lift aloft your magic wand, + To sweep away the swarms of vermin from the land: 540 + You could like them, with like infernal force, + Produce the plague, but not arrest the course. + But when the boils and blotches, with disgrace 543 + And public scandal, sat upon the face, + Themselves attack'd, the Magi strove no more, + They saw God's finger, and their fate deplore; + Themselves they could not cure of the dishonest sore. + Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread, + Like the fair ocean from her mother-bed; + From east to west triumphantly she rides, 550 + All shores are water'd by her wealthy tides. + The Gospel-sound, diffused from pole to pole, + Where winds can carry, and where waves can roll, + The self-same doctrine of the sacred page + Convey'd to every clime, in every age. + + Here let my sorrow give my satire place, + To raise new blushes on my British race; + Our sailing-ships like common sewers we use, + And through our distant colonies diffuse + The draught of dungeons, and the stench of stews, 560 + Whom, when their home-bred honesty is lost, + We disembogue on some far Indian coast: + Thieves, panders, paillards,[115] sins of every sort; + Those are the manufactures we export; + And these the missioners our zeal has made: + For, with my country's pardon be it said, + Religion is the least of all our trade. + + Yet some improve their traffic more than we; + For they on gain, their only god, rely, + And set a public price on piety. 570 + Industrious of the needle and the chart, + They run full sail to their Japonian mart; + Prevention fear, and, prodigal of fame, + Sell all of Christian,[116] to the very name; + Nor leave enough of that, to hide their naked shame. + + Thus, of three marks, which in the Creed we view, + Not one of all can be applied to you: 577 + Much less the fourth; in vain, alas! you seek + The ambitious title of Apostolic: + God-like descent! 'tis well your blood can be + Proved noble in the third or fourth degree: + For all of ancient that you had before, + (I mean what is not borrow'd from our store) + Was error fulminated o'er and o'er; + Old heresies condemn'd in ages past, + By care and time recover'd from the blast. + + 'Tis said with ease, but never can be proved, + The Church her old foundations has removed, + And built new doctrines on unstable sands: + Judge that, ye winds and rains: you proved her, yet she stands. 590 + Those ancient doctrines charged on her for new, + Show when and how, and from what hands they grew. + We claim no power, when heresies grow bold, + To coin new faith, but still declare the old. + How else could that obscene disease be purged, + When controverted texts are vainly urged? + To prove tradition new, there's somewhat more + Required, than saying, 'twas not used before. + Those monumental arms are never stirr'd, + Till schism or heresy call down Goliah's sword. 600 + + Thus, what you call corruptions, are, in truth, + The first plantations of the Gospel's youth; + Old standard faith: but cast your eyes again, + And view those errors which new sects maintain, + Or which of old disturb'd the Church's peaceful reign; + And we can point each period of the time, + When they began, and who begot the crime; + Can calculate how long the eclipse endured, + Who interposed, what digits were obscured: + Of all which are already pass'd away, 610 + We know the rise, the progress, and decay. + + Despair at our foundations then to strike, + Till you can prove your faith Apostolic; + A limpid stream drawn from the native source; + Succession lawful in a lineal course. + Prove any Church, opposed to this our head, + So one, so pure, so unconfinedly spread, + Under one chief of the spiritual state, + The members all combined, and all subordinate. + Show such a seamless coat, from schism so free, 620 + In no communion join'd with heresy. + If such a one you find, let truth prevail: + Till when your weights will in the balance fail: + A Church unprincipled kicks up the scale. + But if you cannot think (nor sure you can + Suppose in God what were unjust in man) + That He, the fountain of eternal grace, + Should suffer falsehood, for so long a space, + To banish truth, and to usurp her place: + That seven successive ages should be lost, 630 + And preach damnation at their proper cost; + That all your erring ancestors should die, + Drown'd in the abyss of deep idolatry: + If piety forbid such thoughts to rise, + Awake, and open your unwilling eyes: + God hath left nothing for each age undone, + From this to that wherein he sent his Son: + Then think but well of him, and half your work is done. + See how his Church, adorn'd with every grace, 639 + With open arms, a kind forgiving face, + Stands ready to prevent her long-lost son's embrace. + Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep, + Nor less himself could from discovery keep, + When in the crowd of suppliants they were seen, + And in their crew his best-loved Benjamin. + That pious Joseph in the Church behold, + To feed your famine,[117] and refuse your gold: + The Joseph you exiled, the Joseph whom you sold. + + Thus, while with heavenly charity she spoke, + A streaming blaze the silent shadows broke; 650 + Shot from the skies; a cheerful azure light: + The birds obscene to forests wing'd their flight, + And gaping graves received the wandering guilty sprite. + + Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky, + For James his late nocturnal victory; + The pledge of his Almighty Patron's love, + The fireworks which his angels made above. + I saw myself the lambent easy light + Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night: + The messenger with speed the tidings bore; 660 + News, which three labouring nations did restore; + But Heaven's own Nuntius was arrived before. + + By this, the Hind had reach'd her lonely cell, + And vapours rose, and dews unwholesome fell. + When she, by frequent observation wise, + As one who long on heaven had fix'd her eyes, + Discern'd a change of weather in the skies; + The western borders were with crimson spread, + The moon descending look'd all flaming red; + She thought good manners bound her to invite 670 + The stranger dame to be her guest that night. + 'Tis true, coarse diet, and a short repast, + (She said) were weak inducements to the taste + Of one so nicely bred, and so unused to fast: + But what plain fare her cottage could afford, + A hearty welcome at a homely board, + Was freely hers; and, to supply the rest, + An honest meaning, and an open breast: + Last, with content of mind, the poor man's wealth, + A grace-cup to their common patron's health. 680 + This she desired her to accept, and stay + For fear she might be wilder'd in her way, + Because she wanted an unerring guide; + And then the dew-drops on her silken hide + Her tender constitution did declare, + Too lady-like a long fatigue to bear, + And rough inclemencies of raw nocturnal air. + But most she fear'd that, travelling so late, + Some evil-minded beasts might lie in wait, + And, without witness, wreak their hidden hate. 690 + + The Panther, though she lent a listening ear, + Had more of lion in her than to fear: + Yet, wisely weighing, since she had to deal + With many foes, their numbers might prevail, + Return'd her all the thanks she could afford, + And took her friendly hostess at her word: + Who, entering first her lowly roof, a shed + With hoary moss, and winding ivy spread, + Honest enough to hide an humble hermit's head, + Thus graciously bespoke her welcome guest: 700 + So might these walls, with your fair presence blest, + Become your dwelling-place of everlasting rest; + Not for a night, or quick revolving year; + Welcome an owner, not a sojourner. + This peaceful seat my poverty secures; + War seldom enters but where wealth allures: + Nor yet despise it; for this poor abode + Has oft received, and yet receives a God; + A God victorious of the Stygian race + Here laid his sacred limbs, and sanctified the place, 710 + This mean retreat did mighty Pan contain: + Be emulous of him, and pomp disdain, + And dare not to debase your soul to gain. + + The silent stranger stood amazed to see + Contempt of wealth, and wilful poverty: + And, though ill habits are not soon controll'd, + A while suspended her desire of gold. + But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws, + Not violating hospitable laws; + And pacified her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws. 720 + + The Hind did first her country cates provide; + Then couch'd herself securely by her side. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 108: 'Philistines:' the Cromwellians, &c.] + +[Footnote 109: 'Younger lion:' Charles II.] + +[Footnote 110: 'Priestly calves,' &c.: this alludes to the Commons +voting in 1641 that all deans, chapters, &c. should be abolished.] + +[Footnote 111: 'The Test:' the Test Act, passed in 1672, enjoined the +abjuration of the real presence in the sacrament.] + +[Footnote 112: 'Piles, &c.:' the Roman arms--_pili_ and eagles.] + +[Footnote 113: 'Curtana:' the name of King Edward the Confessor's sword, +without a point, an emblem of mercy, and carried before the king at the +coronation.] + +[Footnote 114: 'Not rent by schism:' marks of the Catholic Church from +the Nicene creed.] + +[Footnote 115: 'Paillards:' a French word for licentious persons.] + +[Footnote 116: 'Sell all of Christian,' &c.: it is said that the Dutch, +in order to secure to themselves the whole trade of Japan, trample on +the cross, and deny the name of Jesus.] + +[Footnote 117: 'Feed your famine:' the renunciation of the Benedictines +to the abbey lands.] + + + +PART III. + + + Much malice, mingled with a little wit, + Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ: + Because the Muse has peopled Caledon + With Panthers, Bears, and Wolves, and beasts unknown, + As if we were not stock'd with monsters of our own. + Let Æsop answer, who has set to view + Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew; + And mother Hubbard,[118] in her homely dress, + Has sharply blamed a British Lioness; + That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep, 10 + Exposed obscenely naked and asleep. + Led by those great examples, may not I + The wanted organs of their words supply? + If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then + For brutes to claim the privilege of men. + + Others our Hind of folly will indite, + To entertain a dangerous guest by night. + Let those remember, that she cannot die + Till rolling time is lost in round eternity; + Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed, 20 + Because the Lion's peace[119] was now proclaim'd: + The wary savage would not give offence, + To forfeit the protection of her prince; + But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete, + When all her furry sons in frequent senate met; + Meanwhile she quench'd her fury at the flood, + And with a lenten salad cool'd her blood. + Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant, + Nor did their minds an equal banquet want. + For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove 30 + To express her plain simplicity of love, + Did all the honours of her house so well, + No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal. + She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme, + To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme; + Remembering every storm which toss'd the state, + When both were objects of the public hate, + And dropp'd a tear betwixt for her own children's fate. + + Nor fail'd she then a full review to make + Of what the Panther suffer'd for her sake: 40 + Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care, + Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,[120] + Her strength to endure, her courage to defy; + Her choice of honourable infamy. + On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged; + Then with acknowledgment herself she charged; + For friendship, of itself an holy tie, + Is made more sacred by adversity. + Now should they part, malicious tongues would say, + They met like chance companions on the way, 50 + Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd; + While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd; + But that once o'er, the short-lived union ends; + The road divides, and there divide the friends. + + The Panther nodded when her speech was done, + And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone: + But said her gratitude had gone too far + For common offices of Christian care. + If to the lawful heir she had been true, + She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due. 60 + I might, she added, with like praise describe + Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe: + But incense from my hands is poorly prized; + For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despised. + I served a turn, and then was cast away; + You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display, + And sip the sweets, and bask in your great patron's day. + + This heard, the matron was not slow to find + What sort of malady had seized her mind: + Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despite, 70 + And canker'd malice stood in open sight: + Ambition, interest, pride without control, + And jealousy, the jaundice of the soul; + Revenge, the bloody minister of ill, + With all the lean tormentors of the will. + 'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose + Her new-made union with her ancient foes, + Her forced civilities, her faint embrace, + Affected kindness with an alter'd face: + Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound, 80 + As hoping still the nobler parts were sound: + But strove with anodynes to assuage the smart, + And mildly thus her medicine did impart. + + Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain; + It shows a rest of kindness to complain; + A friendship loath to quit its former hold; + And conscious merit may be justly bold. + But much more just your jealousy would show, + If others' good were injury to you: + Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to see 90 + Rewarded worth and rising loyalty! + Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown. + The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown, + Are the most pleasing objects I can find, + Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind: + When virtue spooms before a prosperous gale, + My heaving wishes help to fill the sail; + And if my prayers for all the brave were heard, + Cæsar should still have such, and such should still reward. + + The labour'd earth your pains have sow'd and till'd; 100 + 'Tis just you reap the product of the field: + Yours be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain + To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. + Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care, + Your charity, for alms, may safely spare, + For alms are but the vehicles of prayer. + My daily bread is literally implored; + I have no barns nor granaries to hoard. + If Cæsar to his own his hand extends, + Say which of yours his charity offends: 110 + You know he largely gives to more than are his friends. + Are you defrauded when he feeds the poor? + Our mite decreases nothing of your store. + I am but few, and by your fare you see + My crying sins are not of luxury. + Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws, + And makes you break our friendship's holy laws; + For barefaced envy is too base a cause. + + Show more occasion for your discontent; + Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent: 120 + Some German quarrel, or, as times go now, + Some French, where force is uppermost, will do. + When at the fountain's head, as merit ought + To claim the place, you take a swilling draught, + How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw, + And tax the sheep for troubling streams below; + Or call her (when no farther cause you find) + An enemy possess'd of all your kind! + But then, perhaps, the wicked world would think, + The Wolf design'd to eat as well as drink. 130 + + This last allusion gall'd the Panther more, + Because indeed it rubb'd upon the sore. + Yet seem'd she not to wince, though shrewdly pain'd: + But thus her passive character maintain'd. + + I never grudged, whate'er my foes report, + Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court. + You have your day, or you are much belied, + But I am always on the suffering side: + You know my doctrine, and I need not say, + I will not, but I cannot disobey. 140 + On this firm principle I ever stood; + He of my sons who fails to make it good, + By one rebellious act renounces to my blood. + + Ah, said the Hind, how many sons have you, + Who call you mother, whom you never knew! + But most of them who that relation plead, + Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead. + They gape at rich revenues which you hold, + And fain would nibble at your grandame Gold; + Inquire into your years, and laugh to find 150 + Your crazy temper shows you much declined. + Were you not dim and doted, you might see + A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree, + No more of kin to you, than you to me. + Do you not know, that for a little coin, + Heralds can foist a name into the line? + They ask you blessing but for what you have; + But once possess'd of what with care you save, + The wanton boys would piss upon your grave. + + Your sons of latitude that court your grace, 160 + Though most resembling you in form and face. + Are far the worst of your pretended race. + And, but I blush your honesty to blot, + Pray God you prove them lawfully begot: + For in some Popish libels I have read, + The Wolf has been too busy in your bed; + At least her hinder parts, the belly-piece, + The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims, are his. + Their malice too a sore suspicion brings; + For though they dare not bark, they snarl at kings: 170 + Nor blame them for intruding in your line; + Fat bishoprics are still of right divine. + + Think you your new French proselytes[121] are come + To starve abroad, because they starved at home? + Your benefices twinkled from afar; + They found the new Messiah by the star: + Those Swisses fight on any side for pay, + And 'tis the living that conforms, not they. + Mark with what management their tribes divide, + Some stick to you, and some to the other side, 180 + That many churches may for many mouths provide. + More vacant pulpits would more converts make; + All would have latitude enough to take: + The rest unbeneficed your sects maintain; + For ordinations without cures are vain, + And chamber practice is a silent gain. + Your sons of breadth at home are much like these; + Their soft and yielding metals run with ease: + They melt, and take the figure of the mould; + But harden and preserve it best in gold. 190 + + Your Delphic sword, the Panther then replied, + Is double-edged, and cuts on either side. + Some sons of mine, who bear upon their shield + Three steeples argent in a sable field, + Have sharply tax'd your converts, who unfed + Have follow'd you for miracles of bread; + Such who themselves of no religion are, + Allured with gain, for any will declare. + Bare lies with bold assertions they can face; + But dint of argument is out of place. 200 + The grim logician puts them in a fright; + 'Tis easier far to flourish than to fight. + Thus our eighth Henry's marriage they defame; + They say the schism of beds began the game, + Divorcing from the Church to wed the dame: + Though largely proved, and by himself profess'd, + That conscience, conscience would not let him rest: + + I mean, not till possess'd of her he loved, + And old, uncharming Catherine was removed. + For sundry years before he did complain, 210 + And told his ghostly confessor his pain. + With the same impudence without a ground, + They say, that look the Reformation round, + No Treatise of Humility is found. + But if none were, the gospel does not want; + Our Saviour preach'd it, and I hope you grant, + The Sermon on the Mount was Protestant. + + No doubt, replied the Hind, as sure as all + The writings of Saint Peter and Saint Paul: + On that decision let it stand or fall. 220 + Now for my converts, who, you say, unfed, + Have follow'd me for miracles of bread; + Judge not by hearsay, but observe at least, + If since their change their loaves have been increased. + The Lion buys no converts; if he did, + Beasts would be sold as fast as he could bid. + Tax those of interest who conform for gain, + Or stay the market of another reign: + Your broad-way sons would never be too nice + To close with Calvin, if he paid their price; 230 + But, raised three steeples higher, would change their note, + And quit the cassock for the canting-coat. + Now, if you damn this censure, as too bold, + Judge by yourselves, and think not others sold. + + Meantime my sons, accused by fame's report, + Pay small attendance at the Lion's court, + Nor rise with early crowds, nor flatter late; + For silently they beg who daily wait. + Preferment is bestow'd, that comes unsought; + Attendance is a bribe, and then 'tis bought. 240 + How they should speed, their fortune is untried; + For not to ask, is not to be denied. + For what they have, their God and king they bless, + And hope they should not murmur, had they less. + But if reduced, subsistence to implore, + In common prudence they should pass your door. + Unpitied Hudibras,[122] your champion friend, + Has shown how far your charities extend. + This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read, + "He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead." 250 + + With odious atheist names[123] you load your foes; + Your liberal clergy why did I expose? + It never fails in charities like those. + In climes where true religion is profess'd, + That imputation were no laughing jest. + But imprimatur,[124] with a chaplain's name, + Is here sufficient licence to defame. + What wonder is't that black detraction thrives? + The homicide of names is less than lives; + And yet the perjured murderer survives. 260 + + This said, she paused a little, and suppress'd + The boiling indignation of her breast. + She knew the virtue of her blade, nor would + Pollute her satire with ignoble blood: + Her panting foe she saw before her eye, + And back she drew the shining weapon dry. + So when the generous Lion has in sight + His equal match, he rouses for the fight; + But when his foe lies prostrate on the plain, + He sheaths his paws, uncurls his angry mane, 270 + And, pleased with bloodless honours of the day, + Walks over and disdains the inglorious prey. + So James, if great with less we may compare, + Arrests his rolling thunderbolts in air! + And grants ungrateful friends a lengthen'd space, + To implore the remnants of long-suffering grace. + + This breathing-time the matron took; and then + Resumed the thread of her discourse again. + Be vengeance wholly left to powers divine, + And let Heaven judge betwixt your sons and mine: 280 + If joys hereafter must be purchased here + With loss of all that mortals hold so dear, + Then welcome infamy and public shame, + And, last, a long farewell to worldly fame. + 'Tis said with ease, but, oh, how hardly tried + By haughty souls to human honour tied! + O sharp convulsive pangs of agonizing pride! + Down then, thou rebel, never more to rise, + And what thou didst, and dost, so dearly prize, + That fame, that darling fame, make that thy sacrifice. 290 + 'Tis nothing thou hast given, then add thy tears + For a long race of unrepenting years: + 'Tis nothing yet, yet all thou hast to give: + Then add those may-be years thou hast to live: + Yet nothing still; then poor, and naked come: + Thy father will receive his unthrift home, + And thy blest Saviour's blood discharge the mighty sum. + + Thus (she pursued) I discipline a son, + Whose uncheck'd fury to revenge would run: + He champs the bit, impatient of his loss, 300 + And starts aside, and flounders at the Cross. + Instruct him better, gracious God, to know, + As thine is vengeance, so forgiveness too: + That, suffering from ill tongues, he bears no more + Than what his sovereign bears, and what his Saviour bore. + + It now remains for you to school your child, + And ask why God's anointed he reviled; + A king and princess dead! did Shimei worse? + The cursor's punishment should fright the curse: + Your son was warn'd, and wisely gave it o'er, 310 + But he who counsell'd him has paid the score: + The heavy malice could no higher tend, + But woe to him on whom the weights descend. + So to permitted ills the Demon flies; + His rage is aim'd at him who rules the skies: + Constrain'd to quit his cause, no succour found, + The foe discharges every tire around, + In clouds of smoke abandoning the fight; + But his own thundering peals proclaim his flight. + + In Henry's change his charge as ill succeeds; 320 + To that long story little answer needs: + Confront but Henry's words with Henry's deeds. + Were space allow'd, with ease it might be proved, + What springs his blessed Reformation moved. + The dire effects appear'd in open sight, + Which from the cause he calls a distant flight, + And yet no larger leap than from the sun to light. + + Now let your sons a double pæan sound, + A Treatise of Humility is found. + 'Tis found, but better it had ne'er been sought, 330 + Than thus in Protestant procession brought. + The famed original through Spain is known, + Rodriguez' work, my celebrated son, + Which yours, by ill-translating, made his own; + Conceal'd its author, and usurp'd the name, + The basest and ignoblest theft of fame. + My altars kindled first that living coal; + Restore, or practice better, what you stole: + That virtue could this humble verse inspire, + 'Tis all the restitution I require. 340 + + Glad was the Panther that the charge was closed, + And none of all her favourite sons exposed. + For laws of arms permit each injured man, + To make himself a saver where he can. + Perhaps the plunder'd merchant cannot tell + The names of pirates in whose hands he fell; + But at the den of thieves he justly flies, + And every Algerine is lawful prize. + No private person in the foe's estate + Can plead exemption from the public fate. 350 + Yet Christian laws allow not such redress; + Then let the greater supersede the less. + But let the abettors of the Panther's crime + Learn to make fairer wars another time. + Some characters may sure be found to write + Among her sons; for 'tis no common sight, + A spotted dam, and all her offspring white. + + The savage, though she saw her plea controll'd, + Yet would not wholly seem to quit her hold, + But offer'd fairly to compound the strife, 360 + And judge conversion by the convert's life. + 'Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange, + So few should follow profitable change: + For present joys are more to flesh and blood, + Than a dull prospect of a distant good. + 'Twas well alluded by a son of mine + (I hope to quote him is not to purloin), + Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss; + The larger loadstone that, the nearer this: + The weak attraction of the greater fails; 370 + We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails: + But when the greater proves the nearer too, + I wonder more your converts come so slow. + Methinks in those who firm with me remain, + It shows a nobler principle than gain. + + Your inference would be strong, the Hind replied, + If yours were in effect the suffering side: + Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess, + Nor are their prospects in reversion less. + My proselytes are struck with awful dread; 380 + Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head; + The respite they enjoy but only lent, + The best they have to hope, protracted punishment. + Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail, + Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale. + While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease, + That is, till man's predominant passions cease, + Admire no longer at my slow increase. + + By education most have been misled; + So they believe, because they so were bred. 390 + The priest continues what the nurse began, + And thus the child imposes on the man. + The rest I named before, nor need repeat: + But interest is the most prevailing cheat, + The sly seducer both of age and youth; + They study that, and think they study truth. + When interest fortifies an argument, + Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent; + For souls, already warp'd, receive an easy bent. + Add long prescription of establish'd laws, 400 + And pique of honour to maintain a cause, + And shame of change, and fear of future ill, + And zeal, the blind conductor of the will; + And chief among the still-mistaking crowd, + The fame of teachers obstinate and proud, + And, more than all, the private judge allow'd; + Disdain of Fathers which the dance began, + And last, uncertain whose the narrower span, + The clown unread, and half-read gentleman. + + To this the Panther, with a scornful smile: 410 + Yet still you travel with unwearied toil, + And range around the realm without control, + Among my sons for proselytes to prowl, + And here and there you snap some silly soul. + You hinted fears of future change in state; + Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fate! + Perhaps you think your time of triumph near, + But may mistake the season of the year; + The Swallow's[125] fortune gives you cause to fear. + + For charity, replied the matron, tell 420 + What sad mischance those pretty birds befell. + + Nay, no mischance, the savage dame replied, + But want of wit in their unerring guide, + And eager haste, and gaudy hopes, and giddy pride. + Yet, wishing timely warning may prevail, + Make you the moral, and I'll tell the tale. + + The Swallow, privileged above the rest + Of all the birds, as man's familiar guest, + Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold, + But wisely shuns the persecuting cold: 430 + Is well to chancels and to chimneys known, + Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone. + From hence she has been held of heavenly line, + Endued with particles of soul divine. + This merry chorister had long possess'd + Her summer seat, and feather'd well her nest: + Till frowning skies began to change their cheer, + And time turn'd up the wrong side of the year; + The shedding trees began the ground to strow + With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow. 440 + Sad auguries of winter thence she drew, + Which by instinct, or prophecy, she knew: + When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes, + And seek a better heaven, and warmer climes. + + Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height, + And, call'd in common council, vote a flight; + The day was named, the next that should be fair: + All to the general rendezvous repair, + They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air. + But whether upward to the moon they go, 450 + Or dream the winter out in caves below, + Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to know. + + Southwards, you may be sure, they bent their flight, + And harbour'd in a hollow rock at night: + Next morn they rose, and set up every sail; + The wind was fair, but blew a mackerel gale: + The sickly young sat shivering on the shore, + Abhorr'd salt water never seen before, + And pray'd their tender mothers to delay + The passage, and expect a fairer day. 460 + + With these the Martin readily concurr'd, + A church-begot, and church-believing bird; + Of little body, but of lofty mind, + Round-bellied, for a dignity design'd, + And much a dunce, as Martins are by kind. + Yet often quoted Canon-laws, and Code, + And Fathers which he never understood; + But little learning needs in noble blood. + For, sooth to say, the Swallow brought him in, + Her household chaplain, and her next of kin: 470 + In superstition silly to excess, + And casting schemes by planetary guess: + In fine, short-wing'd, unfit himself to fly, + His fears foretold foul weather in the sky. + + Besides, a Raven from a wither'd oak, + Left of their lodging, was observed to croak. + That omen liked him not; so his advice + Was present safety, bought at any price; + A seeming pious care, that cover'd cowardice. + To strengthen this, he told a boding dream 480 + Of rising waters, and a troubled stream, + Sure signs of anguish, dangers, and distress, + With something more, not lawful to express: + By which he slily seem'd to intimate + Some secret revelation of their fate. + For he concluded, once upon a time, + He found a leaf inscribed with sacred rhyme, + Whose antique characters did well denote + The Sibyl's hand of the Cumæan grot: + The mad divineress had plainly writ, 490 + A time should come (but many ages yet), + In which, sinister destinies ordain, + A dame should drown with all her feather'd train, + And seas from thence be call'd the Chelidonian main. + At this, some shook for fear, the more devout + Arose, and bless'd themselves from head to foot. + + 'Tis true, some stagers of the wiser sort + Made all these idle wonderments their sport: + They said, their only danger was delay, + And he, who heard what every fool could say, 500 + Would never fix his thought, but trim his time away. + The passage yet was good; the wind, 'tis true, + Was somewhat high, but that was nothing new, + No more than usual equinoxes blew. + The sun, already from the Scales declined, + Gave little hopes of better days behind, + But change, from bad to worse, of weather and of wind. + Nor need they fear the dampness of the sky + Should flag their wings, and hinder them to fly + 'Twas only water thrown on sails too dry. 510 + But, least of all, philosophy presumes + Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes: + Perhaps the Martin, housed in holy ground, + Might think of ghosts that walk their midnight round, + Till grosser atoms, tumbling in the stream + Of fancy, madly met, and clubb'd into a dream: + As little weight his vain presages bear, + Of ill effect to such alone who fear: + Most prophecies are of a piece with these, + Each Nostradamus can foretell with ease: 520 + Not naming persons, and confounding times, + One casual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes. + + The advice was true; but fear had seized the most, + And all good counsel is on cowards lost. + The question crudely put to shun delay, + 'Twas carried by the major part to stay. + + His point thus gain'd, Sir Martin dated thence + His power, and from a priest became a prince. + He order'd all things with a busy care, + And cells and refectories did prepare, 530 + And large provisions laid of winter fare: + But now and then let fall a word or two + Of hope, that Heaven some miracle might show, + And for their sakes the sun should backward go; + Against the laws of nature upward climb, 535 + And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime: + For which two proofs in sacred story lay, + Of Ahaz' dial, and of Joshua's day. + In expectation of such times as these, + A chapel housed them, truly call'd of ease: 540 + For Martin much devotion did not ask: + They pray'd sometimes, and that was all their task. + + It happen'd, as beyond the reach of wit + Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit, + That this accomplish'd, or at least in part, + Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art. + Some Swifts, the giants of the Swallow kind, + Large-limb'd, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind + (For Swisses, or for Gibeonites design'd), + These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane, 550 + To suck fresh air, survey'd the neighbouring plain; + And saw (but scarcely could believe their eyes) + New blossoms flourish, and new flowers arise; + As God had been abroad, and, walking there, + Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year: + The sunny hills from far were seen to glow + With glittering beams, and in the meads below + The burnish'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold to flow. + At last they heard the foolish Cuckoo sing, + Whose note proclaim'd the holiday of spring. 560 + + No longer doubting, all prepare to fly, + And repossess their patrimonial sky. + The priest before them did his wings display; + And that good omens might attend their way, + As luck would have it, 'twas St Martin's day. + + Who but the Swallow triumphs now alone? + The canopy of heaven is all her own: + Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair, + And glide along in glades, and skim in air, + And dip for insects in the purling springs, 570 + And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings. + Their mothers think a fair provision made, + That every son can live upon his trade: + And, now the careful charge is off their hands, + Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands: + The youthful widow longs to be supplied; + But first the lover is by lawyers tied + To settle jointure-chimneys on the bride. + So thick they couple, in so short a space, + That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace. + Their ancient houses running to decay, + Are furbish'd up, and cemented with clay; 580 + They teem already; store of eggs are laid, + And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid. + Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear + In flocks to greet the new returning year, + To bless the founder, and partake the cheer. + + And now 'twas time (so fast their numbers rise) + To plant abroad, and people colonies. + The youth drawn forth, as Martin had desired 590 + (For so their cruel destiny required), + Were sent far off on an ill-fated day; + The rest would needs conduct them on their way, + And Martin went, because he fear'd alone to stay. + + So long they flew with inconsiderate haste, + That now their afternoon began to waste; + And, what was ominous, that very morn + The sun was enter'd into Capricorn; + Which, by their bad astronomer's account, + That week the Virgin balance should remount. 600 + An infant moon eclipsed him in his way, + And hid the small remainders of his day. + The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark; + But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark: + Few mind the public in a panic fright; + And fear increased the horror of the night. + Night came, but unattended with repose; + Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close: + Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose. + + What should they do, beset with dangers round, 610 + No neighbouring dorp,[126] no lodging to be found, + But bleaky plains, and bare unhospitable ground. + The latter brood, who just began to fly, + Sick-feather'd, and unpractised in the sky, + For succour to their helpless mother call: + She spread her wings; some few beneath them crawl; + She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all. + To augment their woes, the winds began to move, + Debate in air, for empty fields above, + Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain 620 + His rattling hailstones mix'd with snow and rain. + + The joyless morning late arose, and found + A dreadful desolation reign around-- + Some buried in the snow, some frozen to the ground. + The rest were struggling still with death, and lay + The Crows' and Ravens' rights, an undefended prey: + Excepting Martin's race; for they and he + Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree: + But soon discover'd by a sturdy clown, + He headed all the rabble of a town, 630 + And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down. + Martin himself was caught alive, and tried + For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide + No Martin there in winter shall abide. + High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear, + He breathed his last, exposed to open air; + And there his corpse, unbless'd, is hanging still, + To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill. + + The patience of the Hind did almost fail; + For well she mark'd the malice of the tale;[127] 640 + Which ribald art their Church to Luther owes; + In malice it began, by malice grows; + He sow'd the Serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest rose. + But most in Martin's character and fate, + She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate, + The people's rage, the persecuting state: + Then said, I take the advice in friendly part; + You clear your conscience, or at least your heart: + Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill, + For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill: 650 + As for my sons, the family is bless'd, + Whose every child is equal to the rest; + No Church reform'd can boast a blameless line; + Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine: + Or else an old fanatic[128] author lies, + Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries. + But through your parable I plainly see + The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity; + The sunshine that offends the purblind sight: + Had some their wishes, it would soon be night. 660 + Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you: + Your sons are malcontents, but yet are true, + As far as non-resistance makes them so; + But that's a word of neutral sense, you know, + A passive term, which no relief will bring, + But trims betwixt a rebel and a king. + + Rest well assured, the Pardelis replied, + My sons would all support the regal side, + Though Heaven forbid the cause by battle should be tried. + + The matron answer'd with a loud Amen, 670 + And thus pursued her argument again. + If, as you say, and as I hope no less, + Your sons will practise what yourselves profess, + What angry power prevents our present peace? + The Lion, studious of our common good, + Desires (and kings' desires are ill withstood) + To join our nations in a lasting love; + The bars betwixt are easy to remove; + For sanguinary laws were never made above. + If you condemn that prince of tyranny, 680 + Whose mandate forced your Gallic friends to fly, + Make not a worse example of your own; + Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown, + And let the guiltless person throw the stone. + His blunted sword your suffering brotherhood + Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood: + But you have ground the persecuting knife, + And set it to a razor edge on life. + Cursed be the wit, which cruelty refines, + Or to his father's rod the scorpion's joins! 690 + Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's loins. + But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note, + And stick it on the first reformer's coat. + Oh, let their crime in long oblivion sleep! + 'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep. + Unjust, or just, is all the question now; + 'Tis plain, that not repealing you allow. + + To name the Test would put you in a rage; + You charge not that on any former age, + + But smile to think how innocent you stand, 700 + Arm'd by a weapon put into your hand, + Yet still remember that you wield a sword + Forged by your foes against your sovereign lord; + Design'd to hew the imperial cedar down, + Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown. + To abhor the makers, and their laws approve, + Is to hate traitors, and the treason love. + What means it else, which now your children say, + We made it not, nor will we take away? + + Suppose some great oppressor had by slight 710 + Of law, disseised your brother of his right, + Your common sire surrendering in a fright; + Would you to that unrighteous title stand, + Left by the villain's will to heir the land? + More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold; + The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold, + Nor hang in peace, before he render'd back the gold. + What more could you have done, than now you do, + Had Oates and Bedlow, and their plot been true? + Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found; 720 + Their dire magicians threw their mists around, + And wise men walk'd as on enchanted ground. + But now when time has made the imposture plain + (Late though he follow'd truth, and limping held her train), + What new delusion charms your cheated eyes again? + The painted harlot might a while bewitch, + But why the hag uncased, and all obscene with itch? + + The first Reformers were a modest race; + Our peers possess'd in peace their native place; + And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state, 730 + They suffer'd only in the common fate: + But now the Sovereign mounts the regal chair, + And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare. + Your answer is, they were not dispossess'd; + They need but rub their metal on the test + To prove their ore: 'twere well if gold alone + Were touch'd and tried on your discerning stone; + But that unfaithful Test unsound will pass + The dross of atheists, and sectarian brass: + As if the experiment were made to hold 740 + For base production, and reject the gold. + Thus men ungodded may to places rise, + And sects may be preferr'd without disguise: + No danger to the Church or State from these; + The Papist only has his writ of ease. + No gainful office gives him the pretence + To grind the subject, or defraud the prince. + Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve + To thrive, but ours alone is privileged to starve. + Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race 750 + We banish not, but they forsake the place; + Our doors are open: true, but ere they come, + You toss your 'censing Test, and fume the room; + As if 'twere Toby's[129] rival to expel, + And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell. + + To this the Panther sharply had replied; + But having gain'd a verdict on her side, + She wisely gave the loser leave to chide; + Well satisfied to have the But and Peace, + And for the plaintiff's cause she cared the less, 760 + Because she sued in _forma pauperis_; + Yet thought it decent something should be said; + For secret guilt by silence is betray'd. + So neither granted all, nor much denied, + But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride: + + Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring, + As once Æneas to the Italian king: + By long possession all the land is mine; + You strangers come with your intruding line, + To share my sceptre, which you call to join. 770 + You plead, like him, an ancient pedigree, + And claim a peaceful seat by fate's decree. + In ready pomp your sacrificer stands, + To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands, + And, that the league more firmly may be tied, + Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride. + Thus plausibly you veil the intended wrong, + But still you bring your exiled gods along; + And will endeavour, in succeeding space, + Those household puppets on our hearths to place. 780 + Perhaps some barbarous laws have been preferr'd; + I spake against the Test, but was not heard; + These to rescind, and peerage to restore, + My gracious Sovereign would my vote implore: + I owe him much, but owe my conscience more. + + Conscience is then your plea, replied the dame, + Which, well inform'd, will ever be the same. + But yours is much of the chameleon hue, + To change the dye with every distant view. + When first the Lion sat with awful sway, 790 + Your conscience taught your duty to obey: + He might have had your Statutes and your Test; + No conscience but of subjects was profess'd. + He found your temper, and no farther tried, + But on that broken reed, your Church, relied. + In vain the sects assay'd their utmost art, + With offer'd treasure to espouse their part; + Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his heart. + But when, by long experience, you had proved, + How far he could forgive, how well he loved; 800 + A goodness that excell'd his godlike race, + And only short of Heaven's unbounded grace; + A flood of mercy that o'erflow'd our isle, + Calm in the rise, and fruitful as the Nile; + Forgetting whence our Egypt was supplied, + You thought your sovereign bound to send the tide: + Nor upward look'd on that immortal spring, + But vainly deem'd, he durst not be a king: + Then Conscience, unrestrain'd by fear, began + To stretch her limits, and extend the span; 810 + Did his indulgence as her gift dispose, + And made a wise alliance with her foes. + Can Conscience own the associating name, + And raise no blushes to conceal her shame? + For sure she has been thought a bashful dame. + But if the cause by battle should be tried, + You grant she must espouse the regal side: + O Proteous Conscience, never to be tied! + What Phoebus from the Tripod shall disclose, + Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes? 820 + Homer, who learn'd the language of the sky, + The seeming Gordian knot would soon untie; + Immortal powers the term of Conscience know, + But Interest is her name with men below. + + Conscience or Interest be 't, or both in one, + The Panther answer'd in a surly tone, + The first commands me to maintain the crown, + The last forbids to throw my barriers down. + Our penal laws no sons of yours admit, + Our Test excludes your tribe from benefit. 830 + These are my banks your ocean to withstand, + Which, proudly rising, overlooks the land; + And, once let in, with unresisted sway, + Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away. + Think not my judgment leads me to comply + With laws unjust, but hard necessity; + Imperious need, which cannot be withstood, + Makes ill authentic, for a greater good. + Possess your soul with patience, and attend: + A more auspicious planet may ascend; 840 + Good fortune may present some happier time, + With means to cancel my unwilling crime; + (Unwilling, witness all ye Powers above!) + To mend my errors, and redeem your love: + That little space you safely may allow; + Your all-dispensing power protects you now. + + Hold, said the Hind, 'tis needless to explain; + You would postpone me to another reign; + Till when you are content to be unjust: + Your part is to possess, and mine to trust. 850 + A fair exchange proposed of future chance, + For present profit and inheritance. + Few words will serve to finish our dispute; + Who will not now repeal, would persecute. + To ripen green revenge your hopes attend, + Wishing that happier planet would ascend. + For shame let Conscience be your plea no more: + To will hereafter, proves she might before; + But she's a bawd to gain, and holds the door. + + Your care about your banks infers a fear 860 + Of threatening floods and inundations near; + If so, a just reprise would only be + Of what the land usurp'd upon the sea; + And all your jealousies but serve to show + Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low. + To intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws, + Is to distrust the justice of your cause; + And argues that the true religion lies + In those weak adversaries you despise. + + Tyrannic force is that which least you fear; 700 + The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear: + Avert it, Heaven! nor let that plague be sent + To us from the dispeopled continent. + + But piety commands me to refrain; + Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign. + Behold! how he protects your friends oppress'd, + Receives the banish'd, succours the distress'd: + Behold, for you may read an honest open breast. + He stands in day-light, and disdains to hide + An act, to which by honour he is tied, 880 + A generous, laudable, and kingly pride. + Your Test he would repeal, his peers restore; + This when he says he means, he means no more. + + Well, said the Panther, I believe him just, + And yet---- + And yet, 'tis but because you must; + You would be trusted, but you would not trust. + The Hind thus briefly; and disdain'd to enlarge + On power of kings, and their superior charge, + As Heaven's trustees before the people's choice: 890 + Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice + To hear those echoes given of her once loyal voice. + + The matron woo'd her kindness to the last, + But could not win; her hour of grace was past. + Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring + To leave the Wolf, and to believe her king, + She gave her up, and fairly wish'd her joy + Of her late treaty with her new ally: + Which well she hoped would more successful prove, + Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love. 900 + The Panther ask'd what concord there could be + Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree? + The dame replied: 'Tis sung in every street, + The common chat of gossips when they meet; + But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while + To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely style. + + A plain good man,[130] whose name is understood + (So few deserve the name of plain and good), + Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd, + And lived, as reason was, upon the best. 910 + Inured to hardships from his early youth, + Much had he done, and suffer'd for his truth: + At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight, + Was never known a more adventurous knight, + Who oftener drew his sword, and always for the right. + + As fortune would (his fortune came, though late) + He took possession of his just estate: + Nor rack'd his tenants with increase of rent; + Nor lived too sparing, nor too largely spent; + But overlook'd his hinds; their pay was just, 920 + And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust: + Slow to resolve, but in performance quick; + So true, that he was awkward at a trick. + For little souls on little shifts rely, + And coward arts of mean expedients try; + The noble mind will dare do anything but lie. + False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way + But shows of honest bluntness, to betray: + That unsuspected plainness he believed; + He looked into himself, and was deceived. 930 + Some lucky planet sure attends his birth, + Or Heaven would make a miracle on earth; + For prosperous honesty is seldom seen + To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win. + It looks as fate with nature's law would strive, + To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive: + And, when so tough a frame she could not bend, + Exceeded her commission to befriend. + + This grateful man, as Heaven increased his store. + Gave God again, and daily fed his poor. 940 + His house with all convenience was purvey'd; + The rest he found, but raised the fabric where he pray'd; + And in that sacred place his beauteous wife + Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life. + + Nor did their alms extend to those alone, + Whom common faith more strictly made their own; + A sort of Doves[131] were housed too near their hall, + Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall. + Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclined, + The greater part degenerate from their kind; 950 + Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed, + And largely drink, because on salt they feed. + Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws; + Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause, + As corporations privileged by laws. + + That house which harbour to their kind affords, + Was built, long since, God knows for better birds; + But fluttering there, they nestle near the throne, + And lodge in habitations not their own, + By their high crops and corny gizzards known. 960 + Like Harpies, they could scent a plenteous board, + Then to be sure they never fail'd their lord: + The rest was form, and bare attendance paid; + They drank, and ate, and grudgingly obey'd. + The more they fed, they raven'd still for more; + They drain'd from Dan, and left Beersheba poor. + All this they had by law, and none repined; + The preference was but due to Levi's kind; + But when some lay-preferment fell by chance, + The gourmands made it their inheritance. 970 + When once possess'd, they never quit their claim; + For then 'tis sanctified to Heaven's high name; + And, hallow'd thus, they cannot give consent, + The gift should be profaned by worldly management. + + Their flesh was never to the table served; + Though 'tis not thence inferr'd the birds were starved; + But that their master did not like the food, + As rank, and breeding melancholy blood. + Nor did it with his gracious nature suit, + Even though they were not Doves, to persecute: 980 + Yet he refused (nor could they take offence) + Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence. + Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought, + Which, new from treading, in their bills they brought: + But left his hinds each in his private power, + That those who like the bran might leave the flour. + He for himself, and not for others, chose, + Nor would he be imposed on, nor impose; + But in their faces his devotion paid, + And sacrifice with solemn rites was made, 990 + And sacred incense on his altars laid. + Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure + Repaid their commons with their salt-manure; + Another farm[132] he had behind his house, + Not overstock'd, but barely for his use: + Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed, + And from his pious hands received their bread. + Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes, + Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries: + Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn, 1000 + A cruise of water and an ear of corn; + Yet still they grudged that modicum, and thought + A sheaf in every single grain was brought. + Fain would they filch that little food away, + While unrestrain'd those happy gluttons prey. + And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall, + The bird that warn'd St Peter of his fall; + That he should raise his mitred crest on high, + And clap his wings, and call his family + To sacred rites; and vex the ethereal powers 1010 + With midnight matins at uncivil hours: + Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest, + Just in the sweetness of their morning rest. + Beast of a bird, supinely when he might + Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light! + What if his dull forefathers used that cry, + Could he not let a bad example die? + The world was fallen into an easier way; + This age knew better than to fast and pray. + Good sense in sacred worship would appear 1020 + So to begin, as they might end the year. + Such feats in former times had wrought the falls + Of crowing Chanticleers[133] in cloister'd walls. + Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled; + And sister Partlet,[134] with her hooded head, + Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed. + The way to win the restive world to God, + Was to lay by the disciplining rod, + Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer: + Religion frights us with a mien severe. 1030 + 'Tis prudence to reform her into ease, + And put her in undress to make her please; + A lively faith will bear aloft the mind, + And leave the luggage of good works behind. + + Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught: + You need not ask how wondrously they wrought: + But sure the common cry was all for these, + Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease. + Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail, + And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail; 1040 + (For vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face, + Is daunted at the sight of awful grace;) + An hideous figure of their foes they drew, + Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true; + And this grotesque design exposed to public view. + One would have thought it some Egyptian piece, + With garden-gods, and barking deities, + More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies. + All so perverse a draught, so far unlike, + It was no libel where it meant to strike. 1050 + Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small, + To view the monster, crowded Pigeon Hall. + There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees + Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees: + And by him, a misshapen, ugly race; + The curse of God was seen on every face: + No Holland emblem could that malice mend, + But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend. + + The master of the farm, displeased to find + So much of rancour in so mild a kind, 1060 + Enquired into the cause, and came to know, + The passive Church had struck the foremost blow; + With groundless fears and jealousies possess'd, + As if this troublesome intruding guest + Would drive the birds of Venus from their nest; + A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd; + But Interest will not trust, though God should plight his word. + + A law,[135] the source of many future harms, + Had banish'd all the poultry from the farms; + With loss of life, if any should be found 1070 + To crow or peck on this forbidden ground. + That bloody statute chiefly was design'd + For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind; + But after-malice did not long forget + The lay that wore the robe and coronet. + For them, for their inferiors and allies, + Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise: + By which unrighteously it was decreed, + That none to trust or profit should succeed, + Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked weed:[136] 1080 + Or that, to which old Socrates was cursed, + Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst. + + The patron (as in reason) thought it hard + To see this inquisition in his yard, + By which the Sovereign was of subjects' use debarr'd. + All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw + The effects of so unnatural a law: + But still the Dove-house obstinately stood + Deaf to their own and to their neighbours' good; + And which was worse, if any worse could be, 1090 + Repented of their boasted loyalty: + Now made the champions of a cruel cause. + And drunk with fumes of popular applause; + For those whom God to ruin has design'd, + He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind. + + New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise, + Suggested dangers, interposed delays; + And emissary Pigeons had in store, + Such as the Meccan prophet used of yore, + To whisper counsels in their patron's ear; 1100 + And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear. + The master smiled to see them work in vain, + To wear him out, and make an idle reign: + He saw, but suffer'd their protractive arts, + And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts: + But they abused that grace to make allies, + And fondly closed with former enemies; + For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise. + + After a grave consult what course were best, + One, more mature in folly than the rest, 1110 + Stood up, and told them, with his head aside, + That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied: + And therefore, since their main impending fear + Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer, + Some potent bird of prey they ought to find, + A foe profess'd to him, and all his kind: + Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyrie nigh, + Well pounced to fasten, and well wing'd to fly; + One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak: + The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak, 1120 + Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest, + The noble Buzzard[137] ever pleased me best; + Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie, + We call him but a Hawk by courtesy. + I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, + And more, in time of war has done us harm: + But all his hate on trivial points depends; + Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends. + For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care; + Cramm'd chickens are a more delicious fare. 1130 + On this high potentate, without delay, + I wish you would confer the sovereign sway: + Petition him to accept the government, + And let a splendid embassy be sent. + + This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed, + Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. + + Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard, + His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepared, + With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard. + He came, and crown'd with great solemnity; 1140 + God save king Buzzard, was the general cry. + + A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, + He seem'd a son of Anak for his height: + Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer: + Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter: + Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delight; + A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte. + A theologue more by need than genial bent; + By breeding sharp, by nature confident. + Interest in all his actions was discern'd; 1150 + More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd: + Or forced by fear, or by his profit led, + Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled: + But brought the virtues of his heaven along; + A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. + And yet with all his arts he could not thrive; + The most unlucky parasite alive. + Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, + And then himself pursued his compliment; + But by reverse of fortune chased away, 1160 + His gifts no longer than their author stay: + He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, + And leaves the stench of ordures in the place. + Oft has he flatter'd and blasphemed the same; + For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name: + The hero and the tyrant change their style + By the same measure that they frown or smile. + When well received by hospitable foes, + The kindness he returns, is to expose: + For courtesies, though undeserved and great, 1170 + No gratitude in felon-minds beget; + As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat. + His praise of foes is venomously nice; + So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice: + "A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice." + Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, + Because he knows Confession stands for one; + Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, + And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd: + But he, uncall'd, his patron to control, 1180 + Divulged the secret whispers of his soul; + Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, + And offer'd to the Moloch of the times. + Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, + Invulnerable in his impudence, + He dares the world; and, eager of a name, + He thrusts about, and jostles into fame. + Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets, + And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets. + So fond of loud report, that not to miss 1190 + Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) + He rather would be known for what he is. + + Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test, + Though half his virtues are not here express'd; + The modesty of fame conceals the rest. + The spleenful Pigeons never could create + A prince more proper to revenge their hate: + Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save; + A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave: + For all the grace the landlord had allow'd, 1200 + But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; + Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd. + They long their fellow-subjects to enthral, + Their patron's promise into question call, + And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all. + + False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest, + As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd; + Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want; + For now the Pigeons too had learn'd to cant. + The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase; 1210 + Nor doors nor windows can contain the press: + For birds of every feather fill the abode; + Even Atheists out of envy own a God: + And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come, + Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome. + That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute, + Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute: + No rigour of the laws to be released, + And much the less, because it was their Lord's request: + They thought it great their Sovereign to control, 1220 + And named their pride, nobility of soul. + + 'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, + Were short of power, their purpose to effect: + But with their quills did all the hurt they could, + And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food: + And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, + Though naming not the patron, to infer, + With all respect, he was a gross idolater. + + But when the imperial owner did espy, + That thus they turn'd his grace to villany, 1230 + Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, + He strove a temper for the extremes to find, + So to be just, as he might still be kind; + Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounced a doom + Of sacred strength for every age to come. + By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, + No rights infringed, but licence to oppress: + Such power have they as factious lawyers long + To crowns ascribed, that Kings can do no wrong. + But since his own domestic birds have tried 1240 + The dire effects of their destructive pride, + He deems that proof a measure to the rest, + Concluding well within his kingly breast, + His fowls of nature too unjustly were oppress'd. + He therefore makes all birds of every sect + Free of his farm, with promise to respect + Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. + His gracious edict the same franchise yields + To all the wild increase of woods and fields, + And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds: 1250 + To Crows the like impartial grace affords, + And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds: + Secured with ample privilege to feed, + Each has his district, and his bounds decreed; + Combined in common interest with his own, + But not to pass the Pigeon's Rubicon. + + Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; + All prophecies accomplish'd from above, + From Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove. + Reduced from her imperial high abode, 1260 + Like Dionysius to a private rod, + The Passive Church, that with pretended grace + Did her distinctive mark in duty place, + Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face. + + What after happen'd is not hard to guess: + The small beginnings had a large increase, + And arts and wealth succeed, the secret spoils of peace. + 'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late, + Become the smiths of their own foolish fate: + Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour; 1270 + But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power: + Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away, + Dissolving in the silence of decay. + + The Buzzard, not content with equal place, + Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race; + To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, + And all together make a seeming goodly flight: + But each have separate interests of their own; + Two Czars are one too many for a throne. + Nor can the usurper long abstain from food; 1280 + Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood: + And may be tempted to his former fare, + When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair. + Bare benting times, and moulting months may come, + When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home; + Or, rent in schism (for so their fate decrees), + Like the tumultuous college of the bees,[138] + They fight their quarrel, by themselves oppress'd; + The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast. + + Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end, 1290 + Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend; + But, with affected yawnings at the close, + Seem'd to require her natural repose: + For now the streaky light began to peep; + And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep. + The dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest + The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest. + Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait, + With glorious visions of her future state. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 118: 'Mother Hubbard:' Mother Hubbard's tale, written by +Spenser.] + +[Footnote 119: 'Lion's peace:' liberty of conscience, and toleration of +all religions.] + +[Footnote 120: 'Exiled heir:' the Duke of York, while opposed by the +favourers and abettors of the Bill of Exclusion, was obliged to retire +from London.] + +[Footnote 121: 'French proselytes:' the French refugees that came into +England after the revocation of the edict of Nantes.] + +[Footnote 122: 'Hudibras:' Butler.] + +[Footnote 123: 'Atheist names:' alluding here and afterwards to +Stillingfleet's attacks on Dryden.] + +[Footnote 124: 'Imprimatur:' the Bishop of London and his chaplains had +formerly the examination of all books, and none could be printed without +their imprimatur, or licence.] + +[Footnote 125: 'Swallow:' this story is supposed to refer to a meeting +of Roman Catholics held in the Savoy to deliberate on King James' +measures, when Father Petre (M. Martin) induced them to join the king's +side, and to remain in England.] + +[Footnote 126: 'Dorp:' hamlet.] + +[Footnote 127: 'The tale:' a parable of the fate of the Papists, soon +fulfilled.] + +[Footnote 128: 'Old fanatic:' Century White, a vehement writer on the +Puritan side.] + +[Footnote 129: 'Toby's:' Tobit; see Apocrypha.] + +[Footnote 130: 'A plain good man:' a character of King James II.] + +[Footnote 131: 'Doves:' the clergy of the Church of England, and other +religions dissenting from that of Rome.] + +[Footnote 132: 'Another farm,' &c.: this alludes to the Popish priests, +whom the king particularly favoured.] + +[Footnote 133: 'Chanticleers:' friars.] + +[Footnote 134: 'Partlet:' nuns.] + +[Footnote 135: 'A law:' penal laws against Popish recusants.] + +[Footnote 136: 'Wicked weed:' the Test Act.] + +[Footnote 137: 'Buzzard:' Bishop Burnet.] + +[Footnote 138: 'College of the bees:' College of Physicians.] + + * * * * * + + + + +MAC FLECKNOE.[139] + + All human things are subject to decay, + And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. + This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young + Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long; + In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, + Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute. + This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, + And blest with issue of a large increase; + Worn out with business, did at length debate + To settle the succession of the state: 10 + And, pondering which of all his sons was fit + To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, + Cried, 'Tis resolved; for nature pleads, that he + Should only rule, who most resembles me. + Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, + Mature in dulness from his tender years: + Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he + Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. + The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, + But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 20 + Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, + Strike through, and make a lucid interval; + But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, + His rising fogs prevail upon the day. + Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye, + And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: + Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain, + And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. + Heywood and Shirley[140] were but types of thee, + Thou last great prophet of tautology. 30 + Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, + Was sent before but to prepare thy way; + And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came + To teach the nations in thy greater name. + My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, + When to king John of Portugal I sung, + Was but the prelude to that glorious day, + When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, + With well-timed oars before the royal barge, + Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge; 40 + And big with hymn, commander of an host, + The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets toss'd. + Methinks I see the new Arion sail, + The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. + At thy well-sharpen'd thumb, from shore to shore + The trebles squeak for fear, the basses roar: + Echoes from Pissing-Alley, Shadwell call, + And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. + About thy boat the little fishes throng, + As at the morning toast that floats along. 50 + Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, + Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand. + St Andre's[141] feet ne'er kept more equal time, + Not even the feet of thy own Psyche's[142] rhyme: + Though they in number as in sense excel; + So just, so like tautology, they fell, + That, pale with envy, Singleton[143] forswore + The lute and sword, which he in triumph bore, + And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more. + + Here stopp'd the good old sire, and wept for joy, 60 + In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. + All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, + That for anointed dulness he was made. + + Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind + (The fair Augusta much to fears inclined), + An ancient fabric raised to inform the sight, + There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight: + A watch-tower once; but now, so fate ordains, + Of all the pile an empty name remains: + From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, 70 + Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys, + Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep, + And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. + Near these a Nursery[144] erects its head, + Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred; + Where unfledged actors learn to laugh and cry, + Where infant punks their tender voices try, + And little Maximins the gods defy. + Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, + Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear; 80 + But gentle Simkin[145] just reception finds + Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds: + Pure clinches the suburban muse affords, + And Panton[146] waging harmless war with words. + Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, + Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. + For ancient Decker[147] prophesied long since, + That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, + Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense: + To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe, 90 + But worlds of Misers[148] from his pen should flow; + Humourists and hypocrites it should produce, + Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.[149] + + Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown + Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. + Roused by report of fame, the nations meet, + From near Bunhill, and distant Watling Street. + No Persian carpets spread the imperial way, + But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay: + From dusty shops neglected authors come, 100 + Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum. + Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby[150] there lay, + But loads of Shadwell almost choked the way. + Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepared, + And Herringman[151] was captain of the guard. + The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, + High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. + At his right hand our young Ascanius sate, + Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state. + His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace, 110 + And lambent dulness play'd around his face. + As Hannibal did to the altars come, + Sworn by his fire, a mortal foe to Rome; + So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, + That he till death true dulness would maintain; + And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, + Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. + The king himself the sacred unction made, + As king by office, and as priest by trade. + In his sinister hand, instead of ball, 120 + He placed a mighty mug of potent ale; + Love's Kingdom[152] to his right he did convey, + At once his sceptre and his rule of sway; + Whose righteous lore the prince had practised young, + And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. + His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread, + That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. + Just at the point of time, if fame not lie, + On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. + So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook, 130 + Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. + The admiring throng loud acclamations make, + And omens of his future empire take. + The sire then shook the honours of his head, + And from his brows damps of oblivion shed, + Full on the filial dulness: long he stood, + Repelling from his breast the raging god; + At length burst out in this prophetic mood: + + Heavens bless my son, from Ireland let him reign + To far Barbadoes on the western main; 140 + Of his dominion may no end be known, + And greater than his father's be his throne; + Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!-- + He paused, and all the people cried, Amen. + Then thus continued he: My son, advance + Still in new impudence, new ignorance. + Success let others teach, learn thou from me + Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. + Let Virtuosos[153] in five years be writ; + Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. 150 + Let gentle George[154] in triumph tread the stage, + Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage; + Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit, + And in their folly show the writer's wit. + Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence, + And justify their author's want of sense. + Let them be all by thy own model made + Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid; + That they to future ages may be known, + Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. 160 + Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, + All full of thee, and differing but in name. + But let no alien Sedley[155] interpose, + To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.[156] + And when false flowers of rhetoric thou wouldst cull, + Trust nature, do not labour to be dull; + But write thy best, and top; and, in each line, + Sir Formal's[157] oratory will be thine: + Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, + And does thy northern dedications fill. 170 + Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame, + By arrogating Jonson's hostile name. + Let Father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, + And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. + Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: + What share have we in nature, or in art? + Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, + And rail at arts he did not understand? + Where made he love in prince Nicander's[158] vein, + Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? 180 + Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my a--e, + Promised a play, and dwindled to a farce? + When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, + As thou whole Etheridge dost transfuse to thine? + But so transfused, as oil and waters flow, + His always floats above, thine sinks below. + This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, + New humours to invent for each new play: + This is that boasted bias of thy mind, + By which one way to dulness 'tis inclined: 190 + Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, + And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. + Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence + Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. + A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, + But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. + Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; + Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. + With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself to write, + Thy inoffensive satires never bite. 200 + In thy felonious heart though venom lies, + It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. + Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame + In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. + Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command, + Some peaceful province in Acrostic land. + There thou mayst wings display and altars[159] raise, + And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. + Or, if thou wouldst thy different talents suit, + Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute. 210 + + He said; but his last words were scarcely heard: + For Bruce and Longville[160] had a trap prepared, + And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. + Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, + Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. + The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, + With double portion of his father's art. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 139: 'Mac Flecknoe:' Richard Flecknoe, from whom this poem +derives its name, was an Irish priest, and author of plays.] + +[Footnote 140: 'Heywood and Shirley:' play writers in Queen Elizabeth's +time.] + +[Footnote 141: 'St Andre:' a famous French dancing-master.] + +[Footnote 142: 'Psyche:' an opera of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 143: 'Singleton:' a musician of the time.] + +[Footnote 144: 'Nursery:' a theatre for training actors.] + +[Footnote 145: 'Simkin:' a character of a cobbler, in an interlude.] + +[Footnote 146: 'Panton:' a famous punster.] + +[Footnote 147: 'Decker:' Thomas Decker, a dramatic poet of James I.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 148: 'Worlds of Misers:' 'The Miser' and 'The Humourists' were +two of Shadwell's comedies.] + +[Footnote 149: 'Raymond' and 'Bruce:' the first of these is an insipid +character in 'The Humourists'; the second, in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 150: 'Ogleby:' translator of Virgil.] + +[Footnote 151: 'Herringman:' Henry Herringman, a bookseller; see +'Life.'] + +[Footnote 152: 'Love's Kingdom:' this is the name of the only play of +Flecknoe's, which was acted, but miscarried in the representation.] + +[Footnote 153: 'Virtuoso:' a play of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 154: 'Gentle George:' Sir George Etheredge.] + +[Footnote 155: 'Alien Sedley:' Sir Charles Sedley was supposed to assist +Shadwell in writing his plays.] + +[Footnote 156: 'Epsom prose:' alluding to Shadwell's play of 'Epsom +Wells.'] + +[Footnote 157: 'Formal:' a character in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 158: 'Nicander:' a character of a lover in Shadwell's opera of +'Psyche.'] + +[Footnote 159: 'Wings and altars:' forms in which old acrostics were +cast. See Herbert's 'Temple.'] + +[Footnote 160: 'Bruce and Longville:' two characters in Shadwell's +'Virtuoso.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +BRITANNIA REDIVIVA: + +A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688. + + Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care + To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: + Preventing angels met it half the way, + And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. + + Just on the day, when the high-mounted Sun + Did furthest in his northern progress run, + He bended forward, and even stretch'd the sphere + Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year, + To view a brighter sun in Britain born; + That was the business of his longest morn; 10 + The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. + + Departing Spring could only stay to shed + Her bloomy beauties on the genial bed, + But left the manly Summer in her stead, + With timely fruit the longing land to cheer, + And to fulfil the promise of the year. + Betwixt two seasons comes the auspicious heir, + This age to blossom, and the next to bear. + + Last solemn Sabbath[161] saw the Church attend, + The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend; 20 + But when his wondrous octave[162] roll'd again, + He brought a royal infant in his train. + So great a blessing to so good a king, + None but the Eternal Comforter could bring. + + Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, + As once in council, to create our sire? + It seems as if they sent the new-born guest + To wait on the procession of their feast; + And on their sacred anniverse decreed + To stamp their image on the promised seed. 30 + Three realms united, and on one bestow'd, + An emblem of their mystic union show'd: + The Mighty Trine the triple empire shared, + As every person would have one to guard. + + Hail, son of prayers! by holy violence + Drawn down from heaven; but long be banish'd thence, + And late to thy paternal skies retire: + To mend our crimes, whole ages would require; + To change the inveterate habit of our sins, + And finish what thy godlike sire begins. 40 + Kind Heaven, to make us Englishmen again, + No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. + + The sacred cradle to your charge receive, + Ye seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve; + Thy father's angel, and thy father join, + To keep possession, and secure the line; + But long defer the honours of thy fate: + Great may they be like his, like his be late; + That James this running century may view, + And give his son an auspice to the new. 50 + + Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: + For see the Dragon[163] winged on his way, + To watch the travail,[164] and devour the prey. + Or, if allusions may not rise so high, + Thus, when Alcides[165] raised his infant cry, + The snakes besieged his young divinity: + But vainly with their forked tongues they threat; + For opposition makes a hero great. + To needful succour all the good will run, 60 + And Jove assert the godhead of his son. + + O still repining at your present state, + Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate, + Look up, and read in characters of light + A blessing sent you in your own despite. + The manna falls, yet that celestial bread + Like Jews you munch, and murmur while you feed. + May not your fortune be, like theirs, exiled, + Yet forty years to wander in the wild! + Or if it be, may Moses live at least, 70 + To lead you to the verge of promised rest! + + Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow + What plants will take the blight, and what will grow, + By tracing Heaven, his footsteps may be found: + Behold! how awfully he walks the round! + God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways, + The rise of empires, and their fall surveys; + More, might I say, than with an usual eye, + He sees his bleeding church in ruin lie, + And hears the souls of saints beneath his altar cry. 80 + Already has he lifted high the Sign,[166] + Which crown'd the conquering arms of Constantine; + The Moon[167] grows pale at that presaging sight, + And half her train of stars have lost their light. + + Behold another Sylvester,[168] to bless + The sacred standard, and secure success; + Large of his treasures, of a soul so great, + As fills and crowds his universal seat. + Now view at home a second Constantine; + (The former too was of the British line;)[169] 90 + Has not his healing balm your breaches closed, + Whose exile many sought, and few opposed? + Or, did not Heaven by its eternal doom + Permit those evils, that this good might come? + So manifest, that even the moon-eyed sects + See whom and what this Providence protects. + Methinks, had we within our minds no more + Than that one shipwreck on the fatal Ore,[170] + That only thought may make us think again, + What wonders God reserves for such a reign. 100 + To dream that Chance his preservation wrought, + Were to think Noah was preserved for nought; + Or the surviving eight were not design'd + To people Earth, and to restore their kind. + + When humbly on the royal babe we gaze, + The manly lines of a majestic face + Give awful joy: 'tis Paradise to look + On the fair frontispiece of Nature's book: + If the first opening page so charms the sight, + Think how the unfolded volume will delight! 110 + + See how the venerable infant lies + In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes + The father's soul, with an undaunted view, + Looks out, and takes our homage as his due. + See on his future subjects how he smiles, + Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles; + But with an open face, as on his throne, + Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own. + Born in broad day-light, that the ungrateful rout + May find no room for a remaining doubt; 120 + Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun, + And the true eaglet safely dares the sun. + + Fain would the fiends[171] have made a dubious birth, + Loath to confess the Godhead clothed in earth: + But sicken'd, after all their baffled lies, + To find an heir-apparent of the skies: + Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge, + And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. + + Not great Æneas[172] stood in plainer day, + When, the dark mantling mist dissolved away, 130 + He to the Tyrians show'd his sudden face, + Shining with all his goddess mother's grace: + For she herself had made his countenance bright, + Breathed honour on his eyes, and her own purple light. + + If our victorious Edward,[173] as they say, + Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, + Why may not years, revolving with his fate, + Produce his like, but with a longer date; + One, who may carry to a distant shore + The terror that his famed forefather bore? 140 + But why should James or his young hero stay + For slight presages of a name or day? + We need no Edward's fortune to adorn + That happy moment when our prince was born: + Our prince adorns his day, and ages hence + Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince. + + Great Michael, prince of all the ethereal hosts, + And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts; + And thou, the adopted patron of our isle,[174] + With cheerful aspects on this infant smile: 150 + The pledge of Heaven, which, dropping from above, + Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. + + Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought, + When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught; + Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, + Nor did the avenging angel yet retire, + But purged our still increasing crimes with fire, + Then perjured plots, the still impending Test, + And worse--but charity conceals the rest: + Here stop the current of the sanguine flood; 160 + Require not, gracious God, thy martyrs' blood; + But let their dying pangs, their living toil, + Spread a rich harvest through their native soil: + A harvest ripening for another reign, + Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. + + Enough of early saints one womb has given; + Enough increased the family of Heaven: + Let them for his and our atonement go; + And, reigning blest above, leave him to rule below. + + Enough already has the year foreshow'd 170 + His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd, + The meads were floated with a weeping spring, + And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing: + The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints, + And the same shivering sweat his lord attaints. + When will the minister of wrath give o'er? + Behold him at Araunah's threshing-floor:[175] + He stops, and seems to sheathe his flaming brand, + Pleased with burnt incense from our David's hand. + David has bought the Jebusite's abode, 180 + And raised an altar to the living God. + + Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys sincere; + No future ills nor accidents appear, + To sully and pollute the sacred infant's year. + Five months to discord and debate were given: + He sanctifies the yet remaining seven. + Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be blest, + And prelude to the realm's perpetual rest! + + Let his baptismal drops for us atone; + Lustrations for offences not his own. 190 + Let Conscience, which is Interest ill disguised, + In the same font be cleansed, and all the land baptized. + + Unnamed as yet;[176] at least unknown to fame: + Is there a strife in Heaven about his name, + Where every famous predecessor vies, + And makes a faction for it in the skies? + Or must it be reserved to thought alone? + Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton.[177] + Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd; + Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd,[178] + To shun the spells and sorceries of those 200 + Who durst her infant majesty oppose. + But when his tender strength in time shall rise + To dare ill tongues, and fascinating eyes; + This isle, which hides the little Thunderer's fame, + Shall be too narrow to contain his name: + The artillery of heaven shall make him known; + Crete[179] could not hold the god, when Jove was grown. + + As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born,[180] + Whom arms and arts did equally adorn, 210 + Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste + Minerva's name to Venus had debased; + So this imperial babe rejects the food + That mixes monarch's with plebeian blood: + Food that his inborn courage might control, + Extinguish all the father in his soul, + And, for his Estian race, and Saxon strain, + Might reproduce some second Richard's reign. + Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood: + But kings too tame are despicably good: 220 + Be this the mixture of this regal child, + By nature manly, but by virtue mild. + + Thus far the furious transport of the news + Had to prophetic madness fired the Muse; + Madness ungovernable, uninspired, + Swift to foretell whatever she desired. + Was it for me the dark abyss to tread, + And read the book which angels cannot read? + How was I punish'd, when the sudden blast,[181] + The face of heaven, and our young sun o'ercast! 230 + Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she roll'd, + Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told; + At three insulting strides she stalk'd the town, + And, like contagion, struck the loyal down. + Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but, mounted high, + The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. + Here black rebellion shooting from below + (As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow[182]) + And here the sons of God are petrified with woe: + An apoplex of grief: so low were driven 240 + The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. + + As, when pent vapours run their hollow round, + Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground, + Break bellowing forth, and no confinement brook, + Till the third settles what the former shook; + Such heavings had our souls; till, slow and late, + Our life with his return'd, and Faith prevail'd on Fate. + By prayers the mighty blessing was implored, + To prayers was granted, and by prayers restored. + + So, ere the Shunamite[183] a son conceived, 250 + The prophet promised, and the wife believed. + A son was sent, the son so much desired; + But soon upon the mother's knees expired. + The troubled seer approach'd the mournful door, + Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before, + Then stretch'd his limbs upon the child, and mourn'd, + + Thus Mercy stretches out her hand, and saves + Desponding Peter sinking in the waves. + + As when a sudden storm of hail and rain 260 + Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain, + Think not the hopes of harvest are destroy'd + On the flat field, and on the naked void; + The light unloaded stem, from tempest freed, + Will raise the youthful honours of his head; + And soon, restored by native vigour, bear + The timely product of the bounteous year. + + Nor yet conclude all fiery trials past: + For Heaven will exercise us to the last; + Sometimes will check us in our full career, 270 + With doubtful blessings, and with mingled fear; + That, still depending on his daily grace, + His every mercy for an alms may pass, + With sparing hands will diet us to good; + Preventing surfeits of our pamper'd blood. + So feeds the mother bird her craving young + With little morsels, and delays them long. + + True, this last blessing was a royal feast; + But where's the wedding-garment on the guest? + Our manners, as religion were a dream, 280 + Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. + In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell, + And injuries with injuries repel; + Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, + Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. + Thus Israel sinn'd, impenitently hard, + And vainly thought the present ark their guard;[184] + But when the haughty Philistines appear, + They fled, abandon'd to their foes and fear; + Their God was absent, though his ark was there. 290 + Ah! lest our crimes should snatch this pledge away, + And make our joys the blessings of a day! + For we have sinn'd him hence, and that he lives, + God to his promise, not our practice gives. + Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty scale, + But James and Mary, and the Church, prevail. + Nor Amalek can rout the chosen bands,[185] + While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses' hands. + + By living well, let us secure his days; + Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways, 300 + No force the free-born spirit can constrain, + But charity and great examples gain. + Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day: + 'Tis god-like God in his own coin to pay. + + But you, propitious queen, translated here, + From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere, + Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year: + You, who your native climate have bereft + Of all the virtues, and the vices left; + Whom piety and beauty make their boast, 310 + Though beautiful is well in pious lost; + So lost, as star-light is dissolved away, + And melts into the brightness of the day; + Or gold about the regal diadem, + Lost to improve the lustre of the gem. + What can we add to your triumphant day? + Let the great gift the beauteous giver pay. + For should our thanks awake the rising sun, + And lengthen, as his latest shadows run, + That, though the longest day, would soon, too soon be done. 320 + Let angels' voices with their harps conspire, + But keep the auspicious infant from the quire; + Late let him sing above, and let us know + No sweeter music than his cries below. + + Nor can I wish to you, great Monarch, more + Than such an annual income to your store; + The day which gave this Unit, did not shine + For a less omen, than to fill the Trine. + After a prince, an admiral beget; + The Royal Sovereign wants an anchor yet. 330 + Our isle has younger titles still in store, + And when the exhausted land can yield no more, + Your line can force them from a foreign shore. + + The name of Great your martial mind will suit; + But justice is your darling attribute: + Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one hero's[186] due, + And, in him, Plutarch prophesied of you. + A prince's favours but on few can fall, + But justice is a virtue shared by all. + + Some kings the name of conquerors have assumed, 340 + Some to be great, some to be gods presumed; + But boundless power and arbitrary lust + Made tyrants still abhor the name of just; + They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives, + And fear'd a title that reproach'd their lives. + + The Power, from which all kings derive their state, + Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate, + Is equal both to punish and reward; + For few would love their God, unless they fear'd. + + Resistless force and immortality 350 + Make but a lame, imperfect, deity: + Tempests have force unbounded to destroy, + And deathless being, even the damn'd enjoy; + And yet Heaven's attributes, both last and first, + One without life, and one with life accurst: + But justice is Heaven's self, so strictly he, + That could it fail, the Godhead could not be. + This virtue is your own; but life and state + Are one to Fortune subject, one to Fate: + Equal to all, you justly frown or smile; 360 + Nor hopes nor fears your steady hand beguile; + Yourself our balance hold, the world's our isle. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 161: 'Solemn Sabbath:' Whit-Sunday.] + +[Footnote 162: 'Wondrous octave:' Trinity Sunday.] + +[Footnote 163: 'The Dragon:' alluding only to the Commonwealth party, +here and in other places of the poem.] + +[Footnote 164: 'The travail:' see Rev. xii. 4.] + +[Footnote 165: 'Alcides:' Hercules.] + +[Footnote 166: 'Sign:' the sign of the cross, as denoting the Roman +Catholic faith.] + +[Footnote 167: 'The moon:' the Turkish crescent.] + +[Footnote 168: 'Another Sylvester:' the Pope in James II.'s time is here +compared to him that governed the Romish Church in the time of +Constantine.] + +[Footnote 169: 'British line:' St Helen, mother of Constantine the +Great, was an Englishwoman.] + +[Footnote 170: 'Fatal Ore:' the sandbank on which the Duke of York had +like to have been lost in 1682, on his voyage to Scotland, is known by +the name of Lemman Ore.] + +[Footnote 171: 'Fiends:' the malcontents who doubted the truth of the +birth are here compared to the evil spirits that tempted our Saviour in +the wilderness.] + +[Footnote 172: 'Æneas:' see Virgil; Æneid, I.] + +[Footnote 173: 'Edward:' Edward the Black Prince, born on Trinity +Sunday.] + +[Footnote 174: 'Patron of our isle': St George.] + +[Footnote 175: 'Araunah's threshing-floor:' alluding to the passage in 1 +Kings xxiv.] + +[Footnote 176: 'Unnamed as yet:' the prince was christened but not named +when this poem was published.] + +[Footnote 177: 'Tetragrammaton:' Jehovah, or the name of God, unlawful +to be pronounced by the Jews.] + +[Footnote 178: 'Rome was kept concealed:' some authors say, that the +true name of Rome was kept a secret.] + +[Footnote 179: 'Crete:' Candia, where Jupiter was born and bred +secretly.] + +[Footnote 180: 'Brain was born:' Pallas or Minerva, said by the poets to +have sprung from the brain of Jove, and to have been bred up by hand, as +was this young prince.] + +[Footnote 181: 'Sudden blast:' the sudden false report of the prince's +death.] + +[Footnote 182: 'Moments grow:' those giants are feigned to have grown +fifteen yards every day.] + +[Footnote 183: 'Shunamite:' see 2 Kings iv.] + +[Footnote 184: 'Ark their guard:' see 1 Sam. iv. 10.] + +[Footnote 185: 'Amalek can rout the chosen bands:' see Exod. xviii. 8.] + +[Footnote 186: Aristides, surnamed the Just.] + + * * * * * + + + +END OF FIRST VOLUME. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol +I, by John Dryden + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11488 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..436da22 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11488 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11488) diff --git a/old/11488-8.txt b/old/11488-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a951a65 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11488-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13040 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol I, by John Dryden + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol I + With Life, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes + +Author: John Dryden + +Release Date: March 7, 2004 [EBook #11488] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICAL WORKS OF DRYDEN V.1 *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + + + EDINBURGH + PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, + PAUL'S WORK. + + + + THE POETICAL WORKS + OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + With Life, Critical Dissertation, and + Explanatory Notes + + + + BY THE + REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + + + VOL. I. + + + + + M. DCCC. LV. + + + + +THE LIFE OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + +John Dryden was born on the 9th of August 1631, at a place variously +denominated Aldwincle, or Oldwincle, All Saints; or at Oldwincle, St +Peter's, in Northamptonshire. The name Dryden or Driden, is from the +North. There are Drydens still in the town of Scotland where we now +write; and the poet's ancestors lived in the county of Cumberland. One +of them, named John, removed from a place called Staff-hill, to +Northamptonshire, where he succeeded to the estate of Canons-Ashby, by +marriage with the daughter of Sir John Cope. John Dryden was a +schoolmaster, a Puritan, and honoured, it is said, with the friendship +of the celebrated Erasmus, after whom he named his son, who succeeded to +the estate of Canons-Ashby, and, besides becoming a sheriff of the +county of Northamptonshire, was created a knight under James I. Sir +Erasmus had three sons, the third of whom, also an Erasmus, became the +father of our poet. His mother was Mary, the daughter of the Rev. Henry +Pickering, whose father, a zealous Puritan, had been one of the marked +victims in the Gunpowder Plot. Dryden thus had connexions both on his +father's and mother's side with that party, by deriding, defaming, and +opposing which he afterwards gained much of his poetical glory. + +The poet was the eldest of fourteen children--four sons and ten +daughters. The honour of his birth is claimed, as already stated, by two +parishes, that of Oldwincle, All Saints, and that of Oldwincle, St +Peter's, as Homer's was of old by seven cities. His brothers and +sisters have been followed, by eager biographers, into their diverging +and deepening paths of obscurity--paths in which we do not choose to +attend them. Dryden received the rudiments of his education at Tichmarsh +or at Oundle--for here, too, we have conflicting statements. It is +certain, however, that he was admitted a king's scholar at Westminster, +under the tuition of Dr Busby, whom he always respected, and who +discovered in him poetical power. He encouraged him to write, as a +Thursday's night's task, a translation of the third Satire of Persius, a +writer precisely of that vigorously rhetorical, rapidly satirical, and +semi-poetical school, which Dryden was qualified to appreciate and to +mirror; besides other pieces of a similar kind which are lost. During +the last year of his residence at Westminster, and when only eighteen +years of age, he wrote one among the ninety-eight elegies which were +called forth by the sudden death of Henry Lord Hastings, and published +under the title of "Lachrymæ Musarum." Hastings seems to have been an +amiable person, but he was besides a lord, and _hinc illoe lachrymæ_. +We know not of what quality the other tears were, but assuredly Dryden's +is one of very suspicious sincerity, and of very little poetical merit. +But even the crocodile tears of a great genius, if they fall into a +fanciful shape, must be preserved; and we have preserved his, +accordingly, notwithstanding the false taste as well as doubtful truth +and honesty of this his earliest poem. + +Shortly after, Dryden obtained a Westminster scholarship, and on the +11th of May 1650, entered on Trinity College, Cambridge. His tutor was +one John Templer, famous then as one of the many who had attempted to +put a hook in the jaws of old Hobbes, the Leviathan of his time, but +whose reply, as well as Hobbes' own book (like a whale disappearing from +a Shetland "voe" into the deep, with all the hooks and harpoons of his +enemies along with him) has been almost entirely forgotten. At +Cambridge, Dryden was noted for regularity and diligence, and took the +degree of B.A. in January 1653-4, and in 1657 was made A.M. by a +dispensation from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Once, indeed, he was +rusticated for a fortnight on account of some disobedience to the +vice-master. He resided, however, at his university three years after +the usual term; and although he did not become a Fellow, and made no +secret, in after days, of preferring Oxford to Cambridge, yet the reason +of this seems to have lain, not in any personal disgust, but in some +other cause, which, says Scott, "we may now search for in vain." + +Up till June 1654, his father had continued to reside at his estate at +Blakesley, in Northamptonshire, when he died, leaving Dryden two-thirds +of a property, which was worth, in all, only £60 a-year. The other third +was bequeathed to his mother, during her lifetime. With this miserable +modicum of £40 a-year, the poet returned to Cambridge, and continued +there, doing little, and little known as one who could do anything, till +the year 1657. The only records of the diligence of his college years, +are the lines on the death of Lord Hastings, and one or two other +inconsiderable copies of verses. He probably, however, employed much +time in private study. + +While at Cambridge, he met with a young lady, a cousin of his own--Honor +Driden, daughter of Sir John Driden of Chesterton--of whom he became +deeply enamoured. His suit was, however, rejected, although he continued +all his life on intimate terms with the family. Miss Driden died +unmarried, many years after her poet lover; and like the "Lass of +Ballochmyle" with Burns' homage, learned to value it more after he +became celebrated, and carefully preserved the solitary letter which +Dryden wrote her. + +But now the university was to lose, and the world of London to receive, +the poet. In the year 1657, when about six-and-twenty years of age, +Dryden repaired to London, "clad in homely drugget," and with more +projects in his head than pence in his pocket. He was first employed by +his relative, Sir Gilbert Pickering--called the "Fiery Pickering," from +his Roundhead zeal--as a clerk or secretary. Here he came in contact +with Cromwell; and saw very clearly those great qualities of sagacity, +determination, courage, statesmanship, insight and genuine godliness, +which made him, next to Alfred the Great, the first monarch who ever +sat on the English throne. Two years after Dryden came to London, +Cromwell expired, and the poet wrote and published his Heroic Stanzas on +the hero's death, which we consider really his earliest poem. When +Richard resigned, Dryden, in common with the majority of the nation, saw +that the Roundhead cause was lost, and hastened to carry over his +talents to the gaining side. For this we do not blame him very severely, +although it certainly had been nobler if, like Milton, he had clung to +his party. Sir Walter Scott remarks, that Dryden never retracted the +praise he gave to Cromwell. In "Absalom and Achitophel" he sneers at +Richard as Ishbosheth, but says nothing against the deceased giant Saul. +It is clear, too, that at first his desertion of the Cromwell party was +a loss to the poet. He lost the chance of their favour, in case a +reaction should come, his situation as secretary, and the shelter of +Pickering's princely mansion. As might have been expected, his ancient +friends were indignant at the change, and not less so at the alteration +he thought proper at the same time to make in the spelling of his +name--from Driden to Dryden. + +He went to reside in the obscure house of one Herringman, a bookseller, +in the New Exchange, and became for life a professional author. His +enemies afterwards reproached him bitterly for his mean circumstances at +this period of his life, and asserted that he was a mere drudge to +Herringman. He, at all events, did little in his own proper poetic +calling for two years. A poem on the Coronation of Charles, well fitted +to wipe away the stain of Cromwellism, and to attract upon the poet the +eye of that Rising-Sun, whose glory he sang with more zeal than truth; a +panegyric on the Lord Chancellor; and a satire on the Dutch; were all, +and are all short, and all savour of a vein somewhat hide-bound. He +planned, indeed, too, and partly wrote, one or more plays, and was +considered of consequence enough to be elected a member of the Royal +Society in 1662. Previous to this he had been introduced, through +Herringman, to Sir Robert Howard, son of the first Earl of Berkshire, +and a relation of Edward Howard, the author of "British Princes," and +the object of the witty wrath of Butler. Sir Robert, too, had a +poetical propensity, and Dryden and he became and continued intimate for +a number of years, the poet assisting the knight in his literary +compositions, particularly in a play entitled "The Indian Queen;" and +the latter inviting the former to the family seat at Charlton, where +Dryden met in an unlucky hour his future wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, +the sister of Sir Robert. It was on the 1st of December 1663, in St +Swithin's, London, and with the consent of the Earl, who settled about +£60 a-year on his daughter, that this unhappy union took place. The lady +seems to have had absolutely none of the qualities which tend either to +command a husband's respect or to conciliate his regard, but is +described as a woman of violent temper and weak understanding. Much of +the bitterness of Dryden's satire, some of the coarse licentiousness of +his plays, and all the sarcasms at matrimony which he has scattered in +multitudes, throughout his works, may be traced to his domestic +unhappiness. + +Otherwise, the match had some advantages. It broke up, for a time at +least, some licentious connexions he had formed, particularly, after a +time, one with Mrs Reeves the actress, with whom, having laid aside his +Norwich drugget, he used to eat tarts at the Mulberry Gardens, "with a +sword and a Chadreux wig." It secured to him, including his own +property, an income of about £100 a-year--a sum equal to £300 now--and +which, on the death of his mother, three years later, was increased by +£20 more, or £60 at the present value of money. He was thus protected +for life against the meaner and more miserable necessities of the +literary man, under which many of his unfortunate rivals were crushed; +and if he could not always command luxuries, he was always sure of +bread. + +To improve his circumstances, however, and to enable him to keep up a +style of living in unison with his lady's rank, he must write, and the +question arose, what mode of composition was likely to be the most +lucrative? Were he to continue to indite panegyrical verses, like those +to Clarendon, he stood a chance of having a few guineas tossed to him +now and then by a patron, like a crust to an unfortunate cur. Were he +to translate, or write prefaces for the booksellers, he might pay his +bill for salt, if diligent enough. For Satires as yet there was little +demand. The follies of the more fanatical of the Puritans were too +recent, although they were beginning to ripen for the hand of Butler; +and the far grosser absurdities of the Cavaliers were yet in blossom. +There remained nothing for an aspiring author but the stage, which +during the previous _regime_ had been abolished. While the French +Revolution was in progress, ay, even in the depths of the reign of +terror, the theatres were all open, and all crowded; but when Cromwell +was enacting his solemn and solitary part, before God, angels, and men, +the petty potentates--the gods and goddesses of the stage--vanished into +thin air. At his tremendous stamp their cue had been "_Exeunt omnes_" +and if the spirit of Shakspeare himself had witnessed the departure, he +would have added his Amen. And had he watched in their stead the +gigantic actor treading his trembling stage alone, with all the world +looking on, he might have remembered and re-applied his own magnificent +words-- + + "O for a muse of fire, that would ascend + The brightest heaven of invention! + A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, + And _monarchs_ to _behold_ the swelling scene! + Then should the warlike _Cromwell_ like himself + Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, + Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire + Crouch for employment." + +No sooner had this great man passed away, and an earnest age with him, +and Charles mounted the throne, than from the darkest recesses of the +stews and the taverns, from the depths within depths of Alsatia or Paris, +the whole tribe of dancers, fiddlers, drabs, mimes, stage-players, and +playwrights, knowing that their enemy was dead, and their hour of harvest +had come, emerged in swarming multitudes--multitudes swelled by the vast +tribe of play-goers, who had been counting the hours since a Falstaff +had made them laugh, an Ophelia made them weep, and a Lear made them +tremble. And had this only issued in the revival of the drama of +Shakspeare and Johnson, few could have had much to say in objection; for +that, in general, was as pure as it was powerful. But, alas, besides +them there had been a Beaumont, a Fletcher, and a Massinger, with their +unutterable abominations. Nay, the king and courtiers had imported from +France a taste which required for its gratification a licentiousness +still more abandoned, and to be cast, besides, into forms and shapes, as +stiff, stately, and elaborate as the material was vile, and were not +contented with pollution unless served up in a new, piquant, and +unnatural manner. Our poet understood this movement of his time right +well, and determined to conform to it. He knew that he could, better +than any man living, pander to the popular appetite for the +melodramatic, for the grandiloquent, and for the obscene. He knew the +taste of Charles, and that he, above all cooks, could dress up a +_ragout_ of that putrid perfection which his king relished. And he set +himself with his whole might so to do, and for thirty years and more +continued his degradation of genius--a degradation unexampled, whether +we consider the powers of the writer, the coarseness, quantity, and +elaboration of the pollutions he perpetrated, or the length of time in +which he was employed, in thus "profaning the God-given strength and +marring the lofty line." + +His other biographers--Dr Johnson, alone, with brevity and seeming +reluctance--have enumerated and characterised all Dryden's plays. We +have decided only to speak of them very generally, and that for the +following reasons:--1st, We are reprinting none of them; 2dly, From what +we have read of them, we are certain that, even as works of art, they +are utterly unworthy of their author, and that in morals they are, as a +whole, a disgrace to human nature. We are not the least lenient or +indulgent of critics. We have every wish to pity the errors, and to bear +with the frequent escapades and aberrations of genius. But when we see, +as in Dryden's case, what we are forced to consider either a deliberate +and systematic attempt to poison the sources of virtue, or, at least, an +elaborate and incessant habit of conformity to the bad tastes of a bad +age, we can think of no plea fully available for his defence. Vain to +say, "he wrote for bread." He did not--he wrote only for the luxuries, +not the staff of life. Vain to say, "he consulted the taste of his +audience, and suited their atmosphere." But why did he _select_ that +atmosphere as his? And why so much gratuitous and superfluous iniquity +in his works? "But he wrote to gratify his monarch." This would form a +good enough excuse for a Sporus, "a white curd of ass' milk," but not +for a strong man like Dryden. But he was "no worse than others of his +age." Pitiful apology! since, being the ablest man of his day, and +therefore bound to be before it, he was in reality behind it, his plays +excelling all contemporary productions in wickedness as well as in wit. +But his own "conduct was latterly irreproachable." This we doubt, and +Scott doubts so too. But even though it were true, it were damaging, +because it would deprive him of the plea of passion, and reduce him from +the warm human painter to the cold demon-like sculptor of unclean and +abominable ideas. It never can be forgotten, that whenever Dryden +translated a filthy play, he made it filthier than in the original, and +that he has once and again scattered his satyr-like fancies in spots +such as the Paradise of Milton, and the Enchanted Isle of Shakspeare, +which every imagination and every heart previously had regarded as holy +ground. The only extenuating circumstance we can mention is, that his +pruriency was latterly in part relinquished and much deplored by +himself, and that his poetry is, on the whole, free from it. In our +critical paper, prefixed to the Second Volume, we intend to examine the +question, how far an author's faults are, or are not, to be charged upon +his age. + +His next poem was "Annus Mirabilis," published in 1667, and counted +justly one of his most vigorous, though also one of the faultiest of his +poems. It includes glowing, although somewhat quaint and fantastic, +descriptions of the Dutch War and the Great Fire in London. In 1668, by +the death of Sir William Davenant, the post of Poet-Laureate became +vacant, and Dryden was appointed to it. He was also appointed +historiographer-royal. The salary of these two offices amounted to £200 +a year, besides the famous annual butt of canary, while his profits from +the theatre were equivalent to £300. His whole income was thus, at the +very least, equal to a thousand pounds of our money--a great sum for a +poet in that or in any age. He published, the same year, an Essay on +"Dramatic Poetry," vindicating his own practice of rhymed heroic verse +in plays;--a stupid French innovation, which all the ingenuity of a +Dryden defended in vain. It was cast into the shape of a dialogue,--the +Duke of Dorset being one of the respondents,--and formed the first +specimen of Dryden's easy, rambling, but most vivid, vigorous, and +entertaining prose. No one was ever more ready than he to render reasons +for his writings,--for their faults as well as merits,--and to show by +more ingenious arguments, that, if they failed, they _ought_ to have +succeeded. + +At this time we may consider Dryden's prosperity, although not his +powers, to have culminated. He had a handsome income, a run of +unparalleled popularity as a playwright; he was Poet-Laureate, a +favourite at court, and on terms of intimacy with many of the nobility, +and many of the eminent men of letters. The public would have at that +time bid high for his very snuff-papers, and were thankful for whatever +garbage he chose to throw at them from the stage. How different his +position from that of the great blind old man, at this time residing in +Bunhill-fields in obscurity and sorrow, and preparing to put off his +tabernacle, and take his flight to the Heavens of God! The one heard +every night the "claps of multitudes,"--the other the whispers of +angels, saying to his soul, "Sister-spirit, come away." The one was +revelling in reputation,--the other was listening to the far-off echoes +of a coming fame as wide as the world, and as permanent as the existence +of man. To do Dryden justice, he admired Milton; and although he did, +and that, too, immediately after Milton departed, venture to travestie +the "Paradise Lost" into a rhymed play, as dull as it is disgusting; and +although he knew that Milton had called him, somewhat harshly, a "good +rhymer, but no poet," yet he praised his genius at a time when it was +as little appreciated, as was the grandeur of his character. + +But now the slave, in the chariot of Dryden's triumph, was about to +appear. First came, in 1671, the "Rehearsal," a play concocted among +various wits of the time, including Sprat, Clifford, poor Butler, of +"Hudibras," and chiefly the Duke of Buckingham. The object of this play +was to turn rhymed heroic tragedy, and especially the great playwright +of the day, under the name of Bayes, his person, manners, conversation, +and habits, into unmitigated ridicule. The plan has often since been +followed, with various success. Minor wits have delighted in clubbing +their small but poisoned missiles, and in aiming flights of minnikin +arrows at the Gullivers of their different periods. Thus Pope was +assailed by the "Dunces," whom he afterwards preserved in amber--that +terrible old lion, Bentley, by Boyle and his associates; and Wordsworth, +by the critics or criticasters of his day. Dryden acted with greater +prudence than any of those we have named, except indeed Bentley, who, +being assailed upon points involving the integrity of his scholarship, +and on which demonstrative contradiction was possible, felt himself +compelled to leave his lair, and to rend his enemies in pieces. But +Dryden--feeling on this occasion, at least, that a squib, however +personal and severe, cannot harm any man worthy of the name; and that +the very force of the laughter it produces, drives out the +sting--determined to answer it by silence, and to bide his time. +"Zimri," in Absalom and Achitophel, shows how deep had been his secret +oath of vengeance, and how carefully the sweltered "venom" had been +kept, in which at last he baptizes Buckingham, and embalms him at the +same time for the wonder and contempt of posterity. Here is the danger +of the smaller wits in a controversy of this kind. Their squibs excite a +sensation at the moment, and sometimes annoy the assaulted giant much, +and his friends and publishers more; but he continues to live and grow, +while their spiteful effusions perish; or worse, are preserved to the +everlasting shame of their authors, on the lowest shelf of the records +of their enemy's fame. + +Two years after, occurred the famous controversy between Dryden and +Settle. Poor Elkanah Settle seemed raised up like another Mordecai to +poison the peace and disturb the false self-satisfaction of +Dryden,--raised up, rather--shall we say?--to wean the poet from a +sphere where his true place and power were not, and to prepare him for +other stages, where he was yet destined far more powerfully to play his +part. At all events, this should have been his inference from the +success of Settle. It should have taught him that a scene where a +pitiful poetaster, backed by mob-favour and the word of a Rochester, +could eclipse his glory, was no scene for him; and he ought instantly, +with proud humility, to have left the theatre for ever. Instead of this, +he fell into a violent passion with one who, like himself, had levelled +his desires to the "claps of multitudes," and had ravished the larger +share of the coveted prize! And so there commenced a long and ludicrous +controversy--dishonourable to Settle much; to Rochester and Dryden +more--between a mere insolent twaddler and a man of real and +transcendent genius. The particulars of the struggle are too humiliating +and contemptible to deserve a minute record. Suffice it, that Dryden, +assisted by his future foe, Shadwell, wrote a scurrilous attack on +Settle, and his successful play, "The Empress of Morocco;" to which +Settle, nothing daunted, replied in terms of equal coarseness, and that +Rochester, the patron of Settle, became mixed up in the fray, till, +having been severely handled by Dryden in his "Essay on Satire,"--a +production generally, and we think justly, attributed to Mulgrave and +Dryden in conjunction,--he took a mean and characteristic revenge. He +hired bravoes, who, waiting for Dryden as he was returning, on the 18th +December 1679, from Will's coffee-house to his own house in Gerard +Street, rushed out and severely beat and wounded him. That Dryden was +the author of the lines on Rochester has been doubted, although we think +they very much resemble a rough and hurried sketch from his pen; that +Rochester deserved the truculent treatment he received in them, this +anecdote sufficiently proves. It was partly, indeed, the manner of the +age. Had this nobleman existed _now_, and been pilloried by a true and +powerful pen, he would, in addition to his own anonymous assaults, have +stirred up a posse of his creatures to assist him in seeking, by +falsehoods, hypercriticisms, and abuse, to diminish the influence and +take away the good name of his opponent. The Satanic spirit is always +the same--its weapons and instruments are continually changing. + +Soon after this, Dryden translated the Epistles of Ovid, thus breathing +himself for the far greater efforts which were before him. His mind +seems, for a season, to have balanced between various poetic plans. On +the one hand, the finger of his good genius showed him the fair heights +of epic song, waiting to be crowned by the coming of a new Virgil; on +the other side, the fierce fires of his passions pointed him downwards +to his many rivals and foes--the Cliffords, Leighs, Ravenscrofts, +Rochesters, and Settles--who seemed lying as a mark for his satiric +vengeance. He meditated, we know, an epic on Arthur, the hero of the +Round Table, and had, besides, many arrears of wrath lying past for +discharge; but circumstances arose which turned his thoughts away, for a +season, in a different direction from either Arthur or his personal +foes. + +The political aspects of the times were now portentous in the extreme. +Charles II. had, partly by crime, partly by carelessness, and partly by +ill-fortune, become a most unpopular monarch, and the more so, because +the nation had no hope even from his death, since it was sure to hand +them over to the tender mercies of his brother, who had all his faults, +and some, in addition, of his own, without any of his merits. There was +but one hope, and that turned out a mere aurora borealis, connected with +the Duke of Monmouth, who, through his extraction by a bend sinister +from Charles, as well as through his popular manners, Protestant +principles, and gracious exterior, had become such a favourite with the +people, that strong efforts were made to exclude the Duke of York, and +to exalt him to the succession. These, however, were unsuccessful; and +Shaftesbury, their leading spirit, was accused of treason, and confined +to the Tower. It was at this crisis, when the nobility of the land were +divided, when its clergy were divided, when its literary men were +divided,--not in a silent feud, but in a raging rupture, that Dryden, +partly at the instigation of the Court, partly from his own impulse, +lifted up his powerful pen,--the sceptre of the press,--and, with +wonderful facility and felicity, wrote, and on the 17th November 1681, +published, the satire of "Absalom and Achitophel." Its poetical +merits--the choice of the names and period, although this is borrowed +from a previous writer--the appearance of the poem at the most critical +hour of the crisis--and, above all, the portraitures of character, so +easy and so graphic, so free and so fearless, distinguished equally by +their animus and their animation, and with dashes of generous painting +relieving and diversifying the general caricature of the +style,--rendered it instantly and irresistibly popular. It excited one +universal cry--from its friends, of admiration, and from its enemies, of +rage. Imitations and replies multiplies around it, and sounded like +assenting or like angry echoes. It did not, indeed, move the grand jury +to condemn Shaftesbury; but when, on his acquittal, a medal was struck +by his friends, bearing on one side the head and name of Shaftesbury, +and on the other, the sun obscured by a cloud rising over the Tower and +City of London, Dryden's aid was again solicited by the Court and the +King in person, to make this the subject of a second satire; and, with +great rapidity, he produced "The Medal--a Satire against Sedition," +which, completing and colouring the photograph of Shaftesbury, formed +the real Second Part of "Absalom and Achitophel." What bore that name +came a year afterwards, when the times were changed, was written partly +by a feebler hand--Nahum Tate; and flew at inferior game--Dryden's own +personal rivals and detractors. + +The principal of these was Shadwell, who had been an early friend of +Dryden's, and who certainly possessed a great deal of wit and talent, if +he did not attain to the measure of poetic genius. His principal power +lay in low comedy--his chief fault lay in his systematic and avowed +imitation of the rough and drunken manners of Ben Jonson. In the eye of +Dryden--whose own habits were convivial, although not to the same +extent--the real faults of his opponent were his popularity as a comic +writer, and his politics. Shadwell was a zealous Protestant, and the +bitterest of the many who replied to the "Medal." For this he became the +hero of "MacFlecknoe"--a masterly satire, holding him up to infamy and +contempt--besides sitting afterwards for the portrait of Og, in the +second part of "Absalom and Achitophel." Shadwell had, by and by, his +revenge, by obtaining the laureateship, after the Revolution, in room of +Dryden, and no doubt used the opportunity of drowning the memory of +defeat in the butt of generous canary which had now for ever passed the +door of his formidable rival. + +Dryden's circumstances, at this time, were considerably straitened. His +pension as laureate was not regularly paid; the profits from the theatre +had somewhat fallen off. He tried in various ways, by prefacing a +translation of "Plutarch's Lives," by publishing a miscellany of +versions from Greek and Latin authors, and by writing prologues to plays +and prefaces to books, to supply his exhausted exchequer. His +good-humoured but heartless monarch set him on another task, for which +he was never paid, writing a translation of Maimbourg's "History of the +League," the object of which was to damage Shaftesbury and his party, by +branding them as enemies to monarchy. In 1682 he wrote his "Religio +Laici." + +Not long after, in February 1684, Charles II. became, for the first time +in his life, serious, as he felt death--the proverbial terror of +kings--rapidly rushing upon him. He tried to hide the great and terrible +fact from his eyes under the shield of a wafer. He died suddenly--a +member of the "holy Roman Catholic Church,"--and much regretted by all +his mistresses; and apparently by Dryden, who had been preparing the +opera of "Albion and Albanius," to commemorate the king's triumph over +the Whigs, when this event turned his harp into mourning, and his organ +into the voice of them that weep. He set himself to write a poem which +should at once express regret for the set, and homage to the rising, +sun. This was his "Threnodia Augustalis," a very unequal poem, but full +of inimitable passages, and discovering all that careless greatness +which characterised the genius of the poet. + +Charles II. had, at Dryden's request, to whom arrears for four years had +been due, raised his laureate salary to £300. The additional hundred +dropped at the king's death, and James was mean enough even to curtail +the annual butt of sack. He probably had little hope of converting the +author of "Religio Laici" to his faith, else he would not have withheld +what Charles had so recently granted. Afterwards, when he ascertained +that an interesting process was going on in Dryden's mind, tending to +Popery, he perhaps thought that a little money cast into the crucible +might materially determine the projection in the proper way; or perhaps +the _prospect_ produced, or at least accelerated, the _process_. We +admire much in Scott's elaborate and ingenious defence of Dryden's +change of faith; and are ready to grant that it was only a Pyrrhonist, +not a Protestant, who became a Papist after all--but there was, as Dr +Johnson also thinks, an ugly _coincidence_ between the pension and the +conversion. Grant that it was not bestowed for the first time by James, +it had been withheld by him, and its restoration immediately followed +the change of his faith. Dr Johnson was pleased, when Andrew Miller said +that he "thanked God he was done with him," to know that Miller "thanked +God for anything;" and so, when we consider the blasphemy, profanity, +and filth of Dryden's plays, and the unsettled and veering state of his +religious and political opinions, we are almost glad to find him +becoming "anything," although it was only the votary of a dead and +corrupted form of Christianity. You like to see the fierce, capricious, +and destructive torrent fixed, although it be fixed in ice. + +That he found comfort in his new religion, and proved his sincerity by +rearing up his children in the faith which his wife had also embraced, +and by remaining a Roman Catholic after the Revolution, and to his own +pecuniary loss, has often been asserted. But surely there is a point +where the most inconsistent man is obliged to stop, if he would escape +the character of an absolute weather-cock; and that there are charms and +comforts in the Popish creed for one who felt with Dryden, that he had, +partly in his practice, and far more in his writings, sinned against the +laws of morality and common decency, we readily grant. Whether these +charms he legitimate, and these comforts sound, is a very different +question. Had Dryden, besides, turned Protestant again, we question if +it would have saved him his laureate pensions, and it would certainly +have blasted him for ever, under the charge of ingratitude to his +benefactor James. On the whole, this passage of the poet's life is not +very creditable to his memory, and his indiscriminate admirers had +better let it alone. It would have strained the ingenuity and the +enthusiasm of Claud Halcro himself to have extracted matter for a +panegyrical ode on this conversion of "glorious John." + +Admitted into the bosom of the Church, he soon found that he must prove +his faith by his works. He was employed by James to defend the reasons +of conversion to the Catholic faith alleged by Anne Duchess of York, and +the two other papers on the same subject which, found in Charles' strong +box, James had imprudently given to the world. This led him to a contest +with Stillingfleet, in which Dryden came off only second best. He next, +in an embowered walk, in a country retirement at Rushton, near his +birthplace, composed his strange, unequal, but brilliant and ingenious +poem, "The Hind and the Panther," the object of which was to advocate +King James' repeal of the Test Act, and to prove the immeasurable +superiority of the Church of Rome to that of England, as well as to all +the dissenting sects. This piece produced a prodigious clamour against +the author. Its plan was pronounced ridiculous--its argument +one-sided--its zeal assumed--and Montague and Prior, two young men then +rising into eminence, wrote a clever parody on it, entitled the "Town +and Country Mouse." In addition to this, he wrote a translation of +Varilla's "History of Heresies," and a life of Francis Xavier, the +famous apostle of the Indies, whose singular story, a tale of heroic +endurance and unexampled labours, but bedropt with the most flagrant +falsehoods, whether it be read in Dryden's easy and fascinating +narrative, or in the more gorgeous and coloured account of Sir James +Stephen, in the "Edinburgh Review," forms one of the most impressive +displays of human strength and folly, of the greatness of devoted +enthusiasm, and of the weakness and credulity of abject superstition. + +In spite of all these attempts to bolster up a tottering throne and an +_effete_ faith, the Revolution came, and Dryden's hopes and prospects +sank like a vision of the night. And now came the hour of his enemies' +revenge! How the Settles, the Shadwells, and the Ravenscrofts, rejoiced +at the downfall of their great foe! and what ironical condolence, or +bitter satirical exultation, they poured over his humiliation! And, +worst of all, he durst not reply. "His powers of satire," says Scott, +"at this period, were of no more use to Dryden than a sword to a man who +cannot draw it." The fate of Milton in miniature had now befallen him; +and it says much for the strength of his mind, that, as in Milton's +case, Dryden's purest and best titles to fame date from his discomfiture +and degradation. Antæus-like, he had now reached the ground, and the +touch of the ground to him, as to all giants, was inspiration. + +His history, from this date, becomes, still more than in the former +portions of it, a history of his publications. He was forced back by +necessity to the stage. In 1690, and in the next two years, he produced +four dramas,--one of them, indeed, adapted from the French, but the +other three, original; and one, Don Sebastian, deemed to rank among the +best of his dramatic works. In 1693, another volume of miscellanies, +with more translations, appeared. He also published, about this time, a +new version of "Juvenal and Persius," portions of which were contributed +by his sons John and Charles. His last play, "Love Triumphant," was +enacted--as his first, the "Wild Gallant," had been--without success; +and it is remarkable, that while the curtain dropped heavily and slowly +upon Dryden, it was opening upon Congreve, whose first comedy was +enacted the same year with Dryden's last, and who became the lawful heir +of much of Dryden's licentiousness, and of more than his elegance and +wit. + +He next commenced the translation of "Virgil," which in the course of +three years he completed, and gave to the world. It was published in +July 1697. He had dashed it off with the utmost freedom and fire, and no +work was ever more thoroughly identified with its translator. It is +_Dryden's_ "Virgil," every line of it. A great and almost national +interest was felt in the undertaking, such as would be felt now, were it +announced that Tennyson was engaged in a translation of Goethe. Addison +supplied arguments, and an essay on the "Georgics." A dedication to the +new king was expected by the Court, but inexorably declined by the poet. +It came forth, notwithstanding, amidst universal applause; nor was the +remuneration for the times small, amounting to at least £1200 or £1400. + +So soon as this great work was off his hands, by way, we suppose, as +Scott was used to say, of "refreshing the machiner," Dryden wrote his +famous ode, "Alexander's Feast," for a meeting of the Musical Society on +St Cecilia's day,--wrote it, according to Bolingbroke, at one sitting, +although he spent, it is said, a fortnight in polishing it into its +present rounded and perfect form. It took the public by storm, and +excited a greater sensation than any of the poet's productions, except +"Absalom and Achitophel." Dryden himself, when complimented on it as the +finest ode in the language, owned the soft impeachment, and said, "A +nobler ode never was produced, and never will;" and in a manner, if not +absolutely, he was right. + +Dryden was now again at sea for a subject. Sometimes he revolved once +more his favourite plan of an Epic poem, and "Edward the Black Prince" +loomed for a season before him as its hero. Sometimes he looked up with +an ambitious eye to Homer, and we see his hand "pawing" like the hoof of +the war-horse in Job, as he smelled his battle afar off, and panted to +do for Achilles and Hector what he had done for Turnus and Æneas. He +meant to have turned the "Iliad" into blank verse; but, after all, +translated the only book of it which he published into rhyme. But, in +fine, he determined to modernise some of the fine old tales of Boccacio +and Chaucer; and in March 1699-1700, appeared his brilliant "Fables," +with some other poems from his pen, for which he received £300 at +Jonson's hands. + +This was his last publication of size, although he was labouring on when +death surprised him, and within the last three weeks of his life had +written the "Secular Margin," and the prologue and the epilogue to +Fletcher's "Pilgrim,"--productions remarkable as showing the ruling +passion strong in death,--the squabbling litterateur and satirist +combating and kicking his enemies to the last,--Jeremy Collier, for +having accused him of licentiousness in his dramas; Milbourne, for +having attacked his "Georgics;" and poor Blackmore for having doubted +the orthodoxy of "Religio Laici," and the decency of "Amphitryon" and +"Limberham." + +He had now to go a pilgrimage himself to a far country. He had long been +troubled with gout and gravel; but next came erysipelas in one of his +legs; and at last mortification, superinduced by a neglected +inflammation in his toe, carried him off at three o'clock on Wednesday +morning the 1st of May 1700. He died a Roman Catholic, and in "entire +resignation to the Divine will." He died so poor, that he was buried by +subscription, Lords Montague and Jeffries delaying the interment till +the necessary funds were raised. The body, after lying embalmed and in +state for ten days in the College of Physicians, was buried with great +pomp in Westminster Abbey, where now, between the graves of Chaucer and +Cowley, reposes the dust of Dryden. + +His lady survived him fourteen years, and died insane. His eldest son +Charles was drowned in 1704 at Datchett, while seeking to swim across +the Thames. John died at Rome of a fever in 1701. Erasmus, who was +supposed to inherit his mother's malady, died in 1710; and the title +which he had derived from Sir Robert passed to his uncle, the brother of +the poet, and thence to his grandson. Sir Henry Edward Leigh Dryden, of +Canons-Ashby, is now the representative of the ancient family. + +We reserve till our next volume a criticism on Dryden's genius and +works. As to his habits and manners, little is known, and that little is +worn threadbare by his many biographers. In appearance he became, in +his maturer years, fat and florid, and obtained the name of "Poet +Squab." His portraits show a shrewd, but rather sluggish face, with long +gray hair floating down his cheeks, not unlike Coleridge, but without +his dreamy eye, like a nebulous star. His conversation was less +sprightly than solid. Sometimes men suspected that he had "sold all his +thoughts to his booksellers." His manners are by his friends pronounced +"modest;" and the word modest has since been amiably confounded by his +biographers with "pure." Bashful he seems to have been to awkwardness; +but he was by no means a model of the virtues. He loved to sit at Will's +coffee-house, and be the arbiter of criticism. His favourite stimulus +was snuff, and his favourite amusement angling. He had a bad address, a +down look, and little of the air of a gentleman. Addison is reported to +have taught him latterly the intemperate use of wine; but this was said +by Dennis, who admired Dryden, and who hated Addison; and his testimony +is impotent against either party. We admire the simplicity of the +critics who can read his plays, and then find himself a model of +continence and virtue. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth +speaketh;" and a more polluted mouth than Dryden's never uttered its +depravities on the stage. We cannot, in fine, call him personally a very +honest, a very high-minded, or a very good man, although we are willing +to count him amiable, ready to make very considerable allowance for his +period and his circumstances, not disposed to think him so much a +renegado and deliberate knave as a fickle, needy, and childish +changeling, in the matter of his "perversion" to Popery; although we +yield to none in admiration of the varied, highly-cultured, masculine, +and magnificent forces of his genius. + + + + +CONTENTS + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS + + HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL + + ASTRÆA REDUX. A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN + OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II., 1660 + + TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION + + TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE. PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662 + + SATIRE ON THE DUTCH + + TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS, ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED + BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665; AND ON HER + JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH + + ANNUS MIRABILIS: THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. AN HISTORICAL POEM + + AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. BY MR DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE, 1679 + + ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL + + THE MEDAL. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION + + RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. AN EPISTLE + + THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO + THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES II + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED + + THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. A POEM, IN THREE PARTS + + MAC FLECKNOE + + BRITANNIA REDIVIVA. A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688 + + + + +DRYDEN'S POEMS. + + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS.[1] + + + Must noble Hastings immaturely die, + The honour of his ancient family; + Beauty and learning thus together meet, + To bring a winding for a wedding-sheet? + Must Virtue prove Death's harbinger? must she, + With him expiring, feel mortality? + Is death, Sin's wages, Grace's now? shall Art + Make us more learned, only to depart? + If merit be disease; if virtue death; + To be good, not to be; who'd then bequeath 10 + Himself to discipline? who'd not esteem + Labour a crime? study, self-murder deem? + Our noble youth now have pretence to be + Dunces securely, ignorant healthfully. + Rare linguist, whose worth speaks itself, whose praise, + Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise: + 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. 20 + His native soil was the four parts o' the Earth; + All Europe was too narrow for his birth. + A young apostle; and, with reverence may + I speak it, 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, his sublime soul + Did move on Virtue's and on Learning's pole: + Whose regular motions better to our view, + Than Archimedes[2] sphere, the Heavens did show. 30 + Graces and virtues, languages and arts, + Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts. + Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear + Scatter'd in others; all, as in their sphere, + Were fix'd, conglobate in his soul; and thence + Shone through his body, with sweet influence; + Letting their glories so on each limb fall, + The whole frame render'd was celestial. + Come, learned Ptolemy[3] and trial make, + If thou this hero's altitude canst take: 40 + But that transcends thy skill; thrice happy all, + Could we but prove thus astronomical. + Lived Tycho[4] 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 + 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 shrouds + Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds: 50 + 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? + So many spots, like næves on Venus' soil, + One jewel set off with so many a foil; + Blisters with pride swell'd, which through's flesh did sprout + Like rose-buds, stuck i' th' lily-skin about. + Each little pimple had a tear in it, + To wail the fault its rising did commit: 60 + Which, rebel-like, with its own lord at strife, + Thus made an insurrection 'gainst his life. + Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin, + The cabinet of a richer soul within? + No comet need foretell his change drew on, + Whose corpse might seem a constellation. + Oh! had he died of old, how great a strife + Had been, who from his death should draw their life! + Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er + Seneca, Cato, Numa, Cæsar, were,-- 70 + Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this + An universal metempsychosis! + Must all these aged sires in one funeral + Expire? all die in one so young, so small? + Who, had he lived his life out, his great fame + Had swoln '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: 80 + Must then old three-legg'd graybeards, with their gout, + Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three long ages out? + Time's offals, only fit for the hospital! + Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal! + Must drunkards, lechers, spent with sinning, live + With such helps as broths, possets, physic give? + None live, but such as should die? shall we meet + With none but ghostly fathers in the street? + Grief makes me rail; sorrow will force its way; + And showers of tears, tempestuous sighs best lay. 90 + The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes + Will weep out lasting streams of elegies. + + But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone, + Now thy beloved, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, + Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply + Medicines, when thy balm was no remedy,-- + With greater than Platonic love, O 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; 100 + 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, + Yet but the irradiations which he cast. + Erect no mausoleums: for his best + Monument is his spouse's marble breast. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: 'Lord Hastings:' the nobleman herein lamented, was styled +Henry Lord Hastings, son to Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon. He died before +his father in 1649, being then in his twentieth year, and on the day +preceding that which had been fixed for his marriage.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Archimedes:' a famous geometrician, who was killed at the +taking of Syracuse, in the 542d year of Rome. He made a glass sphere, +wherein the motions of the heavenly bodies were wonderfully described.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Ptolemy:' Claudius Ptolemæus, a celebrated mathematician +in the reign of M. Aurelius Antoninus.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Tycho:' Tycho Brahe] + + * * * * * + + + + +HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL, + + WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL. + + 1 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[5] fly. + + 2 Though our best notes are treason to his fame, + 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. + + 3 Though in his praise no arts can liberal be, + Since they, whose muses have the highest flown, + Add not to his immortal memory, + But do an act of friendship to their own: + + 4 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, + And claim a title in him by their praise. + + 5 How shall I then begin, or where conclude, + To draw a fame so truly circular? + For in a round what order can be show'd, + Where all the parts so equal perfect are? + + 6 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. + + 7 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. + + 8 Fortune (that easy mistress to the young, + But to her ancient servants coy and hard), + Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, + When she her best-loved Pompey did discard. + + 9 He, private, mark'd the faults 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, + 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. + + 12 War, our consumption, was their gainful trade: + We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain; + He fought to end our fighting, and essay'd + To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. + + 13 Swift and resistless through the land he past, + Like that bold Greek[6] who did the East subdue, + And made to battles such heroic haste, + As if on wings of victory he flew. + + 14 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. + + 15 His palms,[7] 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. + + 16 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, + Which war had banish'd, and did now restore: + Bologna's walls[8] thus mounted in the air, + To seat themselves more surely than before. + + 17 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes; + And treacherous Scotland, to no interest true, + Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose + Her land to civilize, as to subdue. + + 18 Nor was he like those stars which, only shine, + When to pale mariners they storms portend: + He had his calmer influence, and his mien + Did love and majesty together blend. + + 19 'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe; + And naturally all souls to his did bow, + As wands[9] of divination downward draw, + And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. + + 20 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. + + 21 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. + + 22 Fame of the asserted sea through Europe blown, + Made France and Spain ambitious of his love; + Each knew that side must conquer he would own; + And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. + + 23 No sooner was the Frenchman's cause[10] embraced, + Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd; + His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast, + Though Indian mines were in the other laid. + + 24 When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right: + For though some meaner artist's skill were shown + In mingling colours or in placing light, + Yet still the fair designment was his own. + + 25 For from all tempers he could service draw; + The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew; + And, as the confidant of Nature, saw + How she complexions did divide and brew. + + 26 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. + + 27 When such heroic virtue Heaven sets out, + The stars, like commons, sullenly obey; + Because it drains them when it comes about, + And therefore is a tax they seldom pay. + + 28 From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, + Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend; + Since their commencement to his arms they owe, + If springs as high as fountains may ascend. + + 29 He made us freemen of the Continent,[11] + Whom Nature did like captives treat before; + To nobler preys the English lion sent, + And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. + + 30 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[12] were her guard. + + 31 By his command we boldly cross'd the line, + And bravely fought where southern stars arise; + We traced the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine, + And that which bribed our fathers made our prize. + + 32 Such was our prince; yet own'd a soul above + The highest acts it could produce to show: + Thus poor mechanic arts in public move, + Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go. + + 33 Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less, + But when fresh laurels courted him to live: + He seem'd but to prevent some new success, + As if above what triumphs earth could give. + + 34 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,[13] under spoils decease. + + 35 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[14] conferr'd. + + 36 No civil broils have since his death arose, + But faction now by habit does obey; + And wars have that respect for his repose, + As winds for halcyons, when they breed at sea. + + 37 His ashes in a peaceful urn[15] shall rest; + His name a great example stands, to show + How strangely high endeavours may be blest, + Where piety and valour jointly go. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 5: 'Sacred eagle:' the Romans let fly an eagle from the pile +of a dead Emperor.] + +[Footnote 6: 'Bold Greek:' Alexander the Great.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Palms' were thought to grow best under pressure.] + +[Footnote 8: 'Bologna's walls,' &c.: alluding to a Popish story about +the wall of Bologna, on which was an image of the Virgin, being blown +up, and falling exactly into its place again.] + +[Footnote 9: 'Wands:' see the 'Antiquary.'] + +[Footnote 10: 'Frenchman's cause:' the treaty of alliance which Cromwell +entered into with France against the Spaniards.] + +[Footnote 11: 'Freemen of the Continent:' by the taking of Dunkirk.] + +[Footnote 12: 'Alexander:' Alexander VII., at this time Pope.] + +[Footnote 13: 'Vestal:' Tarpeia.] + +[Footnote 14: 'Loud sighs:' the tempest which occurred at Cromwell's +death.] + +[Footnote 15: 'Peaceful urn:' Dryden no true prophet--Cromwell's bones +having been dragged out of the royal vault, and exposed on the gibbet in +1660.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ASTRÆA REDUX. + +A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES +II., 1660. + + "Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna."--VIRG. + + "The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, + Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times + Roll round again." + + Now with a general peace the world was blest, + While ours, a world divided from the rest, + A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far + Than arms, a sullen interval of war: + Thus when black clouds draw down the labouring skies, + 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,[16] like restless billows tost, + 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 bequeath'd. + And Heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate, + For France and Spain did miracles create; + Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, + As nature bred, and interest did increase. + We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride[17] + Must grow a lily to the lily's side; + While our cross stars denied us Charles' bed, + Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed. 20 + For his long absence Church and State did groan; + Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne: + Experienced age in deep despair was lost, + To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd: + Youth that with joys had unacquainted been, + Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen: + We thought our sires, not with their own content, + Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. + Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt 30 + 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, + Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown. + Thus when the bold Typhoeus 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?) 40 + 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, + They own'd a lawless, savage liberty; + Like that our painted ancestors so prized, + Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized. + How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus + Was forced to suffer for himself and us! 50 + He, tost by fate, and hurried up and down, + Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, + Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, + But found his life too true a pilgrimage. + Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, + His manly courage overcame his fate. + His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, + Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. + 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, + Must be at once resolved and skilful too. + He would not, like soft Otho,[18] hope prevent, + But stay'd, and suffer'd fortune to repent. + These virtues Galba[19] in a stranger sought, + And Piso to adopted empire brought. 70 + How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, + That must his sufferings both regret and bless? + For when his early valour Heaven had 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; 80 + And when restored, made his proud neighbours rue + Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. + Nor is he only by afflictions shown + To conquer other realms, but rule his own: + Recovering hardly what he lost before, + 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: 90 + As they who first proportion understand, + With easy practice reach a master's hand. + Well might the ancient poets then confer + On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor, + Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, + We light alone in dark afflictions find. + In such adversities to sceptre train'd, + The name of Great his famous grandsire[20] gain'd: + Who yet a king alone in name and right, + With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; 100 + Shock'd by a covenanting league's vast powers, + As holy and as catholic as ours: + Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, + Her blows, not shook, but riveted, his throne. + + Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, + No action leave to busy chronicles: + Such, whose supine felicity but makes + In story chasms, in epoch's mistakes; + O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, + Till, with his silent sickle, they are mown. 110 + Such is not Charles' 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, which, secure before, + 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[21] who the sacred altar strews? + To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: 120 + A bull to thee, Portumnus,[22] shall be slain, + A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main: + For those loud storms that did against him roar, + Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore. + Yet as wise artists mix their colours so, + That by degrees they from each other go; + Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring 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. 130 + 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, + 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: 140 + 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's[23] forward valour only served to show + He durst that duty pay we all did owe. + The attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed 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. 150 + 'Twas Monk whom Providence design'd to loose + Those real bonds false freedom did impose. + The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scene, + Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean, + To see small clues draw vastest weights along, + Not in their bulk, but in their order, strong. + Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore + Smiles to that changed face that wept before. + With ease such fond chimeras we pursue, + As fancy frames for fancy to subdue: 160 + 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 + The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, + Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense; + The springs of motion from the seat of sense. + 'Twas not the hasty product of a day, + But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170 + He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, + Would let him play 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, + 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, 180 + 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, + 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. 190 + Religion's name against itself was made; + The shadow served the substance to invade: + Like zealous missions, they did care pretend + Of souls in show, but made the gold their end. + The incensed powers beheld with scorn from high + An heaven so far distant from the sky, + 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. 200 + Thus Sforza, cursed with a too fertile brain, + Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain. + Henceforth their fougue[24] must spend at lesser rate, + Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate. + Suffer'd to live, they are like helots set, + 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 + Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore, + To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made + So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade. + Oh! had you seen from Schevelin's[25] barren shore, + (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) 220 + Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring + True sorrow, Holland to regret a king! + While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, + And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied. + The wavering streamers, flags, and standard out, + The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout: + And last the cannon's voice, that shook the skies, + And as it fares in sudden ecstasies, + At once bereft us both of ears and eyes. + The Naseby,[26] now no longer England's shame, 230 + But better to be lost in Charles' name, + (Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets) + Receives her lord: the joyful London meets + The princely York, himself alone a freight; + The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's[27] 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' voyage bless'd, 240 + Which in his right had miracles confess'd. + The winds that never moderation knew, + Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew; + Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge + Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of their charge. + The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear, + In richer azure never did appear; + Proud her returning prince to entertain + With the submitted fasces of the main. + And welcome now, great monarch, to your own! 250 + Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion: + It is no longer motion cheats your view, + As you meet it, the land approacheth you. + The land returns, and, in the white it wears, + The marks of penitence and sorrow bears. + But you, whose goodness your descent doth show, + Your heavenly parentage and earthly too; + By that same mildness, which your father's crown + Before did ravish, shall secure your own. + Not tied to rules of policy, you find 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, 270 + 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 delight, 280 + Those, who had seen you, court a second sight; + Preventing still your steps, and making haste + To meet you often wheresoe'er you past. + How shall I speak of that triumphant day, + When you renew'd the expiring pomp of May![28] + (A month that owns an interest in your name: + You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.) + That star[29] that at your birth shone out so bright, + It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light, + Did once again its potent fires renew, 290 + 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. + Our nation with united interest blest, + Not now content to poise, 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, 300 + Besiege the petty monarchs of the land: + And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down, + Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown. + Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free, + Our merchants shall no more adventurers be: + Nor in the farthest East those dangers fear, + Which humble Holland must dissemble here. + Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes; + For what the powerful takes not, he bestows: + And France, that did an exile's presence fear, 310 + 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 those, your edicts some reclaim from sin, + But most your life and blest example win. + 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, 320 + By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne! + When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshow + The world a monarch, and that monarch you. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 16: 'Ambitious Swede:' Charles X., named also Gustavus, nephew +to the great Gustavus Adolphus.] + +[Footnote 17: 'Iberian bride:' the Infanta of Spain was betrothed to +Louis XIV.] + +[Footnote 18: 'Otho:' see Juvenal.] + +[Footnote 19: 'Galba:' Roman emperor, who adopted Piso.] + +[Footnote 20: 'Famous grandsire:' Charles II. was grandson by the +mother's side to Henry IV. of France.] + +[Footnote 21: 'With alga,' &c. : these lines refer to the ceremonies used +by such heathens as escaped from shipwreck. _Alga marina_, or sea-weed, +was strewed about the altar, and a lamb sacrificed to the winds.] + +[Footnote 22: 'Portumnus:' Palæmon, or Melicerta, god of shipwrecked +mariners.] + +[Footnote 23: 'Booth's:' Sir George Booth, an unsuccessful and premature +warrior on the Royal side in 1659.] + +[Footnote 24: 'Fougue:' a French word used for the fire and spirit of a +horse.] + +[Footnote 25: 'Schevelin:' a village about a mile from the Hague, at +which Charles II. embarked for England.] + +[Footnote 26: 'Naseby:' the ship in which Charles II. returned from +exile.] + +[Footnote 27: 'Great Gloster:' Henry, Duke of Gloucester, third son of +Charles I., landed at Dover with his brother in 1660, and died of the +smallpox soon afterwards.] + +[Footnote 28: Charles entered London on the 29th of May.] + +[Footnote 29: 'Star:' said to have shone on the day of Charles' birth, +and outshone the sun.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. + +A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION. + + In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, + When life and sin one common tomb had found, + The first small prospect of a rising hill + With various notes of joy the ark did fill: + Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd, + It left behind it false and slippery ground; + And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd, + Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd. + Thus, Royal Sir, to see you landed here, + Was cause enough of triumph for a year: 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, + 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. 20 + We had not yet exhausted all our store, + 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, 30 + To grace this happy day, while you appear, + Not king of us alone, but of the year. + All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart: + Of your own pomp, yourself the greatest part: + Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim, + And Heaven this day is feasted with your name. + Your cavalcade the fair spectators view, + From their high standings, yet look up to you. + From your brave train each singles out a prey, + And longs to date a conquest from your day. 40 + Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, + Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close; + And glorious dreams stand ready to restore + The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. + Next to the sacred temple you are led, + 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. 50 + 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, + And lie like bees in their own sweetness drown'd. + He that brought peace, all discord could atone, + His name is music of itself alone. + Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, + And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread 60 + 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, + 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: 70 + We know those blessings, which we must possess, + And judge of future by past happiness. + No promise can oblige a prince so much + Still to be good, as long to have been such. + A noble emulation heats your breast, + 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. 80 + 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 Cæsar 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 + From milder heavens you bring, without their crimes. 90 + 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. 100 + Hither in summer evenings you repair + To taste the _fraicheur_ of the purer air: + Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves, + With Cæsar's heart that rose above the waves. + More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays; + 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. 110 + Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide, + Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide: + Here in a royal bed[30] the waters sleep; + When tired at sea, within this bay they creep. + Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects, + 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. 120 + 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, + While that with incense does a god implore. + Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose, + This must receive a crown, or that must lose. + Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old, + Are answers sought, and destinies foretold: 130 + Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows, + And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs. + Your subjects, while you weigh the nation's fate, + Suspend to both their doubtful love or hate: + Choose only, Sir, that so they may possess, + With their own peace their children's happiness. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 30: 'Royal bed:' the river led from the Thames through St +James' Park.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.[31] + +PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662. + + My Lord, + While flattering crowds officiously appear + To give themselves, not you, a happy year; + And by the greatness of their presents prove + How much they hope, but not how well they love; + The Muses, who your early courtship boast, + 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; + From their own order chose, in whose high state, + They think themselves the second choice of fate. + When our great monarch into exile went, + Wit and religion suffer'd banishment. + Thus once, when Troy was wrapp'd in fire and smoke, + The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook; 20 + 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. 30 + + In open prospect nothing bounds our eye, + Until the earth seems join'd unto the sky: + So, in this hemisphere, our utmost view + Is only bounded by our king and you: + Our sight is limited where you are join'd, + 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. 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, 50 + In your tribunal most herself does please; + There only smiles because she lives at ease; + And, like young David, finds her strength the more, + When disencumber'd from those arms she wore. + Heaven would our royal master should exceed + Most in that virtue which we most did need; + And his mild father (who too late did find + All mercy vain but what with power was join'd) + His fatal goodness left to fitter times, + Not to increase, but to absolve, our crimes: 60 + But when the heir of this vast treasure knew + How large a legacy was left to you + (Too great for any subject to retain), + He wisely tied it to the crown again: + Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, + As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their 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: 70 + Which should you veil, we might unwind the clew, + As men do nature, till we came to you. + And as the Indies were not found, before + Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore, + The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd, + 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: 80 + 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, + 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, 90 + 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, + Even 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, 100 + When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound, + She struck the warlike spear into the ground; + Which sprouting leaves did suddenly enclose, + And peaceful olives shaded as they rose. + + How strangely active are the arts of peace, + 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 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. + Let envy then those crimes within you see, + From which the happy never must be free; 120 + Envy, that does with misery reside, + The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride. + Think it not hard, if at so cheap a rate + You can secure the constancy of fate, + Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem, + By lesser ills the greater to redeem. + Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call, + But drops of heat, that in the sunshine fall. + + You have already wearied fortune so, + She cannot further be your friend or foe; 130 + But sits all breathless, and admires to feel + A fate so weighty, that it stops her wheel. + In all things else above our humble fate, + Your equal mind yet swells not into state, + But, like some mountain in those happy isles, + 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: 140 + 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, the impression wears + 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. 150 + 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, + Because the centre of it is above. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 31: 'Hyde:' the far-famed historian Clarendon.] + + * * * * * + + + + +SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.[32] + +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662. + + 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 compliment; + The dotage of some Englishmen is such, + 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 Guinea-trade, the herrings too; + Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. 10 + 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, + Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare. + Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true, + They have no more religion, faith! than you. + Interest's the god they worship in their state, + And we, I take it, have not much of that 20 + 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, + 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. 30 + Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; + For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: + And their new commonwealth has set them free + Only from honour and civility. + Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, + 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'[33] touch can cure the tumour. 40 + As Cato fruits of Afric did display, + Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: + All loyal English will like him conclude; + Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 32: 'Satire:' the same nearly with his prologue to 'Amboyna.'] + +[Footnote 33: 'Two kings:' alluding to projected union between France +and England.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS,[34] + +ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, +1665. 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 + (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, + 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 pass'd; + Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow, + These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. 20 + 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. + 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,[35] 30 + 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. + With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn, + Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. + Fortune and victory he did pursue, + To bring them as his slaves to wait on you. + Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame, 40 + And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame. + Then, as you meant to spread another way + By land your conquests, far as his by sea, + Leaving our southern clime you march'd along + The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupids strong. + Like commons the nobility resort + In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court: + To welcome your approach the vulgar run, + Like some new envoy from the distant sun; + And country beauties by their lovers go, 50 + 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, + And round him the pleased audience clap their wings. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 34: 'The Duchess:' daughter to the great Earl of Clarendon; +married privately to Duke of York. For account of this victory, see Hume +or Macaulay. The duchess accompanied the duke to Harwich, and thence +made a progress north-wards, referred to here.] + +[Footnote 35: 'Heard the cannon play:' the cannon were heard in London a +hundred miles from Lowestoff where the battle was fought.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ANNUS MIRABILIS: + + +THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. + +AN HISTORICAL POEM. + + * * * * * + +AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, IN A LETTER TO THE HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT +HOWARD. + + +Sir,--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 further 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 having served 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 nobles 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 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 Æneids. 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 slavery of any rhyme; and were less constrained in the +quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with spondees or +dactyls, besides so many other helps of grammatical figures, for the +lengthening or 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 is to carry it +further 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 among 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 +Alexandrius, 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. + + Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, + Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, Poeta salutor? + +For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the sea, yet I have +thought it no shame to learn: and if I have made some few mistakes, it +is only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity +to correct them; the whole poem being first written, and now sent you +from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any seaman. +Yet though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than +recompensed by the pleasure. I found myself so warm in celebrating the +praises of military men, two such especially as the prince[36] and +general, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my +ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that, as they are incomparably +the best subject I ever had, excepting only the royal family, so also, +that this I have written of them is much better than what I have +performed on any other. I have been forced to help out other arguments; +but this has been bountiful to me: they have been low and barren of +praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful; but +here--_Omnia sponte suâ reddit justissima tellus_. I have had a large, a +fair, and a pleasant field; so fertile that, without my cultivating, it +has given me two harvests in a summer, and in both 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 further +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 designed, 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. It is 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 jingle 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 then the first happiness of the poet's +imagination is properly invention or finding of the thought; the second +is fancy, or the variation, deriving or moulding of that thought, as the +judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or +the art of clothing and adorning that thought, so found 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 among the +poets; for the latter, Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and +affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, +or extremely discomposed by one. His words therefore are the least part +of his care; for he pictures 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, anything 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 +Althæa, 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 so corpore miscet. + + +We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus breathing +beauty upon her son Æneas. + + --lumenque juventæ + Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflârat 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 Æneas: 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 +superabat 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 egregiè, 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. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own +the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my master +in this poem: I have followed him everywhere, I 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; 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, habebunt verba fidem, si + Græco fonte cadunt, parcè 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! 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 antique gestures, at which we cannot +forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though the +same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the historic and +panegyric, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of sculpture is +to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, +_Stantes in curribus Æmiliani_, heroes drawn in their triumphal +chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of +Virgil, _Spirantia mollius oera_: 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 his 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 further 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, it is 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; _Nec sunt parum +multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant_: I am rather too secure +of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you +more remiss in 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 fame and +reputation; and therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my poem +fairer by many of your blots; if not, you know the story of the gamester +who married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the +portion, christened all the 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, it is +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, sir, +the most obedient, and most faithful of your servants, + +JOHN DRYDEN. + +From Charlton in Wiltshire, _Nov_. 10, 1666. + + * * * * * + + 1 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. + + 2 Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow, + 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. + + 3 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat; + In eastern quarries ripening precious dew: + For them the Idumæan balm did sweat, + And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew. + + 4 The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year; + Each waxing moon supplied her watery store, + To swell those tides, which from the line did bear + Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore. + + 5 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. + + 6 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. + + 7 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 his vast designs withstand. + + 8 See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, + To render us his timely friendship vain: + And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, + He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. + + 9 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 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. + + 12 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. + + 13 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, + Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain; + Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecks rise, + It would in richer showers descend again. + + 14 At length resolved to 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. + + 15 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. + + 16 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. + + 17 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. + + 18 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. + + 19 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. + + 20 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[37] should be slain. + + 21 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. + + 22 Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expired, + 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. + + 23 To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, + Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed: + So reverently men quit the open air, + When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad. + + 24 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. + + 25 Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, + Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring: + There first the north's cold bosom spices bore, + And winter brooded on the eastern spring. + + 26 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. + + 27 Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, + The English undertake the unequal war: + Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, + Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare. + + 28 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. + + 29 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. + + 30 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. + + 31 Nor wholly lost[38] 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. + + 32 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. + + 33 The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, + Prepared 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. + + 34 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 promised to return. + + 35 Such are the proud designs of human kind, + And so we suffer shipwreck every where! + Alas, what port can such a pilot find, + Who in the night of fate must blindly steer! + + 36 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. + + 37 Let Munster's prelate[39] 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! + + 38 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. + + 39 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove; + The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand: + And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, + Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand. + + 40 That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, + Who envies us what he wants power to enjoy; + Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, + And weak assistance will his friends destroy. + + 41 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. + + 42 With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: + France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave, + But when with one three nations join to fight, + They silently confess that one more brave. + + 43 Lewis had chased the English from his shore; + But Charles the French as subjects does invite: + Would Heaven for each some Solomon restore, + Who, by their mercy, may decide their right! + + 44 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. + + 45 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. + + 46 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. + + 47 With equal power he does two chiefs[40] create, + 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. + + 48 Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, + Yet neither envious of the other's praise; + Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, + Like mighty partners equally they raise. + + 49 The prince long time had courted fortune's love, + But once possess'd, did absolutely reign: + Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, + And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. + + 50 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. + + 51 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. + + 52 With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, + To infect a navy with their gaudy fears; + To make slow fights, and victories but vain: + But war severely like itself appears. + + 53 Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, + They make that warmth in others they expect; + Their valour works like bodies on a glass, + And does its image on their men project. + + 54 Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, + In number, and a famed commander, bold: + The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, + Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold. + + 55 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. + + 56 Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight; + Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air: + The Elean plains could boast no nobler sight, + When struggling champions did their bodies bare. + + 57 Borne each by other in a distant line, + The sea-built forts in dreadful order move: + So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, + But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove. + + 58 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, + To finish all the deaths they left behind. + + 59 On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, + Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go: + Such port the elephant bears, and so defied + By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe. + + 60 And as the build, 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. + + 61 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, + Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives: + All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, + He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves. + + 62 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought; + But he who meets all danger with disdain, + Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, + And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. + + 63 At this excess of courage, all amazed, + The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: + With such respect in enter'd Rome they gazed, + Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw. + + 64 And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, + Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek + Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, + And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. + + 65 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. + + 66 Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, + More fierce the important quarrel to decide: + Like swans, in long array his vessels show, + Whose crests advancing do the waves divide. + + 67 They charge, recharge, and all along the sea + They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet; + Berkeley[41] alone, who nearest danger lay, + Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet. + + 68 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. + + 69 In the 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. + + 70 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. + + 71 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. + + 72 The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, + Till from their main-top joyful news they hear + Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies, + And in their colours Belgian lions bear. + + 73 Our watchful general had discern'd from far + This mighty succour, which made glad the foe: + He sigh'd, but, like a father of the war, + His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow. + + 74 His wounded men he first sends off to shore, + Never till now unwilling to obey: + They, not their wounds, but want of strength deplore, + And think them happy who with him can stay. + + 75 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. + + 76 If number English courages could quell, + We should at first have shunn'd, not met, our foes, + Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell: + Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows. + + 77 He said, nor needed more to say: with haste + To their known stations cheerfully they go; + And all at once, disdaining to be last, + Solicit every gale to meet the foe. + + 78 Nor did the encouraged Belgians long delay, + But bold in others, not themselves, they stood: + So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, + But seem'd to wander in a moving wood. + + 79 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, + Till through their bowels we our passage wrought. + + 80 Never had valour, no not ours, before + Done aught 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. + + 81 The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, + And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, + To see this fleet among unequal foes, + By which fate promised them their Charles should rise. + + 82 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, + 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. + + 83 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on: + Such vapours once did fiery Cacus[42] hide: + In these the height of pleased revenge is shown, + Who burn contented by another's side. + + 84 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, + Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, + Two grappling Ætnas on the ocean meet, + And English fires with Belgian flames contend. + + 85 Now at each tack our little fleet grows less; + And like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main: + Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, + While they lose cheaper than the English gain. + + 86 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, + Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, + And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd, + Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind. + + 87 The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, + And sees the groves no shelter can afford, + With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, + Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird. + + 88 Among the Dutch thus Albemarle[43] did fare: + He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly; + Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, + Like falling Cæsar, decently to die. + + 89 Yet pity did his manly spirit move, + To see those perish who so well had fought; + And generously with his despair he strove, + Resolved to live till he their safety wrought. + + 90 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. + + 91 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. + + 92 His fiery cannon did their passage guide, + And following smoke obscured them from the foe: + Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, + By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go. + + 93 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. + + 94 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. + + 95 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. + + 96 So Lybian 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. + + 97 But if some one approach to dare his force, + 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. + + 98 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; + Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore; + And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, + Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore: + + 99 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, + Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, + Upon the deck our careful general stood, + And deeply mused on the succeeding day. + + 100 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. + + 101 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. + + 102 Restless he pass'd the remnant of the night, + Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh: + And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, + With paler fires beheld the eastern sky. + + 103 But now, his stores of ammunition spent, + His naked valour is his only guard; + Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, + And solitary guns are scarcely heard. + + 104 Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, + Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife: + This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, + For all the glories of so great a life. + + 105 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. + + 106 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, + And from that length of time dire omens drew + Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, + Who never fought three days, but to pursue. + + 107 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: + + 108 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, + The broken air loud whistling as she flies: + She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, + And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries. + + 109 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. + + 110 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, + And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain, + And first the martlet meets it in the sky, + And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train. + + 111 With such glad hearts did our despairing men + Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet; + And each ambitiously would claim the ken, + That with first eyes did distant safety meet. + + 112 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, + To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, + Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, + And sheets of lightning blast the standing field. + + 113 Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand, + And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay; + Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, + And seamen with dissembled depths betray. + + 114 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd + This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, + And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, + To tempt his courage with so fair a bait. + + 115 But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, + Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight: + His cold experience tempers all his heat, + And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight. + + 116 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, + And he the substance, not the appearance chose + To rescue one such friend he took more pride, + Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes. + + 117 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, + Rupert and Albemarle together grow; + He joys to have his friend in safety found, + Which he to none but to that friend would owe. + + 118 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, + Now long to execute their spleenful will; + And, in revenge for those three days they tried, + Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still. + + 119 Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, + Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way: + With the first blushes of the morn they meet, + And bring night back upon the new-born day. + + 120 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. + + 121 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. + + 122 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends + His open side, and high above him shows: + Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, + And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows. + + 123 Behind the general mends his weary pace, + And sullenly to his revenge he sails: + So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, + And long behind his wounded volume trails. + + 124 The 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. + + 125 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. + + 126 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. + + 127 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest + Two giant ships, the pride of all the main; + Which with his one so vigorously he prest, + And flew so home they could not rise again. + + 128 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, + In rain upon the passing winds they call: + The passing winds through their torn canvas play, + And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall. + + 129 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, + Dreadful as day let into shades below: + Without, grim Death rides barefaced in their sight, + And urges entering billows as they flow. + + 130 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, + Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore: + All three now helpless by each other lie, + And this offends not, and those fear no more. + + 131 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain + 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. + + 132 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; + His warm breath blows her flix[44] up as she lies; + She trembling creeps upon the ground away, + And looks back to him with beseeching eyes. + + 133 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, + Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on; + For what they to his courage did refuse, + By mortal valour never must be done. + + 134 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. + + 135 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. + + 136 He casts a frown on the departing foe, + And sighs to see him quit the watery field: + His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, + For all the glories which the fight did yield. + + 137 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, + He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch: + He only does his conquest disavow, + And thinks too little what they found too much. + + 138 Return'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay; + No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; + Domestic joys and cares he puts away; + For realms are households which the great must guide. + + 139 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: + + 140 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. + + 141 Heaven ended not the first or second day, + Yet each was perfect to the work design'd; + God and king's work, when they their work survey, + A passive aptness in all subjects find. + + 142 In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, + His plenteous stores do seasoned timber send; + Thither the brawny carpenters repair, + And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend. + + 143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, + His navy's molted wings he imps once more: + Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, + And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore. + + 144 All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm: + Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, + Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm. + And some on bells of tasted lilies play. + + 145 With gluey wax some new foundations 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. + + 146 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. + + 147 With boiling pitch another near at hand, + 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. + + 148 Some the gall'd ropes with dauby marline bind, + Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpaulin coats: + To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, + And one below their ease or stiffness notes. + + 149 Our careful monarch stands in person by, + His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore: + The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, + And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore. + + 150 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 fallen into the road. + + 151 The goodly London in her gallant trim + (The Phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old). + Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, + And on her shadow rides in floating gold. + + 152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to 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. + + 153 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. + + 154 This martial present, piously design'd, + The loyal city give their best-loved King: + And with a bounty ample as the wind, + Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring. + + 155 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. + + 156 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, + An useless drift, which, rudely cut within, + And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, + And cross some rivulet passage did begin. + + 157 In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, + 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. + + 158 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, + When from lost empire he to exile went, + And with the golden age to Tiber steer'd, + Where coin and commerce first he did invent. + + 159 Rude as their ships was navigation then; + No useful compass or meridian known; + Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, + And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone. + + 160 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. + + 161 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. + + 162 The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow, + We, as art's elements, shall understand, + And as by line upon the ocean go, + Whose paths shall be familiar as the land. + + 163 Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce, + By which remotest regions are allied; + Which makes one city of the universe, + Where some may gain, and all may be supplied. + + 164 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, + And view the ocean leaning on the sky: + From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, + And on the lunar world securely pry. + + 165 This I foretell 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. + + 166 O truly royal! who behold the law + And rule of beings in your Maker's mind: + And thence, like limbecks, rich ideas draw, + To fit the levell'd use of human-kind. + + 197 But first the toils of war we must endure, + And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas. + War makes the valiant of his right secure, + And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease. + + 168 Already were the Belgians on our coast, + Whose fleet more mighty every day became + By late success, which they did falsely boast, + And now by first appearing seem'd to claim. + + 169 Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, + They knew to manage war with wise delay: + Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, + And by their pride their prudence did betray. + + 170 Nor stay'd the English long; but, well supplied, + Appear as numerous as the insulting foe: + The combat now by courage must be tried, + And the success the braver nation show. + + 171 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. + + 172 Old expert Allen,[45] 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. + + 173 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 + The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold. + + 174 With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, + Whom his high courage to command had brought: + Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save, + And in his burning ship undaunted fought. + + 175 Young Hollis, on a Muse by Mars begot, + Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds: + Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, + His right hand doubly to his left succeeds. + + 176 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. + + 177 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. + + 178 Now anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, + That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings: + A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, + And rests in those high beds his downy wings. + + 179 The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, + And durst not bide it on the English coast: + Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, + And there lay snares to catch the British host. + + 180 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, + Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly. + + 181 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 drags the little wretch in triumph home. + + 182 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 one. + + 183 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, + 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. + + 184 It seem'd as there the British Neptune stood, + With all his hosts of waters at command. + Beneath them to submit the officious flood; + And with his trident shoved them off the sand. + + 185 To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, + And summon them to unexpected fight: + They start like murderers when ghosts appear, + And draw their curtains in the dead of night. + + 186 Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, + The midmost battles hastening up behind, + Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, + And hear their thunder rattling in the wind. + + 187 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. + + 188 The distance judged for shot of every size, + The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires: + The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, + And adds his heart to every gun he fires! + + 189 Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, + For honour, which they seldom sought before! + But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, + And forced at least in show to prize it more. + + 190 But sharp remembrance on the English part, + And shame of being match'd by such a foe, + Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, + And seeming to be stronger makes them so. + +191 Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, + Which did two generals' fates, and Cæsar's bear: + Each several ship a victory did gain, + As Rupert or as Albemarle were there. + + 192 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. + + 193 Never did men more joyfully obey, + Or sooner understood the sign to fly: + With such alacrity they bore away, + As if to praise them all the States stood by. + + 194 O famous leader[46] of the Belgian fleet, + Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, + As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, + Because he did not of his Rome despair. + + 195 Behold that navy, which a while before, + Provoked the tardy English close to fight, + Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, + As larks lie, dared, to shun the hobby's flight. + + 196 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. + + 197 Or if too busily they will inquire + Into a victory which we disdain; + Then let them know the Belgians did retire + Before the patron saint[47] of injured Spain. + + 198 Repenting England this revengeful day + To Philip's manes did an offering bring: + England, which first by leading them astray, + Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her King. + + 199 Our fathers bent their baneful industry, + To check a, monarchy that slowly grew; + But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, + Whose rising power to swift dominion flew. + + 200 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, + And wander after pathless destiny; + Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, + In vain it would provide for what shall be. + + 201 But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go, + And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; + Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, + And him detesting a Batavian fleet. + + 202 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. + + 203 So, close behind some promontory lie + The huge leviathans to attend their prey; + And give no chase, but swallow in the fry, + Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. + + 204 Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, + Destructive fires among whole fleets we send: + Triumphant flames upon the water float, + And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. + + 205 Those various squadrons variously design'd, + Each vessel freighted with a several load, + Each squadron waiting for a several wind, + All find but one, to burn them in the road. + + 206 Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find, + Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear; + Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd, + For folded turbans finest Holland bear. + + 207 Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom, + And into cloth of spungy softness made, + Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom, + To ruin with worse ware our staple trade. + + 208 Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, + 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. + + 209 But ah! how insincere are all our joys! + Which, sent from heaven, like lightning make no stay; + Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, + Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way. + + 210 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. + + 211 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. + + 212 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! + + 213 As when some dire usurper[48] Heaven provides, + To scourge his country with a lawless sway; + His birth perhaps some petty village hides, + And sets his cradle out of fortune's way. + + 214 Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, + And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on: + His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt, + And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known. + + 215 Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, + Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred, + From thence did soon to open streets aspire, + And straight to palaces and temples spread. + + 216 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. + + 217 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. + + 218 Then in some close-pent room it crept along, + And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed; + Till the infant monster, with devouring strong, + Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head. + + 219 Now like some rich or mighty murderer, + Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold; + Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear, + And dares the world to tax him with the old: + + 220 So 'scapes the 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. + + 221 The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld + His flames from burning, but to blow them more: + And every fresh attempt he is repell'd + With faint denials weaker than before. + + 222 And now no longer letted[49] of his prey, + He leaps up at it with enraged desire: + O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, + And nods at every house his threatening fire. + + 223 The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, + With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice: + About the fire into a dance they bend, + And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice. + + 224 Our guardian angel saw them where they sate + Above the palace of our slumbering king: + He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to fate, + And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing. + + 225 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. + + 226 The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, + Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire: + And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, + For helpless infants left amidst the fire. + + 227 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 jostle as they meet. + + 228 So weary bees in little cells repose; + 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. + + 229 Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day: + Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire: + Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play; + And some more bold mount ladders to the fire. + + 230 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. + + 231 A quay 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. + + 232 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. + + 233 The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross; + To either hand his wings he opens wide: + He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, + And plays his longing flames on the other side. + + 234 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. + + 235 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. + + 236 One mighty squadron with a side-wind sped, + Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste, + By powerful charms of gold and silver led, + The Lombard bankers and the 'Change to waste. + + 237 Another backward to the Tower would go, + And slowly eats his way against the wind: + But the main body of the marching foe + Against the imperial palace is design'd. + + 238 Now day appears, and with the day the King, + Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest: + Far off the cracks of falling houses ring, + And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast. + + 239 Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke + With gloomy pillars cover all the place; + Whose little intervals of night are broke + By sparks, that drive against his sacred face. + + 240 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; + So much the pity of a king has power. + + 241 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. + + 242 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. + + 243 Himself directs what first is to be done, + And orders all the succours which they bring, + The helpful and the good about him run, + And form an army worthy such a king. + + 244 He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, + That, where it seizes, all relief is vain: + And therefore must unwillingly lay waste + That country, which would else the foe maintain. + + 245 The powder blows up all before the fire: + The amazèd flames stand gather'd on a heap; + And from the precipice's brink retire, + Afraid to venture on so large a leap. + + 246 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. + + 247 Part stay for passage, till a gust of wind + Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet: + Part creeping under ground their journey blind, + And climbing from below their fellows meet. + + 248 Thus to some desert plain, or old woodside, + 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. + + 249 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. + + 250 The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud; + Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more: + So void of pity is the ignoble crowd, + When others' ruin may increase their store. + + 251 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 tempests which the others fly: + + 252 So these but wait the owners' last despair, + And what's permitted to the flames invade; + Even from their jaws they hungry morsels tear, + And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade. + + 253 The days were all in this lost labour spent; + 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. + + 254 Night came, but without darkness or repose,-- + A dismal picture of the general doom, + Where souls, distracted when the trumpet blows, + And half unready, with their bodies come. + + 255 Those who have homes, when home they do repair, + To a last lodging call their wandering friends: + Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care, + To look how near their own destruction tends. + + 256 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. + + 257 Some stir up coals, and watch the vestal fire, + Others in vain from sight of ruin run; + And, while through burning labyrinths they retire, + With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun. + + 258 The most in fields like herded beasts lie down, + To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor; + And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, + Sad parents watch the remnants of their store. + + 259 While by the motion of the flames they guess + What streets are burning now, and what are near; + An infant waking to the paps would press, + And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear. + + 260 No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, + Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort sing: + Even those whom want might drive to just despair, + Think life a blessing under such a king. + + 261 Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, + Out-weeps an hermit, and out-prays a saint: + All the long night he studies their relief, + How they may be supplied, and he may want. + + 262 O God, said he, thou patron of my days, + Guide of my youth in exile and distress! + Who me, unfriended, brought'st by wondrous ways, + The kingdom of my fathers to possess: + + 263 Be thou my judge, with what unwearied care + 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. + + 264 Thou who hast taught me to forgive the ill, + And recompense, as friends, the good misled; + If mercy be a precept of thy will, + Return that mercy on thy servant's head. + + 265 Or if my heedless youth has stepp'd astray, + Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand; + On me alone thy just displeasure lay, + But take thy judgments from this mourning land. + + 266 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. + + 267 O let it be enough what thou hast done; + 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. + + 268 The living few, and frequent funerals then, + Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place; + And now those few who are return'd again, + Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. + + 269 O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, + Or bind thy sentence unconditional! + But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, + And in that foresight this thy doom recall. + + 270 Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine thou mayst revoke: + But if immutable and fix'd they stand, + Continue still thyself to give the stroke, + And let not foreign foes oppress thy land. + + 271 The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire + Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword; + And bade him swiftly drive the approaching fire + From where our naval magazines were stored. + + 272 The blessed minister his wings display'd, + And like a shooting star he cleft the night: + He charged the flames, and those that disobey'd + He lash'd to duty with his sword of light. + + 273 The fugitive flames chastised went forth to prey + On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd; + By which to heaven they did affect the way, + Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard. + + 274 The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes, + Their founder's charity in dust laid low; + And sent to God their ever-answered cries, + For He protects the poor, who made them so. + + 275 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; + And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. + + 276 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. + + 277 Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, + And widely opening did on both sides prey: + This benefit we sadly owe the flame, + If only ruin must enlarge our way. + + 278 And now four days the sun had seen our woes: + Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire: + It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, + And farther from the feverish north retire. + + 279 In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode, + The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie, + Not daring to behold their angry God; + And a hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. + + 280 At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye, + And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast: + He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, + And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. + + 281 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. + + 282 The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, + Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: + Each household genius shows again his face, + And from the hearths the little Lares creep. + + 283 Our King this more than natural change beholds; + With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: + To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, + And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. + + 284 As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth, + A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain; + And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, + And straight the green fields laugh with promised grain: + + 285 By such degrees the spreading gladness grew + In every heart which fear had froze before: + The standing streets with so much joy they view, + That with less grief the perish'd they deplore. + + 286 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. + + 287 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. + + 288 But so may he live long, that town to sway, + Which by his auspice they will nobler make, + As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, + And not their humble ruins now forsake. + + 289 They have not lost their loyalty by fire; + Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, + That from his wars they poorly would retire, + Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. + + 290 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. + + 291 The utmost malice of their stars is past, + And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, + In their own plague and fire have breathed the last, + Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. + + 292 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. + + 293 Methinks already from this chemic flame, + 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. + + 294 Already labouring with a mighty fate, + She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, + And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, + Which Heaven will to the death of time allow. + + 295 More great than human now, and more august, + Now deified she from her fires does rise: + Her widening streets on new foundations trust, + And opening into larger parts she flies. + + 296 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. + + 297 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, + From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; + The East with incense, and the West with gold, + Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom! + + 298 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, + Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; + And often wind, as of his mistress proud, + With longing eyes to meet her face again. + + 299 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, + 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. + + 300 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, + And touches on our hospitable shore, + Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, + Shall here unlade him, and depart no more. + + 301 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, + The wealth of France or Holland to invade; + The beauty of this town without a fleet, + From all the world shall vindicate her trade. + + 302 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. + + 303 Already we have conquer'd half the war, + 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. + + 304 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, + And gently lay us on the spicy shore. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 36: Prince Rupert and General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.] + +[Footnote 37: 'Lawson:' Sir John Lawson, rear admiral of the red, killed +by a ball that wounded him in the knee.] + +[Footnote 38: 'Wholly lost:' the Dutch ships on their return home, being +separated by a storm, the rear and vice-admirals of the East India +fleet, with four men of war, were taken by five English frigates. Soon +after, four men of war, two fire-ships, and thirty merchantmen, being +driven out of their course, joined our fleet instead of their own, and +were all taken. These things happened in 1665.] + +[Footnote 39: 'Munster's prelate:' the famous Bertrand Von Der Chalen, +Bishop of Munster, excited by Charles, marched twenty thousand men into +the province of Overyssel, under the dominion of the republic of +Holland, where he committed great outrages.] + +[Footnote 40: 'Two chiefs:' Prince Rupert and Monk.] + +[Footnote 41: 'Berkeley:' Vice-admiral Berkeley fought till his men were +all killed, and was found in the cabin dead and covered with blood.] + +[Footnote 42: 'Cacus:' see Virgil in Cowper's translation, 2d vol. of +this edition.] + +[Footnote 43: 'Albemarle:' Monk.] + +[Footnote 44: 'Flix:' old word for hare fur.] + +[Footnote 45: 'Allen:' Sir Thomas Allen, admiral of the white. 'The +Achates:' Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white.] + +[Footnote 46: 'Leader:' De Ruyter.] + +[Footnote 47: 'Patron saint:' St James, on whose day the victory was +gained.] + +[Footnote 48: 'Usurper:' this seems a reference to Cromwell; if so, it +contradicts Scott's statement quoted above in the 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 49: 'Letted:' hindered.] + + * * * * * + + + + +AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. + +BY ME DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE,[50] 1679. + + How dull, and how insensible a beast + Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest! + Philosophers and poets vainly strove + In every age the lumpish mass to move: + But those were pedants, when compared with these, + Who know not only to instruct, but please. + Poets alone found the delightful way, + Mysterious morals gently to convey + In charming numbers; so that as men grew + 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, + 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 rightest when they shoot in jest. 20 + Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides, + And censure those who censure all besides, + In other things they justly are preferr'd. + In this alone methinks the ancients err'd,-- + Against the grossest follies they declaim; + 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,[51] or dull Aston teach? 30 + 'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball, + Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall. + But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find, + Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind; + That little speck which all the rest does spoil, + 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; 40 + 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, + To see their antiquated wit laid by; + Like her, who miss'd her name in a lampoon, + And grieved to find herself decay'd so soon. + No common coxcomb must be mentioned here: + Not the dull train of dancing sparks appear; 50 + 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 other are but fools. + Who would not be as silly as Dunbar? + As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr?[52] + 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 Æsop's fox becomes a prey at last. 60 + 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,[53] + Meets with dissembling still in either place, + 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? + Was ever prince by two at once misled, + False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred? + Earnely[54] and Aylesbury[55] with all that race + Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place; + At council set as foils on Danby's[56] 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; 80 + Their very names have tired my lazy pen: + 'Tis time to quit their company, and choose + Some fitter subject for sharper muse. + + First, let's behold the merriest man alive[57] + Against his careless genius vainly strive; + 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.[58] + But when he aims at reason or at rule, 90 + He turns himself the best to ridicule; + Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit, + Show him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit; + That shadow of a jest shall be enjoy'd, + Though he left all mankind to be destroy'd. + So cat transform'd sat gravely and demure, + Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself secure; + But soon the lady had him in her eye, + And from her friend did just as oddly fly. + Reaching above our nature does no good; 100 + We must fall back to our old flesh and blood; + As by our little Machiavel we find + That nimblest creature of the busy kind, + His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes; + Yet his hard mind which all this bustle makes, + No pity of its poor companion takes. + What gravity can hold from laughing out, + To see him drag his feeble legs about, + Like hounds ill-coupled? Jowler lugs him still + Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's ill. 110 + 'Twere crime in any man but him alone, + To use a body so, though 'tis one's own: + Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, + That whilst he creeps his vigorous thoughts can soar; + Alas! that soaring to those few that know, + Is but a busy grovelling here below. + So men in rapture think they mount the sky, + Whilst on the ground the entranced wretches lie: + So modern fops have fancied they could fly. + As the new earl,[59] with parts deserving praise, 120 + And wit enough to laugh at his own ways, + Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights, + Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights; + Striving against his quiet all he can, + For the fine notion of a busy man. + 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'll not only pay him, but admire him too. + But is there any other beast that lives, + Who his own harm so wittingly contrives? + Will any dog that has his teeth and stones, + Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones, + To turn a wheel, and bark to be employ'd, + While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd? + Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, + Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame. + + Though satire, nicely writ, with humour stings 140 + But those who merit praise in other things; + Yet we must needs this one exception make, + And break our rules for silly Tropos'[60] sake; + Who was too much despised to be accused, + And therefore scarce deserves to be abused; + Raised only by his mercenary tongue, + For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong, + As boys, on holidays, let loose to play, + Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way; + Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 150 + Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress: + So have I mighty satisfaction found, + To see his tinsel reason on the ground: + To see the florid fool despised, and know it, + By some who scarce have words enough to show it: + For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker + The finer, nay sometimes the wittier speaker: + But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence + Should be acquirèd by such little sense; + For words and wit did anciently agree, 160 + And Tully was no fool, though this man be: + At bar abusive, on the bench unable, + Knave on the woolsack, fop at council-table. + These are the grievances of such fools as would + Be rather wise than honest, great than good. + + Some other kind of wits must be made known, + Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone; + Excess of luxury they think can please, + And laziness call loving of their ease: + To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign, 170 + Though their whole life's but intermitting pain: + So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen, + We scarce perceive the little time between: + Well-meaning men who make this gross mistake, + And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake; + 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: + And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 180 + Like Pembroke's mastives at his kindest time; + Then for one night sold all his slavish life, + A teeming widow, but a barren wife; + Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, + He lugg'd about the matrimonial load; + 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,[61] 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, + To see him catch his Tartar for his prize; + The impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, + And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge; + Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 200 + As his estate, his person too was free: + Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move; + To gold he fled from beauty and from love; + Yet, failing there, he keeps his freedom still, + Forced to live happily against his will: + 'Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power + Break not his boasted quiet every hour. + + And little Sid,[62] for simile renown'd, + Pleasure has always sought but never found: + Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 210 + His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. + The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong, + His meat and mistresses are kept too long. + But sure we all mistake this pious man, + Who mortifies his person all he can: + 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; + And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 220 + No nastiness offends his skilful nose: + Which from all stink can with peculiar art + Extract perfume and essence from a f--t. + Expecting supper is his great delight; + He toils all day but to be drunk at night: + Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits, + Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall[63] for wits. + + Rochester I despise for want of wit, + Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet; + For while he mischief means to all mankind, 230 + Himself alone the ill effects does find: + And so like witches justly suffer 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; + 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, 240 + A very Killigrew[64] without good nature. + For what a Bessus[65] has he always lived, + And his own kickings notably contrived! + For, there's the folly that's still mix'd with fear, + Cowards more blows than any hero bear; + Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures say, + But 'tis a bolder thing to run away: + The world may well forgive him all his ill, + For every fault does prove his penance still: + Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose, 250 + And then as meanly labours to get loose; + 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, hit, + 'Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid, + To find it out's the cinderwoman's trade; + Who for the wretched remnants of a fire, 260 + Must toil all day in ashes and in mire. + So lewdly dull his idle works appear, + The wretched texts deserve no comments here; + Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone, + For a whole page of dulness must atone. + + How vain a thing is man, and how unwise! + Even he, who would himself the most despise! + I, who so wise and humble seem to be, + Now my own vanity and pride can't see; + While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown, 270 + We pull down others' but to raise our own; + That we may angels seem, we paint them elves, + And are but satires to set up ourselves. + I, who have all this while been finding fault, + Even with my master, who first satire taught; + 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, 280 + Learn to write well, or not to write at all. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 50: 'Mulgrave:' Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. It was for this +satire, the joint composition of Dryden and Sheffield, that Rochester +hired bravoes to cudgel Dryden.] + +[Footnote 51: 'Armstrong:' Sir Thomas Armstrong, a notorious character +of the time--hanged at Tyburn.] + +[Footnote 52: 'Carr:' Sir Carr Scrope, a wit of the time.] + +[Footnote 53: 'Beastly brace:' Duchess of Portsmouth and Nell Gwynn.] + +[Footnote 54: 'Earnely:' Sir John Earnely, one of the lords of the +treasury.] + +[Footnote 55: 'Aylesbury:' Robert, the first Earl of Aylesbury.] + +[Footnote 56: 'Danby:' Thomas, Earl of Danby, lord high-treasurer of +England.] + +[Footnote 57: 'Merriest man alive:' Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of +Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 58: 'Nokes and Lee:' two celebrated comedians in Charles II.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 59: 'New earl:' Earl of Essex.] + +[Footnote 60: 'Tropos:' Sir William Scroggs. See Macaulay.] + +[Footnote 61: 'Ned Howard:' Edward Howard, Esq., a dull writer. See +Butler's works.] + +[Footnote 62: 'Sid:' brother to Algernon Sidney.] + +[Footnote 63: 'Hewet and Jack Hall:' courtiers of the day.] + +[Footnote 64: 'Killigrew:' Thomas Killigrew, many years master of the +revels, and groom of the chamber to King Charles II.] + +[Footnote 65: 'Bessus:' a remarkable cowardly character in Beaumont and +Fletcher's play of 'A King and no King.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.[66] + +TO THE READER. + +It is 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 consequence 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 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 genius, it will force its own +reception in the world. For there is a sweetness in good verse, which +tickles even while it hurts; and no man can be heartily angry with him +who pleases him against his will. The commendation of adversaries is +the greatest 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 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 it is hard for +an author to judge against himself); but more probably it is 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; it is no more +a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it +was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the +woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute, +because 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, it is 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; +hereafter 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 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 _Ense rescindendum_, 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. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 66: See 'Life' for explanation for circumstances; and the key +at the close of the poem, for the real names of this satire.] + + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + + --Si propiùs stes + Te capiet magis-- + + In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, + Before polygamy was made a sin; + When man on many multiplied his kind, + Ere one to one was cursedly confined; + When nature prompted, and no law denied + 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, + No true succession could their seed attend. + Of all the numerous progeny was none + So beautiful, so brave, as Absalom: + Whether inspired by some diviner lust, + His father got him with a greater gust; 20 + Or that his conscious destiny made way, + By manly beauty to imperial sway. + Early in foreign fields he won renown, + With kings and states allied to Israel's crown: + In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, + And seem'd as he were only born for love. + Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease, + In him alone 'twas natural to please: + 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 Annabell[67] his bride. + What faults he had (for who from faults is free?) + His father could not, or he would not see. + 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 call'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; + 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): 50 + These Adam-wits,[68] too fortunately free, + 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, + And thought that all but savages were slaves. + They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow, + Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego; + Who banish'd David did from Hebron bring, + And with a general shout proclaim'd him king: 60 + 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, + 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; 70 + 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; 80 + 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 + Were Jebusites; the town so call'd from them; + And theirs the native right-- + But when the chosen people grew more strong, + The rightful cause at length became the wrong; + And every loss the men of Jebus bore, 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, 100 + Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, + In his defence his servants are as bold, + As if he had been born of beaten gold. + The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, + In this conclude them honest men and wise: + For 'twas their duty, all the learned think, + To espouse his cause by whom they eat and drink. + From hence began that Plot, the nation's curse, + Bad in itself, but represented worse; + Raised 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. + Succeeding times did equal folly call, + Believing nothing, or believing all. + The Egyptian rites the Jebusites embraced, + Where gods were recommended by their taste. + Such savoury deities must needs be good, 120 + 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, + 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 130 + By guns, invented since full many a day: + Our author swears it not; but who can know + How far the devil and Jebusites may go? + This Plot, which fail'd for want of common sense, + Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence: + 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, 140 + 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. + 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; 150 + A name to all succeeding ages cursed: + For close designs, and crooked counsels fit; + Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; + Restless, unfix'd in principles and place; + In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace: + 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, 160 + 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, + Refuse his age the needful hours of rest? + Punish a body which he could not please; + Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease? + And all to leave what with his toil he won, + To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son; 170 + Got, while his soul did huddled notions try; + And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. + In friendship false, implacable in hate; + Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state. + To compass this, the triple bond[69] he broke; + The pillars of the public safety shook; + 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, 180 + 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! + Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; + The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. + In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin + With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, + Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress; 190 + Swift of despatch, and easy of access. + Oh! had he been content to serve the crown, + With virtues only proper to the gown; + Or had the rankness of the soil been freed + From cockle, that oppress'd the noble seed; + David for him his tuneful harp had strung, + And Heaven had wanted one immortal song. + But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand, + And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land. + Achitophel, grown weary to possess 200 + A lawful fame, and lazy happiness, + Disdain'd the golden fruit to gather free, + And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree. + Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since, + He stood at bold defiance with his prince; + Held up the buckler of the people's cause + Against the crown, and skulk'd behind the laws. + The wish'd occasion of the plot he takes; + Some circumstances finds, but more he makes; + By buzzing emissaries fills the ears 210 + Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears + Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, + And proves the king himself a Jebusite. + Weak arguments! which yet he knew full well + Were strong with people easy to rebel. + For, govern'd by the moon, the giddy Jews + Tread the same track, when she the prime renews; + And once in twenty years, their scribes record, + By natural instinct they change their lord. + Achitophel still wants a chief, and none 220 + Was found so fit as warlike Absalom. + Not that he wish'd his greatness to create, + For politicians neither love nor hate: + But, for he knew his title not allow'd, + Would keep him still depending on the crowd: + That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be + Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. + Him he attempts with studied arts to please, + And sheds his venom in such words as these: + + Auspicious prince! at whose nativity 230 + 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! + 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 250 + Or gather'd ripe, or rot upon the tree. + Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, + Some lucky revolution of their fate: + Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill, + (For human good depends on human will,) + 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, 260 + And spreads her locks before her as she flies. + Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, + Not dared when fortune called him to be king, + At Gath an exile he might still remain, + And Heaven's anointing oil had been in vain. + 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 270 + 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: + (Our only blessing since his cursed return:) + Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind, + Blown off and scatter'd by a puff of wind. + What strength can he to your designs oppose, + Naked of friends, and round beset with foes? 280 + 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 + With Pharaoh's arms to assist the Jebusite; + Or if they should, their interest soon would break, + And with such odious aid make David weak. + All sorts of men, by my successful arts, + Abhorring kings, estrange their alter'd hearts 290 + From David's rule: and 'tis their general cry-- + Religion, commonwealth, and liberty. + If you, as champion of the public good, + Add to their arms a chief of royal blood, + What may not Israel hope, and what applause + Might such a general gain by such a cause? + Not barren praise alone--that gaudy flower, + Fair only to the sight--but solid power: + And nobler is a limited command, + Given by the love of all your native land, 300 + Than a successive title, long and dark, + Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark. + + What cannot praise effect in mighty minds, + When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds? + Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, + Yet sprung from high, is of celestial seed: + 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 angels' metal in his frame, 310 + Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, + Made drunk with honour, and debauch'd with praise. + Half loath, and half consenting to the ill, + For royal blood within him struggled still, + He thus replied:--And what pretence have I + To take up arms for public liberty? + My father governs with unquestion'd right, + The faith's defender, and mankind's delight; + Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws; + And Heaven by wonders has espoused his cause. 320 + 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; + Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood. + If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit, + His crime is God's beloved attribute. + What could he gain his people to betray, + Or change his right for arbitrary sway? 330 + Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign + His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. + If David's rule Jerusalem displease, + The dog-star heats their brains to this disease. + Why then should I, encouraging the bad, + 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: 340 + The people might assert their liberty; + But what was right in them were crime in me. + His favour leaves me nothing to require, + Prevents my wishes, and outruns desire. + What more can I expect while David lives? + All but his kingly diadem he gives: + And that--But here 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; + 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 even the offending crowd will find; + For sure he comes of a forgiving kind. 360 + 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 mould. + Why am I scanted by a niggard birth? + My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth; 370 + And, made for empire, whispers me within, + Desire of greatness is a 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: + + The eternal God, supremely good and wise, + Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain; + What wonders are reserved to bless your reign! + Against your will your arguments have shown, + Such virtue's only given to guide a throne. 380 + 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, + And more his goodness than his wit proclaim. + But when should people strive their bonds to break, + If not when kings are negligent or weak? + Let him give on till he can give no more, + The thrifty Sanhedrim shall keep him poor; 390 + And every shekel which he can receive, + Shall cost a limb of his prerogative. + To ply him with new plots shall be my care; + Or plunge him deep in some expensive war; + Which, when his treasure can no more supply, + 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, + 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 no 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, + 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; 420 + The public good, that universal call, + To which even 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, + 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? 430 + It surely show'd he loved the shepherd well, + Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. + Would David have you thought his darling son? + What means he then to alienate the crown? + The name of godly he may blush to bear: + 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. 440 + Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, + Already looks on you with jealous eyes; + Sees through the thin disguises of your arts, + And marks your progress in the people's hearts; + Though now his mighty soul its grief contains: + He meditates revenge who least complains; + And like a lion, slumbering in the way, + Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey, + His fearless foes within his distance draws, + Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws; 450 + Till at the last his time for fury found, + He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground; + The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares, + But with a lordly rage his hunters tears. + Your case no tame expedients will afford: + 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. 460 + Avail yourself of what occasion gives, + But try your title while your father lives: + And that your arms may have a fair pretence, + Proclaim you take them in the king's defence; + Whose sacred life each minute would expose + To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. + And who can sound the depth of David's soul? + Perhaps his fear, his kindness may control. + He fears his brother, though he loves his son, + For plighted vows too late to be undone. 470 + If so, by force he wishes to be gain'd: + By women's lechery to seem constrain'd. + Doubt not; but, when he most affects the frown, + Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown. + Secure his person to secure your cause: + They who possess the prince possess the laws. + + He said, and this advice above the rest, + With Absalom's mild nature suited best; + Unblamed of life, ambition set aside, + Not stain'd with cruelty, nor puff'd with pride, 480 + 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, + 'Tis juster to lament him than accuse. + Strong were his hopes a rival to remove, + With blandishments to gain the public love: + To head the faction while their zeal was hot, + And popularly prosecute the Plot. 490 + 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-- + Who thought the power of monarchy too much; + Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts; + Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts. + By these the springs of property were bent, + And wound so high, they crack'd the government. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + Who follow next a double danger bring, + Not only hating David, but the king; + The Solyimaean rout; well versed of old + In godly faction, and in treason bold; + Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword, + 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, 520 + 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, + 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; + 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 believing right. 540 + + Such were the tools: but a whole Hydra more + Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. + Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: + In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; + A man so various, that he seem'd to be + Not one, but all mankind's epitome: + Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; + Was everything by starts, and nothing long; + But, in the course of one revolving moon, + Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon: 550 + 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, or to enjoy! + Railing and praising were his usual themes; + And both, to show his judgment, in extremes: + So over violent, or over civil, + That every man with him was God or Devil. + In squandering wealth was his peculiar art: + Nothing went unrewarded but desert. 560 + Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late; + He had his jest, and they had his estate. + He laugh'd himself from court; then sought relief + By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief: + For, spite of him the weight of business fell + On Absalom and wise Achitophel: + Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, + He left not faction, but of that was left. + + Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse + Of lords, below the dignity of verse. 570 + Wits, warriors, commonwealth's-men, were the best: + Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest. + And therefore, in the name of dulness, be + The well-hung Balaam and cold Caleb free: + And canting Nadab let oblivion damn, + Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. + Let friendship's holy band some names assure; + Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure. + Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place, + Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace: 580 + Not bull-faced Jonas, who could statutes draw + To mean rebellion, and make treason law. + But he, though bad, is follow'd by a worse, + The wretch who Heaven's anointed dared to curse; + Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring + Of zeal to God and hatred to his king, + Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, + And never broke the Sabbath but for gain; + Nor ever was he known an oath to vent, + Or curse, unless against the government. 590 + Thus heaping wealth by the most ready way + Among the Jews, which was to cheat and pray; + The city, to reward his pious hate + Against his master, chose him magistrate. + His hand a vare[70] of justice did uphold; + His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. + During his office treason was no crime; + The sons of Belial had a glorious time: + For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, + Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself. 600 + When two or three were gather'd to declaim + Against the monarch of Jerusalem, + Shimei was always in the midst of them; + And if they cursed the king when he was by, + Would rather curse than break good company. + If any durst his factious friends accuse, + He pack'd a jury of dissenting Jews; + Whose fellow-feeling in the godly cause + Would free the suffering saint from human laws. + For laws are only made to punish those 610 + Who serve the king, and to protect his foes. + If any leisure time he had from power + (Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour), + His business was, by writing to persuade, + That kings were useless and a clog to trade; + And, that his noble style he might refine, + No Rechabite more shunn'd the fumes of wind. + Chaste were his cellars, and his shrivel board + The grossness of a city feast abhorr'd; + His cooks with long disuse their trade forgot; 620 + Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot. + Such frugal virtue malice may accuse, + But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews; + For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require + As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. + With spiritual food he fed his servants well, + But free from flesh that made the Jews rebel: + And Moses' laws he held in more account, + For forty days of fasting in the mount. + To speak the rest who better are forgot, 630 + Would tire a well-breathed witness of the plot. + Yet Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass; + Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, + High as the serpent of thy metal made, + While nations stand secure beneath thy shade. + What though his birth were base, yet comets rise + From earthly vapours, ere they shine in skies. + Prodigious actions may as well be done + By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. + This arch attestor for the public good 640 + By that one deed ennobles all his blood. + Who ever ask'd the witness's high race, + Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace? + Ours was a Levite, and as times went then, + His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen. + Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud, + Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud. + His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace + A church vermilion, and a Moses' face. + His memory miraculously great, 650 + Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat; + Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, + For human wit could never such devise. + Some future truths are mingled in his book; + But where the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke. + Some things like visionary flights appear; + The spirit caught him up the Lord knows where; + And gave him his rabbinical degree, + Unknown to foreign university. + His judgment yet his memory did excel; 660 + Which pieced his wondrous evidence so well, + And suited to the temper of the times, + Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes. + Let Israel's foes suspect his heavenly call, + And rashly judge his wit apocryphal; + Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made; + He takes his life who takes away his trade. + Were I myself in witness Corah's place, + The wretch who did me such a dire disgrace, + Should whet my memory, though once forgot, 670 + To make him an appendix of my plot. + His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise, + And load his person with indignities. + But zeal peculiar privilege affords, + Indulging latitude to deeds and words: + And Corah might for Agag's murder call, + In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul. + What others in his evidence did join, + The best that could be had for love or coin, + In Corah's own predicament will fall: 680 + For witness is a common name to all. + + Surrounded thus with friends of every sort, + Deluded Absalom forsakes the court: + Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown, + And fired with near possession of a crown. + The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, + And on his goodly person feed their eyes. + His joy conceal'd he sets himself to show; + On each side bowing popularly low: + His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames, 690 + And with familiar ease repeats their names. + Thus form'd by nature, furnish'd out with arts, + He glides unfelt into their secret hearts. + Then, with a kind compassionating look, + And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke, + Few words he said; but easy those and fit, + More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet. + + I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate; + Though far unable to prevent your fate: + Behold a banish'd man for your dear cause 700 + Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws! + Yet oh! that I alone could be undone, + Cut off from empire, and no more a son! + Now all your liberties a spoil are made; + Egypt and Tyrus intercept your trade, + And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. + My father, whom with reverence yet I name, + Charm'd into ease, is careless of his fame; + And bribed with petty sums of foreign gold, + Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old; 710 + Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys, + And all his power against himself employs. + He gives, and let him give, my right away: + But why should he his own and yours betray? + He, only he, can make the nation bleed, + And he alone from my revenge is freed. + Take then my tears (with that he wiped his eyes), + 'Tis all the aid my present power supplies: + No court-informer can these arms accuse; + These arms may sons against their fathers use: 720 + And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign, + May make no other Israelite complain. + + Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail; + But common interest always will prevail: + And pity never ceases to be shown + To him who makes the people's wrongs his own. + The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress, + With lifted hands their young Messiah bless: + Who now begins his progress to ordain + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train: 730 + From east to west his glories he displays, + And, like the sun, the promised land surveys. + Fame runs before him as the morning-star, + And shouts of joy salute him from afar: + Each house receives him as a guardian god, + And consecrates the place of his abode. + But hospitable treats did most commend + Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend. + This moving court, that caught the people's eyes, + And seem'd but pomp, did other ends disguise: 740 + Achitophel had form'd it, with intent + To sound the depths, and fathom where it went, + The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes, + And try their strength, before they came to blows. + Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence + Of specious love, and duty to their prince. + Religion, and redress of grievances, + Two names that always cheat, and always please, + Are often urged; and good king David's life + Endanger'd by a brother and a wife. 750 + Thus in a pageant show a plot is made; + And peace itself is war in masquerade. + O foolish Israel! never warn'd by ill! + Still the same bait, and circumvented still! + Did ever men forsake their present ease, + In midst of health imagine a disease; + Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee, + Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree? + What shall we think? Can people give away, + Both for themselves and sons, their native sway? 760 + Then they are left defenceless to the sword + Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord: + And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy, + If kings unquestion'd can those laws destroy. + Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, + And kings are only officers in trust, + Then this resuming covenant was declared + When kings were made, or is for ever barr'd. + If those who gave the sceptre could not tie, + By their own deed, their own posterity, 770 + How then could Adam bind his future race? + How could his forfeit on mankind take place? + Or how could heavenly justice damn us all, + Who ne'er consented to our father's fall? + Then kings are slaves to those whom they command, + And tenants to their people's pleasure stand. + Add, that the power for property allow'd + Is mischievously seated in the crowd; + For who can be secure of private right, + If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? 780 + Nor is the people's judgment always true: + The most may err as grossly as the few? + And faultless kings run down by common cry, + For vice, oppression, and for tyranny. + What standard is there in a fickle rout, + Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out? + Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be + Infected with this public lunacy, + And share the madness of rebellious times, + To murder monarchs for imagined crimes. 790 + If they may give and take whene'er they please, + Not kings alone, the Godhead's images, + But government itself at length must fall + To nature's state, where all have right to all. + Yet, grant our lords the people kings can make, + What prudent men a settled throne would shake? + For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before, + That change they covet makes them suffer more. + All other errors but disturb a state; + But innovation is the blow of fate. 800 + If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, + To patch their flaws, and buttress up the wall, + Thus far 'tis duty: but here fix the mark; + For all beyond it is to touch the ark. + To change foundations, cast the frame anew, + Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; + At once divine and human laws control, + And mend the parts by ruin of the whole, + The tampering world is subject to this curse, + To physic their disease into a worse. 810 + + Now what relief can righteous David bring? + How fatal 'tis to be too good a king! + Friends he has few, so high the madness grows; + Who dare be such must be the people's foes. + Yet some there were, even in the worst of days; + Some let me name, and naming is to praise. + + In this short file Barzillai first appears; + Barzillai, crown'd with honour and with years. + Long since, the rising rebels he withstood + In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood: 820 + Unfortunately brave to buoy the state; + But sinking underneath his master's fate: + In exile with his godlike prince he mourn'd; + For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd. + The court he practised, not the courtier's art: + Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart, + Which well the noblest objects knew to choose, + The fighting warrior, and recording muse. + His bed could once a fruitful issue boast; + Now more than half a father's name is lost. 830 + His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd, + By me, so Heaven will have it, always mourn'd, + And always honour'd, snatch'd in manhood's prime + By unequal fates, and providence's crime: + Yet not before the goal of honour won, + All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son: + Swift was the race, but short the time to run. + O narrow circle, but of power divine, + Scanted in space, but perfect in thy line! + By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, 840 + Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own: + Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians propp'd; + And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd. + O ancient honour! O unconquer'd hand, + Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand! + But Israel was unworthy of his name; + Short is the date of all immoderate fame. + It looks as Heaven our ruin had design'd, + And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind. + Now, free from earth, thy disencumber'd soul 850 + Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and starry pole: + From thence thy kindred legions mayst thou bring, + To aid the guardian angel of thy king. + + Here stop, my muse, here cease thy painful flight: + No pinions can pursue immortal height: + Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, + And tell thy soul she should have fled before: + Or fled she with his life, and left this verse + To hang on her departed patron's hearse? + Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see 860 + If thou canst find on earth another he: + Another he would be too hard to find; + See then whom thou canst see not far behind. + Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, + His lowly mind advanced to David's grace. + With him the Sagan of Jerusalem, + Of hospitable soul, and noble stem; + Him[71] of the western dome, whose weighty sense + Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence. + The prophets' sons, by such example led, 870 + To learning and to loyalty were bred: + For colleges on bounteous kings depend, + And never rebel was to arts a friend. + To these succeed the pillars of the laws, + Who best can plead, and best can judge a cause. + Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; + Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' friend, + Himself a Muse: in Sanhedrim's debate + True to his prince, but not a slave of state: + Whom David's love with honours did adorn, 880 + That from his disobedient son were torn. + Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought; + Endued by nature, and by learning taught + To move assemblies, who but only tried + The worse awhile, then chose the better side: + Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too,-- + So much the weight of one brave man can do. + Hushai, the friend of David in distress; + In public storms of manly steadfastness: + By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, 890 + And join'd experience to his native truth. + His frugal care supplied the wanting throne-- + Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: + 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow; + But hard the task to manage well the low; + For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, + When kings are forced to sell, or crowds to buy. + Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, + For Amiel: who can Amiel's praise refuse? + Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet 900 + In his own worth, and without title great: + The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled, + Their reason guided, and their passion cool'd: + So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, + So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, + That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, + So fit was he to represent them all. + Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, + Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: + They, like the unequal ruler of the day,[72] 910 + Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; + While he withdrawn, at their mad labours smiles, + And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. + + These were the chief, a small but faithful band + Of worthies, in the breach who dared to stand, + And tempt the united fury of the land: + With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, + To batter down the lawful government. + A numerous faction, with pretended frights, + In Sanhedrims to plume the regal rights; 920 + The true successor from the court removed; + The plot, by hireling witnesses, improved. + These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, + They show'd the King the danger of the wound; + That no concessions from the throne would please, + But lenitives fomented the disease: + That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, + Was made the lure to draw the people down: + That false Achitophel's pernicious hate + Had turn'd the Plot to ruin church and state: 930 + The council violent, the rabble worse: + That Shimei taught Jerusalem to curse. + + With all these loads of injuries oppress'd, + And long revolving in his careful breast + The event of things, at last his patience tired, + Thus, from his royal throne, by Heaven inspired, + The god-like David spoke; with awful fear, + His train their Maker in their master hear. + + Thus long have I, by native mercy sway'd, + My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd: 940 + So willing to forgive the offending age; + So much the father did the king assuage. + But now so far my clemency they slight, + The offenders question my forgiving right: + That one was made for many, they contend; + But 'tis to rule; for that's a monarch's end. + They call my tenderness of blood, my fear: + Though manly tempers can the longest bear. + Yet, since they will divert my native course, + 'Tis time to show I am not good by force. 950 + Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, + Are burdens for a camel, not a king. + Kings are the public pillars of the state, + Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight: + If my young Samson will pretend a call + To shake the column, let him share the fall: + But oh, that yet he would repent and live! + How easy 'tis for parents to forgive! + With how few tears a pardon might be won + From nature, pleading for a darling son! 960 + Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care, + Raised up to all the height his frame could bear! + Had God ordain'd his fate for empire born, + He would have given his soul another turn: + Gull'd with a patriot's name, whose modern sense + Is one that would by law supplant his prince; + The people's brave, the politician's tool; + Never was patriot yet, but was a fool. + Whence comes it, that religion and the laws + Should more be Absalom's than David's cause? 970 + His old instructor, ere he lost his place, + Was never thought endued with so much grace. + Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint! + My rebel ever proves my people's saint. + Would they impose an heir upon the throne, + Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own. + A king's at least a part of government; + And mine as requisite as their consent: + Without my leave a future king to choose, + Infers a right the present to depose. 980 + True, they petition me to approve their choice: + But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice. + My pious subjects for my safety pray, + Which to secure, they take my power away. + From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, + But save me most from my petitioners! + Insatiate as the barren womb or grave, + God cannot grant so much as they can crave. + What then is left, but with a jealous eye + To guard the small remains of royalty? 990 + The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, + And the same law teach rebels to obey: + Votes shall no more establish'd power control, + Such votes as make a part exceed the whole. + No groundless clamours shall my friends remove, + Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove; + For gods and god-like kings their care express, + Still to defend their servants in distress. + O that my power to saving were confined! + Why am I forced, like Heaven, against my mind; 1000 + To make examples of another kind? + Must I at length the sword of justice draw? + Oh, cursed effects of necessary law! + How ill my fear they by my mercy scan! + Beware the fury of a patient man! + Law they require, let law then show her face; + They could not be content to look on grace, + Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye + To tempt the terror of her front and die. + By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, 1010 + Those dire artificers of death shall bleed. + Against themselves their witnesses will swear, + Till, viper-like, their mother-plot they tear; + And suck for nutriment that bloody gore, + Which was their principle of life before. + Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight: + Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right. + Nor doubt the event: for factious crowds engage, + In their first onset, all their brutal rage. + Then let them take an unresisted course; 1020 + Retire, and traverse, and delude their force; + But when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, + And rise upon them with redoubled might-- + For lawful power is still superior found; + When long driven back, at length it stands the ground. + + He said: The Almighty, nodding, gave consent; + And peals of thunder shook the firmament. + Henceforth a series of new time began, + The mighty years in long procession ran: + Once more the god-like David was restored, 1030 + And willing nations knew their lawful lord. + + * * * * * + +PART II. + +"Si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis captus amore leget." + + +TO THE READER. + +In the year 1680, Mr Dryden undertook the poem of Absalom and +Achitophel, upon the desire of King Charles the Second. The performance +was applauded by every one; and several persons pressing him to write a +second part, he, upon declining it himself, spoke to Mr Tate[73] to +write one, and gave him his advice in the direction of it; and that part +beginning with + +"Next these, a troop of busy spirits press," + +and ending with + +"To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee," + +containing near two hundred verses, mere entirely Mr Dryden's +composition, besides some touches in other places. + +DERRICK. + + * * * * * + + Since men like beasts each other's prey were made, + Since trade began, and priesthood grew a trade, + Since realms were form'd, none sure so cursed as those + That madly their own happiness oppose; + There Heaven itself and god-like kings, in vain + Shower down the manna of a gentle reign; + While pamper'd crowds to mad sedition run, + And monarchs by indulgence are undone. + Thus David's clemency was fatal grown, + While wealthy faction awed the wanting throne. 10 + For now their sovereign's orders to contemn + Was held the charter of Jerusalem; + His rights to invade, his tributes to refuse, + A privilege peculiar to the Jews; + As if from heavenly call this licence fell, + And Jacob's seed were chosen to rebel! + + Achitophel with triumph sees his crimes + Thus suited to the madness of the times; + And Absalom, to make his hopes succeed, + Of flattering charms no longer stands in need; 20 + While fond of change, though ne'er so dearly bought, + Our tribes outstrip the youth's ambitious thought; + His swiftest hopes with swifter homage meet, + And crowd their servile necks beneath his feet. + Thus to his aid while pressing tides repair, + He mounts and spreads his streamers in the air. + The charms of empire might his youth mislead, + But what can our besotted Israel plead? + Sway'd by a monarch, whose serene command + Seems half the blessing of our promised land: 30 + Whose only grievance is excess of ease; + Freedom our pain, and plenty our disease! + Yet, as all folly would lay claim to sense, + And wickedness ne'er wanted a pretence, + With arguments they'd make their treason good, + And righteous David's self with slanders load: + That arts of foreign sway he did affect, + And guilty Jebusites from law protect, + Whose very chiefs, convict, were never freed, + Nay, we have seen their sacrificers bleed! 40 + Accusers' infamy is urged in vain, + While in the bounds of sense they did contain; + But soon they launch into the unfathom'd tide, + And in the depths they knew disdain'd to ride. + For probable discoveries to dispense, + Was thought below a pension'd evidence; + Mere truth was dull, nor suited with the port + Of pamper'd Corah when advanced to court. + No less than wonders now they will impose, + And projects void of grace or sense disclose. 50 + Such was the charge on pious Michal brought,-- + Michal that ne'er was cruel, even in thought,-- + The best of queens, and most obedient wife, + Impeach'd of cursed designs on David's life! + His life, the theme of her eternal prayer, + 'Tis scarce so much his guardian angel's care. + Not summer morns such mildness can disclose, + The Hermon lily, nor the Sharon rose. + Neglecting each vain pomp of majesty, + Transported Michal feeds her thoughts on high. 60 + She lives with angels, and, as angels do, + Quits heaven sometimes to bless the world below; + Where, cherish'd by her bounties' plenteous spring, + Reviving widows smile, and orphans sing. + Oh! when rebellious Israel's crimes at height, + Are threaten'd with her Lord's approaching fate, + The piety of Michal then remain + In Heaven's remembrance, and prolong his reign! + + Less desolation did the pest pursue, + That from Dan's limits to Beersheba flew; 70 + Less fatal the repeated wars of Tyre, + And less Jerusalem's avenging fire. + With gentler terror these our state o'erran, + Than since our evidencing days began! + On every cheek a pale confusion sate, + Continued fear beyond the worst of fate! + Trust was no more; art, science useless made; + All occupations lost but Corah's trade. + Meanwhile a guard on modest Corah wait, + If not for safety, needful yet for state. 80 + Well might he deem each peer and prince his slave, + And lord it o'er the tribes which he could save: + Even vice in him was virtue--what sad fate, + But for his honesty had seized our state! + And with what tyranny had we been cursed, + Had Corah never proved a villain first! + To have told his knowledge of the intrigue in gross, + Had been, alas! to our deponent's loss: + The travell'd Levite had the experience got, + To husband well, and make the best of's Plot; 90 + And therefore, like an evidence of skill, + With wise reserves secured his pension still; + Nor quite of future power himself bereft, + But limbos large for unbelievers left. + And now his writ such reverence had got, + 'Twas worse than plotting to suspect his Plot. + Some were so well convinced, they made no doubt + Themselves to help the founder'd swearers out. + Some had their sense imposed on by their fear, + But more for interest sake believe and swear: 100 + Even to that height with some the frenzy grew, + They raged to find their danger not prove true. + + Yet, than all these a viler crew remain, + Who with Achitophel the cry maintain; + Not urged by fear, nor through misguided sense,-- + Blind zeal and starving need had some pretence; + But for the good old cause, that did excite + The original rebels' wiles--revenge and spite. + These raise the plot, to have the scandal thrown + Upon the bright successor of the crown, 110 + Whose virtue with such wrongs they had pursued, + As seem'd all hope of pardon to exclude. + Thus, while on private ends their zeal is built, + The cheated crowd applaud, and share their guilt. + + Such practices as these, too gross to lie + Long unobserved by each discerning eye, + The more judicious Israelites unspell'd, + Though still the charm the giddy rabble held. + Even Absalom, amidst the dazzling beams + Of empire, and ambition's flattering dreams, 120 + Perceives the plot, too foul to be excused, + To aid designs, no less pernicious, used. + And, filial sense yet striving in his breast, + Thus to Achitophel his doubts express'd: + + Why are my thoughts upon a crown employ'd. + Which, once obtain'd, can be but half enjoy'd? + Not so when virtue did my arms require, + And to my father's wars I flew entire. + My regal power how will my foes resent, + When I myself have scarce my own consent! 130 + Give me a son's unblemish'd truth again, + Or quench the sparks of duty that remain. + How slight to force a throne that legions guard + The task to me! to prove unjust, how hard! + And if the imagined guilt thus wound my thought, + What will it when the tragic scene is wrought! + Dire war must first be conjured from below, + The realm we rule we first must overthrow; + And, when the civil furies are on wing, + That blind and undistinguish'd slaughters fling, 140 + Who knows what impious chance may reach the king? + Oh, rather let me perish in the strife, + Than have my crown the price of David's life! + Or if the tempest of the war he stand, + In peace, some vile officious villain's hand + His soul's anointed temple may invade; + Or, press'd by clamorous crowds, myself be made + His murderer; rebellious crowds, whose guilt + Shall dread his vengeance till his blood be spilt. + Which, if my filial tenderness oppose, 150 + Since to the empire by their arms I rose, + Those very arms on me shall be employ'd, + A new usurper crown'd, and I destroy'd: + The same pretence of public good will hold, + And new Achitophels be found as bold + To urge the needful change--perhaps the old. + + He said. The statesman with a smile replies, + A smile that did his rising spleen disguise: + My thoughts presumed our labours at an end; + And are we still with conscience to contend? 160 + Whose want in kings as needful is allow'd, + As 'tis for them to find it in the crowd. + Far in the doubtful passage you are gone, + And only can be safe by pressing on. + The crown's true heir, a prince severe and wise, + Has view'd your motions long with jealous eyes, + Your person's charms, your more prevailing arts, + And mark'd your progress in the people's hearts, + Whose patience is the effect of stinted power, + But treasures vengeance for the fatal hour; 170 + And if remote the peril he can bring, + Your present danger's greater from the king. + Let not a parent's name deceive your sense, + Nor trust the father in a jealous prince! + Your trivial faults if he could so resent, + To doom you little less than banishment, + What rage must your presumption since inspire! + Against his orders you return from Tyre. + Nor only so, but with a pomp more high, + And open court of popularity, 180 + The factious tribes.--And this reproof from thee! + The prince replies; Oh, statesman's winding skill, + They first condemn that first advised the ill! + + Illustrious youth! returned Achitophel, + Misconstrue not the words that mean you well; + The course you steer I worthy blame conclude, + But 'tis because you leave it unpursued. + A monarch's crown with fate surrounded lies, + Who reach, lay hold on death that miss the prize. + Did you for this expose yourself to show, 190 + And to the crowd bow popularly low? + For this your glorious progress next ordain, + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train? + With fame before you, like the morning star, + And shouts of joy saluting from afar? + Oh, from the heights you've reach'd but take a view, + Scarce leading Lucifer could fall like you! + And must I here my shipwreck'd arts bemoan? + Have I for this so oft made Israel groan? + Your single interest with the nation weigh'd, 200 + And turn'd the scale where your desires were laid; + Even when at helm a course so dangerous moved + To land your hopes, as my removal proved.-- + + I not dispute, the royal youth replies, + The known perfection of your policies; + Nor in Achitophel yet grudge or blame + The privilege that statesmen ever claim; + Who private interest never yet pursued, + But still pretended 'twas for others good: + What politician yet e'er 'scaped his fate, 210 + Who, saving his own neck, not saved the state? + From hence, on every humorous wind that veer'd, + With shifted sails a several course you steer'd. + What form of sway did David e'er pursue, + That seem'd like absolute, but sprung from you? + Who at your instance quash'd each penal law, + That kept dissenting factious Jews in awe; + And who suspends fix'd laws, may abrogate, + That done, form new, and so enslave the state. + Even property whose champion now you stand, 220 + And seem for this the idol of the land, + Did ne'er sustain such violence before, + As when your counsel shut the royal store; + Advice, that ruin to whole tribes procured, + But secret kept till your own banks secured. + Recount with this the triple covenant broke, + And Israel fitted for a foreign yoke; + Nor here your counsel's fatal progress stay'd, + But sent our levied powers to Pharaoh's aid. + Hence Tyre and Israel, low in ruins laid, 230 + And Egypt, once their scorn, their common terror made. + Even yet of such a season can we dream, + When royal rights you made your darling theme. + For power unlimited could reasons draw, + And place prerogative above the law; + Which, on your fall from office, grew unjust, + The laws made king, the king a slave in trust: + Whom with state-craft, to interest only true, + You now accuse of ills contrived by you. + + To this hell's agent: Royal youth, fix here, 240 + Let interest be the star by which you steer. + Hence to repose your trust in me was wise, + Whose interest most in your advancement lies. + A tie so firm as always will avail, + When friendship, nature, and religion fail; + On ours the safety of the crowd depends; + Secure the crowd, and we obtain our ends, + Whom I will cause so far our guilt to share, + Till they are made our champions by their fear. + What opposition can your rival bring, 250 + While Sanhedrims are jealous of the king? + His strength as yet in David's friendship lies, + And what can David's self without supplies? + Who with exclusive bills must now dispense, + Debar the heir, or starve in his defence. + Conditions which our elders ne'er will quit, + And David's justice never can admit. + Or forced by wants his brother to betray, + To your ambition next he clears the way; + For if succession once to nought they bring, 260 + Their next advance removes the present king: + Persisting else his senates to dissolve, + In equal hazard shall his reign involve. + Our tribes, whom Pharaoh's power so much alarms, + Shall rise without their prince to oppose his arms; + Nor boots it on what cause at first they join, + Their troops, once up, are tools for our design. + At least such subtle covenants shall be made, + Till peace itself is war in masquerade. + Associations of mysterious sense, 270 + Against, but seeming for, the king's defence: + Even on their courts of justice fetters draw, + And from our agents muzzle up their law. + By which a conquest if we fail to make, + 'Tis a drawn game at worst, and we secure our stake. + + He said, and for the dire success depends + On various sects, by common guilt made friends. + Whose heads, though ne'er so differing in their creed, + I' th' point of treason yet were well agreed. + 'Mongst these, extorting Ishban first appears, 280 + Pursued by a meagre troop of bankrupt heirs. + Blest times when Ishban, he whose occupation + So long has been to cheat, reforms the nation! + Ishban of conscience suited to his trade, + As good a saint as usurer ever made. + Yet Mammon has not so engross'd him quite, + But Belial lays as large a claim of spite; + Who, for those pardons from his prince he draws, + Returns reproaches, and cries up the cause. + That year in which the city he did sway, 290 + He left rebellion in a hopeful way, + Yet his ambition once was found so bold, + To offer talents of extorted gold; + Could David's wants have so been bribed, to shame + And scandalize our peerage with his name; + For which, his dear sedition he'd forswear, + And e'en turn loyal to be made a peer. + Next him, let railing Rabsheka have place, + So full of zeal he has no need of grace; + A saint that can both flesh and spirit use, 300 + Alike haunt conventicles and the stews: + Of whom the question difficult appears, + If most i' th' preacher's or the bawd's arrears. + What caution could appear too much in him + That keeps the treasure of Jerusalem! + Let David's brother but approach the town, + Double our guards, he cries, we are undone. + Protesting that he dares not sleep in 's bed + Lest he should rise next morn without his head. + + Next[74] these, a troop of busy spirits press, 310 + Of little fortunes, and of conscience less; + With them the tribe, whose luxury had drain'd + Their banks, in former sequestrations gain'd; + Who rich and great by past rebellions grew, + And long to fish the troubled streams anew. + Some future hopes, some present payment draws, + To sell their conscience and espouse the cause. + Such stipends those vile hirelings best befit, 318 + Priests without grace, and poets without wit. + Shall that false Hebronite escape our curse, + Judas, that keeps the rebels' pension-purse; + Judas, that pays the treason-writer's fee, + Judas, that well deserves his namesake's tree; + Who at Jerusalem's own gates erects + His college for a nursery of sects; + Young prophets with an early care secures, + And with the dung of his own arts manures! + What have the men of Hebron here to do? + What part in Israel's promised land have you? + Here Phaleg the lay-Hebronite is come, 330 + 'Cause like the rest he could not live at home; + Who from his own possessions could not drain + An omer even of Hebronitish grain; + Here struts it like a patriot, and talks high + Of injured subjects, alter'd property: + An emblem of that buzzing insect just, + That mounts the wheel, and thinks she raises dust. + Can dry bones live? or skeletons produce + The vital warmth of cuckoldising juice? + Slim Phaleg could, and at the table fed, 340 + Return'd the grateful product to the bed. + A waiting-man to travelling nobles chose, + He his own laws would saucily impose, + Till bastinadoed back again he went, + To learn those manners he to teach was sent. + Chastised he ought to have retreated home, + But he reads politics to Absalom. + For never Hebronite, though kick'd and scorn'd, + To his own country willingly return'd. + --But leaving famish'd Phaleg to be fed, 350 + And to talk treason for his daily bread, + Let Hebron, nay let hell, produce a man + So made for mischief as Ben-Jochanan. + A Jew of humble parentage was he, + By trade a Levite, though of low degree: + His pride no higher than the desk aspired, + But for the drudgery of priests was hired + To read and pray in linen ephod brave, + And pick up single shekels from the grave. + Married at last, but finding charge come faster, 360 + He could not live by God, but changed his master: + Inspired by want, was made a factious tool, + They got a villain, and we lost a fool. + Still violent, whatever cause he took, + But most against the party he forsook; + For renegadoes, who ne'er turn by halves, + Are bound in conscience to be double knaves. + So this prose-prophet took most monstrous pains + To let his masters see he earn'd his gains. + But, as the devil owes all his imps a shame, 370 + He chose the apostate for his proper theme; + With little pains he made the picture true, + And from reflection took the rogue he drew. + A wondrous work, to prove the Jewish nation + In every age a murmuring generation; + To trace them from their infancy of sinning, + And show them factious from their first beginning. + To prove they could rebel, and rail, and mock, + Much to the credit of the chosen flock; + A strong authority which must convince, 380 + That saints own no allegiance to their prince; + As 'tis a leading-card to make a whore, + To prove her mother had turn'd up before. + But, tell me, did the drunken patriarch bless + The son that show'd his father's nakedness? + Such thanks the present church thy pen will give, + Which proves rebellion was so primitive. + Must ancient failings be examples made? + Then murderers from Cain may learn their trade. + As thou the heathen and the saint hast drawn, 390 + Methinks the apostate was the better man: + And thy hot father, waving my respect, + Not of a mother-church but of a sect. + And such he needs must be of thy inditing; + This comes of drinking asses' milk and writing. + If Balak should be call'd to leave his place, + As profit is the loudest call of grace, + His temple, dispossess'd of one, would be + Replenished with seven devils more by thee. + + Levi, thou art a load, I'll lay thee down, 400 + And show Rebellion bare, without a gown; + Poor slaves in metre, dull and addle-pated, + Who rhyme below even David's psalms translated; + Some in my speedy pace I must outrun, + As lame Mephibosheth the wizard's son: + To make quick way I'll leap o'er heavy blocks, + Shun rotten Uzza, as I would the pox; + And hasten Og and Doeg to rehearse, + Two fools that crutch their feeble sense on verse: + Who, by my muse, to all succeeding times 410 + Shall live in spite of their own doggrel rhymes. + + Doeg, though without knowing how or why, + Made still a blundering kind of melody; + Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin, + Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in; + Free from all meaning, whether good or bad, + And, in one word, heroically mad: + He was too warm on picking-work to dwell, + But fagoted his notions as they fell, + And if they rhymed and rattled, all was well. 420 + Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire, + For still there goes some thinking to ill-nature: + He needs no more than birds and beasts to think, + All his occasions are to eat and drink. + If he call rogue and rascal from a garret, + He means you no more mischief than a parrot; + The words for friend and foe alike were made, + To fetter them in verse is all his trade. + For almonds he'll cry whore to his own mother: + And call young Absalom king David's brother. 430 + Let him be gallows-free by my consent, + And nothing suffer, since he nothing meant. + Hanging supposes human soul and reason-- + This animal's below committing treason: + Shall he be hang'd who never could rebel? + That's a preferment for Achitophel. + The woman....... + Was rightly sentenced by the law to die; + But 'twas hard fate that to the gallows led + The dog that never heard the statute read. 440 + Railing in other men may be a crime, + But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: + Instinct he follows, and no further knows, + For to write verse with him is to transpose. + 'Twere pity treason at his door to lay, + _Who makes heaven's gate a lock to its own key_:[75] + Let him rail on, let his invective muse + Have four and twenty letters to abuse, + Which, if he jumbles to one line of sense, + Indict him of a capital offence. 450 + In fireworks give him leave to vent his spite-- + Those are the only serpents he can write; + The height of his ambition is, we know, + But to be master of a puppet-show; + On that one stage his works may yet appear, + And a month's harvest keeps him all the year. + + Now stop your noses, readers, all and some, + For here's a tun of midnight work to come; + Og, from a treason-tavern rolling home, + Round as a globe, and liquor'd every chink, 460 + Goodly and great he sails behind his link; + With all this bulk there's nothing lost in Og, + For every inch that is not fool is rogue: + A monstrous mass of foul corrupted matter, + As all the devils had spued to make the batter. + When wine has given him courage to blaspheme, + He curses God, but God before cursed him; + And if man could have reason, none has more, + That made his paunch so rich, and him so poor. + With wealth he was not trusted, for Heaven knew 470 + What 'twas of old to pamper up a Jew; + To what would he on quail and pheasant swell, + That even on tripe and carrion could rebel? + But though Heaven made him poor (with reverence speaking), + He never was a poet of God's making; + The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull, + With this prophetic blessing--Be thou dull; + Drink, swear, and roar, forbear no lewd delight + Fit for thy bulk--do anything but write: + Thou art of lasting make, like thoughtless men, 480 + A strong nativity--but for the pen! + Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink, + Still thou mayst live, avoiding pen and ink. + I see, I see, 'tis counsel given in vain, + For treason botch'd in rhyme will be thy bane; + Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck, + 'Tis fatal to thy fame and to thy neck: + Why should thy metre good king David blast? + A psalm of his will surely be thy last. + Dar'st thou presume in verse to meet thy foes, 490 + Thou whom the penny pamphlet foil'd in prose? + Doeg, whom God for mankind's mirth has made, + O'ertops thy talent in thy very trade; + Doeg to thee, thy paintings are so coarse, + A poet is, though he's the poet's horse. + A double noose thou on thy neck dost pull, + For writing treason, and for writing dull; + To die for faction is a common evil, + But to be hang'd for nonsense is the devil: + Hadst thou the glories of thy king express'd, 500 + Thy praises had been satire at the best; + But thou in clumsy verse, unlick'd, unpointed, + Hast shamefully defied the Lord's anointed: + I will not rake the dunghill for thy crimes, + For who would read thy life that reads thy rhymes? + But of king David's foes, be this the doom, + May all be like the young man Absalom; + And, for my foes, may this their blessing be, + To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee! + + Achitophel, each rank, degree, and age, 510 + For various ends neglects not to engage; + The wise and rich, for purse and counsel brought, + The fools and beggars, for their number sought: + Who yet not only on the town depends, + For even in court the faction had its friends; + These thought the places they possess'd too small, + And in their hearts wish'd court and king to fall: + Whose names the muse disdaining, holds i' the dark, + Thrust in the villain herd without a mark; + With parasites and libel-spawning imps, 520 + Intriguing fops, dull jesters, and worse pimps. + Disdain the rascal rabble to pursue, + Their set cabals are yet a viler crew: + See where, involved in common smoke, they sit; + Some for our mirth, some for our satire fit: + These, gloomy, thoughtful, and on mischief bent, + While those, for mere good-fellowship, frequent + The appointed club, can let sedition pass, + Sense, nonsense, anything to employ the glass; + And who believe, in their dull honest hearts, 530 + The rest talk reason but to show their parts; + Who ne'er had wit or will for mischief yet, + But pleased to be reputed of a set. + + But in the sacred annals of our plot, + Industrious Arod never be forgot: + The labours of this midnight-magistrate, + May vie with Corah's to preserve the state. + In search of arms, he fail'd not to lay hold + On war's most powerful, dangerous weapon--gold. + And last, to take from Jebusites all odds, 540 + Their altars pillaged, stole their very gods; + Oft would he cry, when treasure he surprised, + 'Tis Baalish gold in David's coin disguised; + Which to his house with richer relics came, + While lumber idols only fed the flame: + For our wise rabble ne'er took pains to inquire, + What 'twas he burnt, so 't made a rousing fire. + With which our elder was enrich'd no more + Than false Gehazi with the Syrian's store; + So poor, that when our choosing-tribes were met, 550 + Even for his stinking votes he ran in debt; + For meat the wicked, and, as authors think, + The saints he choused for his electing drink; + Thus every shift and subtle method past, + And all to be no Zaken at the last. + + Now, raised on Tyre's sad ruins, Pharaoh's pride + Soar'd high, his legions threatening far and wide; + As when a battering storm engender'd high, + By winds upheld, hangs hovering in the sky, + Is gazed upon by every trembling swain-- 560 + This for his vineyard fears, and that, his grain; + For blooming plants, and flowers new opening these, + For lambs yean'd lately, and far-labouring bees: + To guard his stock each to the gods does call, + Uncertain where the fire-charged clouds will fall: + Even so the doubtful nations watch his arms, + With terror each expecting his alarms. + Where, Judah! where was now thy lion's roar? + Thou only couldst the captive lands restore; + But thou, with inbred broils and faction press'd, 570 + From Egypt needst a guardian with the rest. + Thy prince from Sanhedrims no trust allow'd, + Too much the representers of the crowd, + Who for their own defence give no supply, + But what the crown's prerogatives must buy: + As if their monarch's rights to violate + More needful were, than to preserve the state! + From present dangers they divert their care, + And all their fears are of the royal heir; + Whom now the reigning malice of his foes 580 + Unjudged would sentence, and e'er crown'd depose. + Religion the pretence, but their decree + To bar his reign, whate'er his faith shall be! + By Sanhedrims and clamorous crowds thus press'd, + What passions rent the righteous David's breast! + Who knows not how to oppose or to comply-- + Unjust to grant, or dangerous to deny! + How near, in this dark juncture, Israel's fate, + Whose peace one sole expedient could create, + Which yet the extremest virtue did require, 590 + Even of that prince whose downfall they conspire! + His absence David does with tears advise, + To appease their rage. Undaunted he complies. + Thus he, who, prodigal of blood and ease, + A royal life exposed to winds and seas, + At once contending with the waves and fire, + And heading danger in the wars of Tyre, + Inglorious now forsakes his native sand, + And like an exile quits the promised land! + Our monarch scarce from pressing tears refrains, 600 + And painfully his royal state maintains, + Who now, embracing on the extremest shore, + Almost revokes what he enjoin'd before: + Concludes at last more trust to be allow'd + To storms and seas than to the raging crowd! + Forbear, rash muse! the parting scene to draw, + With silence charm'd as deep as theirs that saw! + Not only our attending nobles weep, + But hardy sailors swell with tears the deep! + The tide restrain'd her course, and more amazed, 610 + The twin-stars on the royal brothers gazed: + While this sole fear-- + Does trouble to our suffering hero bring, + Lest next the popular rage oppress the king! + Thus parting, each for the other's danger grieved, + The shore the king, and seas the prince received. + Go, injured hero! while propitious gales, + Soft as thy consort's breath, inspire thy sails; + Well may she trust her beauties on a flood, + Where thy triumphant fleets so oft have rode! 620 + Safe on thy breast reclined, her rest be deep, + Rock'd like a Nereid by the waves asleep; + While happiest dreams her fancy entertain, + And to Elysian fields convert the main! + Go, injured hero! while the shores of Tyre + At thy approach so silent shall admire, + Who on thy thunder still their thoughts employ, + And greet thy landing with a trembling joy! + + On heroes thus the prophet's fate is thrown, + Admired by every nation but their own; 630 + Yet while our factious Jews his worth deny, + Their aching conscience gives their tongue the lie. + Even in the worst of men the noblest parts + Confess him, and he triumphs in their hearts, + Whom to his king the best respects commend + Of subject, soldier, kinsman, prince, and friend; + All sacred names of most divine esteem, + And to perfection all sustain'd by him; + Wise, just, and constant, courtly without art, + Swift to discern and to reward desert; 640 + No hour of his in fruitless ease destroy'd, + But on the noblest subjects still employ'd: + Whose steady soul ne'er learn'd to separate + Between his monarch's interest and the state; + But heaps those blessings on the royal head, + Which he well knows must be on subjects shed. + + On what pretence could then the vulgar rage + Against his worth and native rights engage? + Religious fears their argument are made-- + Religious fears his sacred rights invade! 650 + 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, + 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 + Not only claim'd their conscience, but their lands; 660 + They grudge God's tithes, how therefore shall they yield + An idol full possession of the field? + 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, + 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. 670 + + As vain our fears of Egypt's potent aid, + Not so has Pharaoh learn'd 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; + 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; 680 + 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, + 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. 690 + From these deceivers our divisions spring, + Our weakness, and the growth of Egypt's king; + These, with pretended friendship to the state, + Our crowds' suspicion of their prince create; + Both pleased and frighten'd with the specious cry, + 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: 700 + 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; + 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! 710 + When thick as Egypt's locusts on the sand, + 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, + 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, 720 + 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 still 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. 730 + At last his deep resentments silence broke, + The imperial palace shook, while thus he spoke-- + + Then Justice wait, and Rigour take her time, + For lo! our mercy is become our crime: + While halting Punishment her stroke delays, + 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 judge between her friends and foes? + When shall we see expired deceivers' sway, + And credit what our God and monarchs say? + 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, + To avoid those mischiefs which they seem'd to dread: + But first, e'er 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 destroy'd the nation's rest! 760 + 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, + And this the privilege of royal blood? + But grant we should confirm the wrongs they press, + 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. 770 + 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, + 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. 780 + The same rough means that 'suage the crowd, appease + Our senates 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, + 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. 790 + + He said, the attendants heard with awful joy, + 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, + 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. 800 + The field confess'd his power in arms before, + 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. + Through Sion's streets his glad arrival's spread, + 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 distress'd, + A virtue proper to the brave and best; 810 + '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; + 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; 820 + 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, + 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, 830 + His triumphs, so resounded far and near, + Miss'd not his young ambitious rival's ear; + And as when joyful hunters' clamorous train, + Some slumbering lion wakes in Moab's plain, + Who oft had forced the bold assailants yield, + 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: 840 + 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, + And thus on shelves the credulous youth convey'd? + 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 balk his charge, and for himself to shift, 850 + In which his dexterous 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 + Lest their recanting chief the cause betray, + Who on a father's grace his hopes may ground, + And for his pardon with their heads compound. + Him therefore, e'er his fortune slip her time. + The statesman plots to engage in some bold crime 860 + Past pardon--whether to attempt his bed, + 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 + 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 care what claimer's crown'd, except the true. 870 + Wake, Absalom! approaching ruin shun, + And see, O 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; + 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; 880 + 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 Absalom, + 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: 890 + 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, + 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! 900 + 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, + And David not their grievance, but the king. + Seized now with panic fear the faction lies, + Lest this clear truth strike Absalom's charm'd eyes, + Lest he perceive, from long enchantment free, + What all beside the flatter'd youth must see: 910 + 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. + 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, 920 + Whether fierce Vulcan's rage the furzy plain + Had seized, engender'd by some careless swain; + Or swelling Neptune lawless inroads made, + And to their cell of store his flood convey'd; + The commonwealth broke up, distracted go, + 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; + Dejecting all, and ruefully dismay'd, + For shekel without treat or treason paid. 930 + 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, + Immortalized in laurell'd Asaph's verse: + Hard task! yet will not I thy flight recall, + View heaven, and then enjoy thy glorious fall. 940 + + First write Bezaliel, whose illustrious name + Forestalls our praise, and gives his poet fame. + The Kenites' rocky province his command, + A barren limb of fertile Canaan's land; + Which for its generous natives yet could be + 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! 950 + To aid the crown and state his greatest zeal, + His second care that service to conceal; + Of dues observant, firm to every trust, + And to the needy always more than just; + Who truth from specious falsehood can divide, + 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. 960 + 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 dismay'd, + And David's cause long since confess'd his aid. + + Brave Abdael o'er the prophet's 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. 970 + That praise was his; what therefore did remain + 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, + 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 Gilboa's hills forsake, + And Jordan mix his stream with Sodom's lake; 980 + Or seas retired, their secret stores disclose, + And to the sun their scaly brood expose, + Or swell'd above the cliffs their billows raise, + Before the muses leave their patron's praise. + + Eliab our next labour does invite, + And hard the task to do Eliab right. + 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. 990 + His age with only one mild heiress bless'd, + 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, + 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! 1000 + That no Achitophel thy ruin boast; + 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. + 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. 1010 + 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; + Who, with a loyalty that did excel, + 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. 1020 + 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; + 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 1030 + 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, + 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? + We'll crown thee with a wreath from thy own tree! 1040 + 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, + 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! + How tender of the offending young man's fame! 1050 + 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 could a fairer prospect yield, + 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? 1060 + 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 + Our royal hero's beauteous, dear remains; + Who now sails off with winds nor wishes slack, + To bring his sufferings' bright companion back. + But e'er such transport can our sense employ, + A bitter grief must poison half our joy; 1070 + 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 Askelon to know, + 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. 1080 + + Calm were the elements, night's silence deep, + The waves scarce murmuring, and the winds asleep; + Yet fate for ruin takes so still an hour, + And treacherous sands the princely bark devour; + Then death unworthy seized a generous race, + To virtue's scandal, and the stars' disgrace! + Oh! had the indulgent powers vouchsafed to yield, + Instead of faithless shelves, a listed field; + A listed field of Heaven's and David's foes, + Fierce as the troops that did his youth oppose, 1090 + 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, + Of whom kind force could scarce the fates defraud; + Who for such followers lost, O 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, 1100 + 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; + Nor stretch'd on roses in the myrtle grove, + 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, 1110 + Long must his patience strive with fortune's rage, + And long-opposing gods themselves engage; + Must see his country flame, his friends destroy'd, + Before the promised empire be enjoy'd. + Such toil of fate must build a man of fame, + 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 delay'd, + On the instant is in all her bloom array'd; 1120 + The winds breathe low, the element serene; + Yet mark what motion in the waves is seen! + Thronging and busy as Hyblaean swarms, + Or straggled soldiers summon'd to their arms, + See where the princely bark in loosest pride, + With all her guardian fleet, adorns the tide! + High on her deck the royal lovers stand, + Our crimes to pardon, e'er they touch'd our land. + Welcome to Israel and to David's breast! + Here all your toils, here all your sufferings rest. 1130 + + This year did Ziloah rule Jerusalem, + 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, + That faction at the next election fail'd, + When even the common cry did justice found, + And merit by the multitude was crown'd: + With David then was Israel's peace restored, + Crowds mourn'd their error, and obey'd their lord. 1140 + + * * * * * + +A KEY TO BOTH PARTS OF ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. + + _Aldael_--General Monk, Duke of Albemarle. + + _Abethdin_--The name given, through + this poem, to a Lord-Chancellor + in general. + + _Absalom_--Duke of Monmouth, natural + son of King Charles II. + + _Achitophel_--Anthony Ashley Cooper, + Earl of Shaftesbury. + + _Adriel_--John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. + + _Agag_--Sir Edmundbury Godfrey. + + _Amiel_--Mr Seymour, Speaker of the + House of Commons. + + _Amri_--Sir Heneage Finch, Earl of + Winchelsea, and Lord Chancellor. + + _Annabel_--Duchess of Monmouth. + + _Arod_--Sir William Waller. + + _Asaph_--A character drawn by Tate + for Dryden, in the second part + of this poem. + + _Balaam_--Earl of Huntingdon. + + _Balak_--Barnet. + + _Barzillai_--Duke of Ormond. + + _Bathsheba_--Duchess of Portsmouth. + + _Benaiah_--General Sackville. + + _Ben Jochanan_--Rev. Samuel Johnson. + + _Bezaliel_--Duke of Beaufort. + + _Caleb_--Ford, Lord Grey of Werk. + + _Corah_--Dr Titus Oates. + + _David_--King Charles II. + + _Doeg_--Elkanah Settle, the city poet. + + _Egypt_--France. + + _Eliab_--Sir Henry Bennet, Earl of + Arlington. + + _Ethnic-Plot_--The Popish Plot. + + _Gath_--The Land of Exile, more particularly + Brussels, where King + Charles II. long resided. + + _Hebrew Priests_--The Church of + England Clergy. + + _Hebron_--Scotland. + + _Helon_--Earl of Feversham, a Frenchman + by birth, and nephew to + Marshal Turenne. + + _Hushai_--Hyde, Earl of Rochester. + + _Ishban_--Sir Robert Clayton, Alderman, + and one of the City Members. + + _Ishbosheth_--Richard Cromwell. + + _Israel_--England. + + _Issachar_--Thomas Thynne, Esq., + who was shot in his coach. + + _Jebusites_--Papists. + + _Jerusalem_--London. + + _Jews_--English. + + _Jonas_--Sir William Jones, a great + lawyer. + + _Jordan_--Dover. + + _Jotham_--Saville, Marquis of Halifax. + + _Jothram_--Lord Dartmouth. + + _Judas_--Mr Ferguson, a canting + teacher. + + _Mephibosheth_--Pordage. + + _Michal_--Queen Catharine. + + _Nadab_--Lord Howard of Escrick. + + _Og_--Shadwell. + + _Othniel_--Henry, Duke of Grafton, + natural son of King + Charles II. by the Duchess of Cleveland. + + _Phaleg_--Forbes. + + _Pharaoh_--King of France. + + _Rabsheka_--Sir Thomas Player, one + of the City Members. + + _Sagan of Jerusalem_--Dr Compton, + Bishop of London, youngest son + to the Earl of Northampton. + + _Sanhedrim_--Parliament. + + _Saul_--Oliver Cromwell. + + _Sheva_--Sir Roger Lestrange. + + _Shimei_--Slingsby Bethel, Sheriff of + London in 1680. + + _Sion_--England. + + _Solymaean Rout_--London Rebels. + + _Tyre_--Holland. + + _Uzza_--Jack Hall. + + _Zadoc_--Sancroft, Archbishop of + Canterbury. + + _Zaken_--A Member of the House of + Commons. + + _Ziloah_--Sir John Moor, Lord Mayor + in 1682. + + _Zimri_--Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 67: 'Annabel:' Lady Ann Scott, daughter of Francis, third Earl +of Buccleuch.] + +[Footnote 68: 'Adam-wits:' comparing the discontented to Adam and his +fall.] + +[Footnote 69: 'Triple bond:' alliance between England, Sweden, and +Holland; broken by the second Dutch war through the influence of France +and Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 70: 'Vare:' _i.e._, wand, from Spanish _vara_.] + +[Footnote 71: 'Him:' Dr Dolben, Bishop of Rochester.] + +[Footnote 72: 'Ruler of the day:' Phaeton.] + +[Footnote 73: The second part was written by Mr Nahum Tate, and is by no +means equal to the first, though Dryden corrected it throughout. The +poem is here printed complete.] + +[Footnote 74: 'Next:' from this to the line, 'To talk like Doeg, and to +write like thee,' is Dryden's own.] + +[Footnote 75: 'Who makes,' &c.: a line quoted from Settle.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE MEDAL.[76] + + +A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. + + +EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. + +For to whom can I dedicate this poem with so much justice as to you? It +is the representation of your own hero: it is the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of your 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 enhanced, 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 him 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 imagination 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",[77] 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 against 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 for the public welfare, to promote +sedition? Does your definition 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 his 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 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 everything 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 it is apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, it is 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 +Huguenot, murdered Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot 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 further 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 intrenched behind the Council of Trent: +so now, when your affairs are in a 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: it is the proper time to +say anything 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.[78] But there is +this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of 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 only one 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; for if scandal be not allowed, you are no +freeborn 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 nonconformist 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 signifies 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[79] 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 +profane, and saucy jack, and atheistic 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 +predecessors, 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 of it is, it is indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your +party says or thinks of him. + + * * * * * + + Of all our antic sights and pageantry, + Which English idiots run in crowds to see, + The Polish[80] Medal bears the prize alone: + A monster, more the favourite of the town + Than either fairs or theatres have shown. + 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, + Laetamur, which, in Polish, is rejoice. + The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd: + And a new canting holiday design'd. + Five days he sate, 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, e'er a man: + So young his hatred to his prince began. + Next this (how wildly will ambition steer!) 30 + 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. + 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. + 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. + Behold him now exalted into trust; + 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; 60 + At best, as little honest as he could, + And, like white witches[81], 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[82]; + Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold. + From hence those tears! that Ilium of our woe! + Who helps a powerful friend, forearms a foe. + What wonder if the waves prevail so far, + When he cut down the banks that made the bar? 70 + 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, + 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 his 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; + 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 theirs, 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, + 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 recall the son. 100 + 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; + 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 burns; + So all are God Almighties in their turns. 110 + 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, + Secured succession to secure our peace. + Thus property and sovereign sway, at last, + In equal balances were justly cast: + But this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd horse-- + Instructs the beast to know his native force; 120 + 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: + 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. 130 + 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; + 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. 140 + No justice to their righteous cause allow'd; + But baffled by an arbitrary crowd. + And medals graved their conquest to record, + The stamp and coin of their adopted lord. + + The man[83] who laugh'd but once, to see an ass + Mumbling make the cross-grain'd thistles pass, + Might laugh again to see a jury chaw + The prickles of unpalatable law. + The witnesses, that leech-like lived on blood, + Sucking for them was medicinally good; 150 + But when they fasten'd on their fester'd sore, + Then justice and religion they forswore, + Their maiden oaths debauch'd into a whore. + Thus men are raised by factions, and decried; + And rogue and saint distinguish'd by their side. + 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: 160 + 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 inquire; + But since our sects in prophecy grow higher, + The text inspires not them, but they the text inspire. + + London, thou great emporium of our isle, + O thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile! + How shall I praise or curse to thy desert? + Or separate thy sound from thy corrupted part? 170 + I call thee Nile; the parallel will stand; + Thy tides of wealth o'erflow the fatten'd land; + Yet monsters from thy large increase we find, + Engender'd on the slime thou leav'st behind. + Sedition has not wholly seized on thee, + Thy nobler parts are from infection free. + 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. 180 + The head[84] 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; + 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! 190 + 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, + 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 dethrone, + And they'll be sure to make his cause their own. 200 + 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! + 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, 210 + 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. + Thus when the heir was from the vineyard thrown, + The rich possession was the murderer's own. + In vain to sophistry they have recourse: + By proving theirs no plot, they prove 'tis worse-- 220 + 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 his dignity and fame, + He should have leave to exercise the name, + And hold the cards, while commons play'd 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, 240 + That waits impatient for the last command. + Thus outlaws open villainy 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, 250 + 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 tempest purges what it breeds, + To recommend the calmness that succeeds. + + But thou, the pander of the people's hearts, + O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts, + Whose blandishments a loyal land have whored, + And broke the bonds she plighted to her lord; + What curses on thy blasted name will fall! 260 + 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. + 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, + That preach up thee for God, dispense thy laws, + And with thy stum ferment their fainting cause? 270 + Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat + 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 theirs 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; 280 + That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit, + And wink at crimes he did himself commit. + A tyrant theirs; the heaven their priesthood paints + A conventicle of gloomy, sullen saints; + A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad, + Foredoom'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, + And crowds profane with impious arms prevail, 290 + 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, + 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; 300 + 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 the tadpole train, + Will croak to heaven for help, from this devouring crane. + 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, + In hate of kings shall cast 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 hæc opprobria, vobis + Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli." + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 76: 'The Medal:' see 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 77: A pamphlet vindicating Lord Shaftesbury from being +concerned in any plotting designs against the King. Wood says, the +general report was, that it was written by the earl himself.] + +[Footnote 78: 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.] + +[Footnote 79: 'Brother:' George Cooper, Esq., brother to the Earl of +Shaftesbury, was married to a daughter of Alderman Oldfield; and, being +settled in the city, became a great man among the Whigs and fanatics.] + +[Footnote 80: 'Polish:' Shaftesbury was said to have entertained hopes +of the crown of Poland.] + +[Footnote 81: 'White witches:' who wrought good ends by infernal means.] + +[Footnote 82: 'Loosed our triple hold:' our breaking the alliance with +Holland and Sweden, was owing to the Earl of Shaftesbury's advice.] + +[Footnote 83: 'The Man:' Crassus.] + +[Footnote 84: 'The head,' &c.: alluding to the lord mayor and the two +sheriffs: the former, Sir John Moor, being a Tory; the latter, Shute and +Pilkington, Whigs.] + + * * * * * + + + + +RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. + +AN EPISTLE. + + +THE PREFACE. + + +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 objected 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 farther +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 Japhet (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 should 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. 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 Ham and Japhet 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 revelation, 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, it is 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 inconsistent 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. It is 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 upon 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 far 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 more plausibility of reason it combats our religion, +with so much more caution it ought to be avoided: therefore the prudence +of our Church is to be commended, which has interposed her 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 oar faith, I have +unavoidably created to myself two sorts of enemies: the Papists indeed, +more directly, because they have kept the Scriptures 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 peers 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 wiredrawing 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 case. 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 the 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, Santare, Simancha,[85] 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 vel paulum +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 hominum Christianorum dominatu_, 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 authorised. And their champion +Bellarmine has told the world, in his Apology, that the king of England +is a vassal to the pope, _ratione directi domini_, and that he holds in +villanage of his Roman landlord: 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 was 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 drank: but that +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 detesting 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 maintained, amongst others, _ex cathedra_, 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 government +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 VIII. 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 VI., 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 saint-like 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 see, 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[86] and Coppinger, as the story tells us, got up into a +pease-cart and harangue 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 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 compassed 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 like 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 another 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 subject, 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,[87] 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 poet 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. + + * * * * * + + Dim as the borrow'd 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 + Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, + But guide us 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 + From cause to cause, to nature's secret head; + And found that one first principle must be: + But what, or who, that UNIVERSAL HE: + Whether some soul encompassing 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; 20 + Not even the Stagyrite 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 + What most concern'd the good of human kind: + For happiness was never to be found, + But vanish'd from them 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: + 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. + 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? + Or finite reason reach Infinity? 40 + For what could fathom God were more than He. + + The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground; + Cries [Greek: eureka], the mighty secret's found: + God is that spring of good; supreme and best; + We made to serve, and in that service blest; + 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 praise and pray: 50 + 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; + 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-- 60 + The bad meet punishment, the good reward. + + 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! + These truths are not the product of thy mind, + But dropp'd from heaven, and of a nobler kind. + Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy sight, + And reason saw not, till faith sprung the light. + Hence all thy natural worship takes the source: 70 + 'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse. + Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, + Which so obscure to heathens did appear? + Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found: + Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd. + 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, 80 + 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! + + Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity? + And must the terms of peace be given by thee? + Then thou art Justice in the last appeal; + 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, 100 + 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: + 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. 110 + 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 + Not paid; or paid, inadequate in price: + What further means can reason now direct, + Or what relief from human wit expect? + That shows us sick; and sadly are we sure + Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure: 120 + 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 Scripure all in equal balance thrown, + And our one Sacred Book will be that one. + + 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 130 + 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 word is scarce more ancient than the law: + Heaven's early care prescribed for every age; + 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, 140 + 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. + + 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, 150 + 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. + 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; 160 + 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? + 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 170 + Which must to all, and every where be known: + 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: + 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? + In other parts it helps, that ages past, 180 + 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? + + Of all objections this indeed is chief + To startle reason, stagger frail belief: + 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, 190 + Much more may strangers who ne'er heard His name. + And though no name be for salvation known, + But that of his Eternal Son alone; + Who knows how far transcending goodness can + Extend the merits of that Son to man? + 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, 200 + 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; + And by their conscience be condemn'd or freed. + Most righteous doom! because a rule reveal'd + Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd. + Then those who follow'd reason's dictates right, + Lived up, and lifted high their natural light; + With Socrates may see their Maker's face, 210 + While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. + Nor does it balk my charity to find + The Egyptian bishop[88] of another mind: + For though his creed eternal truth contains, + 'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains + 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, 220 + 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, even 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; + Those youthful hours which, of thy equals most 230 + In toys have squander'd, or in vice have lost, + Those hours hast thou to nobler use employ'd; + And the severe delights of truth enjoy'd. + Witness this weighty book, in which appears + The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years, + Spent by thy author, in 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, 240 + They Junius and Tremellius[89] may defy; + Save pains in various readings, and translations; + And without Hebrew make most learn'd quotations. + A work so full with various learning fraught, + So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought, + 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, 250 + 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: + 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 260 + 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, + 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, 270 + How can we think have oral sounds endured? + 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. + + O but, says one, tradition set aside, + Where can we hope for an unerring guide? + For since the original Scripture has been lost, + All copies disagreeing, maim'd the most, + Or Christian faith can have no certain ground, 280 + Or truth in Church Tradition must be found. + + Such an omniscient Church we wish indeed: + 'Twere worth both Testaments, cast in the Creed: + But if this mother be a guide so sure, + As can all doubts resolve, all truth secure, + Then her infallibility, 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. 300 + 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? + This to affirm were ignorance or pride. + Are there not many points, some needful sure + To saving faith, that Scripture leaves obscure? + Which every sect will wrest a several way, + For what one sect interprets, all sects may. 310 + 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. + + 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, 320 + Who never heard this question brought in play. + Th' 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. + The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught, + Born to instruct, as others to be taught, + Must study well the sacred page; and see + Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree + With the whole tenor of the work divine: 330 + 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: + 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, 340 + 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. + 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. + + The partial Papists would infer from hence, + Their Church, in last resort, should judge the sense. + But first they would assume, with wondrous art, + Themselves to be the whole, who are but part, + Of that vast frame the Church; yet grant they were 360 + 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: + The welcome news is in the letter found; + The carrier's not commissioned 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, 370 + A gainful trade their clergy did advance: + When want of learning kept 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 and spell: + 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, 380 + Poor laymen took salvation on content; + As needy men take money, good or bad: + God's Word they had not, but th' priest's they had. + Yet, whate'er false conveyances they made, + The lawyer still was certain to be paid. + 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, 390 + 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: + 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 had full as bad a consequence: + The Book thus put in every vulgar hand, 400 + 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. + 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: 410 + 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; + Occasion'd by great zeal and little thought. + While crowds unlearn'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. 420 + 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. + + 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: 430 + Faith is not built on disquisitions vain; + 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 + 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, + 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. 450 + + Thus have I made my own opinions clear; + Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear: + And this unpolish'd, rugged verse I chose, + As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose: + For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, + Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 85: 'Not to name Mariana, Bellarmine,' &c.: all Jesuits and +controversial writers in the Roman Catholic Church.] + +[Footnote 86: Hacket was a man of learning; he had much of the +Scriptures by heart, and made himself remarkable by preaching in an +enthusiastic strain. In 1591, he made a great parade of sanctity, +pretended to divine inspiration, and visions from God.] + +[Footnote 87: The son of the celebrated John Hampden. He was in the +Ryehouse Plot, and fined £15,000, which was remitted at the Revolution.] + +[Footnote 88: 'Bishop:' Athanasius.] + +[Footnote 89: 'Junius and Tremellius:' Francis Junius and Emanuel +Tremellius, two Calvinist ministers, who, in the sixteenth century, +joined in translating the Bible from Hebrew into Latin.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: + +A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES +II. + + I. + + 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; + 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, + Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky; + We lived as unconcern'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: + 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, + "Our gracious prince was dead." + No sickness known before, no slow disease, + To soften grief by just degrees: + But like a hurricane on Indian seas, + The tempest rose; + An unexpected burst of woes; + 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 + (At once it shall), + Should gape immense, and rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball; + So swift and so surprising was our fear: + Our Atlas fell indeed, but Hercules was near. + + II. + + 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 + 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 pray'd, + 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, + (Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,) + Who can describe the amazement of his face! + Horror in all his pomp was there, + 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: + 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 + 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, + An image now of death. + 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; + No wife, no brother, such a grief could know, + Nor any name but friend. + + III. + + O wondrous changes of a fatal scene, + Still varying to the last! + Heaven, though its hard decree was past, + 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 ethereal throne, + Such as his wondrous life had oft and 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 he could, + 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, + 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 heard; + 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, + The medicinal head, the ready hand, + 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. + + IV. + + 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, + 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; + Friends to congratulate their friends made haste; + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd: + Above the rest heroic James appear'd-- + Exalted more, because he more had fear'd: + His manly heart, whose noble pride + Was still above + Dissembled hate or varnish'd love, + Its more than common transport could not hide; + But like an eagre[90] rode in triumph o'er the tide. + Thus, in alternate course, + 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; + 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, + 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, + By charms of art was hurried down, + Forced with regret to leave her native sphere, + Came but awhile on liking here: + Soon weary of the painful strife, + And made but faint essays of life: + An evening light + Soon shut in night; + A strong distemper, and a weak relief, + Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. + + V. + + The sons of art all medicines tried, + 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 play'd. + Death never won a stake with greater toil, + 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; + 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 Cæsar could sustain: + 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; + More, infinitely more, than he, + Against the worst of rebels, could decree, + A traitor, or twice pardon'd enemy. + Now art was tried without success, + No racks could make the stubborn malady confess. + The vain insurancers of life, + And they who most perform'd and promised less, + Even Short and Hobbes[91] forsook the unequal strife. + Death and despair were in their looks, + 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. + + VI. + + Death was denounced; that frightful sound + Which even the best can hardly bear, + He took the summons void of fear; + And unconcern'dly cast his eyes around; + As if to find and dare the grisly challenger. + What death could do he lately tried, + 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. + Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave, + He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. + + VII. + + As if some angel had been sent + To lengthen out his government, + And to foretell as many years again, + As he had number'd in his happy reign, + So cheerfully he took the doom + Of his departing breath; + Nor shrunk nor stepp'd aside for death; + But with unalter'd pace kept on, + 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, + 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, + To whom both Heaven, + The right had given + And his own love bequeathed supreme command: + He took and press'd that ever loyal hand + Which could in peace secure his reign, + 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; + 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. + + VIII. + + That king[92] who lived to God's own heart, + Yet less serenely died than he: + 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. + 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; + 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 heightening arts are spent, + I cast into a shade. + That all-forgiving king, + The type of Him above, + That inexhausted spring + Of clemency and love; + Himself to his next self accused, + And asked 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, + 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. + 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 plenteously confess'd. + + IX. + + Amidst that silent shower, the royal mind + An easy passage found, + And left its sacred earth behind: + Nor murmuring groan express'd, nor labouring sound, + Nor any least tumultuous breath; + 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[93] knew him there. + That peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine, + That peace thou leavest to thy imperial line, + That peace, oh, happy shade, be ever thine! + + X. + + For all those joys thy restoration brought, + For all the miracles it wrought, + For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd + Into the nation's bleeding wound, + 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-- + 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. + 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, + Thou hast derived this mighty blessing down, + And fix'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, + Not foreign or domestic treachery, + Gould 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; + But kept the native toughness of the steel. + + XI. + + Be true, O 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: + The load's too weighty: thou mayest 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, + 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; + 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. + + XII. + + 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! + Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before; + But all uncultivated lay + Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway; + With rank Geneva weeds run o'er, + And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore. + The royal husbandman appear'd, + 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; + Such as the swarthy Indian mows; + Or happier climates near the line, + Or Paradise manured and dress'd by hands divine. + + XIII. + + As when the new-born Phoenix takes his way, + His rich paternal regions to survey, + Of airy choristers a numerous train + Attends 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-- + A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young: + The Muse that mourns him now, his happy triumph sung, + Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign; + And such a plenteous crop they bore + Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XIV. + + Oh, frail estate of human things, + And slippery hopes below! + 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, + 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, + 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! + '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: + For twelve long years of exile borne, + Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return: + 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 stock has now the promised land in view. + + XV. + + A warlike prince ascends the regal state, + A prince long exercised by fate: + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XVI. + + 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; + The more oppress'd, the higher still he rose: + Those were the preludes of his fate, + That form'd his manhood, to subdue + The Hydra of the many-headed hissing crew. + + XVII. + + As after Numa's peaceful reign, + 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 + 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 + 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. + 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, + 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. + + XVIII. + + For once, O 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: + 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, + To starve the royal virtues of his mind. + Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test, + O give them to believe, and they are surely blest! + They do; and with a distant view I see + The amended vows of English loyalty. + 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 even the remoter shores, + 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 recognise his ancient lord again: + And with a willing hand, restores + The fasces of the main. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 90: 'An eagre:' a tide swelling above another tide--observed + on the River Trent.] + + [Footnote 91: 'Short and Hobbes:' two physicians who attended on the + king.] + + [Footnote 92: 'King:' King David.] + + [Footnote 93: 'The prophet:' Elijah.] + + * * * * * + + + + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED. + + CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid + The world's foundations first were laid, + Come, visit every pious mind; + Come, pour thy joys on human kind; + From sin and sorrow set us free, + And make thy temples worthy thee. + + O source of uncreated light, + The Father's promised Paraclete! + Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, + Our hearts with heavenly love inspire; + Come, and thy sacred unction bring + To sanctify us, while we sing! + + Plenteous of grace, descend from high, + Rich in thy sevenfold energy! + Thou strength of his Almighty hand, + Whose power does heaven and earth command: + Proceeding Spirit, our defence, + Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, + And crown'st thy gift with eloquence! + + Refine and purge our earthly parts; + But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! + Our frailties help, our vice control, + Submit the senses to the soul; + And when rebellious they are grown, + Then lay thy hand, and hold them down! + + Chase from our minds the infernal foe, + And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; + And, lest our feet should step astray, + Protect and guide us in the way. + + Make us eternal truths receive, + And practise all that we believe: + Give us thyself, that we may see + The Father, and the Son, by thee. + + Immortal honour, endless fame, + Attend the Almighty Father's name + The Saviour Son be glorified, + Who for lost man's redemption died: + And equal adoration be, + Eternal Paraclete, to thee! + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. + + A POEM, IN THREE PARTS. + + --Antiquam exquirite matrem. + Et vera incessa patuit Dea. + VIRG. + + * * * * * + + +PREFACE. + +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 _their_ 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 concerning 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 else, 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 +contended for their classical ordination (not to speak of rites and +ceremonies) will they at length 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 hand 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 is +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 this 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 declares 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 +commonplaces of satire, whether true or false, which are urged by the +members of the one Church against the other: at which I hope no reader +of either party will be scandalized, because they are not of my +invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccace and +Chaucer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other. + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, + Fed on the 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. + + 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 slaughter'd army lay in blood, + Extended o'er the Caledonian wood, + Their native walk; whose vocal blood arose, + 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 renew'd; + 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, + And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own, + The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd + By sovereign power, her company disdain'd; + Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye + Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 30 + '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. + + The bloody Bear, an independent beast, + Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd. + Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare[94] + Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear. + Next her the buffoon Ape[95], 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, + With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place, + 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 betray'd, + With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name; 50 + He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal'd the shame: + So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile + False Reynard[96] fed on consecrated spoil: + The graceless beast by Athanasius first + Was chased from Nice, then by Socinus nursed: + His impious race their blasphemy renew'd, + 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, 60 + Hence they began, and here they all will end. + + What weight of ancient witness can prevail, + If private reason hold the public scale? + But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide + For erring judgments an unerring guide! + Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, + A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. + O teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, + And search no farther than thyself reveal'd; + But her alone for my director take, 70 + Whom thou hast promised never to forsake! + My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; + My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, + Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, + My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. + Such was I, such by nature still I am; + Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. + Good life be now my task; my doubts are done: + What more could fright my faith, than Three in One? + Can I believe Eternal God could lie 80 + Disguised in mortal mould and infancy? + That the great Maker of the world could die? + And after that trust my imperfect sense, + Which calls in question His Omnipotence? + Can I my reason to my faith compel, + And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebel? + Superior faculties are set aside; + Shall their subservient organs be my guide? + Then let the moon usurp the rule of day, + And winking tapers show the sun his way; 90 + For what my senses can themselves perceive, + I need no revelation to believe. + Can they who say the Host should be descried + By sense, define a body glorified? + Impassable, and penetrating parts? + 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, 100 + 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? + + '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, 110 + 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? + 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 120 + On the proponent, Heaven's authority. + If, then, our faith we for our guide admit, + Vain is the farther search of human wit; + As when the building gains a surer stay, + We take the unuseful scaffolding away. + Reason by sense no more can understand; + The game is play'd into another hand. + Why choose we, then, like bilanders,[97] to creep + Along the coast, and land in view to keep, + When safely we may launch into the deep? 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? + 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? + Rest, then, my soul, from endless anguish freed: + Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed. + Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss; + The bank above must fail before the venture miss. + + But heaven and heaven-born faith are far from thee, 150 + Thou first apostate[98] to divinity. + Unkennell'd range in thy Polonian plains; + A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf[99] 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, + Wild in effect, though in appearance tame, + Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissful bower, + And, muzzled though they seem, the mutes devour. + More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 160 + 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 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. + Full many a year[100] his hateful head had been 170 + 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. + These last deduce him from th' Helvetian kind, + Who near the Leman lake his consort lined: + That fiery Zuinglius first th' 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 + From Moses' hand the sovereign sway to wrest, + And Aaron of his ephod to divest: + Till opening earth made way for all to pass, + And could not bear the burden of a class. + The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark, 190 + 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, + In woods and caves the rebel race began. + + O happy pair, how well have you increased! + What ills in Church and State have you redress'd! + With teeth untried, and rudiments of claws, + Your first essay was on your native laws: 200 + 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[101] still be small, + Bounded betwixt a puddle[102] and a wall; + 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. + 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, + 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; 230 + As only Indian shades of sight deprive, + And magic plants will but in Colchos thrive; + So Presbytery and pestilential zeal + Can only nourish in a commonweal. + + From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew; + But ah! some pity even to brutes is due: + 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. 240 + 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, + 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. 250 + + One portion of informing fire was given + To brutes, the inferior family of heaven: + The Smith Divine, as with a careless beat, 253 + 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: 260 + Reason to rule, and 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, 270 + 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: + 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, 280 + For differing worship of the Deity. + Thus persecution rose, and further space + Produced the mighty hunter of his race[103]. + Not so the blessed Pan his flock increased, + Content to fold them from the famish'd beast: + Mild were his laws; the Sheep and harmless Hind 286 + 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. + + O 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, + May guard their fences from the invading foe. + Where birth has placed them, let them safely share + The common benefit of vital air. + Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd; + Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd: 300 + 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 repress'd, 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 310 + 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: 320 + 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; + To them the Hind and Panther are the same. + + The Panther[104] sure the noblest, next the Hind, + And fairest creature of the spotted kind; + Oh, could her inborn stains be wash'd away, + She were too good to be a beast of prey! 330 + How can I praise, or blame, and not offend, + Or how divide the frailty from the friend? + 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. 340 + 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 dropt half way down, nor lower fell; + So poised, so gently she descends from high, + 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. 350 + A Lion[105] 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, + A well match'd pair, got graceless Heresy. + God's and king's rebels have the same good cause, + To trample down divine and human laws: + Both would be call'd reformers, and their hate + Alike destructive both to Church and State: 360 + 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, + Where souls are starved, and senses gratified! + Where marriage pleasures midnight prayers supply, + And matin bells, a melancholy cry, + Are tuned to merrier notes, Increase and multiply. + Religion shows a rosy-colour'd face; 370 + Not batter'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. + + 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 380 + 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; + 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 390 + Their diligence of careful herds below. + 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. + 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 disavow'd the rest, 400 + Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatized 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, + And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow, + 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, 420 + 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. + 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; 430 + But sure no Church can better morals boast: + True to her king her principles are found; + O that her practice were but half so sound! + Steadfast in various turns of state she stood, + And seal'd her vow'd affection with her blood: + Nor will I meanly tax her constancy, + That interest or obligement made the tie + Bound to the fate of murder'd monarchy. + Before the sounding axe so falls the vine, + Whose tender branches round the poplar twine. 440 + 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; + 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[106] counsel, her new-chosen mate; + Still she's the fairest of the fallen crew, 450 + 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? + 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, even that's as plain 460 + 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: + 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: 470 + 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? + 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. 480 + How can she censure, or what crime pretend, + But Scripture may be construed to defend? + Even those, whom for rebellion she transmits 483 + To civil power, her doctrine first acquits; + Because no disobedience can ensue, + 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. 490 + 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,-- + A patent during pleasure of the state! + + Thus is the Panther neither loved nor fear'd, + A mere mock queen of a divided herd; + Whom soon by lawful power she might control, + Herself a part submitted to the whole. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + + 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; + Levées and couchées pass'd without resort. + So hardly can usurpers manage well 517 + Those whom they first instructed to rebel. + More liberty begets desire of more; + The hunger still increases with the store. + 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; + 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, 530 + The sovereign Lion[107] 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; + Survey'd 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, 540 + 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 restrain'd, + Now frisk'd about her, and old kindred feign'd. + Whether for love or interest, every sect + Of all the savage nation show'd respect. + The viceroy Panther could not awe the herd; 549 + The more the company, the less they fear'd. + 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 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, 560 + To chat a while on their adventures pass'd: + 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, + She thought this hour the 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. 570 + After some common talk what rumours ran, + The lady of the spotted muff began. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 94: 'Hare:' the Quakers.] + + [Footnote 95: 'Ape:' latitudinarians in general.] + + [Footnote 96: 'Reynard:' the Arians.] + + [Footnote 97: 'Bilanders:' an old word for a coasting boat.] + + [Footnote 98: 'First Apostate:' Arius.] + + [Footnote 99: 'Wolf:' Presbytery.] + + [Footnote 100: 'Many a year:' referring to the price put on the head of + wolves in Wales.] + + [Footnote 101: 'Kennel:' Geneva.] + + [Footnote 102: 'Puddle:' its lake.] + + [Footnote 103: 'Mighty hunter of his race:' Nimrod.] + + [Footnote 104: 'Panther:' Church of England.] + + [Footnote 105: 'Lion:' Henry VIII.] + + [Footnote 106: + 'Isgrim:' the wolf.] + + [Footnote 107: 'Lion:' James II.] + + + PART II. + + + Dame, said the Panther, times are mended well, + Since late among the Philistines[108] you fell. + The toils were pitch'd, a spacious tract of ground + With expert huntsmen was encompass'd round; + The enclosure narrow'd; the sagacious power 5 + Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour. + 'Tis true, the younger Lion[109] 'scaped the snare, + But all your priestly Calves[110] lay struggling there, + As sacrifices on their altar laid; + While you, their careful mother, wisely fled, 10 + Not trusting destiny to save your head; + For, whate'er promises you have applied + To your unfailing Church, the surer side + 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, + Those toils were for your own dear self design'd, + As well as me, and with the self-same throw, 20 + 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 + 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 + You kept, and stood in the main question dumb. + Dumb you were born indeed; but thinking long + The Test[111] it seems at last has loosed your tongue. 30 + And to explain what your forefathers meant, + By real presence in the sacrament, + After long fencing push'd against the wall. + Your salvo 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, 40 + Yet in your sense I never own'd it there. + A real virtue we by faith receive, + And that we in the sacrament believe. + 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 Æsop's fable you repeat; + You know who took the shadow for the meat: + Your Church's substance thus you change at will, 50 + 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. + Long time you fought, redoubled battery bore, + But, after all, against yourself you swore; + Your 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; + For all have not the gift of martyrdom. + + The Panther grinn'd at this, and thus replied: 60 + That men may err was never yet denied. + But, if that common principle be true, + The canon, dame, is levell'd full at you. + But, shunning long disputes, I fain would see + That wondrous wight Infallibility. + Is he from Heaven, this mighty champion, come; + Or lodged below in subterranean Rome? + First, seat him somewhere, and derive his race, + Or else conclude that nothing has no place. + + Suppose (though I disown it), said the Hind, 70 + The certain mansion were not yet assign'd; + The doubtful residence no proof can bring + Against the plain existence of the thing. + Because philosophers may disagree + If sight by emission or reception be, + Shall it be thence inferr'd, I do not see? + But you require an answer positive, + Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give; + For fallacies in universals live. + I then affirm that this unfailing guide 80 + In Pope and General Councils must reside; + Both lawful, both combined: what one decrees + By numerous votes, the other ratifies: + On this undoubted sense the Church relies. + 'Tis true, some doctors in a scantier space, + I mean, in each apart, contract the place. + Some, who to greater length extend the line, + The Church's after-acceptation join. + This last circumference appears too wide; + The Church diffused is by the Council tied; 90 + As members by their representatives + Obliged to laws which Prince and Senate gives. + Thus some contract, and some enlarge the space: + In Pope and Council, who denies the place, + Assisted from above with God's unfailing grace? + Those canons all the needful points contain; + Their sense so obvious, and their words so plain, + That no disputes about the doubtful text + Have hitherto the labouring world perplex'd. + If any should in after-times appear, 100 + New Councils must be call'd, to make the meaning clear: + Because in them the power supreme resides; + And all the promises are to the guides. + This may be taught with sound and safe defence; + But mark how sandy is your own pretence, + Who, setting Councils, Pope, and Church aside, + Are every man his own presuming guide. + The Sacred Books, you say, are full and plain. + And every needful point of truth contain: + All who can read interpreters may be: 110 + Thus, though your several Churches disagree, + Yet every saint has to himself alone + The secret of this philosophic stone. + These principles your jarring sects unite, + When differing doctors and disciples fight. + Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy chiefs, + Have made a battle royal of beliefs; + Or, like wild horses, several ways have whirl'd + The tortured text about the Christian world; + Each Jehu lashing on with furious force, 120 + That Turk or Jew could not have used it worse; + No matter what dissension leaders make, + Where every private man may save a stake: + Ruled by the Scripture and his own advice, + Each has a blind by-path to Paradise; + Where, driving in a circle, slow or fast, + Opposing sects are sure to meet at last. + A wondrous charity you have in store + For all reform'd to pass the narrow door: + So much, that Mahomet had scarcely more. 130 + For he, kind prophet, was for damning none; + But Christ and Moses were to save their own: + Himself was to secure his chosen race, + Though reason good for Turks to take the place, + And he allow'd to be the better man, + In virtue of his holier Alcoran. + + True, said the Panther, I shall ne'er deny + My brethren may be saved as well as I: + Though Huguenots condemn our ordination, + Succession, ministerial vocation; 140 + And Luther, more mistaking what he read, + Misjoins the sacred body with the bread: + Yet, lady, still remember, I maintain, + The Word in needful points is only plain. + + Needless, or needful, I not now contend, + For still you have a loop-hole for a friend; + Rejoin'd the matron: but the rule you lay + Has led whole flocks, and leads them still astray, + In weighty points, and full damnation's way. + For did not Arius first, Socinus now, 150 + The Son's Eternal Godhead disavow? + And did not these by gospel texts alone + Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own? + Have not all heretics the same pretence + To plead the Scriptures in their own defence? + How did the Nicene Council then decide + That strong debate? was it by Scripture tried? + No, sure; to that the rebel would not yield; + Squadrons of texts he marshall'd in the field: + That was but civil war, an equal set, 160 + Where piles with piles[112], and eagles eagles met. + With texts point-blank and plain he faced the foe. + And did not Satan tempt our Saviour so? + The good old bishops took a simpler way; + Each ask'd but what he heard his father say, + Or how he was instructed in his youth, + And by tradition's force upheld the truth. + + The Panther smiled at this; and when, said she, + Were those first Councils disallow'd by me? + Or where did I at sure Tradition strike, 170 + Provided still it were apostolic? + + Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground, + Where all your faith you did on Scripture found: + Now 'tis Tradition join'd with Holy Writ; + But thus your memory betrays your wit. + + No, said the Panther, for in that I view, + When your tradition's forged, and when 'tis true. + I set them by the rule, and, as they square, + Or deviate from, undoubted doctrine there, + This oral fiction, that old faith declare. 180 + + Hind: The Council steer'd, it seems, a different course; + They tried the Scripture by Tradition's force: + But you Tradition by the Scripture try; + 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, + When not evinced by Scripture to be true, 190 + And Scripture, as interpreted by you. + But here you tread upon unfaithful ground; + Unless you could infallibly expound: + 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, + Nay, often ground our titles on the same: + After long labour lost, and time's expense, 200 + Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense. + Thus all disputes for ever must depend; + For no dumb rule can controversies end. + 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, + And yet your clerks would sit in Moses' chair; + At least 'tis proved against your argument, 210 + 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? + 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, + And trusts no farther than the next above; + Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise, 220 + The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skies. + + Sternly the savage did her answer mark, + Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark, + 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; + But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet: + You learn'd this language from the Blatant Beast, 230 + 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 + To load with envy, we retort your own, + For when Traditions in your faces fly, 240 + Resolving not to yield, you must decry. + As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man + Excepts, and thins his jury all he can; + So when you stand of other aid bereft, + You to the Twelve Apostles would be left. + Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide + To set those toys, Traditions, quite aside; + And Fathers too, unless when, reason spent, + He cites them but sometimes for ornament. + But, madam Panther, you, though more sincere, 250 + Are not so wise as your adulterer: + The private spirit is a better blind, + 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? + On his own reason safer 'tis to stand, + Than be deceived and damn'd at second-hand. 260 + 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. + And yet they grow upon you every day, + While you, to speak the best, are at a stay, 270 + 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: + 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. + Shall she command who has herself rebell'd? + Is Antichrist by Antichrist expell'd? 280 + Did we a lawful tyranny displace, + To set aloft a bastard of the race? + Why all these wars to win the Book, if we + Must not interpret for ourselves, but she? + 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; + You never mount them but in time of need. + Like mercenaries, hired for home defence, 290 + They will not serve against their native prince. + Against domestic foes of hierarchy + These are drawn forth, to make fanatics fly; + 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? 300 + And if all saving doctrines are not there, + Or sacred penmen could not make them clear, + From after ages we should hope in vain + 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. + Thus by Tradition faith was planted first; + Succeeding flocks succeeding pastors nursed. 310 + 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. + 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, + But wit may gloss, and malice may obscure; + Not those indited by his first command, 320 + 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, + And, as mistakes arose, or discords fell, 330 + Or bold seducers taught them to rebel, + As charity grew cold, or faction hot, + Or long neglect their lessons had forgot, + 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; + Nor first intended but occasional, + Their absent sermons; nor if they contain 340 + All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain. + Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought: + They writ but seldom, but they daily taught. + 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? + A guide was therefore needful, therefore made; + And, if appointed, sure to be obey'd. 350 + Thus, with due reverence to the Apostle's writ, + By which my sons are taught, to which submit; + I think those truths their sacred works contain, + The Church alone can certainly explain; + 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. + Because, as I have urged before, 'tis mute, + And is itself the subject of dispute. 360 + 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. + 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, 370 + But with subordination to her guide; + (I wish the cause were on that issue tried.) + Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate + Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate, + Bequeath'd 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: + All vouch the words their interest to maintain, + And each pretends by those his cause is plain. 380 + Shall then the Testament award the right? + No, that's the Hungary for which they fight; + The field of battle, subject of debate; + 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. + + Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant, + The faithful flock some living guide should want, 390 + Your arguments an endless chase pursue; + Produce this vaunted leader to our view, + This mighty Moses of the chosen crew. + + The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired, + With force renew'd, to victory aspired; + And, looking upward to her kindred sky, + As once our Saviour own'd his Deity, + Pronounced his words:--"She whom ye seek am I," + Nor less amazed this voice the Panther heard, + Than were those Jews to hear a God declared. 400 + Then thus the matron modestly renew'd: + Let all your prophets and their sects be view'd, + And see to which of them yourselves think fit + The conduct of your conscience to submit: + Each proselyte would vote his doctor best, + With absolute exclusion to the rest: + Thus would your Polish diet disagree, + And end, as it began, in anarchy: + Yourself the fairest for election stand, + Because you seem crown-general of the land: 410 + But soon against your superstitious lawn + Some Presbyterian sabre would be drawn: + In your establish'd laws of sovereignty + The rest some fundamental flaw would see, + And call rebellion gospel-liberty. + To Church-decrees your articles require + Submission modified, if not entire. + Homage denied, to censures you proceed: + But when Curtana[113] will not do the deed. + You lay that pointless clergy-weapon by, 420 + And to the laws, your sword of justice, fly. + Now this your sects the more unkindly take + (Those prying varlets hit the blots you make), + Because some ancient friends of yours declare, + Your only rule of faith the Scriptures are, + Interpreted by men of judgment sound, + Which every sect will for themselves expound; + Nor think less reverence to their doctors due + For sound interpretation, than to you. + If then, by able heads, are understood 430 + Your brother prophets, who reform'd abroad; + Those able heads expound a wiser way, + That their own sheep their shepherd should obey. + But if you mean yourselves are only sound, + That doctrine turns the Reformation round, + And all the rest are false reformers found; + Because in sundry points you stand alone, + Not in communion join'd with any one; + And therefore must be all the Church, or none. + Then, till you have agreed whose judge is best, 440 + Against this forced submission they protest: + While sound and sound a different sense explains, + Both play at hardhead till they break their brains; + And from their chairs each other's force defy, + While unregarded thunders vainly fly. + I pass the rest, because your Church alone + Of all usurpers best could fill the throne. + But neither you, nor any sect beside, + For this high office can be qualified, + With necessary gifts required in such a guide. 450 + For that which must direct the whole must be + Bound in one bond of faith and unity: + But all your several Churches disagree. + The consubstantiating Church and priest + Refuse communion to the Calvinist: + The French reform'd from preaching you restrain, + Because you judge their ordination vain; + And so they judge of yours, but donors must ordain. + In short, in doctrine, or in discipline, + Not one reform'd can with another join: 460 + But all from each, as from damnation, fly; + No union they pretend, but in Non-Popery. + Nor, should their members in a Synod meet, + Could any Church presume to mount the seat, + Above the rest, their discords to decide; + None would obey, but each would be the guide: + And face to face dissensions would increase; + For only distance now preserves the peace. + All in their turns accusers, and accused: + Babel was never half so much confused: 470 + What one can plead, the rest can plead as well; + For amongst equals lies no last appeal, + And all confess themselves are fallible. + Now since you grant some necessary guide, + All who can err are justly laid aside: + Because a trust so sacred to confer 476 + Shows want of such a sure interpreter; + And how can he be needful who can err? + Then, granting that unerring guide we want, + That such there is you stand obliged to grant: 480 + Our Saviour else were wanting to supply + Our needs, and obviate that necessity. + It then remains, the Church can only be + The guide, which owns unfailing certainty; + Or else you slip your hold, and change your side, + Relapsing from a necessary guide. + But this annex'd condition of the crown, + Immunity from errors, you disown; + Here then you shrink, and lay your weak pretensions down. + For petty royalties you raise debate; 490 + But this unfailing universal state + You shun; nor dare succeed to such a glorious weight; + And for that cause those promises detest + With which our Saviour did his Church invest; + But strive to evade, and fear to find them true, + As conscious they were never meant to you: + All which the Mother Church asserts her own, + And with unrivall'd claim ascends the throne. + So, when of old the Almighty Father sate + In council, to redeem our ruin'd state, 500 + Millions of millions, at a distance round, + Silent the sacred consistory crown'd, + To hear what mercy, mix'd with justice, could propound: + All prompt, with eager pity, to fulfil + The full extent of their Creator's will. + But when the stern conditions were declared, + A mournful whisper through the host was heard, + And the whole hierarchy, with heads hung down, + Submissively declined the ponderous proffer'd crown. + Then, not till then, the Eternal Son from high 510 + Rose in the strength of all the Deity: + Stood forth to accept the terms, and underwent + A weight which all the frame of heaven had bent. + Nor he himself could bear, but as Omnipotent. + Now, to remove the least remaining doubt, + That even the blear-eyed sects may find her out, + Behold what heavenly rays adorn her brows, + What from his wardrobe her beloved allows + To deck the wedding-day of his unspotted spouse. + Behold what marks of majesty she brings; 520 + Richer than ancient heirs of eastern kings! + Her right hand holds the sceptre and the keys, + To show whom she commands, and who obeys: + With these to bind, or set the sinner free, + With that to assert spiritual royalty. + + One in herself, not rent by schism,[114] but sound, + Entire, one solid shining diamond; + Not sparkles shatter'd into sects like you: + One is the Church, and must be to be true: + One central principle of unity. 530 + As undivided, so from errors free, + As one in faith, so one in sanctity. + Thus she, and none but she, the insulting rage + Of heretics opposed from age to age: + Still when the giant-brood invades her throne, + She stoops from heaven, and meets them half way down, + And with paternal thunder vindicates her crown. + But like Egyptian sorcerers you stand, + And vainly lift aloft your magic wand, + To sweep away the swarms of vermin from the land: 540 + You could like them, with like infernal force, + Produce the plague, but not arrest the course. + But when the boils and blotches, with disgrace 543 + And public scandal, sat upon the face, + Themselves attack'd, the Magi strove no more, + They saw God's finger, and their fate deplore; + Themselves they could not cure of the dishonest sore. + Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread, + Like the fair ocean from her mother-bed; + From east to west triumphantly she rides, 550 + All shores are water'd by her wealthy tides. + The Gospel-sound, diffused from pole to pole, + Where winds can carry, and where waves can roll, + The self-same doctrine of the sacred page + Convey'd to every clime, in every age. + + Here let my sorrow give my satire place, + To raise new blushes on my British race; + Our sailing-ships like common sewers we use, + And through our distant colonies diffuse + The draught of dungeons, and the stench of stews, 560 + Whom, when their home-bred honesty is lost, + We disembogue on some far Indian coast: + Thieves, panders, paillards,[115] sins of every sort; + Those are the manufactures we export; + And these the missioners our zeal has made: + For, with my country's pardon be it said, + Religion is the least of all our trade. + + Yet some improve their traffic more than we; + For they on gain, their only god, rely, + And set a public price on piety. 570 + Industrious of the needle and the chart, + They run full sail to their Japonian mart; + Prevention fear, and, prodigal of fame, + Sell all of Christian,[116] to the very name; + Nor leave enough of that, to hide their naked shame. + + Thus, of three marks, which in the Creed we view, + Not one of all can be applied to you: 577 + Much less the fourth; in vain, alas! you seek + The ambitious title of Apostolic: + God-like descent! 'tis well your blood can be + Proved noble in the third or fourth degree: + For all of ancient that you had before, + (I mean what is not borrow'd from our store) + Was error fulminated o'er and o'er; + Old heresies condemn'd in ages past, + By care and time recover'd from the blast. + + 'Tis said with ease, but never can be proved, + The Church her old foundations has removed, + And built new doctrines on unstable sands: + Judge that, ye winds and rains: you proved her, yet she stands. 590 + Those ancient doctrines charged on her for new, + Show when and how, and from what hands they grew. + We claim no power, when heresies grow bold, + To coin new faith, but still declare the old. + How else could that obscene disease be purged, + When controverted texts are vainly urged? + To prove tradition new, there's somewhat more + Required, than saying, 'twas not used before. + Those monumental arms are never stirr'd, + Till schism or heresy call down Goliah's sword. 600 + + Thus, what you call corruptions, are, in truth, + The first plantations of the Gospel's youth; + Old standard faith: but cast your eyes again, + And view those errors which new sects maintain, + Or which of old disturb'd the Church's peaceful reign; + And we can point each period of the time, + When they began, and who begot the crime; + Can calculate how long the eclipse endured, + Who interposed, what digits were obscured: + Of all which are already pass'd away, 610 + We know the rise, the progress, and decay. + + Despair at our foundations then to strike, + Till you can prove your faith Apostolic; + A limpid stream drawn from the native source; + Succession lawful in a lineal course. + Prove any Church, opposed to this our head, + So one, so pure, so unconfinedly spread, + Under one chief of the spiritual state, + The members all combined, and all subordinate. + Show such a seamless coat, from schism so free, 620 + In no communion join'd with heresy. + If such a one you find, let truth prevail: + Till when your weights will in the balance fail: + A Church unprincipled kicks up the scale. + But if you cannot think (nor sure you can + Suppose in God what were unjust in man) + That He, the fountain of eternal grace, + Should suffer falsehood, for so long a space, + To banish truth, and to usurp her place: + That seven successive ages should be lost, 630 + And preach damnation at their proper cost; + That all your erring ancestors should die, + Drown'd in the abyss of deep idolatry: + If piety forbid such thoughts to rise, + Awake, and open your unwilling eyes: + God hath left nothing for each age undone, + From this to that wherein he sent his Son: + Then think but well of him, and half your work is done. + See how his Church, adorn'd with every grace, 639 + With open arms, a kind forgiving face, + Stands ready to prevent her long-lost son's embrace. + Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep, + Nor less himself could from discovery keep, + When in the crowd of suppliants they were seen, + And in their crew his best-loved Benjamin. + That pious Joseph in the Church behold, + To feed your famine,[117] and refuse your gold: + The Joseph you exiled, the Joseph whom you sold. + + Thus, while with heavenly charity she spoke, + A streaming blaze the silent shadows broke; 650 + Shot from the skies; a cheerful azure light: + The birds obscene to forests wing'd their flight, + And gaping graves received the wandering guilty sprite. + + Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky, + For James his late nocturnal victory; + The pledge of his Almighty Patron's love, + The fireworks which his angels made above. + I saw myself the lambent easy light + Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night: + The messenger with speed the tidings bore; 660 + News, which three labouring nations did restore; + But Heaven's own Nuntius was arrived before. + + By this, the Hind had reach'd her lonely cell, + And vapours rose, and dews unwholesome fell. + When she, by frequent observation wise, + As one who long on heaven had fix'd her eyes, + Discern'd a change of weather in the skies; + The western borders were with crimson spread, + The moon descending look'd all flaming red; + She thought good manners bound her to invite 670 + The stranger dame to be her guest that night. + 'Tis true, coarse diet, and a short repast, + (She said) were weak inducements to the taste + Of one so nicely bred, and so unused to fast: + But what plain fare her cottage could afford, + A hearty welcome at a homely board, + Was freely hers; and, to supply the rest, + An honest meaning, and an open breast: + Last, with content of mind, the poor man's wealth, + A grace-cup to their common patron's health. 680 + This she desired her to accept, and stay + For fear she might be wilder'd in her way, + Because she wanted an unerring guide; + And then the dew-drops on her silken hide + Her tender constitution did declare, + Too lady-like a long fatigue to bear, + And rough inclemencies of raw nocturnal air. + But most she fear'd that, travelling so late, + Some evil-minded beasts might lie in wait, + And, without witness, wreak their hidden hate. 690 + + The Panther, though she lent a listening ear, + Had more of lion in her than to fear: + Yet, wisely weighing, since she had to deal + With many foes, their numbers might prevail, + Return'd her all the thanks she could afford, + And took her friendly hostess at her word: + Who, entering first her lowly roof, a shed + With hoary moss, and winding ivy spread, + Honest enough to hide an humble hermit's head, + Thus graciously bespoke her welcome guest: 700 + So might these walls, with your fair presence blest, + Become your dwelling-place of everlasting rest; + Not for a night, or quick revolving year; + Welcome an owner, not a sojourner. + This peaceful seat my poverty secures; + War seldom enters but where wealth allures: + Nor yet despise it; for this poor abode + Has oft received, and yet receives a God; + A God victorious of the Stygian race + Here laid his sacred limbs, and sanctified the place, 710 + This mean retreat did mighty Pan contain: + Be emulous of him, and pomp disdain, + And dare not to debase your soul to gain. + + The silent stranger stood amazed to see + Contempt of wealth, and wilful poverty: + And, though ill habits are not soon controll'd, + A while suspended her desire of gold. + But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws, + Not violating hospitable laws; + And pacified her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws. 720 + + The Hind did first her country cates provide; + Then couch'd herself securely by her side. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 108: 'Philistines:' the Cromwellians, &c.] + +[Footnote 109: 'Younger lion:' Charles II.] + +[Footnote 110: 'Priestly calves,' &c.: this alludes to the Commons +voting in 1641 that all deans, chapters, &c. should be abolished.] + +[Footnote 111: 'The Test:' the Test Act, passed in 1672, enjoined the +abjuration of the real presence in the sacrament.] + +[Footnote 112: 'Piles, &c.:' the Roman arms--_pili_ and eagles.] + +[Footnote 113: 'Curtana:' the name of King Edward the Confessor's sword, +without a point, an emblem of mercy, and carried before the king at the +coronation.] + +[Footnote 114: 'Not rent by schism:' marks of the Catholic Church from +the Nicene creed.] + +[Footnote 115: 'Paillards:' a French word for licentious persons.] + +[Footnote 116: 'Sell all of Christian,' &c.: it is said that the Dutch, +in order to secure to themselves the whole trade of Japan, trample on +the cross, and deny the name of Jesus.] + +[Footnote 117: 'Feed your famine:' the renunciation of the Benedictines +to the abbey lands.] + + + +PART III. + + + Much malice, mingled with a little wit, + Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ: + Because the Muse has peopled Caledon + With Panthers, Bears, and Wolves, and beasts unknown, + As if we were not stock'd with monsters of our own. + Let Æsop answer, who has set to view + Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew; + And mother Hubbard,[118] in her homely dress, + Has sharply blamed a British Lioness; + That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep, 10 + Exposed obscenely naked and asleep. + Led by those great examples, may not I + The wanted organs of their words supply? + If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then + For brutes to claim the privilege of men. + + Others our Hind of folly will indite, + To entertain a dangerous guest by night. + Let those remember, that she cannot die + Till rolling time is lost in round eternity; + Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed, 20 + Because the Lion's peace[119] was now proclaim'd: + The wary savage would not give offence, + To forfeit the protection of her prince; + But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete, + When all her furry sons in frequent senate met; + Meanwhile she quench'd her fury at the flood, + And with a lenten salad cool'd her blood. + Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant, + Nor did their minds an equal banquet want. + For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove 30 + To express her plain simplicity of love, + Did all the honours of her house so well, + No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal. + She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme, + To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme; + Remembering every storm which toss'd the state, + When both were objects of the public hate, + And dropp'd a tear betwixt for her own children's fate. + + Nor fail'd she then a full review to make + Of what the Panther suffer'd for her sake: 40 + Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care, + Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,[120] + Her strength to endure, her courage to defy; + Her choice of honourable infamy. + On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged; + Then with acknowledgment herself she charged; + For friendship, of itself an holy tie, + Is made more sacred by adversity. + Now should they part, malicious tongues would say, + They met like chance companions on the way, 50 + Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd; + While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd; + But that once o'er, the short-lived union ends; + The road divides, and there divide the friends. + + The Panther nodded when her speech was done, + And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone: + But said her gratitude had gone too far + For common offices of Christian care. + If to the lawful heir she had been true, + She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due. 60 + I might, she added, with like praise describe + Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe: + But incense from my hands is poorly prized; + For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despised. + I served a turn, and then was cast away; + You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display, + And sip the sweets, and bask in your great patron's day. + + This heard, the matron was not slow to find + What sort of malady had seized her mind: + Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despite, 70 + And canker'd malice stood in open sight: + Ambition, interest, pride without control, + And jealousy, the jaundice of the soul; + Revenge, the bloody minister of ill, + With all the lean tormentors of the will. + 'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose + Her new-made union with her ancient foes, + Her forced civilities, her faint embrace, + Affected kindness with an alter'd face: + Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound, 80 + As hoping still the nobler parts were sound: + But strove with anodynes to assuage the smart, + And mildly thus her medicine did impart. + + Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain; + It shows a rest of kindness to complain; + A friendship loath to quit its former hold; + And conscious merit may be justly bold. + But much more just your jealousy would show, + If others' good were injury to you: + Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to see 90 + Rewarded worth and rising loyalty! + Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown. + The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown, + Are the most pleasing objects I can find, + Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind: + When virtue spooms before a prosperous gale, + My heaving wishes help to fill the sail; + And if my prayers for all the brave were heard, + Cæsar should still have such, and such should still reward. + + The labour'd earth your pains have sow'd and till'd; 100 + 'Tis just you reap the product of the field: + Yours be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain + To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. + Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care, + Your charity, for alms, may safely spare, + For alms are but the vehicles of prayer. + My daily bread is literally implored; + I have no barns nor granaries to hoard. + If Cæsar to his own his hand extends, + Say which of yours his charity offends: 110 + You know he largely gives to more than are his friends. + Are you defrauded when he feeds the poor? + Our mite decreases nothing of your store. + I am but few, and by your fare you see + My crying sins are not of luxury. + Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws, + And makes you break our friendship's holy laws; + For barefaced envy is too base a cause. + + Show more occasion for your discontent; + Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent: 120 + Some German quarrel, or, as times go now, + Some French, where force is uppermost, will do. + When at the fountain's head, as merit ought + To claim the place, you take a swilling draught, + How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw, + And tax the sheep for troubling streams below; + Or call her (when no farther cause you find) + An enemy possess'd of all your kind! + But then, perhaps, the wicked world would think, + The Wolf design'd to eat as well as drink. 130 + + This last allusion gall'd the Panther more, + Because indeed it rubb'd upon the sore. + Yet seem'd she not to wince, though shrewdly pain'd: + But thus her passive character maintain'd. + + I never grudged, whate'er my foes report, + Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court. + You have your day, or you are much belied, + But I am always on the suffering side: + You know my doctrine, and I need not say, + I will not, but I cannot disobey. 140 + On this firm principle I ever stood; + He of my sons who fails to make it good, + By one rebellious act renounces to my blood. + + Ah, said the Hind, how many sons have you, + Who call you mother, whom you never knew! + But most of them who that relation plead, + Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead. + They gape at rich revenues which you hold, + And fain would nibble at your grandame Gold; + Inquire into your years, and laugh to find 150 + Your crazy temper shows you much declined. + Were you not dim and doted, you might see + A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree, + No more of kin to you, than you to me. + Do you not know, that for a little coin, + Heralds can foist a name into the line? + They ask you blessing but for what you have; + But once possess'd of what with care you save, + The wanton boys would piss upon your grave. + + Your sons of latitude that court your grace, 160 + Though most resembling you in form and face. + Are far the worst of your pretended race. + And, but I blush your honesty to blot, + Pray God you prove them lawfully begot: + For in some Popish libels I have read, + The Wolf has been too busy in your bed; + At least her hinder parts, the belly-piece, + The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims, are his. + Their malice too a sore suspicion brings; + For though they dare not bark, they snarl at kings: 170 + Nor blame them for intruding in your line; + Fat bishoprics are still of right divine. + + Think you your new French proselytes[121] are come + To starve abroad, because they starved at home? + Your benefices twinkled from afar; + They found the new Messiah by the star: + Those Swisses fight on any side for pay, + And 'tis the living that conforms, not they. + Mark with what management their tribes divide, + Some stick to you, and some to the other side, 180 + That many churches may for many mouths provide. + More vacant pulpits would more converts make; + All would have latitude enough to take: + The rest unbeneficed your sects maintain; + For ordinations without cures are vain, + And chamber practice is a silent gain. + Your sons of breadth at home are much like these; + Their soft and yielding metals run with ease: + They melt, and take the figure of the mould; + But harden and preserve it best in gold. 190 + + Your Delphic sword, the Panther then replied, + Is double-edged, and cuts on either side. + Some sons of mine, who bear upon their shield + Three steeples argent in a sable field, + Have sharply tax'd your converts, who unfed + Have follow'd you for miracles of bread; + Such who themselves of no religion are, + Allured with gain, for any will declare. + Bare lies with bold assertions they can face; + But dint of argument is out of place. 200 + The grim logician puts them in a fright; + 'Tis easier far to flourish than to fight. + Thus our eighth Henry's marriage they defame; + They say the schism of beds began the game, + Divorcing from the Church to wed the dame: + Though largely proved, and by himself profess'd, + That conscience, conscience would not let him rest: + + I mean, not till possess'd of her he loved, + And old, uncharming Catherine was removed. + For sundry years before he did complain, 210 + And told his ghostly confessor his pain. + With the same impudence without a ground, + They say, that look the Reformation round, + No Treatise of Humility is found. + But if none were, the gospel does not want; + Our Saviour preach'd it, and I hope you grant, + The Sermon on the Mount was Protestant. + + No doubt, replied the Hind, as sure as all + The writings of Saint Peter and Saint Paul: + On that decision let it stand or fall. 220 + Now for my converts, who, you say, unfed, + Have follow'd me for miracles of bread; + Judge not by hearsay, but observe at least, + If since their change their loaves have been increased. + The Lion buys no converts; if he did, + Beasts would be sold as fast as he could bid. + Tax those of interest who conform for gain, + Or stay the market of another reign: + Your broad-way sons would never be too nice + To close with Calvin, if he paid their price; 230 + But, raised three steeples higher, would change their note, + And quit the cassock for the canting-coat. + Now, if you damn this censure, as too bold, + Judge by yourselves, and think not others sold. + + Meantime my sons, accused by fame's report, + Pay small attendance at the Lion's court, + Nor rise with early crowds, nor flatter late; + For silently they beg who daily wait. + Preferment is bestow'd, that comes unsought; + Attendance is a bribe, and then 'tis bought. 240 + How they should speed, their fortune is untried; + For not to ask, is not to be denied. + For what they have, their God and king they bless, + And hope they should not murmur, had they less. + But if reduced, subsistence to implore, + In common prudence they should pass your door. + Unpitied Hudibras,[122] your champion friend, + Has shown how far your charities extend. + This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read, + "He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead." 250 + + With odious atheist names[123] you load your foes; + Your liberal clergy why did I expose? + It never fails in charities like those. + In climes where true religion is profess'd, + That imputation were no laughing jest. + But imprimatur,[124] with a chaplain's name, + Is here sufficient licence to defame. + What wonder is't that black detraction thrives? + The homicide of names is less than lives; + And yet the perjured murderer survives. 260 + + This said, she paused a little, and suppress'd + The boiling indignation of her breast. + She knew the virtue of her blade, nor would + Pollute her satire with ignoble blood: + Her panting foe she saw before her eye, + And back she drew the shining weapon dry. + So when the generous Lion has in sight + His equal match, he rouses for the fight; + But when his foe lies prostrate on the plain, + He sheaths his paws, uncurls his angry mane, 270 + And, pleased with bloodless honours of the day, + Walks over and disdains the inglorious prey. + So James, if great with less we may compare, + Arrests his rolling thunderbolts in air! + And grants ungrateful friends a lengthen'd space, + To implore the remnants of long-suffering grace. + + This breathing-time the matron took; and then + Resumed the thread of her discourse again. + Be vengeance wholly left to powers divine, + And let Heaven judge betwixt your sons and mine: 280 + If joys hereafter must be purchased here + With loss of all that mortals hold so dear, + Then welcome infamy and public shame, + And, last, a long farewell to worldly fame. + 'Tis said with ease, but, oh, how hardly tried + By haughty souls to human honour tied! + O sharp convulsive pangs of agonizing pride! + Down then, thou rebel, never more to rise, + And what thou didst, and dost, so dearly prize, + That fame, that darling fame, make that thy sacrifice. 290 + 'Tis nothing thou hast given, then add thy tears + For a long race of unrepenting years: + 'Tis nothing yet, yet all thou hast to give: + Then add those may-be years thou hast to live: + Yet nothing still; then poor, and naked come: + Thy father will receive his unthrift home, + And thy blest Saviour's blood discharge the mighty sum. + + Thus (she pursued) I discipline a son, + Whose uncheck'd fury to revenge would run: + He champs the bit, impatient of his loss, 300 + And starts aside, and flounders at the Cross. + Instruct him better, gracious God, to know, + As thine is vengeance, so forgiveness too: + That, suffering from ill tongues, he bears no more + Than what his sovereign bears, and what his Saviour bore. + + It now remains for you to school your child, + And ask why God's anointed he reviled; + A king and princess dead! did Shimei worse? + The cursor's punishment should fright the curse: + Your son was warn'd, and wisely gave it o'er, 310 + But he who counsell'd him has paid the score: + The heavy malice could no higher tend, + But woe to him on whom the weights descend. + So to permitted ills the Demon flies; + His rage is aim'd at him who rules the skies: + Constrain'd to quit his cause, no succour found, + The foe discharges every tire around, + In clouds of smoke abandoning the fight; + But his own thundering peals proclaim his flight. + + In Henry's change his charge as ill succeeds; 320 + To that long story little answer needs: + Confront but Henry's words with Henry's deeds. + Were space allow'd, with ease it might be proved, + What springs his blessed Reformation moved. + The dire effects appear'd in open sight, + Which from the cause he calls a distant flight, + And yet no larger leap than from the sun to light. + + Now let your sons a double pæan sound, + A Treatise of Humility is found. + 'Tis found, but better it had ne'er been sought, 330 + Than thus in Protestant procession brought. + The famed original through Spain is known, + Rodriguez' work, my celebrated son, + Which yours, by ill-translating, made his own; + Conceal'd its author, and usurp'd the name, + The basest and ignoblest theft of fame. + My altars kindled first that living coal; + Restore, or practice better, what you stole: + That virtue could this humble verse inspire, + 'Tis all the restitution I require. 340 + + Glad was the Panther that the charge was closed, + And none of all her favourite sons exposed. + For laws of arms permit each injured man, + To make himself a saver where he can. + Perhaps the plunder'd merchant cannot tell + The names of pirates in whose hands he fell; + But at the den of thieves he justly flies, + And every Algerine is lawful prize. + No private person in the foe's estate + Can plead exemption from the public fate. 350 + Yet Christian laws allow not such redress; + Then let the greater supersede the less. + But let the abettors of the Panther's crime + Learn to make fairer wars another time. + Some characters may sure be found to write + Among her sons; for 'tis no common sight, + A spotted dam, and all her offspring white. + + The savage, though she saw her plea controll'd, + Yet would not wholly seem to quit her hold, + But offer'd fairly to compound the strife, 360 + And judge conversion by the convert's life. + 'Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange, + So few should follow profitable change: + For present joys are more to flesh and blood, + Than a dull prospect of a distant good. + 'Twas well alluded by a son of mine + (I hope to quote him is not to purloin), + Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss; + The larger loadstone that, the nearer this: + The weak attraction of the greater fails; 370 + We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails: + But when the greater proves the nearer too, + I wonder more your converts come so slow. + Methinks in those who firm with me remain, + It shows a nobler principle than gain. + + Your inference would be strong, the Hind replied, + If yours were in effect the suffering side: + Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess, + Nor are their prospects in reversion less. + My proselytes are struck with awful dread; 380 + Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head; + The respite they enjoy but only lent, + The best they have to hope, protracted punishment. + Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail, + Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale. + While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease, + That is, till man's predominant passions cease, + Admire no longer at my slow increase. + + By education most have been misled; + So they believe, because they so were bred. 390 + The priest continues what the nurse began, + And thus the child imposes on the man. + The rest I named before, nor need repeat: + But interest is the most prevailing cheat, + The sly seducer both of age and youth; + They study that, and think they study truth. + When interest fortifies an argument, + Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent; + For souls, already warp'd, receive an easy bent. + Add long prescription of establish'd laws, 400 + And pique of honour to maintain a cause, + And shame of change, and fear of future ill, + And zeal, the blind conductor of the will; + And chief among the still-mistaking crowd, + The fame of teachers obstinate and proud, + And, more than all, the private judge allow'd; + Disdain of Fathers which the dance began, + And last, uncertain whose the narrower span, + The clown unread, and half-read gentleman. + + To this the Panther, with a scornful smile: 410 + Yet still you travel with unwearied toil, + And range around the realm without control, + Among my sons for proselytes to prowl, + And here and there you snap some silly soul. + You hinted fears of future change in state; + Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fate! + Perhaps you think your time of triumph near, + But may mistake the season of the year; + The Swallow's[125] fortune gives you cause to fear. + + For charity, replied the matron, tell 420 + What sad mischance those pretty birds befell. + + Nay, no mischance, the savage dame replied, + But want of wit in their unerring guide, + And eager haste, and gaudy hopes, and giddy pride. + Yet, wishing timely warning may prevail, + Make you the moral, and I'll tell the tale. + + The Swallow, privileged above the rest + Of all the birds, as man's familiar guest, + Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold, + But wisely shuns the persecuting cold: 430 + Is well to chancels and to chimneys known, + Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone. + From hence she has been held of heavenly line, + Endued with particles of soul divine. + This merry chorister had long possess'd + Her summer seat, and feather'd well her nest: + Till frowning skies began to change their cheer, + And time turn'd up the wrong side of the year; + The shedding trees began the ground to strow + With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow. 440 + Sad auguries of winter thence she drew, + Which by instinct, or prophecy, she knew: + When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes, + And seek a better heaven, and warmer climes. + + Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height, + And, call'd in common council, vote a flight; + The day was named, the next that should be fair: + All to the general rendezvous repair, + They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air. + But whether upward to the moon they go, 450 + Or dream the winter out in caves below, + Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to know. + + Southwards, you may be sure, they bent their flight, + And harbour'd in a hollow rock at night: + Next morn they rose, and set up every sail; + The wind was fair, but blew a mackerel gale: + The sickly young sat shivering on the shore, + Abhorr'd salt water never seen before, + And pray'd their tender mothers to delay + The passage, and expect a fairer day. 460 + + With these the Martin readily concurr'd, + A church-begot, and church-believing bird; + Of little body, but of lofty mind, + Round-bellied, for a dignity design'd, + And much a dunce, as Martins are by kind. + Yet often quoted Canon-laws, and Code, + And Fathers which he never understood; + But little learning needs in noble blood. + For, sooth to say, the Swallow brought him in, + Her household chaplain, and her next of kin: 470 + In superstition silly to excess, + And casting schemes by planetary guess: + In fine, short-wing'd, unfit himself to fly, + His fears foretold foul weather in the sky. + + Besides, a Raven from a wither'd oak, + Left of their lodging, was observed to croak. + That omen liked him not; so his advice + Was present safety, bought at any price; + A seeming pious care, that cover'd cowardice. + To strengthen this, he told a boding dream 480 + Of rising waters, and a troubled stream, + Sure signs of anguish, dangers, and distress, + With something more, not lawful to express: + By which he slily seem'd to intimate + Some secret revelation of their fate. + For he concluded, once upon a time, + He found a leaf inscribed with sacred rhyme, + Whose antique characters did well denote + The Sibyl's hand of the Cumæan grot: + The mad divineress had plainly writ, 490 + A time should come (but many ages yet), + In which, sinister destinies ordain, + A dame should drown with all her feather'd train, + And seas from thence be call'd the Chelidonian main. + At this, some shook for fear, the more devout + Arose, and bless'd themselves from head to foot. + + 'Tis true, some stagers of the wiser sort + Made all these idle wonderments their sport: + They said, their only danger was delay, + And he, who heard what every fool could say, 500 + Would never fix his thought, but trim his time away. + The passage yet was good; the wind, 'tis true, + Was somewhat high, but that was nothing new, + No more than usual equinoxes blew. + The sun, already from the Scales declined, + Gave little hopes of better days behind, + But change, from bad to worse, of weather and of wind. + Nor need they fear the dampness of the sky + Should flag their wings, and hinder them to fly + 'Twas only water thrown on sails too dry. 510 + But, least of all, philosophy presumes + Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes: + Perhaps the Martin, housed in holy ground, + Might think of ghosts that walk their midnight round, + Till grosser atoms, tumbling in the stream + Of fancy, madly met, and clubb'd into a dream: + As little weight his vain presages bear, + Of ill effect to such alone who fear: + Most prophecies are of a piece with these, + Each Nostradamus can foretell with ease: 520 + Not naming persons, and confounding times, + One casual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes. + + The advice was true; but fear had seized the most, + And all good counsel is on cowards lost. + The question crudely put to shun delay, + 'Twas carried by the major part to stay. + + His point thus gain'd, Sir Martin dated thence + His power, and from a priest became a prince. + He order'd all things with a busy care, + And cells and refectories did prepare, 530 + And large provisions laid of winter fare: + But now and then let fall a word or two + Of hope, that Heaven some miracle might show, + And for their sakes the sun should backward go; + Against the laws of nature upward climb, 535 + And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime: + For which two proofs in sacred story lay, + Of Ahaz' dial, and of Joshua's day. + In expectation of such times as these, + A chapel housed them, truly call'd of ease: 540 + For Martin much devotion did not ask: + They pray'd sometimes, and that was all their task. + + It happen'd, as beyond the reach of wit + Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit, + That this accomplish'd, or at least in part, + Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art. + Some Swifts, the giants of the Swallow kind, + Large-limb'd, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind + (For Swisses, or for Gibeonites design'd), + These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane, 550 + To suck fresh air, survey'd the neighbouring plain; + And saw (but scarcely could believe their eyes) + New blossoms flourish, and new flowers arise; + As God had been abroad, and, walking there, + Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year: + The sunny hills from far were seen to glow + With glittering beams, and in the meads below + The burnish'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold to flow. + At last they heard the foolish Cuckoo sing, + Whose note proclaim'd the holiday of spring. 560 + + No longer doubting, all prepare to fly, + And repossess their patrimonial sky. + The priest before them did his wings display; + And that good omens might attend their way, + As luck would have it, 'twas St Martin's day. + + Who but the Swallow triumphs now alone? + The canopy of heaven is all her own: + Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair, + And glide along in glades, and skim in air, + And dip for insects in the purling springs, 570 + And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings. + Their mothers think a fair provision made, + That every son can live upon his trade: + And, now the careful charge is off their hands, + Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands: + The youthful widow longs to be supplied; + But first the lover is by lawyers tied + To settle jointure-chimneys on the bride. + So thick they couple, in so short a space, + That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace. + Their ancient houses running to decay, + Are furbish'd up, and cemented with clay; 580 + They teem already; store of eggs are laid, + And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid. + Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear + In flocks to greet the new returning year, + To bless the founder, and partake the cheer. + + And now 'twas time (so fast their numbers rise) + To plant abroad, and people colonies. + The youth drawn forth, as Martin had desired 590 + (For so their cruel destiny required), + Were sent far off on an ill-fated day; + The rest would needs conduct them on their way, + And Martin went, because he fear'd alone to stay. + + So long they flew with inconsiderate haste, + That now their afternoon began to waste; + And, what was ominous, that very morn + The sun was enter'd into Capricorn; + Which, by their bad astronomer's account, + That week the Virgin balance should remount. 600 + An infant moon eclipsed him in his way, + And hid the small remainders of his day. + The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark; + But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark: + Few mind the public in a panic fright; + And fear increased the horror of the night. + Night came, but unattended with repose; + Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close: + Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose. + + What should they do, beset with dangers round, 610 + No neighbouring dorp,[126] no lodging to be found, + But bleaky plains, and bare unhospitable ground. + The latter brood, who just began to fly, + Sick-feather'd, and unpractised in the sky, + For succour to their helpless mother call: + She spread her wings; some few beneath them crawl; + She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all. + To augment their woes, the winds began to move, + Debate in air, for empty fields above, + Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain 620 + His rattling hailstones mix'd with snow and rain. + + The joyless morning late arose, and found + A dreadful desolation reign around-- + Some buried in the snow, some frozen to the ground. + The rest were struggling still with death, and lay + The Crows' and Ravens' rights, an undefended prey: + Excepting Martin's race; for they and he + Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree: + But soon discover'd by a sturdy clown, + He headed all the rabble of a town, 630 + And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down. + Martin himself was caught alive, and tried + For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide + No Martin there in winter shall abide. + High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear, + He breathed his last, exposed to open air; + And there his corpse, unbless'd, is hanging still, + To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill. + + The patience of the Hind did almost fail; + For well she mark'd the malice of the tale;[127] 640 + Which ribald art their Church to Luther owes; + In malice it began, by malice grows; + He sow'd the Serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest rose. + But most in Martin's character and fate, + She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate, + The people's rage, the persecuting state: + Then said, I take the advice in friendly part; + You clear your conscience, or at least your heart: + Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill, + For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill: 650 + As for my sons, the family is bless'd, + Whose every child is equal to the rest; + No Church reform'd can boast a blameless line; + Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine: + Or else an old fanatic[128] author lies, + Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries. + But through your parable I plainly see + The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity; + The sunshine that offends the purblind sight: + Had some their wishes, it would soon be night. 660 + Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you: + Your sons are malcontents, but yet are true, + As far as non-resistance makes them so; + But that's a word of neutral sense, you know, + A passive term, which no relief will bring, + But trims betwixt a rebel and a king. + + Rest well assured, the Pardelis replied, + My sons would all support the regal side, + Though Heaven forbid the cause by battle should be tried. + + The matron answer'd with a loud Amen, 670 + And thus pursued her argument again. + If, as you say, and as I hope no less, + Your sons will practise what yourselves profess, + What angry power prevents our present peace? + The Lion, studious of our common good, + Desires (and kings' desires are ill withstood) + To join our nations in a lasting love; + The bars betwixt are easy to remove; + For sanguinary laws were never made above. + If you condemn that prince of tyranny, 680 + Whose mandate forced your Gallic friends to fly, + Make not a worse example of your own; + Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown, + And let the guiltless person throw the stone. + His blunted sword your suffering brotherhood + Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood: + But you have ground the persecuting knife, + And set it to a razor edge on life. + Cursed be the wit, which cruelty refines, + Or to his father's rod the scorpion's joins! 690 + Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's loins. + But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note, + And stick it on the first reformer's coat. + Oh, let their crime in long oblivion sleep! + 'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep. + Unjust, or just, is all the question now; + 'Tis plain, that not repealing you allow. + + To name the Test would put you in a rage; + You charge not that on any former age, + + But smile to think how innocent you stand, 700 + Arm'd by a weapon put into your hand, + Yet still remember that you wield a sword + Forged by your foes against your sovereign lord; + Design'd to hew the imperial cedar down, + Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown. + To abhor the makers, and their laws approve, + Is to hate traitors, and the treason love. + What means it else, which now your children say, + We made it not, nor will we take away? + + Suppose some great oppressor had by slight 710 + Of law, disseised your brother of his right, + Your common sire surrendering in a fright; + Would you to that unrighteous title stand, + Left by the villain's will to heir the land? + More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold; + The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold, + Nor hang in peace, before he render'd back the gold. + What more could you have done, than now you do, + Had Oates and Bedlow, and their plot been true? + Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found; 720 + Their dire magicians threw their mists around, + And wise men walk'd as on enchanted ground. + But now when time has made the imposture plain + (Late though he follow'd truth, and limping held her train), + What new delusion charms your cheated eyes again? + The painted harlot might a while bewitch, + But why the hag uncased, and all obscene with itch? + + The first Reformers were a modest race; + Our peers possess'd in peace their native place; + And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state, 730 + They suffer'd only in the common fate: + But now the Sovereign mounts the regal chair, + And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare. + Your answer is, they were not dispossess'd; + They need but rub their metal on the test + To prove their ore: 'twere well if gold alone + Were touch'd and tried on your discerning stone; + But that unfaithful Test unsound will pass + The dross of atheists, and sectarian brass: + As if the experiment were made to hold 740 + For base production, and reject the gold. + Thus men ungodded may to places rise, + And sects may be preferr'd without disguise: + No danger to the Church or State from these; + The Papist only has his writ of ease. + No gainful office gives him the pretence + To grind the subject, or defraud the prince. + Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve + To thrive, but ours alone is privileged to starve. + Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race 750 + We banish not, but they forsake the place; + Our doors are open: true, but ere they come, + You toss your 'censing Test, and fume the room; + As if 'twere Toby's[129] rival to expel, + And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell. + + To this the Panther sharply had replied; + But having gain'd a verdict on her side, + She wisely gave the loser leave to chide; + Well satisfied to have the But and Peace, + And for the plaintiff's cause she cared the less, 760 + Because she sued in _forma pauperis_; + Yet thought it decent something should be said; + For secret guilt by silence is betray'd. + So neither granted all, nor much denied, + But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride: + + Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring, + As once Æneas to the Italian king: + By long possession all the land is mine; + You strangers come with your intruding line, + To share my sceptre, which you call to join. 770 + You plead, like him, an ancient pedigree, + And claim a peaceful seat by fate's decree. + In ready pomp your sacrificer stands, + To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands, + And, that the league more firmly may be tied, + Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride. + Thus plausibly you veil the intended wrong, + But still you bring your exiled gods along; + And will endeavour, in succeeding space, + Those household puppets on our hearths to place. 780 + Perhaps some barbarous laws have been preferr'd; + I spake against the Test, but was not heard; + These to rescind, and peerage to restore, + My gracious Sovereign would my vote implore: + I owe him much, but owe my conscience more. + + Conscience is then your plea, replied the dame, + Which, well inform'd, will ever be the same. + But yours is much of the chameleon hue, + To change the dye with every distant view. + When first the Lion sat with awful sway, 790 + Your conscience taught your duty to obey: + He might have had your Statutes and your Test; + No conscience but of subjects was profess'd. + He found your temper, and no farther tried, + But on that broken reed, your Church, relied. + In vain the sects assay'd their utmost art, + With offer'd treasure to espouse their part; + Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his heart. + But when, by long experience, you had proved, + How far he could forgive, how well he loved; 800 + A goodness that excell'd his godlike race, + And only short of Heaven's unbounded grace; + A flood of mercy that o'erflow'd our isle, + Calm in the rise, and fruitful as the Nile; + Forgetting whence our Egypt was supplied, + You thought your sovereign bound to send the tide: + Nor upward look'd on that immortal spring, + But vainly deem'd, he durst not be a king: + Then Conscience, unrestrain'd by fear, began + To stretch her limits, and extend the span; 810 + Did his indulgence as her gift dispose, + And made a wise alliance with her foes. + Can Conscience own the associating name, + And raise no blushes to conceal her shame? + For sure she has been thought a bashful dame. + But if the cause by battle should be tried, + You grant she must espouse the regal side: + O Proteous Conscience, never to be tied! + What Phoebus from the Tripod shall disclose, + Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes? 820 + Homer, who learn'd the language of the sky, + The seeming Gordian knot would soon untie; + Immortal powers the term of Conscience know, + But Interest is her name with men below. + + Conscience or Interest be 't, or both in one, + The Panther answer'd in a surly tone, + The first commands me to maintain the crown, + The last forbids to throw my barriers down. + Our penal laws no sons of yours admit, + Our Test excludes your tribe from benefit. 830 + These are my banks your ocean to withstand, + Which, proudly rising, overlooks the land; + And, once let in, with unresisted sway, + Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away. + Think not my judgment leads me to comply + With laws unjust, but hard necessity; + Imperious need, which cannot be withstood, + Makes ill authentic, for a greater good. + Possess your soul with patience, and attend: + A more auspicious planet may ascend; 840 + Good fortune may present some happier time, + With means to cancel my unwilling crime; + (Unwilling, witness all ye Powers above!) + To mend my errors, and redeem your love: + That little space you safely may allow; + Your all-dispensing power protects you now. + + Hold, said the Hind, 'tis needless to explain; + You would postpone me to another reign; + Till when you are content to be unjust: + Your part is to possess, and mine to trust. 850 + A fair exchange proposed of future chance, + For present profit and inheritance. + Few words will serve to finish our dispute; + Who will not now repeal, would persecute. + To ripen green revenge your hopes attend, + Wishing that happier planet would ascend. + For shame let Conscience be your plea no more: + To will hereafter, proves she might before; + But she's a bawd to gain, and holds the door. + + Your care about your banks infers a fear 860 + Of threatening floods and inundations near; + If so, a just reprise would only be + Of what the land usurp'd upon the sea; + And all your jealousies but serve to show + Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low. + To intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws, + Is to distrust the justice of your cause; + And argues that the true religion lies + In those weak adversaries you despise. + + Tyrannic force is that which least you fear; 700 + The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear: + Avert it, Heaven! nor let that plague be sent + To us from the dispeopled continent. + + But piety commands me to refrain; + Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign. + Behold! how he protects your friends oppress'd, + Receives the banish'd, succours the distress'd: + Behold, for you may read an honest open breast. + He stands in day-light, and disdains to hide + An act, to which by honour he is tied, 880 + A generous, laudable, and kingly pride. + Your Test he would repeal, his peers restore; + This when he says he means, he means no more. + + Well, said the Panther, I believe him just, + And yet---- + And yet, 'tis but because you must; + You would be trusted, but you would not trust. + The Hind thus briefly; and disdain'd to enlarge + On power of kings, and their superior charge, + As Heaven's trustees before the people's choice: 890 + Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice + To hear those echoes given of her once loyal voice. + + The matron woo'd her kindness to the last, + But could not win; her hour of grace was past. + Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring + To leave the Wolf, and to believe her king, + She gave her up, and fairly wish'd her joy + Of her late treaty with her new ally: + Which well she hoped would more successful prove, + Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love. 900 + The Panther ask'd what concord there could be + Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree? + The dame replied: 'Tis sung in every street, + The common chat of gossips when they meet; + But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while + To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely style. + + A plain good man,[130] whose name is understood + (So few deserve the name of plain and good), + Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd, + And lived, as reason was, upon the best. 910 + Inured to hardships from his early youth, + Much had he done, and suffer'd for his truth: + At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight, + Was never known a more adventurous knight, + Who oftener drew his sword, and always for the right. + + As fortune would (his fortune came, though late) + He took possession of his just estate: + Nor rack'd his tenants with increase of rent; + Nor lived too sparing, nor too largely spent; + But overlook'd his hinds; their pay was just, 920 + And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust: + Slow to resolve, but in performance quick; + So true, that he was awkward at a trick. + For little souls on little shifts rely, + And coward arts of mean expedients try; + The noble mind will dare do anything but lie. + False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way + But shows of honest bluntness, to betray: + That unsuspected plainness he believed; + He looked into himself, and was deceived. 930 + Some lucky planet sure attends his birth, + Or Heaven would make a miracle on earth; + For prosperous honesty is seldom seen + To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win. + It looks as fate with nature's law would strive, + To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive: + And, when so tough a frame she could not bend, + Exceeded her commission to befriend. + + This grateful man, as Heaven increased his store. + Gave God again, and daily fed his poor. 940 + His house with all convenience was purvey'd; + The rest he found, but raised the fabric where he pray'd; + And in that sacred place his beauteous wife + Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life. + + Nor did their alms extend to those alone, + Whom common faith more strictly made their own; + A sort of Doves[131] were housed too near their hall, + Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall. + Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclined, + The greater part degenerate from their kind; 950 + Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed, + And largely drink, because on salt they feed. + Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws; + Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause, + As corporations privileged by laws. + + That house which harbour to their kind affords, + Was built, long since, God knows for better birds; + But fluttering there, they nestle near the throne, + And lodge in habitations not their own, + By their high crops and corny gizzards known. 960 + Like Harpies, they could scent a plenteous board, + Then to be sure they never fail'd their lord: + The rest was form, and bare attendance paid; + They drank, and ate, and grudgingly obey'd. + The more they fed, they raven'd still for more; + They drain'd from Dan, and left Beersheba poor. + All this they had by law, and none repined; + The preference was but due to Levi's kind; + But when some lay-preferment fell by chance, + The gourmands made it their inheritance. 970 + When once possess'd, they never quit their claim; + For then 'tis sanctified to Heaven's high name; + And, hallow'd thus, they cannot give consent, + The gift should be profaned by worldly management. + + Their flesh was never to the table served; + Though 'tis not thence inferr'd the birds were starved; + But that their master did not like the food, + As rank, and breeding melancholy blood. + Nor did it with his gracious nature suit, + Even though they were not Doves, to persecute: 980 + Yet he refused (nor could they take offence) + Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence. + Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought, + Which, new from treading, in their bills they brought: + But left his hinds each in his private power, + That those who like the bran might leave the flour. + He for himself, and not for others, chose, + Nor would he be imposed on, nor impose; + But in their faces his devotion paid, + And sacrifice with solemn rites was made, 990 + And sacred incense on his altars laid. + Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure + Repaid their commons with their salt-manure; + Another farm[132] he had behind his house, + Not overstock'd, but barely for his use: + Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed, + And from his pious hands received their bread. + Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes, + Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries: + Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn, 1000 + A cruise of water and an ear of corn; + Yet still they grudged that modicum, and thought + A sheaf in every single grain was brought. + Fain would they filch that little food away, + While unrestrain'd those happy gluttons prey. + And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall, + The bird that warn'd St Peter of his fall; + That he should raise his mitred crest on high, + And clap his wings, and call his family + To sacred rites; and vex the ethereal powers 1010 + With midnight matins at uncivil hours: + Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest, + Just in the sweetness of their morning rest. + Beast of a bird, supinely when he might + Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light! + What if his dull forefathers used that cry, + Could he not let a bad example die? + The world was fallen into an easier way; + This age knew better than to fast and pray. + Good sense in sacred worship would appear 1020 + So to begin, as they might end the year. + Such feats in former times had wrought the falls + Of crowing Chanticleers[133] in cloister'd walls. + Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled; + And sister Partlet,[134] with her hooded head, + Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed. + The way to win the restive world to God, + Was to lay by the disciplining rod, + Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer: + Religion frights us with a mien severe. 1030 + 'Tis prudence to reform her into ease, + And put her in undress to make her please; + A lively faith will bear aloft the mind, + And leave the luggage of good works behind. + + Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught: + You need not ask how wondrously they wrought: + But sure the common cry was all for these, + Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease. + Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail, + And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail; 1040 + (For vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face, + Is daunted at the sight of awful grace;) + An hideous figure of their foes they drew, + Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true; + And this grotesque design exposed to public view. + One would have thought it some Egyptian piece, + With garden-gods, and barking deities, + More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies. + All so perverse a draught, so far unlike, + It was no libel where it meant to strike. 1050 + Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small, + To view the monster, crowded Pigeon Hall. + There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees + Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees: + And by him, a misshapen, ugly race; + The curse of God was seen on every face: + No Holland emblem could that malice mend, + But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend. + + The master of the farm, displeased to find + So much of rancour in so mild a kind, 1060 + Enquired into the cause, and came to know, + The passive Church had struck the foremost blow; + With groundless fears and jealousies possess'd, + As if this troublesome intruding guest + Would drive the birds of Venus from their nest; + A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd; + But Interest will not trust, though God should plight his word. + + A law,[135] the source of many future harms, + Had banish'd all the poultry from the farms; + With loss of life, if any should be found 1070 + To crow or peck on this forbidden ground. + That bloody statute chiefly was design'd + For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind; + But after-malice did not long forget + The lay that wore the robe and coronet. + For them, for their inferiors and allies, + Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise: + By which unrighteously it was decreed, + That none to trust or profit should succeed, + Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked weed:[136] 1080 + Or that, to which old Socrates was cursed, + Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst. + + The patron (as in reason) thought it hard + To see this inquisition in his yard, + By which the Sovereign was of subjects' use debarr'd. + All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw + The effects of so unnatural a law: + But still the Dove-house obstinately stood + Deaf to their own and to their neighbours' good; + And which was worse, if any worse could be, 1090 + Repented of their boasted loyalty: + Now made the champions of a cruel cause. + And drunk with fumes of popular applause; + For those whom God to ruin has design'd, + He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind. + + New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise, + Suggested dangers, interposed delays; + And emissary Pigeons had in store, + Such as the Meccan prophet used of yore, + To whisper counsels in their patron's ear; 1100 + And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear. + The master smiled to see them work in vain, + To wear him out, and make an idle reign: + He saw, but suffer'd their protractive arts, + And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts: + But they abused that grace to make allies, + And fondly closed with former enemies; + For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise. + + After a grave consult what course were best, + One, more mature in folly than the rest, 1110 + Stood up, and told them, with his head aside, + That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied: + And therefore, since their main impending fear + Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer, + Some potent bird of prey they ought to find, + A foe profess'd to him, and all his kind: + Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyrie nigh, + Well pounced to fasten, and well wing'd to fly; + One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak: + The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak, 1120 + Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest, + The noble Buzzard[137] ever pleased me best; + Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie, + We call him but a Hawk by courtesy. + I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, + And more, in time of war has done us harm: + But all his hate on trivial points depends; + Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends. + For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care; + Cramm'd chickens are a more delicious fare. 1130 + On this high potentate, without delay, + I wish you would confer the sovereign sway: + Petition him to accept the government, + And let a splendid embassy be sent. + + This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed, + Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. + + Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard, + His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepared, + With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard. + He came, and crown'd with great solemnity; 1140 + God save king Buzzard, was the general cry. + + A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, + He seem'd a son of Anak for his height: + Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer: + Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter: + Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delight; + A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte. + A theologue more by need than genial bent; + By breeding sharp, by nature confident. + Interest in all his actions was discern'd; 1150 + More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd: + Or forced by fear, or by his profit led, + Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled: + But brought the virtues of his heaven along; + A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. + And yet with all his arts he could not thrive; + The most unlucky parasite alive. + Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, + And then himself pursued his compliment; + But by reverse of fortune chased away, 1160 + His gifts no longer than their author stay: + He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, + And leaves the stench of ordures in the place. + Oft has he flatter'd and blasphemed the same; + For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name: + The hero and the tyrant change their style + By the same measure that they frown or smile. + When well received by hospitable foes, + The kindness he returns, is to expose: + For courtesies, though undeserved and great, 1170 + No gratitude in felon-minds beget; + As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat. + His praise of foes is venomously nice; + So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice: + "A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice." + Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, + Because he knows Confession stands for one; + Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, + And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd: + But he, uncall'd, his patron to control, 1180 + Divulged the secret whispers of his soul; + Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, + And offer'd to the Moloch of the times. + Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, + Invulnerable in his impudence, + He dares the world; and, eager of a name, + He thrusts about, and jostles into fame. + Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets, + And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets. + So fond of loud report, that not to miss 1190 + Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) + He rather would be known for what he is. + + Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test, + Though half his virtues are not here express'd; + The modesty of fame conceals the rest. + The spleenful Pigeons never could create + A prince more proper to revenge their hate: + Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save; + A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave: + For all the grace the landlord had allow'd, 1200 + But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; + Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd. + They long their fellow-subjects to enthral, + Their patron's promise into question call, + And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all. + + False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest, + As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd; + Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want; + For now the Pigeons too had learn'd to cant. + The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase; 1210 + Nor doors nor windows can contain the press: + For birds of every feather fill the abode; + Even Atheists out of envy own a God: + And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come, + Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome. + That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute, + Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute: + No rigour of the laws to be released, + And much the less, because it was their Lord's request: + They thought it great their Sovereign to control, 1220 + And named their pride, nobility of soul. + + 'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, + Were short of power, their purpose to effect: + But with their quills did all the hurt they could, + And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food: + And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, + Though naming not the patron, to infer, + With all respect, he was a gross idolater. + + But when the imperial owner did espy, + That thus they turn'd his grace to villany, 1230 + Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, + He strove a temper for the extremes to find, + So to be just, as he might still be kind; + Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounced a doom + Of sacred strength for every age to come. + By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, + No rights infringed, but licence to oppress: + Such power have they as factious lawyers long + To crowns ascribed, that Kings can do no wrong. + But since his own domestic birds have tried 1240 + The dire effects of their destructive pride, + He deems that proof a measure to the rest, + Concluding well within his kingly breast, + His fowls of nature too unjustly were oppress'd. + He therefore makes all birds of every sect + Free of his farm, with promise to respect + Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. + His gracious edict the same franchise yields + To all the wild increase of woods and fields, + And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds: 1250 + To Crows the like impartial grace affords, + And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds: + Secured with ample privilege to feed, + Each has his district, and his bounds decreed; + Combined in common interest with his own, + But not to pass the Pigeon's Rubicon. + + Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; + All prophecies accomplish'd from above, + From Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove. + Reduced from her imperial high abode, 1260 + Like Dionysius to a private rod, + The Passive Church, that with pretended grace + Did her distinctive mark in duty place, + Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face. + + What after happen'd is not hard to guess: + The small beginnings had a large increase, + And arts and wealth succeed, the secret spoils of peace. + 'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late, + Become the smiths of their own foolish fate: + Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour; 1270 + But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power: + Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away, + Dissolving in the silence of decay. + + The Buzzard, not content with equal place, + Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race; + To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, + And all together make a seeming goodly flight: + But each have separate interests of their own; + Two Czars are one too many for a throne. + Nor can the usurper long abstain from food; 1280 + Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood: + And may be tempted to his former fare, + When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair. + Bare benting times, and moulting months may come, + When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home; + Or, rent in schism (for so their fate decrees), + Like the tumultuous college of the bees,[138] + They fight their quarrel, by themselves oppress'd; + The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast. + + Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end, 1290 + Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend; + But, with affected yawnings at the close, + Seem'd to require her natural repose: + For now the streaky light began to peep; + And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep. + The dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest + The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest. + Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait, + With glorious visions of her future state. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 118: 'Mother Hubbard:' Mother Hubbard's tale, written by +Spenser.] + +[Footnote 119: 'Lion's peace:' liberty of conscience, and toleration of +all religions.] + +[Footnote 120: 'Exiled heir:' the Duke of York, while opposed by the +favourers and abettors of the Bill of Exclusion, was obliged to retire +from London.] + +[Footnote 121: 'French proselytes:' the French refugees that came into +England after the revocation of the edict of Nantes.] + +[Footnote 122: 'Hudibras:' Butler.] + +[Footnote 123: 'Atheist names:' alluding here and afterwards to +Stillingfleet's attacks on Dryden.] + +[Footnote 124: 'Imprimatur:' the Bishop of London and his chaplains had +formerly the examination of all books, and none could be printed without +their imprimatur, or licence.] + +[Footnote 125: 'Swallow:' this story is supposed to refer to a meeting +of Roman Catholics held in the Savoy to deliberate on King James' +measures, when Father Petre (M. Martin) induced them to join the king's +side, and to remain in England.] + +[Footnote 126: 'Dorp:' hamlet.] + +[Footnote 127: 'The tale:' a parable of the fate of the Papists, soon +fulfilled.] + +[Footnote 128: 'Old fanatic:' Century White, a vehement writer on the +Puritan side.] + +[Footnote 129: 'Toby's:' Tobit; see Apocrypha.] + +[Footnote 130: 'A plain good man:' a character of King James II.] + +[Footnote 131: 'Doves:' the clergy of the Church of England, and other +religions dissenting from that of Rome.] + +[Footnote 132: 'Another farm,' &c.: this alludes to the Popish priests, +whom the king particularly favoured.] + +[Footnote 133: 'Chanticleers:' friars.] + +[Footnote 134: 'Partlet:' nuns.] + +[Footnote 135: 'A law:' penal laws against Popish recusants.] + +[Footnote 136: 'Wicked weed:' the Test Act.] + +[Footnote 137: 'Buzzard:' Bishop Burnet.] + +[Footnote 138: 'College of the bees:' College of Physicians.] + + * * * * * + + + + +MAC FLECKNOE.[139] + + All human things are subject to decay, + And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. + This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young + Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long; + In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, + Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute. + This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, + And blest with issue of a large increase; + Worn out with business, did at length debate + To settle the succession of the state: 10 + And, pondering which of all his sons was fit + To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, + Cried, 'Tis resolved; for nature pleads, that he + Should only rule, who most resembles me. + Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, + Mature in dulness from his tender years: + Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he + Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. + The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, + But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 20 + Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, + Strike through, and make a lucid interval; + But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, + His rising fogs prevail upon the day. + Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye, + And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: + Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain, + And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. + Heywood and Shirley[140] were but types of thee, + Thou last great prophet of tautology. 30 + Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, + Was sent before but to prepare thy way; + And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came + To teach the nations in thy greater name. + My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, + When to king John of Portugal I sung, + Was but the prelude to that glorious day, + When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, + With well-timed oars before the royal barge, + Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge; 40 + And big with hymn, commander of an host, + The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets toss'd. + Methinks I see the new Arion sail, + The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. + At thy well-sharpen'd thumb, from shore to shore + The trebles squeak for fear, the basses roar: + Echoes from Pissing-Alley, Shadwell call, + And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. + About thy boat the little fishes throng, + As at the morning toast that floats along. 50 + Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, + Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand. + St Andre's[141] feet ne'er kept more equal time, + Not even the feet of thy own Psyche's[142] rhyme: + Though they in number as in sense excel; + So just, so like tautology, they fell, + That, pale with envy, Singleton[143] forswore + The lute and sword, which he in triumph bore, + And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more. + + Here stopp'd the good old sire, and wept for joy, 60 + In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. + All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, + That for anointed dulness he was made. + + Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind + (The fair Augusta much to fears inclined), + An ancient fabric raised to inform the sight, + There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight: + A watch-tower once; but now, so fate ordains, + Of all the pile an empty name remains: + From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, 70 + Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys, + Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep, + And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. + Near these a Nursery[144] erects its head, + Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred; + Where unfledged actors learn to laugh and cry, + Where infant punks their tender voices try, + And little Maximins the gods defy. + Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, + Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear; 80 + But gentle Simkin[145] just reception finds + Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds: + Pure clinches the suburban muse affords, + And Panton[146] waging harmless war with words. + Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, + Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. + For ancient Decker[147] prophesied long since, + That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, + Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense: + To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe, 90 + But worlds of Misers[148] from his pen should flow; + Humourists and hypocrites it should produce, + Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.[149] + + Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown + Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. + Roused by report of fame, the nations meet, + From near Bunhill, and distant Watling Street. + No Persian carpets spread the imperial way, + But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay: + From dusty shops neglected authors come, 100 + Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum. + Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby[150] there lay, + But loads of Shadwell almost choked the way. + Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepared, + And Herringman[151] was captain of the guard. + The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, + High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. + At his right hand our young Ascanius sate, + Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state. + His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace, 110 + And lambent dulness play'd around his face. + As Hannibal did to the altars come, + Sworn by his fire, a mortal foe to Rome; + So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, + That he till death true dulness would maintain; + And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, + Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. + The king himself the sacred unction made, + As king by office, and as priest by trade. + In his sinister hand, instead of ball, 120 + He placed a mighty mug of potent ale; + Love's Kingdom[152] to his right he did convey, + At once his sceptre and his rule of sway; + Whose righteous lore the prince had practised young, + And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. + His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread, + That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. + Just at the point of time, if fame not lie, + On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. + So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook, 130 + Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. + The admiring throng loud acclamations make, + And omens of his future empire take. + The sire then shook the honours of his head, + And from his brows damps of oblivion shed, + Full on the filial dulness: long he stood, + Repelling from his breast the raging god; + At length burst out in this prophetic mood: + + Heavens bless my son, from Ireland let him reign + To far Barbadoes on the western main; 140 + Of his dominion may no end be known, + And greater than his father's be his throne; + Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!-- + He paused, and all the people cried, Amen. + Then thus continued he: My son, advance + Still in new impudence, new ignorance. + Success let others teach, learn thou from me + Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. + Let Virtuosos[153] in five years be writ; + Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. 150 + Let gentle George[154] in triumph tread the stage, + Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage; + Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit, + And in their folly show the writer's wit. + Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence, + And justify their author's want of sense. + Let them be all by thy own model made + Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid; + That they to future ages may be known, + Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. 160 + Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, + All full of thee, and differing but in name. + But let no alien Sedley[155] interpose, + To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.[156] + And when false flowers of rhetoric thou wouldst cull, + Trust nature, do not labour to be dull; + But write thy best, and top; and, in each line, + Sir Formal's[157] oratory will be thine: + Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, + And does thy northern dedications fill. 170 + Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame, + By arrogating Jonson's hostile name. + Let Father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, + And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. + Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: + What share have we in nature, or in art? + Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, + And rail at arts he did not understand? + Where made he love in prince Nicander's[158] vein, + Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? 180 + Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my a--e, + Promised a play, and dwindled to a farce? + When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, + As thou whole Etheridge dost transfuse to thine? + But so transfused, as oil and waters flow, + His always floats above, thine sinks below. + This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, + New humours to invent for each new play: + This is that boasted bias of thy mind, + By which one way to dulness 'tis inclined: 190 + Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, + And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. + Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence + Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. + A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, + But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. + Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; + Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. + With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself to write, + Thy inoffensive satires never bite. 200 + In thy felonious heart though venom lies, + It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. + Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame + In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. + Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command, + Some peaceful province in Acrostic land. + There thou mayst wings display and altars[159] raise, + And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. + Or, if thou wouldst thy different talents suit, + Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute. 210 + + He said; but his last words were scarcely heard: + For Bruce and Longville[160] had a trap prepared, + And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. + Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, + Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. + The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, + With double portion of his father's art. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 139: 'Mac Flecknoe:' Richard Flecknoe, from whom this poem +derives its name, was an Irish priest, and author of plays.] + +[Footnote 140: 'Heywood and Shirley:' play writers in Queen Elizabeth's +time.] + +[Footnote 141: 'St Andre:' a famous French dancing-master.] + +[Footnote 142: 'Psyche:' an opera of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 143: 'Singleton:' a musician of the time.] + +[Footnote 144: 'Nursery:' a theatre for training actors.] + +[Footnote 145: 'Simkin:' a character of a cobbler, in an interlude.] + +[Footnote 146: 'Panton:' a famous punster.] + +[Footnote 147: 'Decker:' Thomas Decker, a dramatic poet of James I.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 148: 'Worlds of Misers:' 'The Miser' and 'The Humourists' were +two of Shadwell's comedies.] + +[Footnote 149: 'Raymond' and 'Bruce:' the first of these is an insipid +character in 'The Humourists'; the second, in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 150: 'Ogleby:' translator of Virgil.] + +[Footnote 151: 'Herringman:' Henry Herringman, a bookseller; see +'Life.'] + +[Footnote 152: 'Love's Kingdom:' this is the name of the only play of +Flecknoe's, which was acted, but miscarried in the representation.] + +[Footnote 153: 'Virtuoso:' a play of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 154: 'Gentle George:' Sir George Etheredge.] + +[Footnote 155: 'Alien Sedley:' Sir Charles Sedley was supposed to assist +Shadwell in writing his plays.] + +[Footnote 156: 'Epsom prose:' alluding to Shadwell's play of 'Epsom +Wells.'] + +[Footnote 157: 'Formal:' a character in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 158: 'Nicander:' a character of a lover in Shadwell's opera of +'Psyche.'] + +[Footnote 159: 'Wings and altars:' forms in which old acrostics were +cast. See Herbert's 'Temple.'] + +[Footnote 160: 'Bruce and Longville:' two characters in Shadwell's +'Virtuoso.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +BRITANNIA REDIVIVA: + +A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688. + + Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care + To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: + Preventing angels met it half the way, + And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. + + Just on the day, when the high-mounted Sun + Did furthest in his northern progress run, + He bended forward, and even stretch'd the sphere + Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year, + To view a brighter sun in Britain born; + That was the business of his longest morn; 10 + The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. + + Departing Spring could only stay to shed + Her bloomy beauties on the genial bed, + But left the manly Summer in her stead, + With timely fruit the longing land to cheer, + And to fulfil the promise of the year. + Betwixt two seasons comes the auspicious heir, + This age to blossom, and the next to bear. + + Last solemn Sabbath[161] saw the Church attend, + The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend; 20 + But when his wondrous octave[162] roll'd again, + He brought a royal infant in his train. + So great a blessing to so good a king, + None but the Eternal Comforter could bring. + + Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, + As once in council, to create our sire? + It seems as if they sent the new-born guest + To wait on the procession of their feast; + And on their sacred anniverse decreed + To stamp their image on the promised seed. 30 + Three realms united, and on one bestow'd, + An emblem of their mystic union show'd: + The Mighty Trine the triple empire shared, + As every person would have one to guard. + + Hail, son of prayers! by holy violence + Drawn down from heaven; but long be banish'd thence, + And late to thy paternal skies retire: + To mend our crimes, whole ages would require; + To change the inveterate habit of our sins, + And finish what thy godlike sire begins. 40 + Kind Heaven, to make us Englishmen again, + No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. + + The sacred cradle to your charge receive, + Ye seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve; + Thy father's angel, and thy father join, + To keep possession, and secure the line; + But long defer the honours of thy fate: + Great may they be like his, like his be late; + That James this running century may view, + And give his son an auspice to the new. 50 + + Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: + For see the Dragon[163] winged on his way, + To watch the travail,[164] and devour the prey. + Or, if allusions may not rise so high, + Thus, when Alcides[165] raised his infant cry, + The snakes besieged his young divinity: + But vainly with their forked tongues they threat; + For opposition makes a hero great. + To needful succour all the good will run, 60 + And Jove assert the godhead of his son. + + O still repining at your present state, + Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate, + Look up, and read in characters of light + A blessing sent you in your own despite. + The manna falls, yet that celestial bread + Like Jews you munch, and murmur while you feed. + May not your fortune be, like theirs, exiled, + Yet forty years to wander in the wild! + Or if it be, may Moses live at least, 70 + To lead you to the verge of promised rest! + + Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow + What plants will take the blight, and what will grow, + By tracing Heaven, his footsteps may be found: + Behold! how awfully he walks the round! + God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways, + The rise of empires, and their fall surveys; + More, might I say, than with an usual eye, + He sees his bleeding church in ruin lie, + And hears the souls of saints beneath his altar cry. 80 + Already has he lifted high the Sign,[166] + Which crown'd the conquering arms of Constantine; + The Moon[167] grows pale at that presaging sight, + And half her train of stars have lost their light. + + Behold another Sylvester,[168] to bless + The sacred standard, and secure success; + Large of his treasures, of a soul so great, + As fills and crowds his universal seat. + Now view at home a second Constantine; + (The former too was of the British line;)[169] 90 + Has not his healing balm your breaches closed, + Whose exile many sought, and few opposed? + Or, did not Heaven by its eternal doom + Permit those evils, that this good might come? + So manifest, that even the moon-eyed sects + See whom and what this Providence protects. + Methinks, had we within our minds no more + Than that one shipwreck on the fatal Ore,[170] + That only thought may make us think again, + What wonders God reserves for such a reign. 100 + To dream that Chance his preservation wrought, + Were to think Noah was preserved for nought; + Or the surviving eight were not design'd + To people Earth, and to restore their kind. + + When humbly on the royal babe we gaze, + The manly lines of a majestic face + Give awful joy: 'tis Paradise to look + On the fair frontispiece of Nature's book: + If the first opening page so charms the sight, + Think how the unfolded volume will delight! 110 + + See how the venerable infant lies + In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes + The father's soul, with an undaunted view, + Looks out, and takes our homage as his due. + See on his future subjects how he smiles, + Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles; + But with an open face, as on his throne, + Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own. + Born in broad day-light, that the ungrateful rout + May find no room for a remaining doubt; 120 + Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun, + And the true eaglet safely dares the sun. + + Fain would the fiends[171] have made a dubious birth, + Loath to confess the Godhead clothed in earth: + But sicken'd, after all their baffled lies, + To find an heir-apparent of the skies: + Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge, + And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. + + Not great Æneas[172] stood in plainer day, + When, the dark mantling mist dissolved away, 130 + He to the Tyrians show'd his sudden face, + Shining with all his goddess mother's grace: + For she herself had made his countenance bright, + Breathed honour on his eyes, and her own purple light. + + If our victorious Edward,[173] as they say, + Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, + Why may not years, revolving with his fate, + Produce his like, but with a longer date; + One, who may carry to a distant shore + The terror that his famed forefather bore? 140 + But why should James or his young hero stay + For slight presages of a name or day? + We need no Edward's fortune to adorn + That happy moment when our prince was born: + Our prince adorns his day, and ages hence + Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince. + + Great Michael, prince of all the ethereal hosts, + And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts; + And thou, the adopted patron of our isle,[174] + With cheerful aspects on this infant smile: 150 + The pledge of Heaven, which, dropping from above, + Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. + + Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought, + When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught; + Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, + Nor did the avenging angel yet retire, + But purged our still increasing crimes with fire, + Then perjured plots, the still impending Test, + And worse--but charity conceals the rest: + Here stop the current of the sanguine flood; 160 + Require not, gracious God, thy martyrs' blood; + But let their dying pangs, their living toil, + Spread a rich harvest through their native soil: + A harvest ripening for another reign, + Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. + + Enough of early saints one womb has given; + Enough increased the family of Heaven: + Let them for his and our atonement go; + And, reigning blest above, leave him to rule below. + + Enough already has the year foreshow'd 170 + His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd, + The meads were floated with a weeping spring, + And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing: + The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints, + And the same shivering sweat his lord attaints. + When will the minister of wrath give o'er? + Behold him at Araunah's threshing-floor:[175] + He stops, and seems to sheathe his flaming brand, + Pleased with burnt incense from our David's hand. + David has bought the Jebusite's abode, 180 + And raised an altar to the living God. + + Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys sincere; + No future ills nor accidents appear, + To sully and pollute the sacred infant's year. + Five months to discord and debate were given: + He sanctifies the yet remaining seven. + Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be blest, + And prelude to the realm's perpetual rest! + + Let his baptismal drops for us atone; + Lustrations for offences not his own. 190 + Let Conscience, which is Interest ill disguised, + In the same font be cleansed, and all the land baptized. + + Unnamed as yet;[176] at least unknown to fame: + Is there a strife in Heaven about his name, + Where every famous predecessor vies, + And makes a faction for it in the skies? + Or must it be reserved to thought alone? + Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton.[177] + Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd; + Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd,[178] + To shun the spells and sorceries of those 200 + Who durst her infant majesty oppose. + But when his tender strength in time shall rise + To dare ill tongues, and fascinating eyes; + This isle, which hides the little Thunderer's fame, + Shall be too narrow to contain his name: + The artillery of heaven shall make him known; + Crete[179] could not hold the god, when Jove was grown. + + As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born,[180] + Whom arms and arts did equally adorn, 210 + Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste + Minerva's name to Venus had debased; + So this imperial babe rejects the food + That mixes monarch's with plebeian blood: + Food that his inborn courage might control, + Extinguish all the father in his soul, + And, for his Estian race, and Saxon strain, + Might reproduce some second Richard's reign. + Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood: + But kings too tame are despicably good: 220 + Be this the mixture of this regal child, + By nature manly, but by virtue mild. + + Thus far the furious transport of the news + Had to prophetic madness fired the Muse; + Madness ungovernable, uninspired, + Swift to foretell whatever she desired. + Was it for me the dark abyss to tread, + And read the book which angels cannot read? + How was I punish'd, when the sudden blast,[181] + The face of heaven, and our young sun o'ercast! 230 + Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she roll'd, + Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told; + At three insulting strides she stalk'd the town, + And, like contagion, struck the loyal down. + Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but, mounted high, + The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. + Here black rebellion shooting from below + (As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow[182]) + And here the sons of God are petrified with woe: + An apoplex of grief: so low were driven 240 + The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. + + As, when pent vapours run their hollow round, + Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground, + Break bellowing forth, and no confinement brook, + Till the third settles what the former shook; + Such heavings had our souls; till, slow and late, + Our life with his return'd, and Faith prevail'd on Fate. + By prayers the mighty blessing was implored, + To prayers was granted, and by prayers restored. + + So, ere the Shunamite[183] a son conceived, 250 + The prophet promised, and the wife believed. + A son was sent, the son so much desired; + But soon upon the mother's knees expired. + The troubled seer approach'd the mournful door, + Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before, + Then stretch'd his limbs upon the child, and mourn'd, + + Thus Mercy stretches out her hand, and saves + Desponding Peter sinking in the waves. + + As when a sudden storm of hail and rain 260 + Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain, + Think not the hopes of harvest are destroy'd + On the flat field, and on the naked void; + The light unloaded stem, from tempest freed, + Will raise the youthful honours of his head; + And soon, restored by native vigour, bear + The timely product of the bounteous year. + + Nor yet conclude all fiery trials past: + For Heaven will exercise us to the last; + Sometimes will check us in our full career, 270 + With doubtful blessings, and with mingled fear; + That, still depending on his daily grace, + His every mercy for an alms may pass, + With sparing hands will diet us to good; + Preventing surfeits of our pamper'd blood. + So feeds the mother bird her craving young + With little morsels, and delays them long. + + True, this last blessing was a royal feast; + But where's the wedding-garment on the guest? + Our manners, as religion were a dream, 280 + Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. + In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell, + And injuries with injuries repel; + Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, + Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. + Thus Israel sinn'd, impenitently hard, + And vainly thought the present ark their guard;[184] + But when the haughty Philistines appear, + They fled, abandon'd to their foes and fear; + Their God was absent, though his ark was there. 290 + Ah! lest our crimes should snatch this pledge away, + And make our joys the blessings of a day! + For we have sinn'd him hence, and that he lives, + God to his promise, not our practice gives. + Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty scale, + But James and Mary, and the Church, prevail. + Nor Amalek can rout the chosen bands,[185] + While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses' hands. + + By living well, let us secure his days; + Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways, 300 + No force the free-born spirit can constrain, + But charity and great examples gain. + Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day: + 'Tis god-like God in his own coin to pay. + + But you, propitious queen, translated here, + From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere, + Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year: + You, who your native climate have bereft + Of all the virtues, and the vices left; + Whom piety and beauty make their boast, 310 + Though beautiful is well in pious lost; + So lost, as star-light is dissolved away, + And melts into the brightness of the day; + Or gold about the regal diadem, + Lost to improve the lustre of the gem. + What can we add to your triumphant day? + Let the great gift the beauteous giver pay. + For should our thanks awake the rising sun, + And lengthen, as his latest shadows run, + That, though the longest day, would soon, too soon be done. 320 + Let angels' voices with their harps conspire, + But keep the auspicious infant from the quire; + Late let him sing above, and let us know + No sweeter music than his cries below. + + Nor can I wish to you, great Monarch, more + Than such an annual income to your store; + The day which gave this Unit, did not shine + For a less omen, than to fill the Trine. + After a prince, an admiral beget; + The Royal Sovereign wants an anchor yet. 330 + Our isle has younger titles still in store, + And when the exhausted land can yield no more, + Your line can force them from a foreign shore. + + The name of Great your martial mind will suit; + But justice is your darling attribute: + Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one hero's[186] due, + And, in him, Plutarch prophesied of you. + A prince's favours but on few can fall, + But justice is a virtue shared by all. + + Some kings the name of conquerors have assumed, 340 + Some to be great, some to be gods presumed; + But boundless power and arbitrary lust + Made tyrants still abhor the name of just; + They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives, + And fear'd a title that reproach'd their lives. + + The Power, from which all kings derive their state, + Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate, + Is equal both to punish and reward; + For few would love their God, unless they fear'd. + + Resistless force and immortality 350 + Make but a lame, imperfect, deity: + Tempests have force unbounded to destroy, + And deathless being, even the damn'd enjoy; + And yet Heaven's attributes, both last and first, + One without life, and one with life accurst: + But justice is Heaven's self, so strictly he, + That could it fail, the Godhead could not be. + This virtue is your own; but life and state + Are one to Fortune subject, one to Fate: + Equal to all, you justly frown or smile; 360 + Nor hopes nor fears your steady hand beguile; + Yourself our balance hold, the world's our isle. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 161: 'Solemn Sabbath:' Whit-Sunday.] + +[Footnote 162: 'Wondrous octave:' Trinity Sunday.] + +[Footnote 163: 'The Dragon:' alluding only to the Commonwealth party, +here and in other places of the poem.] + +[Footnote 164: 'The travail:' see Rev. xii. 4.] + +[Footnote 165: 'Alcides:' Hercules.] + +[Footnote 166: 'Sign:' the sign of the cross, as denoting the Roman +Catholic faith.] + +[Footnote 167: 'The moon:' the Turkish crescent.] + +[Footnote 168: 'Another Sylvester:' the Pope in James II.'s time is here +compared to him that governed the Romish Church in the time of +Constantine.] + +[Footnote 169: 'British line:' St Helen, mother of Constantine the +Great, was an Englishwoman.] + +[Footnote 170: 'Fatal Ore:' the sandbank on which the Duke of York had +like to have been lost in 1682, on his voyage to Scotland, is known by +the name of Lemman Ore.] + +[Footnote 171: 'Fiends:' the malcontents who doubted the truth of the +birth are here compared to the evil spirits that tempted our Saviour in +the wilderness.] + +[Footnote 172: 'Æneas:' see Virgil; Æneid, I.] + +[Footnote 173: 'Edward:' Edward the Black Prince, born on Trinity +Sunday.] + +[Footnote 174: 'Patron of our isle': St George.] + +[Footnote 175: 'Araunah's threshing-floor:' alluding to the passage in 1 +Kings xxiv.] + +[Footnote 176: 'Unnamed as yet:' the prince was christened but not named +when this poem was published.] + +[Footnote 177: 'Tetragrammaton:' Jehovah, or the name of God, unlawful +to be pronounced by the Jews.] + +[Footnote 178: 'Rome was kept concealed:' some authors say, that the +true name of Rome was kept a secret.] + +[Footnote 179: 'Crete:' Candia, where Jupiter was born and bred +secretly.] + +[Footnote 180: 'Brain was born:' Pallas or Minerva, said by the poets to +have sprung from the brain of Jove, and to have been bred up by hand, as +was this young prince.] + +[Footnote 181: 'Sudden blast:' the sudden false report of the prince's +death.] + +[Footnote 182: 'Moments grow:' those giants are feigned to have grown +fifteen yards every day.] + +[Footnote 183: 'Shunamite:' see 2 Kings iv.] + +[Footnote 184: 'Ark their guard:' see 1 Sam. iv. 10.] + +[Footnote 185: 'Amalek can rout the chosen bands:' see Exod. xviii. 8.] + +[Footnote 186: Aristides, surnamed the Just.] + + * * * * * + + + +END OF FIRST VOLUME. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol +I, by John Dryden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICAL WORKS OF DRYDEN V.1 *** + +***** This file should be named 11488-8.txt or 11488-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11488/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol I + With Life, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes + +Author: John Dryden + +Release Date: March 7, 2004 [EBook #11488] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICAL WORKS OF DRYDEN V.1 *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + + + + + + + EDINBURGH + PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, + PAUL'S WORK. + + + + THE POETICAL WORKS + OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + With Life, Critical Dissertation, and + Explanatory Notes + + + + BY THE + REV. GEORGE GILFILLAN. + + + + VOL. I. + + + + + M. DCCC. LV. + + + + +THE LIFE OF JOHN DRYDEN. + + +John Dryden was born on the 9th of August 1631, at a place variously +denominated Aldwincle, or Oldwincle, All Saints; or at Oldwincle, St +Peter's, in Northamptonshire. The name Dryden or Driden, is from the +North. There are Drydens still in the town of Scotland where we now +write; and the poet's ancestors lived in the county of Cumberland. One +of them, named John, removed from a place called Staff-hill, to +Northamptonshire, where he succeeded to the estate of Canons-Ashby, by +marriage with the daughter of Sir John Cope. John Dryden was a +schoolmaster, a Puritan, and honoured, it is said, with the friendship +of the celebrated Erasmus, after whom he named his son, who succeeded to +the estate of Canons-Ashby, and, besides becoming a sheriff of the +county of Northamptonshire, was created a knight under James I. Sir +Erasmus had three sons, the third of whom, also an Erasmus, became the +father of our poet. His mother was Mary, the daughter of the Rev. Henry +Pickering, whose father, a zealous Puritan, had been one of the marked +victims in the Gunpowder Plot. Dryden thus had connexions both on his +father's and mother's side with that party, by deriding, defaming, and +opposing which he afterwards gained much of his poetical glory. + +The poet was the eldest of fourteen children--four sons and ten +daughters. The honour of his birth is claimed, as already stated, by two +parishes, that of Oldwincle, All Saints, and that of Oldwincle, St +Peter's, as Homer's was of old by seven cities. His brothers and +sisters have been followed, by eager biographers, into their diverging +and deepening paths of obscurity--paths in which we do not choose to +attend them. Dryden received the rudiments of his education at Tichmarsh +or at Oundle--for here, too, we have conflicting statements. It is +certain, however, that he was admitted a king's scholar at Westminster, +under the tuition of Dr Busby, whom he always respected, and who +discovered in him poetical power. He encouraged him to write, as a +Thursday's night's task, a translation of the third Satire of Persius, a +writer precisely of that vigorously rhetorical, rapidly satirical, and +semi-poetical school, which Dryden was qualified to appreciate and to +mirror; besides other pieces of a similar kind which are lost. During +the last year of his residence at Westminster, and when only eighteen +years of age, he wrote one among the ninety-eight elegies which were +called forth by the sudden death of Henry Lord Hastings, and published +under the title of "Lachrymae Musarum." Hastings seems to have been an +amiable person, but he was besides a lord, and _hinc illoe lachrymae_. +We know not of what quality the other tears were, but assuredly Dryden's +is one of very suspicious sincerity, and of very little poetical merit. +But even the crocodile tears of a great genius, if they fall into a +fanciful shape, must be preserved; and we have preserved his, +accordingly, notwithstanding the false taste as well as doubtful truth +and honesty of this his earliest poem. + +Shortly after, Dryden obtained a Westminster scholarship, and on the +11th of May 1650, entered on Trinity College, Cambridge. His tutor was +one John Templer, famous then as one of the many who had attempted to +put a hook in the jaws of old Hobbes, the Leviathan of his time, but +whose reply, as well as Hobbes' own book (like a whale disappearing from +a Shetland "voe" into the deep, with all the hooks and harpoons of his +enemies along with him) has been almost entirely forgotten. At +Cambridge, Dryden was noted for regularity and diligence, and took the +degree of B.A. in January 1653-4, and in 1657 was made A.M. by a +dispensation from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Once, indeed, he was +rusticated for a fortnight on account of some disobedience to the +vice-master. He resided, however, at his university three years after +the usual term; and although he did not become a Fellow, and made no +secret, in after days, of preferring Oxford to Cambridge, yet the reason +of this seems to have lain, not in any personal disgust, but in some +other cause, which, says Scott, "we may now search for in vain." + +Up till June 1654, his father had continued to reside at his estate at +Blakesley, in Northamptonshire, when he died, leaving Dryden two-thirds +of a property, which was worth, in all, only L60 a-year. The other third +was bequeathed to his mother, during her lifetime. With this miserable +modicum of L40 a-year, the poet returned to Cambridge, and continued +there, doing little, and little known as one who could do anything, till +the year 1657. The only records of the diligence of his college years, +are the lines on the death of Lord Hastings, and one or two other +inconsiderable copies of verses. He probably, however, employed much +time in private study. + +While at Cambridge, he met with a young lady, a cousin of his own--Honor +Driden, daughter of Sir John Driden of Chesterton--of whom he became +deeply enamoured. His suit was, however, rejected, although he continued +all his life on intimate terms with the family. Miss Driden died +unmarried, many years after her poet lover; and like the "Lass of +Ballochmyle" with Burns' homage, learned to value it more after he +became celebrated, and carefully preserved the solitary letter which +Dryden wrote her. + +But now the university was to lose, and the world of London to receive, +the poet. In the year 1657, when about six-and-twenty years of age, +Dryden repaired to London, "clad in homely drugget," and with more +projects in his head than pence in his pocket. He was first employed by +his relative, Sir Gilbert Pickering--called the "Fiery Pickering," from +his Roundhead zeal--as a clerk or secretary. Here he came in contact +with Cromwell; and saw very clearly those great qualities of sagacity, +determination, courage, statesmanship, insight and genuine godliness, +which made him, next to Alfred the Great, the first monarch who ever +sat on the English throne. Two years after Dryden came to London, +Cromwell expired, and the poet wrote and published his Heroic Stanzas on +the hero's death, which we consider really his earliest poem. When +Richard resigned, Dryden, in common with the majority of the nation, saw +that the Roundhead cause was lost, and hastened to carry over his +talents to the gaining side. For this we do not blame him very severely, +although it certainly had been nobler if, like Milton, he had clung to +his party. Sir Walter Scott remarks, that Dryden never retracted the +praise he gave to Cromwell. In "Absalom and Achitophel" he sneers at +Richard as Ishbosheth, but says nothing against the deceased giant Saul. +It is clear, too, that at first his desertion of the Cromwell party was +a loss to the poet. He lost the chance of their favour, in case a +reaction should come, his situation as secretary, and the shelter of +Pickering's princely mansion. As might have been expected, his ancient +friends were indignant at the change, and not less so at the alteration +he thought proper at the same time to make in the spelling of his +name--from Driden to Dryden. + +He went to reside in the obscure house of one Herringman, a bookseller, +in the New Exchange, and became for life a professional author. His +enemies afterwards reproached him bitterly for his mean circumstances at +this period of his life, and asserted that he was a mere drudge to +Herringman. He, at all events, did little in his own proper poetic +calling for two years. A poem on the Coronation of Charles, well fitted +to wipe away the stain of Cromwellism, and to attract upon the poet the +eye of that Rising-Sun, whose glory he sang with more zeal than truth; a +panegyric on the Lord Chancellor; and a satire on the Dutch; were all, +and are all short, and all savour of a vein somewhat hide-bound. He +planned, indeed, too, and partly wrote, one or more plays, and was +considered of consequence enough to be elected a member of the Royal +Society in 1662. Previous to this he had been introduced, through +Herringman, to Sir Robert Howard, son of the first Earl of Berkshire, +and a relation of Edward Howard, the author of "British Princes," and +the object of the witty wrath of Butler. Sir Robert, too, had a +poetical propensity, and Dryden and he became and continued intimate for +a number of years, the poet assisting the knight in his literary +compositions, particularly in a play entitled "The Indian Queen;" and +the latter inviting the former to the family seat at Charlton, where +Dryden met in an unlucky hour his future wife, Lady Elizabeth Howard, +the sister of Sir Robert. It was on the 1st of December 1663, in St +Swithin's, London, and with the consent of the Earl, who settled about +L60 a-year on his daughter, that this unhappy union took place. The lady +seems to have had absolutely none of the qualities which tend either to +command a husband's respect or to conciliate his regard, but is +described as a woman of violent temper and weak understanding. Much of +the bitterness of Dryden's satire, some of the coarse licentiousness of +his plays, and all the sarcasms at matrimony which he has scattered in +multitudes, throughout his works, may be traced to his domestic +unhappiness. + +Otherwise, the match had some advantages. It broke up, for a time at +least, some licentious connexions he had formed, particularly, after a +time, one with Mrs Reeves the actress, with whom, having laid aside his +Norwich drugget, he used to eat tarts at the Mulberry Gardens, "with a +sword and a Chadreux wig." It secured to him, including his own +property, an income of about L100 a-year--a sum equal to L300 now--and +which, on the death of his mother, three years later, was increased by +L20 more, or L60 at the present value of money. He was thus protected +for life against the meaner and more miserable necessities of the +literary man, under which many of his unfortunate rivals were crushed; +and if he could not always command luxuries, he was always sure of +bread. + +To improve his circumstances, however, and to enable him to keep up a +style of living in unison with his lady's rank, he must write, and the +question arose, what mode of composition was likely to be the most +lucrative? Were he to continue to indite panegyrical verses, like those +to Clarendon, he stood a chance of having a few guineas tossed to him +now and then by a patron, like a crust to an unfortunate cur. Were he +to translate, or write prefaces for the booksellers, he might pay his +bill for salt, if diligent enough. For Satires as yet there was little +demand. The follies of the more fanatical of the Puritans were too +recent, although they were beginning to ripen for the hand of Butler; +and the far grosser absurdities of the Cavaliers were yet in blossom. +There remained nothing for an aspiring author but the stage, which +during the previous _regime_ had been abolished. While the French +Revolution was in progress, ay, even in the depths of the reign of +terror, the theatres were all open, and all crowded; but when Cromwell +was enacting his solemn and solitary part, before God, angels, and men, +the petty potentates--the gods and goddesses of the stage--vanished into +thin air. At his tremendous stamp their cue had been "_Exeunt omnes_" +and if the spirit of Shakspeare himself had witnessed the departure, he +would have added his Amen. And had he watched in their stead the +gigantic actor treading his trembling stage alone, with all the world +looking on, he might have remembered and re-applied his own magnificent +words-- + + "O for a muse of fire, that would ascend + The brightest heaven of invention! + A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, + And _monarchs_ to _behold_ the swelling scene! + Then should the warlike _Cromwell_ like himself + Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, + Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire + Crouch for employment." + +No sooner had this great man passed away, and an earnest age with him, +and Charles mounted the throne, than from the darkest recesses of the +stews and the taverns, from the depths within depths of Alsatia or Paris, +the whole tribe of dancers, fiddlers, drabs, mimes, stage-players, and +playwrights, knowing that their enemy was dead, and their hour of harvest +had come, emerged in swarming multitudes--multitudes swelled by the vast +tribe of play-goers, who had been counting the hours since a Falstaff +had made them laugh, an Ophelia made them weep, and a Lear made them +tremble. And had this only issued in the revival of the drama of +Shakspeare and Johnson, few could have had much to say in objection; for +that, in general, was as pure as it was powerful. But, alas, besides +them there had been a Beaumont, a Fletcher, and a Massinger, with their +unutterable abominations. Nay, the king and courtiers had imported from +France a taste which required for its gratification a licentiousness +still more abandoned, and to be cast, besides, into forms and shapes, as +stiff, stately, and elaborate as the material was vile, and were not +contented with pollution unless served up in a new, piquant, and +unnatural manner. Our poet understood this movement of his time right +well, and determined to conform to it. He knew that he could, better +than any man living, pander to the popular appetite for the +melodramatic, for the grandiloquent, and for the obscene. He knew the +taste of Charles, and that he, above all cooks, could dress up a +_ragout_ of that putrid perfection which his king relished. And he set +himself with his whole might so to do, and for thirty years and more +continued his degradation of genius--a degradation unexampled, whether +we consider the powers of the writer, the coarseness, quantity, and +elaboration of the pollutions he perpetrated, or the length of time in +which he was employed, in thus "profaning the God-given strength and +marring the lofty line." + +His other biographers--Dr Johnson, alone, with brevity and seeming +reluctance--have enumerated and characterised all Dryden's plays. We +have decided only to speak of them very generally, and that for the +following reasons:--1st, We are reprinting none of them; 2dly, From what +we have read of them, we are certain that, even as works of art, they +are utterly unworthy of their author, and that in morals they are, as a +whole, a disgrace to human nature. We are not the least lenient or +indulgent of critics. We have every wish to pity the errors, and to bear +with the frequent escapades and aberrations of genius. But when we see, +as in Dryden's case, what we are forced to consider either a deliberate +and systematic attempt to poison the sources of virtue, or, at least, an +elaborate and incessant habit of conformity to the bad tastes of a bad +age, we can think of no plea fully available for his defence. Vain to +say, "he wrote for bread." He did not--he wrote only for the luxuries, +not the staff of life. Vain to say, "he consulted the taste of his +audience, and suited their atmosphere." But why did he _select_ that +atmosphere as his? And why so much gratuitous and superfluous iniquity +in his works? "But he wrote to gratify his monarch." This would form a +good enough excuse for a Sporus, "a white curd of ass' milk," but not +for a strong man like Dryden. But he was "no worse than others of his +age." Pitiful apology! since, being the ablest man of his day, and +therefore bound to be before it, he was in reality behind it, his plays +excelling all contemporary productions in wickedness as well as in wit. +But his own "conduct was latterly irreproachable." This we doubt, and +Scott doubts so too. But even though it were true, it were damaging, +because it would deprive him of the plea of passion, and reduce him from +the warm human painter to the cold demon-like sculptor of unclean and +abominable ideas. It never can be forgotten, that whenever Dryden +translated a filthy play, he made it filthier than in the original, and +that he has once and again scattered his satyr-like fancies in spots +such as the Paradise of Milton, and the Enchanted Isle of Shakspeare, +which every imagination and every heart previously had regarded as holy +ground. The only extenuating circumstance we can mention is, that his +pruriency was latterly in part relinquished and much deplored by +himself, and that his poetry is, on the whole, free from it. In our +critical paper, prefixed to the Second Volume, we intend to examine the +question, how far an author's faults are, or are not, to be charged upon +his age. + +His next poem was "Annus Mirabilis," published in 1667, and counted +justly one of his most vigorous, though also one of the faultiest of his +poems. It includes glowing, although somewhat quaint and fantastic, +descriptions of the Dutch War and the Great Fire in London. In 1668, by +the death of Sir William Davenant, the post of Poet-Laureate became +vacant, and Dryden was appointed to it. He was also appointed +historiographer-royal. The salary of these two offices amounted to L200 +a year, besides the famous annual butt of canary, while his profits from +the theatre were equivalent to L300. His whole income was thus, at the +very least, equal to a thousand pounds of our money--a great sum for a +poet in that or in any age. He published, the same year, an Essay on +"Dramatic Poetry," vindicating his own practice of rhymed heroic verse +in plays;--a stupid French innovation, which all the ingenuity of a +Dryden defended in vain. It was cast into the shape of a dialogue,--the +Duke of Dorset being one of the respondents,--and formed the first +specimen of Dryden's easy, rambling, but most vivid, vigorous, and +entertaining prose. No one was ever more ready than he to render reasons +for his writings,--for their faults as well as merits,--and to show by +more ingenious arguments, that, if they failed, they _ought_ to have +succeeded. + +At this time we may consider Dryden's prosperity, although not his +powers, to have culminated. He had a handsome income, a run of +unparalleled popularity as a playwright; he was Poet-Laureate, a +favourite at court, and on terms of intimacy with many of the nobility, +and many of the eminent men of letters. The public would have at that +time bid high for his very snuff-papers, and were thankful for whatever +garbage he chose to throw at them from the stage. How different his +position from that of the great blind old man, at this time residing in +Bunhill-fields in obscurity and sorrow, and preparing to put off his +tabernacle, and take his flight to the Heavens of God! The one heard +every night the "claps of multitudes,"--the other the whispers of +angels, saying to his soul, "Sister-spirit, come away." The one was +revelling in reputation,--the other was listening to the far-off echoes +of a coming fame as wide as the world, and as permanent as the existence +of man. To do Dryden justice, he admired Milton; and although he did, +and that, too, immediately after Milton departed, venture to travestie +the "Paradise Lost" into a rhymed play, as dull as it is disgusting; and +although he knew that Milton had called him, somewhat harshly, a "good +rhymer, but no poet," yet he praised his genius at a time when it was +as little appreciated, as was the grandeur of his character. + +But now the slave, in the chariot of Dryden's triumph, was about to +appear. First came, in 1671, the "Rehearsal," a play concocted among +various wits of the time, including Sprat, Clifford, poor Butler, of +"Hudibras," and chiefly the Duke of Buckingham. The object of this play +was to turn rhymed heroic tragedy, and especially the great playwright +of the day, under the name of Bayes, his person, manners, conversation, +and habits, into unmitigated ridicule. The plan has often since been +followed, with various success. Minor wits have delighted in clubbing +their small but poisoned missiles, and in aiming flights of minnikin +arrows at the Gullivers of their different periods. Thus Pope was +assailed by the "Dunces," whom he afterwards preserved in amber--that +terrible old lion, Bentley, by Boyle and his associates; and Wordsworth, +by the critics or criticasters of his day. Dryden acted with greater +prudence than any of those we have named, except indeed Bentley, who, +being assailed upon points involving the integrity of his scholarship, +and on which demonstrative contradiction was possible, felt himself +compelled to leave his lair, and to rend his enemies in pieces. But +Dryden--feeling on this occasion, at least, that a squib, however +personal and severe, cannot harm any man worthy of the name; and that +the very force of the laughter it produces, drives out the +sting--determined to answer it by silence, and to bide his time. +"Zimri," in Absalom and Achitophel, shows how deep had been his secret +oath of vengeance, and how carefully the sweltered "venom" had been +kept, in which at last he baptizes Buckingham, and embalms him at the +same time for the wonder and contempt of posterity. Here is the danger +of the smaller wits in a controversy of this kind. Their squibs excite a +sensation at the moment, and sometimes annoy the assaulted giant much, +and his friends and publishers more; but he continues to live and grow, +while their spiteful effusions perish; or worse, are preserved to the +everlasting shame of their authors, on the lowest shelf of the records +of their enemy's fame. + +Two years after, occurred the famous controversy between Dryden and +Settle. Poor Elkanah Settle seemed raised up like another Mordecai to +poison the peace and disturb the false self-satisfaction of +Dryden,--raised up, rather--shall we say?--to wean the poet from a +sphere where his true place and power were not, and to prepare him for +other stages, where he was yet destined far more powerfully to play his +part. At all events, this should have been his inference from the +success of Settle. It should have taught him that a scene where a +pitiful poetaster, backed by mob-favour and the word of a Rochester, +could eclipse his glory, was no scene for him; and he ought instantly, +with proud humility, to have left the theatre for ever. Instead of this, +he fell into a violent passion with one who, like himself, had levelled +his desires to the "claps of multitudes," and had ravished the larger +share of the coveted prize! And so there commenced a long and ludicrous +controversy--dishonourable to Settle much; to Rochester and Dryden +more--between a mere insolent twaddler and a man of real and +transcendent genius. The particulars of the struggle are too humiliating +and contemptible to deserve a minute record. Suffice it, that Dryden, +assisted by his future foe, Shadwell, wrote a scurrilous attack on +Settle, and his successful play, "The Empress of Morocco;" to which +Settle, nothing daunted, replied in terms of equal coarseness, and that +Rochester, the patron of Settle, became mixed up in the fray, till, +having been severely handled by Dryden in his "Essay on Satire,"--a +production generally, and we think justly, attributed to Mulgrave and +Dryden in conjunction,--he took a mean and characteristic revenge. He +hired bravoes, who, waiting for Dryden as he was returning, on the 18th +December 1679, from Will's coffee-house to his own house in Gerard +Street, rushed out and severely beat and wounded him. That Dryden was +the author of the lines on Rochester has been doubted, although we think +they very much resemble a rough and hurried sketch from his pen; that +Rochester deserved the truculent treatment he received in them, this +anecdote sufficiently proves. It was partly, indeed, the manner of the +age. Had this nobleman existed _now_, and been pilloried by a true and +powerful pen, he would, in addition to his own anonymous assaults, have +stirred up a posse of his creatures to assist him in seeking, by +falsehoods, hypercriticisms, and abuse, to diminish the influence and +take away the good name of his opponent. The Satanic spirit is always +the same--its weapons and instruments are continually changing. + +Soon after this, Dryden translated the Epistles of Ovid, thus breathing +himself for the far greater efforts which were before him. His mind +seems, for a season, to have balanced between various poetic plans. On +the one hand, the finger of his good genius showed him the fair heights +of epic song, waiting to be crowned by the coming of a new Virgil; on +the other side, the fierce fires of his passions pointed him downwards +to his many rivals and foes--the Cliffords, Leighs, Ravenscrofts, +Rochesters, and Settles--who seemed lying as a mark for his satiric +vengeance. He meditated, we know, an epic on Arthur, the hero of the +Round Table, and had, besides, many arrears of wrath lying past for +discharge; but circumstances arose which turned his thoughts away, for a +season, in a different direction from either Arthur or his personal +foes. + +The political aspects of the times were now portentous in the extreme. +Charles II. had, partly by crime, partly by carelessness, and partly by +ill-fortune, become a most unpopular monarch, and the more so, because +the nation had no hope even from his death, since it was sure to hand +them over to the tender mercies of his brother, who had all his faults, +and some, in addition, of his own, without any of his merits. There was +but one hope, and that turned out a mere aurora borealis, connected with +the Duke of Monmouth, who, through his extraction by a bend sinister +from Charles, as well as through his popular manners, Protestant +principles, and gracious exterior, had become such a favourite with the +people, that strong efforts were made to exclude the Duke of York, and +to exalt him to the succession. These, however, were unsuccessful; and +Shaftesbury, their leading spirit, was accused of treason, and confined +to the Tower. It was at this crisis, when the nobility of the land were +divided, when its clergy were divided, when its literary men were +divided,--not in a silent feud, but in a raging rupture, that Dryden, +partly at the instigation of the Court, partly from his own impulse, +lifted up his powerful pen,--the sceptre of the press,--and, with +wonderful facility and felicity, wrote, and on the 17th November 1681, +published, the satire of "Absalom and Achitophel." Its poetical +merits--the choice of the names and period, although this is borrowed +from a previous writer--the appearance of the poem at the most critical +hour of the crisis--and, above all, the portraitures of character, so +easy and so graphic, so free and so fearless, distinguished equally by +their animus and their animation, and with dashes of generous painting +relieving and diversifying the general caricature of the +style,--rendered it instantly and irresistibly popular. It excited one +universal cry--from its friends, of admiration, and from its enemies, of +rage. Imitations and replies multiplies around it, and sounded like +assenting or like angry echoes. It did not, indeed, move the grand jury +to condemn Shaftesbury; but when, on his acquittal, a medal was struck +by his friends, bearing on one side the head and name of Shaftesbury, +and on the other, the sun obscured by a cloud rising over the Tower and +City of London, Dryden's aid was again solicited by the Court and the +King in person, to make this the subject of a second satire; and, with +great rapidity, he produced "The Medal--a Satire against Sedition," +which, completing and colouring the photograph of Shaftesbury, formed +the real Second Part of "Absalom and Achitophel." What bore that name +came a year afterwards, when the times were changed, was written partly +by a feebler hand--Nahum Tate; and flew at inferior game--Dryden's own +personal rivals and detractors. + +The principal of these was Shadwell, who had been an early friend of +Dryden's, and who certainly possessed a great deal of wit and talent, if +he did not attain to the measure of poetic genius. His principal power +lay in low comedy--his chief fault lay in his systematic and avowed +imitation of the rough and drunken manners of Ben Jonson. In the eye of +Dryden--whose own habits were convivial, although not to the same +extent--the real faults of his opponent were his popularity as a comic +writer, and his politics. Shadwell was a zealous Protestant, and the +bitterest of the many who replied to the "Medal." For this he became the +hero of "MacFlecknoe"--a masterly satire, holding him up to infamy and +contempt--besides sitting afterwards for the portrait of Og, in the +second part of "Absalom and Achitophel." Shadwell had, by and by, his +revenge, by obtaining the laureateship, after the Revolution, in room of +Dryden, and no doubt used the opportunity of drowning the memory of +defeat in the butt of generous canary which had now for ever passed the +door of his formidable rival. + +Dryden's circumstances, at this time, were considerably straitened. His +pension as laureate was not regularly paid; the profits from the theatre +had somewhat fallen off. He tried in various ways, by prefacing a +translation of "Plutarch's Lives," by publishing a miscellany of +versions from Greek and Latin authors, and by writing prologues to plays +and prefaces to books, to supply his exhausted exchequer. His +good-humoured but heartless monarch set him on another task, for which +he was never paid, writing a translation of Maimbourg's "History of the +League," the object of which was to damage Shaftesbury and his party, by +branding them as enemies to monarchy. In 1682 he wrote his "Religio +Laici." + +Not long after, in February 1684, Charles II. became, for the first time +in his life, serious, as he felt death--the proverbial terror of +kings--rapidly rushing upon him. He tried to hide the great and terrible +fact from his eyes under the shield of a wafer. He died suddenly--a +member of the "holy Roman Catholic Church,"--and much regretted by all +his mistresses; and apparently by Dryden, who had been preparing the +opera of "Albion and Albanius," to commemorate the king's triumph over +the Whigs, when this event turned his harp into mourning, and his organ +into the voice of them that weep. He set himself to write a poem which +should at once express regret for the set, and homage to the rising, +sun. This was his "Threnodia Augustalis," a very unequal poem, but full +of inimitable passages, and discovering all that careless greatness +which characterised the genius of the poet. + +Charles II. had, at Dryden's request, to whom arrears for four years had +been due, raised his laureate salary to L300. The additional hundred +dropped at the king's death, and James was mean enough even to curtail +the annual butt of sack. He probably had little hope of converting the +author of "Religio Laici" to his faith, else he would not have withheld +what Charles had so recently granted. Afterwards, when he ascertained +that an interesting process was going on in Dryden's mind, tending to +Popery, he perhaps thought that a little money cast into the crucible +might materially determine the projection in the proper way; or perhaps +the _prospect_ produced, or at least accelerated, the _process_. We +admire much in Scott's elaborate and ingenious defence of Dryden's +change of faith; and are ready to grant that it was only a Pyrrhonist, +not a Protestant, who became a Papist after all--but there was, as Dr +Johnson also thinks, an ugly _coincidence_ between the pension and the +conversion. Grant that it was not bestowed for the first time by James, +it had been withheld by him, and its restoration immediately followed +the change of his faith. Dr Johnson was pleased, when Andrew Miller said +that he "thanked God he was done with him," to know that Miller "thanked +God for anything;" and so, when we consider the blasphemy, profanity, +and filth of Dryden's plays, and the unsettled and veering state of his +religious and political opinions, we are almost glad to find him +becoming "anything," although it was only the votary of a dead and +corrupted form of Christianity. You like to see the fierce, capricious, +and destructive torrent fixed, although it be fixed in ice. + +That he found comfort in his new religion, and proved his sincerity by +rearing up his children in the faith which his wife had also embraced, +and by remaining a Roman Catholic after the Revolution, and to his own +pecuniary loss, has often been asserted. But surely there is a point +where the most inconsistent man is obliged to stop, if he would escape +the character of an absolute weather-cock; and that there are charms and +comforts in the Popish creed for one who felt with Dryden, that he had, +partly in his practice, and far more in his writings, sinned against the +laws of morality and common decency, we readily grant. Whether these +charms he legitimate, and these comforts sound, is a very different +question. Had Dryden, besides, turned Protestant again, we question if +it would have saved him his laureate pensions, and it would certainly +have blasted him for ever, under the charge of ingratitude to his +benefactor James. On the whole, this passage of the poet's life is not +very creditable to his memory, and his indiscriminate admirers had +better let it alone. It would have strained the ingenuity and the +enthusiasm of Claud Halcro himself to have extracted matter for a +panegyrical ode on this conversion of "glorious John." + +Admitted into the bosom of the Church, he soon found that he must prove +his faith by his works. He was employed by James to defend the reasons +of conversion to the Catholic faith alleged by Anne Duchess of York, and +the two other papers on the same subject which, found in Charles' strong +box, James had imprudently given to the world. This led him to a contest +with Stillingfleet, in which Dryden came off only second best. He next, +in an embowered walk, in a country retirement at Rushton, near his +birthplace, composed his strange, unequal, but brilliant and ingenious +poem, "The Hind and the Panther," the object of which was to advocate +King James' repeal of the Test Act, and to prove the immeasurable +superiority of the Church of Rome to that of England, as well as to all +the dissenting sects. This piece produced a prodigious clamour against +the author. Its plan was pronounced ridiculous--its argument +one-sided--its zeal assumed--and Montague and Prior, two young men then +rising into eminence, wrote a clever parody on it, entitled the "Town +and Country Mouse." In addition to this, he wrote a translation of +Varilla's "History of Heresies," and a life of Francis Xavier, the +famous apostle of the Indies, whose singular story, a tale of heroic +endurance and unexampled labours, but bedropt with the most flagrant +falsehoods, whether it be read in Dryden's easy and fascinating +narrative, or in the more gorgeous and coloured account of Sir James +Stephen, in the "Edinburgh Review," forms one of the most impressive +displays of human strength and folly, of the greatness of devoted +enthusiasm, and of the weakness and credulity of abject superstition. + +In spite of all these attempts to bolster up a tottering throne and an +_effete_ faith, the Revolution came, and Dryden's hopes and prospects +sank like a vision of the night. And now came the hour of his enemies' +revenge! How the Settles, the Shadwells, and the Ravenscrofts, rejoiced +at the downfall of their great foe! and what ironical condolence, or +bitter satirical exultation, they poured over his humiliation! And, +worst of all, he durst not reply. "His powers of satire," says Scott, +"at this period, were of no more use to Dryden than a sword to a man who +cannot draw it." The fate of Milton in miniature had now befallen him; +and it says much for the strength of his mind, that, as in Milton's +case, Dryden's purest and best titles to fame date from his discomfiture +and degradation. Antaeus-like, he had now reached the ground, and the +touch of the ground to him, as to all giants, was inspiration. + +His history, from this date, becomes, still more than in the former +portions of it, a history of his publications. He was forced back by +necessity to the stage. In 1690, and in the next two years, he produced +four dramas,--one of them, indeed, adapted from the French, but the +other three, original; and one, Don Sebastian, deemed to rank among the +best of his dramatic works. In 1693, another volume of miscellanies, +with more translations, appeared. He also published, about this time, a +new version of "Juvenal and Persius," portions of which were contributed +by his sons John and Charles. His last play, "Love Triumphant," was +enacted--as his first, the "Wild Gallant," had been--without success; +and it is remarkable, that while the curtain dropped heavily and slowly +upon Dryden, it was opening upon Congreve, whose first comedy was +enacted the same year with Dryden's last, and who became the lawful heir +of much of Dryden's licentiousness, and of more than his elegance and +wit. + +He next commenced the translation of "Virgil," which in the course of +three years he completed, and gave to the world. It was published in +July 1697. He had dashed it off with the utmost freedom and fire, and no +work was ever more thoroughly identified with its translator. It is +_Dryden's_ "Virgil," every line of it. A great and almost national +interest was felt in the undertaking, such as would be felt now, were it +announced that Tennyson was engaged in a translation of Goethe. Addison +supplied arguments, and an essay on the "Georgics." A dedication to the +new king was expected by the Court, but inexorably declined by the poet. +It came forth, notwithstanding, amidst universal applause; nor was the +remuneration for the times small, amounting to at least L1200 or L1400. + +So soon as this great work was off his hands, by way, we suppose, as +Scott was used to say, of "refreshing the machiner," Dryden wrote his +famous ode, "Alexander's Feast," for a meeting of the Musical Society on +St Cecilia's day,--wrote it, according to Bolingbroke, at one sitting, +although he spent, it is said, a fortnight in polishing it into its +present rounded and perfect form. It took the public by storm, and +excited a greater sensation than any of the poet's productions, except +"Absalom and Achitophel." Dryden himself, when complimented on it as the +finest ode in the language, owned the soft impeachment, and said, "A +nobler ode never was produced, and never will;" and in a manner, if not +absolutely, he was right. + +Dryden was now again at sea for a subject. Sometimes he revolved once +more his favourite plan of an Epic poem, and "Edward the Black Prince" +loomed for a season before him as its hero. Sometimes he looked up with +an ambitious eye to Homer, and we see his hand "pawing" like the hoof of +the war-horse in Job, as he smelled his battle afar off, and panted to +do for Achilles and Hector what he had done for Turnus and AEneas. He +meant to have turned the "Iliad" into blank verse; but, after all, +translated the only book of it which he published into rhyme. But, in +fine, he determined to modernise some of the fine old tales of Boccacio +and Chaucer; and in March 1699-1700, appeared his brilliant "Fables," +with some other poems from his pen, for which he received L300 at +Jonson's hands. + +This was his last publication of size, although he was labouring on when +death surprised him, and within the last three weeks of his life had +written the "Secular Margin," and the prologue and the epilogue to +Fletcher's "Pilgrim,"--productions remarkable as showing the ruling +passion strong in death,--the squabbling litterateur and satirist +combating and kicking his enemies to the last,--Jeremy Collier, for +having accused him of licentiousness in his dramas; Milbourne, for +having attacked his "Georgics;" and poor Blackmore for having doubted +the orthodoxy of "Religio Laici," and the decency of "Amphitryon" and +"Limberham." + +He had now to go a pilgrimage himself to a far country. He had long been +troubled with gout and gravel; but next came erysipelas in one of his +legs; and at last mortification, superinduced by a neglected +inflammation in his toe, carried him off at three o'clock on Wednesday +morning the 1st of May 1700. He died a Roman Catholic, and in "entire +resignation to the Divine will." He died so poor, that he was buried by +subscription, Lords Montague and Jeffries delaying the interment till +the necessary funds were raised. The body, after lying embalmed and in +state for ten days in the College of Physicians, was buried with great +pomp in Westminster Abbey, where now, between the graves of Chaucer and +Cowley, reposes the dust of Dryden. + +His lady survived him fourteen years, and died insane. His eldest son +Charles was drowned in 1704 at Datchett, while seeking to swim across +the Thames. John died at Rome of a fever in 1701. Erasmus, who was +supposed to inherit his mother's malady, died in 1710; and the title +which he had derived from Sir Robert passed to his uncle, the brother of +the poet, and thence to his grandson. Sir Henry Edward Leigh Dryden, of +Canons-Ashby, is now the representative of the ancient family. + +We reserve till our next volume a criticism on Dryden's genius and +works. As to his habits and manners, little is known, and that little is +worn threadbare by his many biographers. In appearance he became, in +his maturer years, fat and florid, and obtained the name of "Poet +Squab." His portraits show a shrewd, but rather sluggish face, with long +gray hair floating down his cheeks, not unlike Coleridge, but without +his dreamy eye, like a nebulous star. His conversation was less +sprightly than solid. Sometimes men suspected that he had "sold all his +thoughts to his booksellers." His manners are by his friends pronounced +"modest;" and the word modest has since been amiably confounded by his +biographers with "pure." Bashful he seems to have been to awkwardness; +but he was by no means a model of the virtues. He loved to sit at Will's +coffee-house, and be the arbiter of criticism. His favourite stimulus +was snuff, and his favourite amusement angling. He had a bad address, a +down look, and little of the air of a gentleman. Addison is reported to +have taught him latterly the intemperate use of wine; but this was said +by Dennis, who admired Dryden, and who hated Addison; and his testimony +is impotent against either party. We admire the simplicity of the +critics who can read his plays, and then find himself a model of +continence and virtue. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth +speaketh;" and a more polluted mouth than Dryden's never uttered its +depravities on the stage. We cannot, in fine, call him personally a very +honest, a very high-minded, or a very good man, although we are willing +to count him amiable, ready to make very considerable allowance for his +period and his circumstances, not disposed to think him so much a +renegado and deliberate knave as a fickle, needy, and childish +changeling, in the matter of his "perversion" to Popery; although we +yield to none in admiration of the varied, highly-cultured, masculine, +and magnificent forces of his genius. + + + + +CONTENTS + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS + + HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL + + ASTRAEA REDUX. A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN + OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II., 1660 + + TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION + + TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE. PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662 + + SATIRE ON THE DUTCH + + TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS, ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED + BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665; AND ON HER + JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH + + ANNUS MIRABILIS: THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. AN HISTORICAL POEM + + AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. BY MR DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE, 1679 + + ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL + + THE MEDAL. A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION + + RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. AN EPISTLE + + THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO + THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES II + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED + + THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. A POEM, IN THREE PARTS + + MAC FLECKNOE + + BRITANNIA REDIVIVA. A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688 + + + + +DRYDEN'S POEMS. + + + ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS.[1] + + + Must noble Hastings immaturely die, + The honour of his ancient family; + Beauty and learning thus together meet, + To bring a winding for a wedding-sheet? + Must Virtue prove Death's harbinger? must she, + With him expiring, feel mortality? + Is death, Sin's wages, Grace's now? shall Art + Make us more learned, only to depart? + If merit be disease; if virtue death; + To be good, not to be; who'd then bequeath 10 + Himself to discipline? who'd not esteem + Labour a crime? study, self-murder deem? + Our noble youth now have pretence to be + Dunces securely, ignorant healthfully. + Rare linguist, whose worth speaks itself, whose praise, + Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise: + 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. 20 + His native soil was the four parts o' the Earth; + All Europe was too narrow for his birth. + A young apostle; and, with reverence may + I speak it, 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, his sublime soul + Did move on Virtue's and on Learning's pole: + Whose regular motions better to our view, + Than Archimedes[2] sphere, the Heavens did show. 30 + Graces and virtues, languages and arts, + Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts. + Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear + Scatter'd in others; all, as in their sphere, + Were fix'd, conglobate in his soul; and thence + Shone through his body, with sweet influence; + Letting their glories so on each limb fall, + The whole frame render'd was celestial. + Come, learned Ptolemy[3] and trial make, + If thou this hero's altitude canst take: 40 + But that transcends thy skill; thrice happy all, + Could we but prove thus astronomical. + Lived Tycho[4] 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 + 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 shrouds + Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds: 50 + 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? + So many spots, like naeves on Venus' soil, + One jewel set off with so many a foil; + Blisters with pride swell'd, which through's flesh did sprout + Like rose-buds, stuck i' th' lily-skin about. + Each little pimple had a tear in it, + To wail the fault its rising did commit: 60 + Which, rebel-like, with its own lord at strife, + Thus made an insurrection 'gainst his life. + Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin, + The cabinet of a richer soul within? + No comet need foretell his change drew on, + Whose corpse might seem a constellation. + Oh! had he died of old, how great a strife + Had been, who from his death should draw their life! + Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er + Seneca, Cato, Numa, Caesar, were,-- 70 + Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this + An universal metempsychosis! + Must all these aged sires in one funeral + Expire? all die in one so young, so small? + Who, had he lived his life out, his great fame + Had swoln '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: 80 + Must then old three-legg'd graybeards, with their gout, + Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three long ages out? + Time's offals, only fit for the hospital! + Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal! + Must drunkards, lechers, spent with sinning, live + With such helps as broths, possets, physic give? + None live, but such as should die? shall we meet + With none but ghostly fathers in the street? + Grief makes me rail; sorrow will force its way; + And showers of tears, tempestuous sighs best lay. 90 + The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes + Will weep out lasting streams of elegies. + + But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone, + Now thy beloved, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, + Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply + Medicines, when thy balm was no remedy,-- + With greater than Platonic love, O 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; 100 + 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, + Yet but the irradiations which he cast. + Erect no mausoleums: for his best + Monument is his spouse's marble breast. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: 'Lord Hastings:' the nobleman herein lamented, was styled +Henry Lord Hastings, son to Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon. He died before +his father in 1649, being then in his twentieth year, and on the day +preceding that which had been fixed for his marriage.] + +[Footnote 2: 'Archimedes:' a famous geometrician, who was killed at the +taking of Syracuse, in the 542d year of Rome. He made a glass sphere, +wherein the motions of the heavenly bodies were wonderfully described.] + +[Footnote 3: 'Ptolemy:' Claudius Ptolemaeus, a celebrated mathematician +in the reign of M. Aurelius Antoninus.] + +[Footnote 4: 'Tycho:' Tycho Brahe] + + * * * * * + + + + +HEROIC STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL, + + WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL. + + 1 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[5] fly. + + 2 Though our best notes are treason to his fame, + 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. + + 3 Though in his praise no arts can liberal be, + Since they, whose muses have the highest flown, + Add not to his immortal memory, + But do an act of friendship to their own: + + 4 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, + And claim a title in him by their praise. + + 5 How shall I then begin, or where conclude, + To draw a fame so truly circular? + For in a round what order can be show'd, + Where all the parts so equal perfect are? + + 6 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. + + 7 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. + + 8 Fortune (that easy mistress to the young, + But to her ancient servants coy and hard), + Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, + When she her best-loved Pompey did discard. + + 9 He, private, mark'd the faults 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, + 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. + + 12 War, our consumption, was their gainful trade: + We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain; + He fought to end our fighting, and essay'd + To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. + + 13 Swift and resistless through the land he past, + Like that bold Greek[6] who did the East subdue, + And made to battles such heroic haste, + As if on wings of victory he flew. + + 14 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. + + 15 His palms,[7] 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. + + 16 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, + Which war had banish'd, and did now restore: + Bologna's walls[8] thus mounted in the air, + To seat themselves more surely than before. + + 17 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes; + And treacherous Scotland, to no interest true, + Yet blest that fate which did his arms dispose + Her land to civilize, as to subdue. + + 18 Nor was he like those stars which, only shine, + When to pale mariners they storms portend: + He had his calmer influence, and his mien + Did love and majesty together blend. + + 19 'Tis true, his countenance did imprint an awe; + And naturally all souls to his did bow, + As wands[9] of divination downward draw, + And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. + + 20 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. + + 21 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. + + 22 Fame of the asserted sea through Europe blown, + Made France and Spain ambitious of his love; + Each knew that side must conquer he would own; + And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. + + 23 No sooner was the Frenchman's cause[10] embraced, + Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd; + His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast, + Though Indian mines were in the other laid. + + 24 When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right: + For though some meaner artist's skill were shown + In mingling colours or in placing light, + Yet still the fair designment was his own. + + 25 For from all tempers he could service draw; + The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew; + And, as the confidant of Nature, saw + How she complexions did divide and brew. + + 26 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. + + 27 When such heroic virtue Heaven sets out, + The stars, like commons, sullenly obey; + Because it drains them when it comes about, + And therefore is a tax they seldom pay. + + 28 From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, + Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend; + Since their commencement to his arms they owe, + If springs as high as fountains may ascend. + + 29 He made us freemen of the Continent,[11] + Whom Nature did like captives treat before; + To nobler preys the English lion sent, + And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. + + 30 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[12] were her guard. + + 31 By his command we boldly cross'd the line, + And bravely fought where southern stars arise; + We traced the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine, + And that which bribed our fathers made our prize. + + 32 Such was our prince; yet own'd a soul above + The highest acts it could produce to show: + Thus poor mechanic arts in public move, + Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go. + + 33 Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less, + But when fresh laurels courted him to live: + He seem'd but to prevent some new success, + As if above what triumphs earth could give. + + 34 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,[13] under spoils decease. + + 35 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[14] conferr'd. + + 36 No civil broils have since his death arose, + But faction now by habit does obey; + And wars have that respect for his repose, + As winds for halcyons, when they breed at sea. + + 37 His ashes in a peaceful urn[15] shall rest; + His name a great example stands, to show + How strangely high endeavours may be blest, + Where piety and valour jointly go. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 5: 'Sacred eagle:' the Romans let fly an eagle from the pile +of a dead Emperor.] + +[Footnote 6: 'Bold Greek:' Alexander the Great.] + +[Footnote 7: 'Palms' were thought to grow best under pressure.] + +[Footnote 8: 'Bologna's walls,' &c.: alluding to a Popish story about +the wall of Bologna, on which was an image of the Virgin, being blown +up, and falling exactly into its place again.] + +[Footnote 9: 'Wands:' see the 'Antiquary.'] + +[Footnote 10: 'Frenchman's cause:' the treaty of alliance which Cromwell +entered into with France against the Spaniards.] + +[Footnote 11: 'Freemen of the Continent:' by the taking of Dunkirk.] + +[Footnote 12: 'Alexander:' Alexander VII., at this time Pope.] + +[Footnote 13: 'Vestal:' Tarpeia.] + +[Footnote 14: 'Loud sighs:' the tempest which occurred at Cromwell's +death.] + +[Footnote 15: 'Peaceful urn:' Dryden no true prophet--Cromwell's bones +having been dragged out of the royal vault, and exposed on the gibbet in +1660.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ASTRAEA REDUX. + +A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES +II., 1660. + + "Jam redit et virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna."--VIRG. + + "The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, + Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times + Roll round again." + + Now with a general peace the world was blest, + While ours, a world divided from the rest, + A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far + Than arms, a sullen interval of war: + Thus when black clouds draw down the labouring skies, + 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,[16] like restless billows tost, + 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 bequeath'd. + And Heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate, + For France and Spain did miracles create; + Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace, + As nature bred, and interest did increase. + We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride[17] + Must grow a lily to the lily's side; + While our cross stars denied us Charles' bed, + Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed. 20 + For his long absence Church and State did groan; + Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne: + Experienced age in deep despair was lost, + To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd: + Youth that with joys had unacquainted been, + Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen: + We thought our sires, not with their own content, + Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent. + Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt 30 + 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, + Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown. + Thus when the bold Typhoeus 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?) 40 + 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, + They own'd a lawless, savage liberty; + Like that our painted ancestors so prized, + Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized. + How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus + Was forced to suffer for himself and us! 50 + He, tost by fate, and hurried up and down, + Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, + Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, + But found his life too true a pilgrimage. + Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, + His manly courage overcame his fate. + His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, + Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. + 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, + Must be at once resolved and skilful too. + He would not, like soft Otho,[18] hope prevent, + But stay'd, and suffer'd fortune to repent. + These virtues Galba[19] in a stranger sought, + And Piso to adopted empire brought. 70 + How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, + That must his sufferings both regret and bless? + For when his early valour Heaven had 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; 80 + And when restored, made his proud neighbours rue + Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. + Nor is he only by afflictions shown + To conquer other realms, but rule his own: + Recovering hardly what he lost before, + 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: 90 + As they who first proportion understand, + With easy practice reach a master's hand. + Well might the ancient poets then confer + On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor, + Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, + We light alone in dark afflictions find. + In such adversities to sceptre train'd, + The name of Great his famous grandsire[20] gain'd: + Who yet a king alone in name and right, + With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; 100 + Shock'd by a covenanting league's vast powers, + As holy and as catholic as ours: + Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, + Her blows, not shook, but riveted, his throne. + + Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease, + No action leave to busy chronicles: + Such, whose supine felicity but makes + In story chasms, in epoch's mistakes; + O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down, + Till, with his silent sickle, they are mown. 110 + Such is not Charles' 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, which, secure before, + 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[21] who the sacred altar strews? + To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes: 120 + A bull to thee, Portumnus,[22] shall be slain, + A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main: + For those loud storms that did against him roar, + Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore. + Yet as wise artists mix their colours so, + That by degrees they from each other go; + Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring 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. 130 + 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, + 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: 140 + 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's[23] forward valour only served to show + He durst that duty pay we all did owe. + The attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed 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. 150 + 'Twas Monk whom Providence design'd to loose + Those real bonds false freedom did impose. + The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scene, + Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean, + To see small clues draw vastest weights along, + Not in their bulk, but in their order, strong. + Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore + Smiles to that changed face that wept before. + With ease such fond chimeras we pursue, + As fancy frames for fancy to subdue: 160 + 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 + The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, + Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense; + The springs of motion from the seat of sense. + 'Twas not the hasty product of a day, + But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170 + He, like a patient angler, ere he strook, + Would let him play 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, + 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, 180 + 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, + 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. 190 + Religion's name against itself was made; + The shadow served the substance to invade: + Like zealous missions, they did care pretend + Of souls in show, but made the gold their end. + The incensed powers beheld with scorn from high + An heaven so far distant from the sky, + 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. 200 + Thus Sforza, cursed with a too fertile brain, + Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain. + Henceforth their fougue[24] must spend at lesser rate, + Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate. + Suffer'd to live, they are like helots set, + 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 + Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore, + To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made + So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade. + Oh! had you seen from Schevelin's[25] barren shore, + (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) 220 + Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring + True sorrow, Holland to regret a king! + While waiting him his royal fleet did ride, + And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied. + The wavering streamers, flags, and standard out, + The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout: + And last the cannon's voice, that shook the skies, + And as it fares in sudden ecstasies, + At once bereft us both of ears and eyes. + The Naseby,[26] now no longer England's shame, 230 + But better to be lost in Charles' name, + (Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets) + Receives her lord: the joyful London meets + The princely York, himself alone a freight; + The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's[27] 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' voyage bless'd, 240 + Which in his right had miracles confess'd. + The winds that never moderation knew, + Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew; + Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge + Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of their charge. + The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear, + In richer azure never did appear; + Proud her returning prince to entertain + With the submitted fasces of the main. + And welcome now, great monarch, to your own! 250 + Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion: + It is no longer motion cheats your view, + As you meet it, the land approacheth you. + The land returns, and, in the white it wears, + The marks of penitence and sorrow bears. + But you, whose goodness your descent doth show, + Your heavenly parentage and earthly too; + By that same mildness, which your father's crown + Before did ravish, shall secure your own. + Not tied to rules of policy, you find 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, 270 + 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 delight, 280 + Those, who had seen you, court a second sight; + Preventing still your steps, and making haste + To meet you often wheresoe'er you past. + How shall I speak of that triumphant day, + When you renew'd the expiring pomp of May![28] + (A month that owns an interest in your name: + You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.) + That star[29] that at your birth shone out so bright, + It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light, + Did once again its potent fires renew, 290 + 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. + Our nation with united interest blest, + Not now content to poise, 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, 300 + Besiege the petty monarchs of the land: + And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down, + Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown. + Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free, + Our merchants shall no more adventurers be: + Nor in the farthest East those dangers fear, + Which humble Holland must dissemble here. + Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes; + For what the powerful takes not, he bestows: + And France, that did an exile's presence fear, 310 + 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 those, your edicts some reclaim from sin, + But most your life and blest example win. + 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, 320 + By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne! + When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshow + The world a monarch, and that monarch you. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 16: 'Ambitious Swede:' Charles X., named also Gustavus, nephew +to the great Gustavus Adolphus.] + +[Footnote 17: 'Iberian bride:' the Infanta of Spain was betrothed to +Louis XIV.] + +[Footnote 18: 'Otho:' see Juvenal.] + +[Footnote 19: 'Galba:' Roman emperor, who adopted Piso.] + +[Footnote 20: 'Famous grandsire:' Charles II. was grandson by the +mother's side to Henry IV. of France.] + +[Footnote 21: 'With alga,' &c. : these lines refer to the ceremonies used +by such heathens as escaped from shipwreck. _Alga marina_, or sea-weed, +was strewed about the altar, and a lamb sacrificed to the winds.] + +[Footnote 22: 'Portumnus:' Palaemon, or Melicerta, god of shipwrecked +mariners.] + +[Footnote 23: 'Booth's:' Sir George Booth, an unsuccessful and premature +warrior on the Royal side in 1659.] + +[Footnote 24: 'Fougue:' a French word used for the fire and spirit of a +horse.] + +[Footnote 25: 'Schevelin:' a village about a mile from the Hague, at +which Charles II. embarked for England.] + +[Footnote 26: 'Naseby:' the ship in which Charles II. returned from +exile.] + +[Footnote 27: 'Great Gloster:' Henry, Duke of Gloucester, third son of +Charles I., landed at Dover with his brother in 1660, and died of the +smallpox soon afterwards.] + +[Footnote 28: Charles entered London on the 29th of May.] + +[Footnote 29: 'Star:' said to have shone on the day of Charles' birth, +and outshone the sun.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY. + +A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION. + + In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, + When life and sin one common tomb had found, + The first small prospect of a rising hill + With various notes of joy the ark did fill: + Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd, + It left behind it false and slippery ground; + And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd, + Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd. + Thus, Royal Sir, to see you landed here, + Was cause enough of triumph for a year: 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, + 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. 20 + We had not yet exhausted all our store, + 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, 30 + To grace this happy day, while you appear, + Not king of us alone, but of the year. + All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart: + Of your own pomp, yourself the greatest part: + Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim, + And Heaven this day is feasted with your name. + Your cavalcade the fair spectators view, + From their high standings, yet look up to you. + From your brave train each singles out a prey, + And longs to date a conquest from your day. 40 + Now charged with blessings while you seek repose, + Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close; + And glorious dreams stand ready to restore + The pleasing shapes of all you saw before. + Next to the sacred temple you are led, + 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. 50 + 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, + And lie like bees in their own sweetness drown'd. + He that brought peace, all discord could atone, + His name is music of itself alone. + Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, + And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread 60 + 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, + 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: 70 + We know those blessings, which we must possess, + And judge of future by past happiness. + No promise can oblige a prince so much + Still to be good, as long to have been such. + A noble emulation heats your breast, + 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. 80 + The jealous sects, that dare not trust their cause + So far from their own will as to the laws, + You for their umpire and their synod take, + And their appeal alone to Caesar make. + Kind Heaven so rare a temper did provide, + That guilt, repenting, might in it confide. + Among our crimes oblivion may be set; + But 'tis our king's perfection to forget. + Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes + From milder heavens you bring, without their crimes. 90 + 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. 100 + 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; + 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. 110 + Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide, + Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide: + Here in a royal bed[30] the waters sleep; + When tired at sea, within this bay they creep. + Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects, + 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. 120 + 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, + While that with incense does a god implore. + Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose, + This must receive a crown, or that must lose. + Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old, + Are answers sought, and destinies foretold: 130 + Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows, + And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs. + Your subjects, while you weigh the nation's fate, + Suspend to both their doubtful love or hate: + Choose only, Sir, that so they may possess, + With their own peace their children's happiness. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 30: 'Royal bed:' the river led from the Thames through St +James' Park.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO THE LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.[31] + +PRESENTED ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1662. + + My Lord, + While flattering crowds officiously appear + To give themselves, not you, a happy year; + And by the greatness of their presents prove + How much they hope, but not how well they love; + The Muses, who your early courtship boast, + 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; + From their own order chose, in whose high state, + They think themselves the second choice of fate. + When our great monarch into exile went, + Wit and religion suffer'd banishment. + Thus once, when Troy was wrapp'd in fire and smoke, + The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook; 20 + 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. 30 + + In open prospect nothing bounds our eye, + Until the earth seems join'd unto the sky: + So, in this hemisphere, our utmost view + Is only bounded by our king and you: + Our sight is limited where you are join'd, + 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. 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, 50 + In your tribunal most herself does please; + There only smiles because she lives at ease; + And, like young David, finds her strength the more, + When disencumber'd from those arms she wore. + Heaven would our royal master should exceed + Most in that virtue which we most did need; + And his mild father (who too late did find + All mercy vain but what with power was join'd) + His fatal goodness left to fitter times, + Not to increase, but to absolve, our crimes: 60 + But when the heir of this vast treasure knew + How large a legacy was left to you + (Too great for any subject to retain), + He wisely tied it to the crown again: + Yet, passing through your hands, it gathers more, + As streams, through mines, bear tincture of their 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: 70 + Which should you veil, we might unwind the clew, + As men do nature, till we came to you. + And as the Indies were not found, before + Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore, + The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd, + 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: 80 + 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, + 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, 90 + 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, + Even 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, 100 + When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound, + She struck the warlike spear into the ground; + Which sprouting leaves did suddenly enclose, + And peaceful olives shaded as they rose. + + How strangely active are the arts of peace, + 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 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. + Let envy then those crimes within you see, + From which the happy never must be free; 120 + Envy, that does with misery reside, + The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride. + Think it not hard, if at so cheap a rate + You can secure the constancy of fate, + Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem, + By lesser ills the greater to redeem. + Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call, + But drops of heat, that in the sunshine fall. + + You have already wearied fortune so, + She cannot further be your friend or foe; 130 + But sits all breathless, and admires to feel + A fate so weighty, that it stops her wheel. + In all things else above our humble fate, + Your equal mind yet swells not into state, + But, like some mountain in those happy isles, + 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: 140 + 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, the impression wears + 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. 150 + 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, + Because the centre of it is above. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 31: 'Hyde:' the far-famed historian Clarendon.] + + * * * * * + + + + +SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.[32] + +WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662. + + 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 compliment; + The dotage of some Englishmen is such, + 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 Guinea-trade, the herrings too; + Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. 10 + 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, + Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare. + Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true, + They have no more religion, faith! than you. + Interest's the god they worship in their state, + And we, I take it, have not much of that 20 + 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, + 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. 30 + Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; + For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: + And their new commonwealth has set them free + Only from honour and civility. + Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, + 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'[33] touch can cure the tumour. 40 + As Cato fruits of Afric did display, + Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: + All loyal English will like him conclude; + Let Caesar live, and Carthage be subdued. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 32: 'Satire:' the same nearly with his prologue to 'Amboyna.'] + +[Footnote 33: 'Two kings:' alluding to projected union between France +and England.] + + * * * * * + + + + +TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUCHESS,[34] + +ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, +1665. 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 + (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, + 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 pass'd; + Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow, + These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow. 20 + 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. + 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,[35] 30 + 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. + With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn, + Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. + Fortune and victory he did pursue, + To bring them as his slaves to wait on you. + Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame, 40 + And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame. + Then, as you meant to spread another way + By land your conquests, far as his by sea, + Leaving our southern clime you march'd along + The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupids strong. + Like commons the nobility resort + In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court: + To welcome your approach the vulgar run, + Like some new envoy from the distant sun; + And country beauties by their lovers go, 50 + 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, + And round him the pleased audience clap their wings. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 34: 'The Duchess:' daughter to the great Earl of Clarendon; +married privately to Duke of York. For account of this victory, see Hume +or Macaulay. The duchess accompanied the duke to Harwich, and thence +made a progress north-wards, referred to here.] + +[Footnote 35: 'Heard the cannon play:' the cannon were heard in London a +hundred miles from Lowestoff where the battle was fought.] + + * * * * * + + + + +ANNUS MIRABILIS: + + +THE YEAR OF WONDERS, 1666. + +AN HISTORICAL POEM. + + * * * * * + +AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENSUING POEM, IN A LETTER TO THE HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT +HOWARD. + + +Sir,--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 further 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 having served 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 nobles 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 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 AEneids. 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 slavery of any rhyme; and were less constrained in the +quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with spondees or +dactyls, besides so many other helps of grammatical figures, for the +lengthening or 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 is to carry it +further 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 among 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 +Alexandrius, 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. + + Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, + Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, Poeta salutor? + +For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the sea, yet I have +thought it no shame to learn: and if I have made some few mistakes, it +is only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity +to correct them; the whole poem being first written, and now sent you +from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any seaman. +Yet though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than +recompensed by the pleasure. I found myself so warm in celebrating the +praises of military men, two such especially as the prince[36] and +general, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my +ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that, as they are incomparably +the best subject I ever had, excepting only the royal family, so also, +that this I have written of them is much better than what I have +performed on any other. I have been forced to help out other arguments; +but this has been bountiful to me: they have been low and barren of +praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful; but +here--_Omnia sponte sua reddit justissima tellus_. I have had a large, a +fair, and a pleasant field; so fertile that, without my cultivating, it +has given me two harvests in a summer, and in both 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 further +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 designed, 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. It is 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 jingle 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 then the first happiness of the poet's +imagination is properly invention or finding of the thought; the second +is fancy, or the variation, deriving or moulding of that thought, as the +judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or +the art of clothing and adorning that thought, so found 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 among the +poets; for the latter, Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and +affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, +or extremely discomposed by one. His words therefore are the least part +of his care; for he pictures 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, anything 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 so corpore miscet. + + +We behold him embellishing his images, as he makes Venus breathing +beauty upon her son AEneas. + + --lumenque juventae + Purpureum, et laetos oculis afflarat 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 AEneas: 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 +superabat 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 egregie, 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. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own +the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my master +in this poem: I have followed him everywhere, I 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; 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, habebunt verba fidem, si + Graeco 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! 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 antique gestures, at which we cannot +forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though the +same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the historic and +panegyric, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of sculpture is +to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, +_Stantes in curribus AEmiliani_, heroes drawn in their triumphal +chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of +Virgil, _Spirantia mollius oera_: 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 his 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 further 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, it is 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; _Nec sunt parum +multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant_: I am rather too secure +of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you +more remiss in 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 fame and +reputation; and therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my poem +fairer by many of your blots; if not, you know the story of the gamester +who married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the +portion, christened all the 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, it is +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, sir, +the most obedient, and most faithful of your servants, + +JOHN DRYDEN. + +From Charlton in Wiltshire, _Nov_. 10, 1666. + + * * * * * + + 1 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. + + 2 Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow, + 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. + + 3 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat; + In eastern quarries ripening precious dew: + For them the Idumaean balm did sweat, + And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew. + + 4 The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year; + Each waxing moon supplied her watery store, + To swell those tides, which from the line did bear + Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore. + + 5 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. + + 6 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. + + 7 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 his vast designs withstand. + + 8 See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, + To render us his timely friendship vain: + And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, + He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain. + + 9 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. + + 10 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. + + 11 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. + + 12 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. + + 13 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, + Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain; + Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecks rise, + It would in richer showers descend again. + + 14 At length resolved to 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. + + 15 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. + + 16 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. + + 17 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. + + 18 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. + + 19 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. + + 20 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[37] should be slain. + + 21 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. + + 22 Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expired, + 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. + + 23 To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, + Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed: + So reverently men quit the open air, + When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad. + + 24 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. + + 25 Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, + Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring: + There first the north's cold bosom spices bore, + And winter brooded on the eastern spring. + + 26 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. + + 27 Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, + The English undertake the unequal war: + Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, + Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare. + + 28 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. + + 29 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. + + 30 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. + + 31 Nor wholly lost[38] 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. + + 32 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. + + 33 The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, + Prepared 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. + + 34 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 promised to return. + + 35 Such are the proud designs of human kind, + And so we suffer shipwreck every where! + Alas, what port can such a pilot find, + Who in the night of fate must blindly steer! + + 36 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. + + 37 Let Munster's prelate[39] 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! + + 38 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. + + 39 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove; + The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand: + And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, + Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand. + + 40 That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, + Who envies us what he wants power to enjoy; + Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, + And weak assistance will his friends destroy. + + 41 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. + + 42 With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: + France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave, + But when with one three nations join to fight, + They silently confess that one more brave. + + 43 Lewis had chased the English from his shore; + But Charles the French as subjects does invite: + Would Heaven for each some Solomon restore, + Who, by their mercy, may decide their right! + + 44 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. + + 45 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. + + 46 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. + + 47 With equal power he does two chiefs[40] create, + 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. + + 48 Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, + Yet neither envious of the other's praise; + Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, + Like mighty partners equally they raise. + + 49 The prince long time had courted fortune's love, + But once possess'd, did absolutely reign: + Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, + And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. + + 50 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. + + 51 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. + + 52 With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, + To infect a navy with their gaudy fears; + To make slow fights, and victories but vain: + But war severely like itself appears. + + 53 Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, + They make that warmth in others they expect; + Their valour works like bodies on a glass, + And does its image on their men project. + + 54 Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, + In number, and a famed commander, bold: + The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, + Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold. + + 55 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. + + 56 Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight; + Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air: + The Elean plains could boast no nobler sight, + When struggling champions did their bodies bare. + + 57 Borne each by other in a distant line, + The sea-built forts in dreadful order move: + So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, + But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove. + + 58 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, + To finish all the deaths they left behind. + + 59 On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, + Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go: + Such port the elephant bears, and so defied + By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe. + + 60 And as the build, 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. + + 61 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, + Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives: + All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, + He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves. + + 62 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought; + But he who meets all danger with disdain, + Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, + And steeple-high stood propt upon the main. + + 63 At this excess of courage, all amazed, + The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: + With such respect in enter'd Rome they gazed, + Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw. + + 64 And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, + Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek + Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, + And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. + + 65 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. + + 66 Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, + More fierce the important quarrel to decide: + Like swans, in long array his vessels show, + Whose crests advancing do the waves divide. + + 67 They charge, recharge, and all along the sea + They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet; + Berkeley[41] alone, who nearest danger lay, + Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet. + + 68 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. + + 69 In the 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. + + 70 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. + + 71 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. + + 72 The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, + Till from their main-top joyful news they hear + Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies, + And in their colours Belgian lions bear. + + 73 Our watchful general had discern'd from far + This mighty succour, which made glad the foe: + He sigh'd, but, like a father of the war, + His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow. + + 74 His wounded men he first sends off to shore, + Never till now unwilling to obey: + They, not their wounds, but want of strength deplore, + And think them happy who with him can stay. + + 75 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. + + 76 If number English courages could quell, + We should at first have shunn'd, not met, our foes, + Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell: + Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows. + + 77 He said, nor needed more to say: with haste + To their known stations cheerfully they go; + And all at once, disdaining to be last, + Solicit every gale to meet the foe. + + 78 Nor did the encouraged Belgians long delay, + But bold in others, not themselves, they stood: + So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, + But seem'd to wander in a moving wood. + + 79 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, + Till through their bowels we our passage wrought. + + 80 Never had valour, no not ours, before + Done aught 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. + + 81 The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, + And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, + To see this fleet among unequal foes, + By which fate promised them their Charles should rise. + + 82 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, + 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. + + 83 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on: + Such vapours once did fiery Cacus[42] hide: + In these the height of pleased revenge is shown, + Who burn contented by another's side. + + 84 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, + Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, + Two grappling AEtnas on the ocean meet, + And English fires with Belgian flames contend. + + 85 Now at each tack our little fleet grows less; + And like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main: + Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, + While they lose cheaper than the English gain. + + 86 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, + Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, + And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd, + Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind. + + 87 The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, + And sees the groves no shelter can afford, + With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, + Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird. + + 88 Among the Dutch thus Albemarle[43] did fare: + He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly; + Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, + Like falling Caesar, decently to die. + + 89 Yet pity did his manly spirit move, + To see those perish who so well had fought; + And generously with his despair he strove, + Resolved to live till he their safety wrought. + + 90 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. + + 91 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. + + 92 His fiery cannon did their passage guide, + And following smoke obscured them from the foe: + Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, + By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go. + + 93 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. + + 94 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. + + 95 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. + + 96 So Lybian 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. + + 97 But if some one approach to dare his force, + 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. + + 98 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; + Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore; + And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, + Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore: + + 99 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, + Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, + Upon the deck our careful general stood, + And deeply mused on the succeeding day. + + 100 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. + + 101 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. + + 102 Restless he pass'd the remnant of the night, + Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh: + And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, + With paler fires beheld the eastern sky. + + 103 But now, his stores of ammunition spent, + His naked valour is his only guard; + Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, + And solitary guns are scarcely heard. + + 104 Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, + Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife: + This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, + For all the glories of so great a life. + + 105 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. + + 106 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, + And from that length of time dire omens drew + Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, + Who never fought three days, but to pursue. + + 107 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: + + 108 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, + The broken air loud whistling as she flies: + She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, + And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries. + + 109 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. + + 110 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, + And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain, + And first the martlet meets it in the sky, + And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train. + + 111 With such glad hearts did our despairing men + Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet; + And each ambitiously would claim the ken, + That with first eyes did distant safety meet. + + 112 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, + To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, + Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, + And sheets of lightning blast the standing field. + + 113 Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand, + And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay; + Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, + And seamen with dissembled depths betray. + + 114 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd + This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, + And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, + To tempt his courage with so fair a bait. + + 115 But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, + Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight: + His cold experience tempers all his heat, + And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight. + + 116 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, + And he the substance, not the appearance chose + To rescue one such friend he took more pride, + Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes. + + 117 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, + Rupert and Albemarle together grow; + He joys to have his friend in safety found, + Which he to none but to that friend would owe. + + 118 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, + Now long to execute their spleenful will; + And, in revenge for those three days they tried, + Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still. + + 119 Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, + Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way: + With the first blushes of the morn they meet, + And bring night back upon the new-born day. + + 120 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. + + 121 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. + + 122 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends + His open side, and high above him shows: + Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, + And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows. + + 123 Behind the general mends his weary pace, + And sullenly to his revenge he sails: + So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, + And long behind his wounded volume trails. + + 124 The 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. + + 125 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. + + 126 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. + + 127 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest + Two giant ships, the pride of all the main; + Which with his one so vigorously he prest, + And flew so home they could not rise again. + + 128 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, + In rain upon the passing winds they call: + The passing winds through their torn canvas play, + And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall. + + 129 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, + Dreadful as day let into shades below: + Without, grim Death rides barefaced in their sight, + And urges entering billows as they flow. + + 130 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, + Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore: + All three now helpless by each other lie, + And this offends not, and those fear no more. + + 131 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain + 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. + + 132 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; + His warm breath blows her flix[44] up as she lies; + She trembling creeps upon the ground away, + And looks back to him with beseeching eyes. + + 133 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, + Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on; + For what they to his courage did refuse, + By mortal valour never must be done. + + 134 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. + + 135 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. + + 136 He casts a frown on the departing foe, + And sighs to see him quit the watery field: + His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, + For all the glories which the fight did yield. + + 137 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, + He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch: + He only does his conquest disavow, + And thinks too little what they found too much. + + 138 Return'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay; + No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; + Domestic joys and cares he puts away; + For realms are households which the great must guide. + + 139 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: + + 140 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. + + 141 Heaven ended not the first or second day, + Yet each was perfect to the work design'd; + God and king's work, when they their work survey, + A passive aptness in all subjects find. + + 142 In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, + His plenteous stores do seasoned timber send; + Thither the brawny carpenters repair, + And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend. + + 143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, + His navy's molted wings he imps once more: + Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, + And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore. + + 144 All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm: + Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, + Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm. + And some on bells of tasted lilies play. + + 145 With gluey wax some new foundations 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. + + 146 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. + + 147 With boiling pitch another near at hand, + 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. + + 148 Some the gall'd ropes with dauby marline bind, + Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpaulin coats: + To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, + And one below their ease or stiffness notes. + + 149 Our careful monarch stands in person by, + His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore: + The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, + And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore. + + 150 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 fallen into the road. + + 151 The goodly London in her gallant trim + (The Phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old). + Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, + And on her shadow rides in floating gold. + + 152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to 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. + + 153 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. + + 154 This martial present, piously design'd, + The loyal city give their best-loved King: + And with a bounty ample as the wind, + Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring. + + 155 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. + + 156 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, + An useless drift, which, rudely cut within, + And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, + And cross some rivulet passage did begin. + + 157 In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, + 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. + + 158 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, + When from lost empire he to exile went, + And with the golden age to Tiber steer'd, + Where coin and commerce first he did invent. + + 159 Rude as their ships was navigation then; + No useful compass or meridian known; + Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, + And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone. + + 160 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. + + 161 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. + + 162 The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow, + We, as art's elements, shall understand, + And as by line upon the ocean go, + Whose paths shall be familiar as the land. + + 163 Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce, + By which remotest regions are allied; + Which makes one city of the universe, + Where some may gain, and all may be supplied. + + 164 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, + And view the ocean leaning on the sky: + From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, + And on the lunar world securely pry. + + 165 This I foretell 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. + + 166 O truly royal! who behold the law + And rule of beings in your Maker's mind: + And thence, like limbecks, rich ideas draw, + To fit the levell'd use of human-kind. + + 197 But first the toils of war we must endure, + And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas. + War makes the valiant of his right secure, + And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease. + + 168 Already were the Belgians on our coast, + Whose fleet more mighty every day became + By late success, which they did falsely boast, + And now by first appearing seem'd to claim. + + 169 Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, + They knew to manage war with wise delay: + Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, + And by their pride their prudence did betray. + + 170 Nor stay'd the English long; but, well supplied, + Appear as numerous as the insulting foe: + The combat now by courage must be tried, + And the success the braver nation show. + + 171 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. + + 172 Old expert Allen,[45] 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. + + 173 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 + The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold. + + 174 With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, + Whom his high courage to command had brought: + Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save, + And in his burning ship undaunted fought. + + 175 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. + + 176 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. + + 177 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. + + 178 Now anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, + That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings: + A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, + And rests in those high beds his downy wings. + + 179 The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, + And durst not bide it on the English coast: + Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, + And there lay snares to catch the British host. + + 180 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, + Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly. + + 181 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 drags the little wretch in triumph home. + + 182 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 one. + + 183 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, + 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. + + 184 It seem'd as there the British Neptune stood, + With all his hosts of waters at command. + Beneath them to submit the officious flood; + And with his trident shoved them off the sand. + + 185 To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, + And summon them to unexpected fight: + They start like murderers when ghosts appear, + And draw their curtains in the dead of night. + + 186 Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, + The midmost battles hastening up behind, + Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, + And hear their thunder rattling in the wind. + + 187 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. + + 188 The distance judged for shot of every size, + The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires: + The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, + And adds his heart to every gun he fires! + + 189 Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, + For honour, which they seldom sought before! + But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, + And forced at least in show to prize it more. + + 190 But sharp remembrance on the English part, + And shame of being match'd by such a foe, + Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, + And seeming to be stronger makes them so. + +191 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. + + 192 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. + + 193 Never did men more joyfully obey, + Or sooner understood the sign to fly: + With such alacrity they bore away, + As if to praise them all the States stood by. + + 194 O famous leader[46] of the Belgian fleet, + Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, + As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, + Because he did not of his Rome despair. + + 195 Behold that navy, which a while before, + Provoked the tardy English close to fight, + Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, + As larks lie, dared, to shun the hobby's flight. + + 196 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. + + 197 Or if too busily they will inquire + Into a victory which we disdain; + Then let them know the Belgians did retire + Before the patron saint[47] of injured Spain. + + 198 Repenting England this revengeful day + To Philip's manes did an offering bring: + England, which first by leading them astray, + Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her King. + + 199 Our fathers bent their baneful industry, + To check a, monarchy that slowly grew; + But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, + Whose rising power to swift dominion flew. + + 200 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, + And wander after pathless destiny; + Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, + In vain it would provide for what shall be. + + 201 But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go, + And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; + Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe, + And him detesting a Batavian fleet. + + 202 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. + + 203 So, close behind some promontory lie + The huge leviathans to attend their prey; + And give no chase, but swallow in the fry, + Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way. + + 204 Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, + Destructive fires among whole fleets we send: + Triumphant flames upon the water float, + And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. + + 205 Those various squadrons variously design'd, + Each vessel freighted with a several load, + Each squadron waiting for a several wind, + All find but one, to burn them in the road. + + 206 Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find, + Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear; + Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd, + For folded turbans finest Holland bear. + + 207 Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom, + And into cloth of spungy softness made, + Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom, + To ruin with worse ware our staple trade. + + 208 Our greedy seamen rummage every hold, + 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. + + 209 But ah! how insincere are all our joys! + Which, sent from heaven, like lightning make no stay; + Their palling taste the journey's length destroys, + Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way. + + 210 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. + + 211 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. + + 212 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! + + 213 As when some dire usurper[48] Heaven provides, + To scourge his country with a lawless sway; + His birth perhaps some petty village hides, + And sets his cradle out of fortune's way. + + 214 Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, + And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on: + His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt, + And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known. + + 215 Such was the rise of this prodigious fire, + Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred, + From thence did soon to open streets aspire, + And straight to palaces and temples spread. + + 216 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. + + 217 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. + + 218 Then in some close-pent room it crept along, + And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed; + Till the infant monster, with devouring strong, + Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head. + + 219 Now like some rich or mighty murderer, + Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold; + Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear, + And dares the world to tax him with the old: + + 220 So 'scapes the 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. + + 221 The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld + His flames from burning, but to blow them more: + And every fresh attempt he is repell'd + With faint denials weaker than before. + + 222 And now no longer letted[49] of his prey, + He leaps up at it with enraged desire: + O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, + And nods at every house his threatening fire. + + 223 The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, + With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice: + About the fire into a dance they bend, + And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice. + + 224 Our guardian angel saw them where they sate + Above the palace of our slumbering king: + He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to fate, + And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing. + + 225 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. + + 226 The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, + Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire: + And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, + For helpless infants left amidst the fire. + + 227 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 jostle as they meet. + + 228 So weary bees in little cells repose; + 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. + + 229 Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day: + Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire: + Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play; + And some more bold mount ladders to the fire. + + 230 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. + + 231 A quay 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. + + 232 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. + + 233 The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross; + To either hand his wings he opens wide: + He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross, + And plays his longing flames on the other side. + + 234 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. + + 235 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. + + 236 One mighty squadron with a side-wind sped, + Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste, + By powerful charms of gold and silver led, + The Lombard bankers and the 'Change to waste. + + 237 Another backward to the Tower would go, + And slowly eats his way against the wind: + But the main body of the marching foe + Against the imperial palace is design'd. + + 238 Now day appears, and with the day the King, + Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest: + Far off the cracks of falling houses ring, + And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast. + + 239 Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke + With gloomy pillars cover all the place; + Whose little intervals of night are broke + By sparks, that drive against his sacred face. + + 240 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; + So much the pity of a king has power. + + 241 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. + + 242 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. + + 243 Himself directs what first is to be done, + And orders all the succours which they bring, + The helpful and the good about him run, + And form an army worthy such a king. + + 244 He sees the dire contagion spread so fast, + That, where it seizes, all relief is vain: + And therefore must unwillingly lay waste + That country, which would else the foe maintain. + + 245 The powder blows up all before the fire: + The amazed flames stand gather'd on a heap; + And from the precipice's brink retire, + Afraid to venture on so large a leap. + + 246 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. + + 247 Part stay for passage, till a gust of wind + Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet: + Part creeping under ground their journey blind, + And climbing from below their fellows meet. + + 248 Thus to some desert plain, or old woodside, + 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. + + 249 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. + + 250 The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud; + Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more: + So void of pity is the ignoble crowd, + When others' ruin may increase their store. + + 251 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 tempests which the others fly: + + 252 So these but wait the owners' last despair, + And what's permitted to the flames invade; + Even from their jaws they hungry morsels tear, + And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade. + + 253 The days were all in this lost labour spent; + 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. + + 254 Night came, but without darkness or repose,-- + A dismal picture of the general doom, + Where souls, distracted when the trumpet blows, + And half unready, with their bodies come. + + 255 Those who have homes, when home they do repair, + To a last lodging call their wandering friends: + Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care, + To look how near their own destruction tends. + + 256 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. + + 257 Some stir up coals, and watch the vestal fire, + Others in vain from sight of ruin run; + And, while through burning labyrinths they retire, + With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun. + + 258 The most in fields like herded beasts lie down, + To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor; + And while their babes in sleep their sorrows drown, + Sad parents watch the remnants of their store. + + 259 While by the motion of the flames they guess + What streets are burning now, and what are near; + An infant waking to the paps would press, + And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear. + + 260 No thought can ease them but their sovereign's care, + Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort sing: + Even those whom want might drive to just despair, + Think life a blessing under such a king. + + 261 Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief, + Out-weeps an hermit, and out-prays a saint: + All the long night he studies their relief, + How they may be supplied, and he may want. + + 262 O God, said he, thou patron of my days, + Guide of my youth in exile and distress! + Who me, unfriended, brought'st by wondrous ways, + The kingdom of my fathers to possess: + + 263 Be thou my judge, with what unwearied care + 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. + + 264 Thou who hast taught me to forgive the ill, + And recompense, as friends, the good misled; + If mercy be a precept of thy will, + Return that mercy on thy servant's head. + + 265 Or if my heedless youth has stepp'd astray, + Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand; + On me alone thy just displeasure lay, + But take thy judgments from this mourning land. + + 266 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. + + 267 O let it be enough what thou hast done; + 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. + + 268 The living few, and frequent funerals then, + Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place; + And now those few who are return'd again, + Thy searching judgments to their dwellings trace. + + 269 O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, + Or bind thy sentence unconditional! + But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, + And in that foresight this thy doom recall. + + 270 Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine thou mayst revoke: + But if immutable and fix'd they stand, + Continue still thyself to give the stroke, + And let not foreign foes oppress thy land. + + 271 The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire + Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword; + And bade him swiftly drive the approaching fire + From where our naval magazines were stored. + + 272 The blessed minister his wings display'd, + And like a shooting star he cleft the night: + He charged the flames, and those that disobey'd + He lash'd to duty with his sword of light. + + 273 The fugitive flames chastised went forth to prey + On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd; + By which to heaven they did affect the way, + Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard. + + 274 The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes, + Their founder's charity in dust laid low; + And sent to God their ever-answered cries, + For He protects the poor, who made them so. + + 275 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; + And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. + + 276 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. + + 277 Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, + And widely opening did on both sides prey: + This benefit we sadly owe the flame, + If only ruin must enlarge our way. + + 278 And now four days the sun had seen our woes: + Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire: + It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, + And farther from the feverish north retire. + + 279 In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode, + The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie, + Not daring to behold their angry God; + And a hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. + + 280 At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye, + And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast: + He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie, + And eager flames drive on to storm the rest. + + 281 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. + + 282 The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, + Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: + Each household genius shows again his face, + And from the hearths the little Lares creep. + + 283 Our King this more than natural change beholds; + With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: + To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, + And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. + + 284 As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth, + A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain; + And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, + And straight the green fields laugh with promised grain: + + 285 By such degrees the spreading gladness grew + In every heart which fear had froze before: + The standing streets with so much joy they view, + That with less grief the perish'd they deplore. + + 286 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. + + 287 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. + + 288 But so may he live long, that town to sway, + Which by his auspice they will nobler make, + As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, + And not their humble ruins now forsake. + + 289 They have not lost their loyalty by fire; + Nor is their courage or their wealth so low, + That from his wars they poorly would retire, + Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe. + + 290 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. + + 291 The utmost malice of their stars is past, + And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, + In their own plague and fire have breathed the last, + Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown. + + 292 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. + + 293 Methinks already from this chemic flame, + 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. + + 294 Already labouring with a mighty fate, + She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, + And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, + Which Heaven will to the death of time allow. + + 295 More great than human now, and more august, + Now deified she from her fires does rise: + Her widening streets on new foundations trust, + And opening into larger parts she flies. + + 296 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. + + 297 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, + From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; + The East with incense, and the West with gold, + Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom! + + 298 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, + Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; + And often wind, as of his mistress proud, + With longing eyes to meet her face again. + + 299 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, + 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. + + 300 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, + And touches on our hospitable shore, + Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star, + Shall here unlade him, and depart no more. + + 301 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet, + The wealth of France or Holland to invade; + The beauty of this town without a fleet, + From all the world shall vindicate her trade. + + 302 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. + + 303 Already we have conquer'd half the war, + 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. + + 304 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, + And gently lay us on the spicy shore. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 36: Prince Rupert and General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.] + +[Footnote 37: 'Lawson:' Sir John Lawson, rear admiral of the red, killed +by a ball that wounded him in the knee.] + +[Footnote 38: 'Wholly lost:' the Dutch ships on their return home, being +separated by a storm, the rear and vice-admirals of the East India +fleet, with four men of war, were taken by five English frigates. Soon +after, four men of war, two fire-ships, and thirty merchantmen, being +driven out of their course, joined our fleet instead of their own, and +were all taken. These things happened in 1665.] + +[Footnote 39: 'Munster's prelate:' the famous Bertrand Von Der Chalen, +Bishop of Munster, excited by Charles, marched twenty thousand men into +the province of Overyssel, under the dominion of the republic of +Holland, where he committed great outrages.] + +[Footnote 40: 'Two chiefs:' Prince Rupert and Monk.] + +[Footnote 41: 'Berkeley:' Vice-admiral Berkeley fought till his men were +all killed, and was found in the cabin dead and covered with blood.] + +[Footnote 42: 'Cacus:' see Virgil in Cowper's translation, 2d vol. of +this edition.] + +[Footnote 43: 'Albemarle:' Monk.] + +[Footnote 44: 'Flix:' old word for hare fur.] + +[Footnote 45: 'Allen:' Sir Thomas Allen, admiral of the white. 'The +Achates:' Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white.] + +[Footnote 46: 'Leader:' De Ruyter.] + +[Footnote 47: 'Patron saint:' St James, on whose day the victory was +gained.] + +[Footnote 48: 'Usurper:' this seems a reference to Cromwell; if so, it +contradicts Scott's statement quoted above in the 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 49: 'Letted:' hindered.] + + * * * * * + + + + +AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE. + +BY ME DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE,[50] 1679. + + How dull, and how insensible a beast + Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest! + Philosophers and poets vainly strove + In every age the lumpish mass to move: + But those were pedants, when compared with these, + Who know not only to instruct, but please. + Poets alone found the delightful way, + Mysterious morals gently to convey + In charming numbers; so that as men grew + 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, + 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 rightest when they shoot in jest. 20 + Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides, + And censure those who censure all besides, + In other things they justly are preferr'd. + In this alone methinks the ancients err'd,-- + Against the grossest follies they declaim; + 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,[51] or dull Aston teach? 30 + 'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball, + Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall. + But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find, + Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind; + That little speck which all the rest does spoil, + 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; 40 + 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, + To see their antiquated wit laid by; + Like her, who miss'd her name in a lampoon, + And grieved to find herself decay'd so soon. + No common coxcomb must be mentioned here: + Not the dull train of dancing sparks appear; 50 + 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 other are but fools. + Who would not be as silly as Dunbar? + As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr?[52] + 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 AEsop's fox becomes a prey at last. 60 + 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,[53] + Meets with dissembling still in either place, + 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? + Was ever prince by two at once misled, + False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred? + Earnely[54] and Aylesbury[55] with all that race + Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place; + At council set as foils on Danby's[56] 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; 80 + Their very names have tired my lazy pen: + 'Tis time to quit their company, and choose + Some fitter subject for sharper muse. + + First, let's behold the merriest man alive[57] + Against his careless genius vainly strive; + 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.[58] + But when he aims at reason or at rule, 90 + He turns himself the best to ridicule; + Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit, + Show him but mirth, and bait that mirth with wit; + That shadow of a jest shall be enjoy'd, + Though he left all mankind to be destroy'd. + So cat transform'd sat gravely and demure, + Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself secure; + But soon the lady had him in her eye, + And from her friend did just as oddly fly. + Reaching above our nature does no good; 100 + We must fall back to our old flesh and blood; + As by our little Machiavel we find + That nimblest creature of the busy kind, + His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes; + Yet his hard mind which all this bustle makes, + No pity of its poor companion takes. + What gravity can hold from laughing out, + To see him drag his feeble legs about, + Like hounds ill-coupled? Jowler lugs him still + Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's ill. 110 + 'Twere crime in any man but him alone, + To use a body so, though 'tis one's own: + Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, + That whilst he creeps his vigorous thoughts can soar; + Alas! that soaring to those few that know, + Is but a busy grovelling here below. + So men in rapture think they mount the sky, + Whilst on the ground the entranced wretches lie: + So modern fops have fancied they could fly. + As the new earl,[59] with parts deserving praise, 120 + And wit enough to laugh at his own ways, + Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights, + Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights; + Striving against his quiet all he can, + For the fine notion of a busy man. + 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'll not only pay him, but admire him too. + But is there any other beast that lives, + Who his own harm so wittingly contrives? + Will any dog that has his teeth and stones, + Refinedly leave his bitches and his bones, + To turn a wheel, and bark to be employ'd, + While Venus is by rival dogs enjoy'd? + Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, + Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame. + + Though satire, nicely writ, with humour stings 140 + But those who merit praise in other things; + Yet we must needs this one exception make, + And break our rules for silly Tropos'[60] sake; + Who was too much despised to be accused, + And therefore scarce deserves to be abused; + Raised only by his mercenary tongue, + For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong, + As boys, on holidays, let loose to play, + Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that way; + Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress 150 + Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress: + So have I mighty satisfaction found, + To see his tinsel reason on the ground: + To see the florid fool despised, and know it, + By some who scarce have words enough to show it: + For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker + The finer, nay sometimes the wittier speaker: + But 'tis prodigious so much eloquence + Should be acquired by such little sense; + For words and wit did anciently agree, 160 + And Tully was no fool, though this man be: + At bar abusive, on the bench unable, + Knave on the woolsack, fop at council-table. + These are the grievances of such fools as would + Be rather wise than honest, great than good. + + Some other kind of wits must be made known, + Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone; + Excess of luxury they think can please, + And laziness call loving of their ease: + To live dissolved in pleasures still they feign, 170 + Though their whole life's but intermitting pain: + So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen, + We scarce perceive the little time between: + Well-meaning men who make this gross mistake, + And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake; + 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: + And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 180 + Like Pembroke's mastives at his kindest time; + Then for one night sold all his slavish life, + A teeming widow, but a barren wife; + Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, + He lugg'd about the matrimonial load; + 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,[61] 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, + To see him catch his Tartar for his prize; + The impatient town waited the wish'd-for change, + And cuckolds smiled in hopes of sweet revenge; + Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see, 200 + As his estate, his person too was free: + Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move; + To gold he fled from beauty and from love; + Yet, failing there, he keeps his freedom still, + Forced to live happily against his will: + 'Tis not his fault, if too much wealth and power + Break not his boasted quiet every hour. + + And little Sid,[62] for simile renown'd, + Pleasure has always sought but never found: + Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall, 210 + His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. + The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong, + His meat and mistresses are kept too long. + But sure we all mistake this pious man, + Who mortifies his person all he can: + 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; + And 'tis a miracle we may suppose, 220 + No nastiness offends his skilful nose: + Which from all stink can with peculiar art + Extract perfume and essence from a f--t. + Expecting supper is his great delight; + He toils all day but to be drunk at night: + Then o'er his cups this night-bird chirping sits, + Till he takes Hewet and Jack Hall[63] for wits. + + Rochester I despise for want of wit, + Though thought to have a tail and cloven feet; + For while he mischief means to all mankind, 230 + Himself alone the ill effects does find: + And so like witches justly suffer 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; + 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, 240 + A very Killigrew[64] without good nature. + For what a Bessus[65] has he always lived, + And his own kickings notably contrived! + For, there's the folly that's still mix'd with fear, + Cowards more blows than any hero bear; + Of fighting sparks some may their pleasures say, + But 'tis a bolder thing to run away: + The world may well forgive him all his ill, + For every fault does prove his penance still: + Falsely he falls into some dangerous noose, 250 + And then as meanly labours to get loose; + 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, hit, + 'Tis under so much nasty rubbish laid, + To find it out's the cinderwoman's trade; + Who for the wretched remnants of a fire, 260 + Must toil all day in ashes and in mire. + So lewdly dull his idle works appear, + The wretched texts deserve no comments here; + Where one poor thought sometimes, left all alone, + For a whole page of dulness must atone. + + How vain a thing is man, and how unwise! + Even he, who would himself the most despise! + I, who so wise and humble seem to be, + Now my own vanity and pride can't see; + While the world's nonsense is so sharply shown, 270 + We pull down others' but to raise our own; + That we may angels seem, we paint them elves, + And are but satires to set up ourselves. + I, who have all this while been finding fault, + Even with my master, who first satire taught; + 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, 280 + Learn to write well, or not to write at all. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 50: 'Mulgrave:' Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. It was for this +satire, the joint composition of Dryden and Sheffield, that Rochester +hired bravoes to cudgel Dryden.] + +[Footnote 51: 'Armstrong:' Sir Thomas Armstrong, a notorious character +of the time--hanged at Tyburn.] + +[Footnote 52: 'Carr:' Sir Carr Scrope, a wit of the time.] + +[Footnote 53: 'Beastly brace:' Duchess of Portsmouth and Nell Gwynn.] + +[Footnote 54: 'Earnely:' Sir John Earnely, one of the lords of the +treasury.] + +[Footnote 55: 'Aylesbury:' Robert, the first Earl of Aylesbury.] + +[Footnote 56: 'Danby:' Thomas, Earl of Danby, lord high-treasurer of +England.] + +[Footnote 57: 'Merriest man alive:' Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of +Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 58: 'Nokes and Lee:' two celebrated comedians in Charles II.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 59: 'New earl:' Earl of Essex.] + +[Footnote 60: 'Tropos:' Sir William Scroggs. See Macaulay.] + +[Footnote 61: 'Ned Howard:' Edward Howard, Esq., a dull writer. See +Butler's works.] + +[Footnote 62: 'Sid:' brother to Algernon Sidney.] + +[Footnote 63: 'Hewet and Jack Hall:' courtiers of the day.] + +[Footnote 64: 'Killigrew:' Thomas Killigrew, many years master of the +revels, and groom of the chamber to King Charles II.] + +[Footnote 65: 'Bessus:' a remarkable cowardly character in Beaumont and +Fletcher's play of 'A King and no King.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.[66] + +TO THE READER. + +It is 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 consequence 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 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 genius, it will force its own +reception in the world. For there is a sweetness in good verse, which +tickles even while it hurts; and no man can be heartily angry with him +who pleases him against his will. The commendation of adversaries is +the greatest 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 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 it is hard for +an author to judge against himself); but more probably it is 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; it is no more +a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it +was for Adam not to have resisted the two devils, the serpent and the +woman. The conclusion of the story I purposely forbore to prosecute, +because 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, it is 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; +hereafter 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 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 _Ense rescindendum_, 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. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 66: See 'Life' for explanation for circumstances; and the key +at the close of the poem, for the real names of this satire.] + + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + + --Si propius stes + Te capiet magis-- + + In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, + Before polygamy was made a sin; + When man on many multiplied his kind, + Ere one to one was cursedly confined; + When nature prompted, and no law denied + 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, + No true succession could their seed attend. + Of all the numerous progeny was none + So beautiful, so brave, as Absalom: + Whether inspired by some diviner lust, + His father got him with a greater gust; 20 + Or that his conscious destiny made way, + By manly beauty to imperial sway. + Early in foreign fields he won renown, + With kings and states allied to Israel's crown: + In peace the thoughts of war he could remove, + And seem'd as he were only born for love. + Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease, + In him alone 'twas natural to please: + 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 Annabell[67] his bride. + What faults he had (for who from faults is free?) + His father could not, or he would not see. + 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 call'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; + 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): 50 + These Adam-wits,[68] too fortunately free, + 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, + And thought that all but savages were slaves. + They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow, + Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego; + Who banish'd David did from Hebron bring, + And with a general shout proclaim'd him king: 60 + 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, + 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; 70 + 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; 80 + 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 + Were Jebusites; the town so call'd from them; + And theirs the native right-- + But when the chosen people grew more strong, + The rightful cause at length became the wrong; + And every loss the men of Jebus bore, 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, 100 + Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, + In his defence his servants are as bold, + As if he had been born of beaten gold. + The Jewish rabbins, though their enemies, + In this conclude them honest men and wise: + For 'twas their duty, all the learned think, + To espouse his cause by whom they eat and drink. + From hence began that Plot, the nation's curse, + Bad in itself, but represented worse; + Raised 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. + Succeeding times did equal folly call, + Believing nothing, or believing all. + The Egyptian rites the Jebusites embraced, + Where gods were recommended by their taste. + Such savoury deities must needs be good, 120 + 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, + 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 130 + By guns, invented since full many a day: + Our author swears it not; but who can know + How far the devil and Jebusites may go? + This Plot, which fail'd for want of common sense, + Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence: + 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, 140 + 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. + 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; 150 + A name to all succeeding ages cursed: + For close designs, and crooked counsels fit; + Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; + Restless, unfix'd in principles and place; + In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace: + 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, 160 + 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, + Refuse his age the needful hours of rest? + Punish a body which he could not please; + Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease? + And all to leave what with his toil he won, + To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing, a son; 170 + Got, while his soul did huddled notions try; + And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy. + In friendship false, implacable in hate; + Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state. + To compass this, the triple bond[69] he broke; + The pillars of the public safety shook; + 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, 180 + 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! + Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge; + The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge. + In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin + With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean, + Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress; 190 + Swift of despatch, and easy of access. + Oh! had he been content to serve the crown, + With virtues only proper to the gown; + Or had the rankness of the soil been freed + From cockle, that oppress'd the noble seed; + David for him his tuneful harp had strung, + And Heaven had wanted one immortal song. + But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand, + And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land. + Achitophel, grown weary to possess 200 + A lawful fame, and lazy happiness, + Disdain'd the golden fruit to gather free, + And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree. + Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since, + He stood at bold defiance with his prince; + Held up the buckler of the people's cause + Against the crown, and skulk'd behind the laws. + The wish'd occasion of the plot he takes; + Some circumstances finds, but more he makes; + By buzzing emissaries fills the ears 210 + Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears + Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, + And proves the king himself a Jebusite. + Weak arguments! which yet he knew full well + Were strong with people easy to rebel. + For, govern'd by the moon, the giddy Jews + Tread the same track, when she the prime renews; + And once in twenty years, their scribes record, + By natural instinct they change their lord. + Achitophel still wants a chief, and none 220 + Was found so fit as warlike Absalom. + Not that he wish'd his greatness to create, + For politicians neither love nor hate: + But, for he knew his title not allow'd, + Would keep him still depending on the crowd: + That kingly power, thus ebbing out, might be + Drawn to the dregs of a democracy. + Him he attempts with studied arts to please, + And sheds his venom in such words as these: + + Auspicious prince! at whose nativity 230 + 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! + 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 250 + Or gather'd ripe, or rot upon the tree. + Heaven has to all allotted, soon or late, + Some lucky revolution of their fate: + Whose motions, if we watch and guide with skill, + (For human good depends on human will,) + 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, 260 + And spreads her locks before her as she flies. + Had thus old David, from whose loins you spring, + Not dared when fortune called him to be king, + At Gath an exile he might still remain, + And Heaven's anointing oil had been in vain. + 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 270 + 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: + (Our only blessing since his cursed return:) + Those heaps of people which one sheaf did bind, + Blown off and scatter'd by a puff of wind. + What strength can he to your designs oppose, + Naked of friends, and round beset with foes? 280 + 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 + With Pharaoh's arms to assist the Jebusite; + Or if they should, their interest soon would break, + And with such odious aid make David weak. + All sorts of men, by my successful arts, + Abhorring kings, estrange their alter'd hearts 290 + From David's rule: and 'tis their general cry-- + Religion, commonwealth, and liberty. + If you, as champion of the public good, + Add to their arms a chief of royal blood, + What may not Israel hope, and what applause + Might such a general gain by such a cause? + Not barren praise alone--that gaudy flower, + Fair only to the sight--but solid power: + And nobler is a limited command, + Given by the love of all your native land, 300 + Than a successive title, long and dark, + Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark. + + What cannot praise effect in mighty minds, + When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds? + Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, + Yet sprung from high, is of celestial seed: + 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 angels' metal in his frame, 310 + Unwarily was led from virtue's ways, + Made drunk with honour, and debauch'd with praise. + Half loath, and half consenting to the ill, + For royal blood within him struggled still, + He thus replied:--And what pretence have I + To take up arms for public liberty? + My father governs with unquestion'd right, + The faith's defender, and mankind's delight; + Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws; + And Heaven by wonders has espoused his cause. 320 + 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; + Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood. + If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit, + His crime is God's beloved attribute. + What could he gain his people to betray, + Or change his right for arbitrary sway? 330 + Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign + His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train. + If David's rule Jerusalem displease, + The dog-star heats their brains to this disease. + Why then should I, encouraging the bad, + 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: 340 + The people might assert their liberty; + But what was right in them were crime in me. + His favour leaves me nothing to require, + Prevents my wishes, and outruns desire. + What more can I expect while David lives? + All but his kingly diadem he gives: + And that--But here 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; + 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 even the offending crowd will find; + For sure he comes of a forgiving kind. 360 + 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 mould. + Why am I scanted by a niggard birth? + My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth; 370 + And, made for empire, whispers me within, + Desire of greatness is a 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: + + The eternal God, supremely good and wise, + Imparts not these prodigious gifts in vain; + What wonders are reserved to bless your reign! + Against your will your arguments have shown, + Such virtue's only given to guide a throne. 380 + 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, + And more his goodness than his wit proclaim. + But when should people strive their bonds to break, + If not when kings are negligent or weak? + Let him give on till he can give no more, + The thrifty Sanhedrim shall keep him poor; 390 + And every shekel which he can receive, + Shall cost a limb of his prerogative. + To ply him with new plots shall be my care; + Or plunge him deep in some expensive war; + Which, when his treasure can no more supply, + 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, + 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 no 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, + 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; 420 + The public good, that universal call, + To which even 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, + 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? 430 + It surely show'd he loved the shepherd well, + Who gave so fair a flock as Israel. + Would David have you thought his darling son? + What means he then to alienate the crown? + The name of godly he may blush to bear: + 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. 440 + Then the next heir, a prince severe and wise, + Already looks on you with jealous eyes; + Sees through the thin disguises of your arts, + And marks your progress in the people's hearts; + Though now his mighty soul its grief contains: + He meditates revenge who least complains; + And like a lion, slumbering in the way, + Or sleep dissembling, while he waits his prey, + His fearless foes within his distance draws, + Constrains his roaring, and contracts his paws; 450 + Till at the last his time for fury found, + He shoots with sudden vengeance from the ground; + The prostrate vulgar passes o'er and spares, + But with a lordly rage his hunters tears. + Your case no tame expedients will afford: + 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. 460 + Avail yourself of what occasion gives, + But try your title while your father lives: + And that your arms may have a fair pretence, + Proclaim you take them in the king's defence; + Whose sacred life each minute would expose + To plots, from seeming friends, and secret foes. + And who can sound the depth of David's soul? + Perhaps his fear, his kindness may control. + He fears his brother, though he loves his son, + For plighted vows too late to be undone. 470 + If so, by force he wishes to be gain'd: + By women's lechery to seem constrain'd. + Doubt not; but, when he most affects the frown, + Commit a pleasing rape upon the crown. + Secure his person to secure your cause: + They who possess the prince possess the laws. + + He said, and this advice above the rest, + With Absalom's mild nature suited best; + Unblamed of life, ambition set aside, + Not stain'd with cruelty, nor puff'd with pride, 480 + 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, + 'Tis juster to lament him than accuse. + Strong were his hopes a rival to remove, + With blandishments to gain the public love: + To head the faction while their zeal was hot, + And popularly prosecute the Plot. 490 + 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-- + Who thought the power of monarchy too much; + Mistaken men, and patriots in their hearts; + Not wicked, but seduced by impious arts. + By these the springs of property were bent, + And wound so high, they crack'd the government. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + Who follow next a double danger bring, + Not only hating David, but the king; + The Solyimaean rout; well versed of old + In godly faction, and in treason bold; + Cowering and quaking at a conqueror's sword, + 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, 520 + 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, + 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; + 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 believing right. 540 + + Such were the tools: but a whole Hydra more + Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. + Some of their chiefs were princes of the land: + In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; + A man so various, that he seem'd to be + Not one, but all mankind's epitome: + Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; + Was everything by starts, and nothing long; + But, in the course of one revolving moon, + Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon: 550 + 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, or to enjoy! + Railing and praising were his usual themes; + And both, to show his judgment, in extremes: + So over violent, or over civil, + That every man with him was God or Devil. + In squandering wealth was his peculiar art: + Nothing went unrewarded but desert. 560 + Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late; + He had his jest, and they had his estate. + He laugh'd himself from court; then sought relief + By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief: + For, spite of him the weight of business fell + On Absalom and wise Achitophel: + Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft, + He left not faction, but of that was left. + + Titles and names 'twere tedious to rehearse + Of lords, below the dignity of verse. 570 + Wits, warriors, commonwealth's-men, were the best: + Kind husbands, and mere nobles, all the rest. + And therefore, in the name of dulness, be + The well-hung Balaam and cold Caleb free: + And canting Nadab let oblivion damn, + Who made new porridge for the paschal lamb. + Let friendship's holy band some names assure; + Some their own worth, and some let scorn secure. + Nor shall the rascal rabble here have place, + Whom kings no titles gave, and God no grace: 580 + Not bull-faced Jonas, who could statutes draw + To mean rebellion, and make treason law. + But he, though bad, is follow'd by a worse, + The wretch who Heaven's anointed dared to curse; + Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring + Of zeal to God and hatred to his king, + Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, + And never broke the Sabbath but for gain; + Nor ever was he known an oath to vent, + Or curse, unless against the government. 590 + Thus heaping wealth by the most ready way + Among the Jews, which was to cheat and pray; + The city, to reward his pious hate + Against his master, chose him magistrate. + His hand a vare[70] of justice did uphold; + His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. + During his office treason was no crime; + The sons of Belial had a glorious time: + For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, + Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself. 600 + When two or three were gather'd to declaim + Against the monarch of Jerusalem, + Shimei was always in the midst of them; + And if they cursed the king when he was by, + Would rather curse than break good company. + If any durst his factious friends accuse, + He pack'd a jury of dissenting Jews; + Whose fellow-feeling in the godly cause + Would free the suffering saint from human laws. + For laws are only made to punish those 610 + Who serve the king, and to protect his foes. + If any leisure time he had from power + (Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour), + His business was, by writing to persuade, + That kings were useless and a clog to trade; + And, that his noble style he might refine, + No Rechabite more shunn'd the fumes of wind. + Chaste were his cellars, and his shrivel board + The grossness of a city feast abhorr'd; + His cooks with long disuse their trade forgot; 620 + Cool was his kitchen, though his brains were hot. + Such frugal virtue malice may accuse, + But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews; + For towns, once burnt, such magistrates require + As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. + With spiritual food he fed his servants well, + But free from flesh that made the Jews rebel: + And Moses' laws he held in more account, + For forty days of fasting in the mount. + To speak the rest who better are forgot, 630 + Would tire a well-breathed witness of the plot. + Yet Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass; + Erect thyself, thou monumental brass, + High as the serpent of thy metal made, + While nations stand secure beneath thy shade. + What though his birth were base, yet comets rise + From earthly vapours, ere they shine in skies. + Prodigious actions may as well be done + By weaver's issue, as by prince's son. + This arch attestor for the public good 640 + By that one deed ennobles all his blood. + Who ever ask'd the witness's high race, + Whose oath with martyrdom did Stephen grace? + Ours was a Levite, and as times went then, + His tribe were God Almighty's gentlemen. + Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud, + Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud. + His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace + A church vermilion, and a Moses' face. + His memory miraculously great, 650 + Could plots, exceeding man's belief, repeat; + Which therefore cannot be accounted lies, + For human wit could never such devise. + Some future truths are mingled in his book; + But where the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke. + Some things like visionary flights appear; + The spirit caught him up the Lord knows where; + And gave him his rabbinical degree, + Unknown to foreign university. + His judgment yet his memory did excel; 660 + Which pieced his wondrous evidence so well, + And suited to the temper of the times, + Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes. + Let Israel's foes suspect his heavenly call, + And rashly judge his wit apocryphal; + Our laws for such affronts have forfeits made; + He takes his life who takes away his trade. + Were I myself in witness Corah's place, + The wretch who did me such a dire disgrace, + Should whet my memory, though once forgot, 670 + To make him an appendix of my plot. + His zeal to heaven made him his prince despise, + And load his person with indignities. + But zeal peculiar privilege affords, + Indulging latitude to deeds and words: + And Corah might for Agag's murder call, + In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul. + What others in his evidence did join, + The best that could be had for love or coin, + In Corah's own predicament will fall: 680 + For witness is a common name to all. + + Surrounded thus with friends of every sort, + Deluded Absalom forsakes the court: + Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown, + And fired with near possession of a crown. + The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise, + And on his goodly person feed their eyes. + His joy conceal'd he sets himself to show; + On each side bowing popularly low: + His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames, 690 + And with familiar ease repeats their names. + Thus form'd by nature, furnish'd out with arts, + He glides unfelt into their secret hearts. + Then, with a kind compassionating look, + And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke, + Few words he said; but easy those and fit, + More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet. + + I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate; + Though far unable to prevent your fate: + Behold a banish'd man for your dear cause 700 + Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws! + Yet oh! that I alone could be undone, + Cut off from empire, and no more a son! + Now all your liberties a spoil are made; + Egypt and Tyrus intercept your trade, + And Jebusites your sacred rites invade. + My father, whom with reverence yet I name, + Charm'd into ease, is careless of his fame; + And bribed with petty sums of foreign gold, + Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old; 710 + Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys, + And all his power against himself employs. + He gives, and let him give, my right away: + But why should he his own and yours betray? + He, only he, can make the nation bleed, + And he alone from my revenge is freed. + Take then my tears (with that he wiped his eyes), + 'Tis all the aid my present power supplies: + No court-informer can these arms accuse; + These arms may sons against their fathers use: 720 + And 'tis my wish, the next successor's reign, + May make no other Israelite complain. + + Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail; + But common interest always will prevail: + And pity never ceases to be shown + To him who makes the people's wrongs his own. + The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress, + With lifted hands their young Messiah bless: + Who now begins his progress to ordain + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train: 730 + From east to west his glories he displays, + And, like the sun, the promised land surveys. + Fame runs before him as the morning-star, + And shouts of joy salute him from afar: + Each house receives him as a guardian god, + And consecrates the place of his abode. + But hospitable treats did most commend + Wise Issachar, his wealthy western friend. + This moving court, that caught the people's eyes, + And seem'd but pomp, did other ends disguise: 740 + Achitophel had form'd it, with intent + To sound the depths, and fathom where it went, + The people's hearts, distinguish friends from foes, + And try their strength, before they came to blows. + Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence + Of specious love, and duty to their prince. + Religion, and redress of grievances, + Two names that always cheat, and always please, + Are often urged; and good king David's life + Endanger'd by a brother and a wife. 750 + Thus in a pageant show a plot is made; + And peace itself is war in masquerade. + O foolish Israel! never warn'd by ill! + Still the same bait, and circumvented still! + Did ever men forsake their present ease, + In midst of health imagine a disease; + Take pains contingent mischiefs to foresee, + Make heirs for monarchs, and for God decree? + What shall we think? Can people give away, + Both for themselves and sons, their native sway? 760 + Then they are left defenceless to the sword + Of each unbounded, arbitrary lord: + And laws are vain, by which we right enjoy, + If kings unquestion'd can those laws destroy. + Yet if the crowd be judge of fit and just, + And kings are only officers in trust, + Then this resuming covenant was declared + When kings were made, or is for ever barr'd. + If those who gave the sceptre could not tie, + By their own deed, their own posterity, 770 + How then could Adam bind his future race? + How could his forfeit on mankind take place? + Or how could heavenly justice damn us all, + Who ne'er consented to our father's fall? + Then kings are slaves to those whom they command, + And tenants to their people's pleasure stand. + Add, that the power for property allow'd + Is mischievously seated in the crowd; + For who can be secure of private right, + If sovereign sway may be dissolved by might? 780 + Nor is the people's judgment always true: + The most may err as grossly as the few? + And faultless kings run down by common cry, + For vice, oppression, and for tyranny. + What standard is there in a fickle rout, + Which, flowing to the mark, runs faster out? + Nor only crowds but Sanhedrims may be + Infected with this public lunacy, + And share the madness of rebellious times, + To murder monarchs for imagined crimes. 790 + If they may give and take whene'er they please, + Not kings alone, the Godhead's images, + But government itself at length must fall + To nature's state, where all have right to all. + Yet, grant our lords the people kings can make, + What prudent men a settled throne would shake? + For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before, + That change they covet makes them suffer more. + All other errors but disturb a state; + But innovation is the blow of fate. 800 + If ancient fabrics nod, and threat to fall, + To patch their flaws, and buttress up the wall, + Thus far 'tis duty: but here fix the mark; + For all beyond it is to touch the ark. + To change foundations, cast the frame anew, + Is work for rebels, who base ends pursue; + At once divine and human laws control, + And mend the parts by ruin of the whole, + The tampering world is subject to this curse, + To physic their disease into a worse. 810 + + Now what relief can righteous David bring? + How fatal 'tis to be too good a king! + Friends he has few, so high the madness grows; + Who dare be such must be the people's foes. + Yet some there were, even in the worst of days; + Some let me name, and naming is to praise. + + In this short file Barzillai first appears; + Barzillai, crown'd with honour and with years. + Long since, the rising rebels he withstood + In regions waste beyond the Jordan's flood: 820 + Unfortunately brave to buoy the state; + But sinking underneath his master's fate: + In exile with his godlike prince he mourn'd; + For him he suffer'd, and with him return'd. + The court he practised, not the courtier's art: + Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart, + Which well the noblest objects knew to choose, + The fighting warrior, and recording muse. + His bed could once a fruitful issue boast; + Now more than half a father's name is lost. 830 + His eldest hope, with every grace adorn'd, + By me, so Heaven will have it, always mourn'd, + And always honour'd, snatch'd in manhood's prime + By unequal fates, and providence's crime: + Yet not before the goal of honour won, + All parts fulfill'd of subject and of son: + Swift was the race, but short the time to run. + O narrow circle, but of power divine, + Scanted in space, but perfect in thy line! + By sea, by land, thy matchless worth was known, 840 + Arms thy delight, and war was all thy own: + Thy force infused the fainting Tyrians propp'd; + And haughty Pharaoh found his fortune stopp'd. + O ancient honour! O unconquer'd hand, + Whom foes unpunish'd never could withstand! + But Israel was unworthy of his name; + Short is the date of all immoderate fame. + It looks as Heaven our ruin had design'd, + And durst not trust thy fortune and thy mind. + Now, free from earth, thy disencumber'd soul 850 + Mounts up, and leaves behind the clouds and starry pole: + From thence thy kindred legions mayst thou bring, + To aid the guardian angel of thy king. + + Here stop, my muse, here cease thy painful flight: + No pinions can pursue immortal height: + Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more, + And tell thy soul she should have fled before: + Or fled she with his life, and left this verse + To hang on her departed patron's hearse? + Now take thy steepy flight from heaven, and see 860 + If thou canst find on earth another he: + Another he would be too hard to find; + See then whom thou canst see not far behind. + Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place, + His lowly mind advanced to David's grace. + With him the Sagan of Jerusalem, + Of hospitable soul, and noble stem; + Him[71] of the western dome, whose weighty sense + Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence. + The prophets' sons, by such example led, 870 + To learning and to loyalty were bred: + For colleges on bounteous kings depend, + And never rebel was to arts a friend. + To these succeed the pillars of the laws, + Who best can plead, and best can judge a cause. + Next them a train of loyal peers ascend; + Sharp-judging Adriel, the Muses' friend, + Himself a Muse: in Sanhedrim's debate + True to his prince, but not a slave of state: + Whom David's love with honours did adorn, 880 + That from his disobedient son were torn. + Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought; + Endued by nature, and by learning taught + To move assemblies, who but only tried + The worse awhile, then chose the better side: + Nor chose alone, but turn'd the balance too,-- + So much the weight of one brave man can do. + Hushai, the friend of David in distress; + In public storms of manly steadfastness: + By foreign treaties he inform'd his youth, 890 + And join'd experience to his native truth. + His frugal care supplied the wanting throne-- + Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own: + 'Tis easy conduct when exchequers flow; + But hard the task to manage well the low; + For sovereign power is too depress'd or high, + When kings are forced to sell, or crowds to buy. + Indulge one labour more, my weary muse, + For Amiel: who can Amiel's praise refuse? + Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet 900 + In his own worth, and without title great: + The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled, + Their reason guided, and their passion cool'd: + So dexterous was he in the crown's defence, + So form'd to speak a loyal nation's sense, + That, as their band was Israel's tribes in small, + So fit was he to represent them all. + Now rasher charioteers the seat ascend, + Whose loose careers his steady skill commend: + They, like the unequal ruler of the day,[72] 910 + Misguide the seasons, and mistake the way; + While he withdrawn, at their mad labours smiles, + And safe enjoys the sabbath of his toils. + + These were the chief, a small but faithful band + Of worthies, in the breach who dared to stand, + And tempt the united fury of the land: + With grief they view'd such powerful engines bent, + To batter down the lawful government. + A numerous faction, with pretended frights, + In Sanhedrims to plume the regal rights; 920 + The true successor from the court removed; + The plot, by hireling witnesses, improved. + These ills they saw, and, as their duty bound, + They show'd the King the danger of the wound; + That no concessions from the throne would please, + But lenitives fomented the disease: + That Absalom, ambitious of the crown, + Was made the lure to draw the people down: + That false Achitophel's pernicious hate + Had turn'd the Plot to ruin church and state: 930 + The council violent, the rabble worse: + That Shimei taught Jerusalem to curse. + + With all these loads of injuries oppress'd, + And long revolving in his careful breast + The event of things, at last his patience tired, + Thus, from his royal throne, by Heaven inspired, + The god-like David spoke; with awful fear, + His train their Maker in their master hear. + + Thus long have I, by native mercy sway'd, + My wrongs dissembled, my revenge delay'd: 940 + So willing to forgive the offending age; + So much the father did the king assuage. + But now so far my clemency they slight, + The offenders question my forgiving right: + That one was made for many, they contend; + But 'tis to rule; for that's a monarch's end. + They call my tenderness of blood, my fear: + Though manly tempers can the longest bear. + Yet, since they will divert my native course, + 'Tis time to show I am not good by force. 950 + Those heap'd affronts that haughty subjects bring, + Are burdens for a camel, not a king. + Kings are the public pillars of the state, + Born to sustain and prop the nation's weight: + If my young Samson will pretend a call + To shake the column, let him share the fall: + But oh, that yet he would repent and live! + How easy 'tis for parents to forgive! + With how few tears a pardon might be won + From nature, pleading for a darling son! 960 + Poor, pitied youth, by my paternal care, + Raised up to all the height his frame could bear! + Had God ordain'd his fate for empire born, + He would have given his soul another turn: + Gull'd with a patriot's name, whose modern sense + Is one that would by law supplant his prince; + The people's brave, the politician's tool; + Never was patriot yet, but was a fool. + Whence comes it, that religion and the laws + Should more be Absalom's than David's cause? 970 + His old instructor, ere he lost his place, + Was never thought endued with so much grace. + Good heavens, how faction can a patriot paint! + My rebel ever proves my people's saint. + Would they impose an heir upon the throne, + Let Sanhedrims be taught to give their own. + A king's at least a part of government; + And mine as requisite as their consent: + Without my leave a future king to choose, + Infers a right the present to depose. 980 + True, they petition me to approve their choice: + But Esau's hands suit ill with Jacob's voice. + My pious subjects for my safety pray, + Which to secure, they take my power away. + From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, + But save me most from my petitioners! + Insatiate as the barren womb or grave, + God cannot grant so much as they can crave. + What then is left, but with a jealous eye + To guard the small remains of royalty? 990 + The law shall still direct my peaceful sway, + And the same law teach rebels to obey: + Votes shall no more establish'd power control, + Such votes as make a part exceed the whole. + No groundless clamours shall my friends remove, + Nor crowds have power to punish ere they prove; + For gods and god-like kings their care express, + Still to defend their servants in distress. + O that my power to saving were confined! + Why am I forced, like Heaven, against my mind; 1000 + To make examples of another kind? + Must I at length the sword of justice draw? + Oh, cursed effects of necessary law! + How ill my fear they by my mercy scan! + Beware the fury of a patient man! + Law they require, let law then show her face; + They could not be content to look on grace, + Her hinder parts, but with a daring eye + To tempt the terror of her front and die. + By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed, 1010 + Those dire artificers of death shall bleed. + Against themselves their witnesses will swear, + Till, viper-like, their mother-plot they tear; + And suck for nutriment that bloody gore, + Which was their principle of life before. + Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight: + Thus on my foes, my foes shall do me right. + Nor doubt the event: for factious crowds engage, + In their first onset, all their brutal rage. + Then let them take an unresisted course; 1020 + Retire, and traverse, and delude their force; + But when they stand all breathless, urge the fight, + And rise upon them with redoubled might-- + For lawful power is still superior found; + When long driven back, at length it stands the ground. + + He said: The Almighty, nodding, gave consent; + And peals of thunder shook the firmament. + Henceforth a series of new time began, + The mighty years in long procession ran: + Once more the god-like David was restored, 1030 + And willing nations knew their lawful lord. + + * * * * * + +PART II. + +"Si quis tamen haec quoque, si quis captus amore leget." + + +TO THE READER. + +In the year 1680, Mr Dryden undertook the poem of Absalom and +Achitophel, upon the desire of King Charles the Second. The performance +was applauded by every one; and several persons pressing him to write a +second part, he, upon declining it himself, spoke to Mr Tate[73] to +write one, and gave him his advice in the direction of it; and that part +beginning with + +"Next these, a troop of busy spirits press," + +and ending with + +"To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee," + +containing near two hundred verses, mere entirely Mr Dryden's +composition, besides some touches in other places. + +DERRICK. + + * * * * * + + Since men like beasts each other's prey were made, + Since trade began, and priesthood grew a trade, + Since realms were form'd, none sure so cursed as those + That madly their own happiness oppose; + There Heaven itself and god-like kings, in vain + Shower down the manna of a gentle reign; + While pamper'd crowds to mad sedition run, + And monarchs by indulgence are undone. + Thus David's clemency was fatal grown, + While wealthy faction awed the wanting throne. 10 + For now their sovereign's orders to contemn + Was held the charter of Jerusalem; + His rights to invade, his tributes to refuse, + A privilege peculiar to the Jews; + As if from heavenly call this licence fell, + And Jacob's seed were chosen to rebel! + + Achitophel with triumph sees his crimes + Thus suited to the madness of the times; + And Absalom, to make his hopes succeed, + Of flattering charms no longer stands in need; 20 + While fond of change, though ne'er so dearly bought, + Our tribes outstrip the youth's ambitious thought; + His swiftest hopes with swifter homage meet, + And crowd their servile necks beneath his feet. + Thus to his aid while pressing tides repair, + He mounts and spreads his streamers in the air. + The charms of empire might his youth mislead, + But what can our besotted Israel plead? + Sway'd by a monarch, whose serene command + Seems half the blessing of our promised land: 30 + Whose only grievance is excess of ease; + Freedom our pain, and plenty our disease! + Yet, as all folly would lay claim to sense, + And wickedness ne'er wanted a pretence, + With arguments they'd make their treason good, + And righteous David's self with slanders load: + That arts of foreign sway he did affect, + And guilty Jebusites from law protect, + Whose very chiefs, convict, were never freed, + Nay, we have seen their sacrificers bleed! 40 + Accusers' infamy is urged in vain, + While in the bounds of sense they did contain; + But soon they launch into the unfathom'd tide, + And in the depths they knew disdain'd to ride. + For probable discoveries to dispense, + Was thought below a pension'd evidence; + Mere truth was dull, nor suited with the port + Of pamper'd Corah when advanced to court. + No less than wonders now they will impose, + And projects void of grace or sense disclose. 50 + Such was the charge on pious Michal brought,-- + Michal that ne'er was cruel, even in thought,-- + The best of queens, and most obedient wife, + Impeach'd of cursed designs on David's life! + His life, the theme of her eternal prayer, + 'Tis scarce so much his guardian angel's care. + Not summer morns such mildness can disclose, + The Hermon lily, nor the Sharon rose. + Neglecting each vain pomp of majesty, + Transported Michal feeds her thoughts on high. 60 + She lives with angels, and, as angels do, + Quits heaven sometimes to bless the world below; + Where, cherish'd by her bounties' plenteous spring, + Reviving widows smile, and orphans sing. + Oh! when rebellious Israel's crimes at height, + Are threaten'd with her Lord's approaching fate, + The piety of Michal then remain + In Heaven's remembrance, and prolong his reign! + + Less desolation did the pest pursue, + That from Dan's limits to Beersheba flew; 70 + Less fatal the repeated wars of Tyre, + And less Jerusalem's avenging fire. + With gentler terror these our state o'erran, + Than since our evidencing days began! + On every cheek a pale confusion sate, + Continued fear beyond the worst of fate! + Trust was no more; art, science useless made; + All occupations lost but Corah's trade. + Meanwhile a guard on modest Corah wait, + If not for safety, needful yet for state. 80 + Well might he deem each peer and prince his slave, + And lord it o'er the tribes which he could save: + Even vice in him was virtue--what sad fate, + But for his honesty had seized our state! + And with what tyranny had we been cursed, + Had Corah never proved a villain first! + To have told his knowledge of the intrigue in gross, + Had been, alas! to our deponent's loss: + The travell'd Levite had the experience got, + To husband well, and make the best of's Plot; 90 + And therefore, like an evidence of skill, + With wise reserves secured his pension still; + Nor quite of future power himself bereft, + But limbos large for unbelievers left. + And now his writ such reverence had got, + 'Twas worse than plotting to suspect his Plot. + Some were so well convinced, they made no doubt + Themselves to help the founder'd swearers out. + Some had their sense imposed on by their fear, + But more for interest sake believe and swear: 100 + Even to that height with some the frenzy grew, + They raged to find their danger not prove true. + + Yet, than all these a viler crew remain, + Who with Achitophel the cry maintain; + Not urged by fear, nor through misguided sense,-- + Blind zeal and starving need had some pretence; + But for the good old cause, that did excite + The original rebels' wiles--revenge and spite. + These raise the plot, to have the scandal thrown + Upon the bright successor of the crown, 110 + Whose virtue with such wrongs they had pursued, + As seem'd all hope of pardon to exclude. + Thus, while on private ends their zeal is built, + The cheated crowd applaud, and share their guilt. + + Such practices as these, too gross to lie + Long unobserved by each discerning eye, + The more judicious Israelites unspell'd, + Though still the charm the giddy rabble held. + Even Absalom, amidst the dazzling beams + Of empire, and ambition's flattering dreams, 120 + Perceives the plot, too foul to be excused, + To aid designs, no less pernicious, used. + And, filial sense yet striving in his breast, + Thus to Achitophel his doubts express'd: + + Why are my thoughts upon a crown employ'd. + Which, once obtain'd, can be but half enjoy'd? + Not so when virtue did my arms require, + And to my father's wars I flew entire. + My regal power how will my foes resent, + When I myself have scarce my own consent! 130 + Give me a son's unblemish'd truth again, + Or quench the sparks of duty that remain. + How slight to force a throne that legions guard + The task to me! to prove unjust, how hard! + And if the imagined guilt thus wound my thought, + What will it when the tragic scene is wrought! + Dire war must first be conjured from below, + The realm we rule we first must overthrow; + And, when the civil furies are on wing, + That blind and undistinguish'd slaughters fling, 140 + Who knows what impious chance may reach the king? + Oh, rather let me perish in the strife, + Than have my crown the price of David's life! + Or if the tempest of the war he stand, + In peace, some vile officious villain's hand + His soul's anointed temple may invade; + Or, press'd by clamorous crowds, myself be made + His murderer; rebellious crowds, whose guilt + Shall dread his vengeance till his blood be spilt. + Which, if my filial tenderness oppose, 150 + Since to the empire by their arms I rose, + Those very arms on me shall be employ'd, + A new usurper crown'd, and I destroy'd: + The same pretence of public good will hold, + And new Achitophels be found as bold + To urge the needful change--perhaps the old. + + He said. The statesman with a smile replies, + A smile that did his rising spleen disguise: + My thoughts presumed our labours at an end; + And are we still with conscience to contend? 160 + Whose want in kings as needful is allow'd, + As 'tis for them to find it in the crowd. + Far in the doubtful passage you are gone, + And only can be safe by pressing on. + The crown's true heir, a prince severe and wise, + Has view'd your motions long with jealous eyes, + Your person's charms, your more prevailing arts, + And mark'd your progress in the people's hearts, + Whose patience is the effect of stinted power, + But treasures vengeance for the fatal hour; 170 + And if remote the peril he can bring, + Your present danger's greater from the king. + Let not a parent's name deceive your sense, + Nor trust the father in a jealous prince! + Your trivial faults if he could so resent, + To doom you little less than banishment, + What rage must your presumption since inspire! + Against his orders you return from Tyre. + Nor only so, but with a pomp more high, + And open court of popularity, 180 + The factious tribes.--And this reproof from thee! + The prince replies; Oh, statesman's winding skill, + They first condemn that first advised the ill! + + Illustrious youth! returned Achitophel, + Misconstrue not the words that mean you well; + The course you steer I worthy blame conclude, + But 'tis because you leave it unpursued. + A monarch's crown with fate surrounded lies, + Who reach, lay hold on death that miss the prize. + Did you for this expose yourself to show, 190 + And to the crowd bow popularly low? + For this your glorious progress next ordain, + With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train? + With fame before you, like the morning star, + And shouts of joy saluting from afar? + Oh, from the heights you've reach'd but take a view, + Scarce leading Lucifer could fall like you! + And must I here my shipwreck'd arts bemoan? + Have I for this so oft made Israel groan? + Your single interest with the nation weigh'd, 200 + And turn'd the scale where your desires were laid; + Even when at helm a course so dangerous moved + To land your hopes, as my removal proved.-- + + I not dispute, the royal youth replies, + The known perfection of your policies; + Nor in Achitophel yet grudge or blame + The privilege that statesmen ever claim; + Who private interest never yet pursued, + But still pretended 'twas for others good: + What politician yet e'er 'scaped his fate, 210 + Who, saving his own neck, not saved the state? + From hence, on every humorous wind that veer'd, + With shifted sails a several course you steer'd. + What form of sway did David e'er pursue, + That seem'd like absolute, but sprung from you? + Who at your instance quash'd each penal law, + That kept dissenting factious Jews in awe; + And who suspends fix'd laws, may abrogate, + That done, form new, and so enslave the state. + Even property whose champion now you stand, 220 + And seem for this the idol of the land, + Did ne'er sustain such violence before, + As when your counsel shut the royal store; + Advice, that ruin to whole tribes procured, + But secret kept till your own banks secured. + Recount with this the triple covenant broke, + And Israel fitted for a foreign yoke; + Nor here your counsel's fatal progress stay'd, + But sent our levied powers to Pharaoh's aid. + Hence Tyre and Israel, low in ruins laid, 230 + And Egypt, once their scorn, their common terror made. + Even yet of such a season can we dream, + When royal rights you made your darling theme. + For power unlimited could reasons draw, + And place prerogative above the law; + Which, on your fall from office, grew unjust, + The laws made king, the king a slave in trust: + Whom with state-craft, to interest only true, + You now accuse of ills contrived by you. + + To this hell's agent: Royal youth, fix here, 240 + Let interest be the star by which you steer. + Hence to repose your trust in me was wise, + Whose interest most in your advancement lies. + A tie so firm as always will avail, + When friendship, nature, and religion fail; + On ours the safety of the crowd depends; + Secure the crowd, and we obtain our ends, + Whom I will cause so far our guilt to share, + Till they are made our champions by their fear. + What opposition can your rival bring, 250 + While Sanhedrims are jealous of the king? + His strength as yet in David's friendship lies, + And what can David's self without supplies? + Who with exclusive bills must now dispense, + Debar the heir, or starve in his defence. + Conditions which our elders ne'er will quit, + And David's justice never can admit. + Or forced by wants his brother to betray, + To your ambition next he clears the way; + For if succession once to nought they bring, 260 + Their next advance removes the present king: + Persisting else his senates to dissolve, + In equal hazard shall his reign involve. + Our tribes, whom Pharaoh's power so much alarms, + Shall rise without their prince to oppose his arms; + Nor boots it on what cause at first they join, + Their troops, once up, are tools for our design. + At least such subtle covenants shall be made, + Till peace itself is war in masquerade. + Associations of mysterious sense, 270 + Against, but seeming for, the king's defence: + Even on their courts of justice fetters draw, + And from our agents muzzle up their law. + By which a conquest if we fail to make, + 'Tis a drawn game at worst, and we secure our stake. + + He said, and for the dire success depends + On various sects, by common guilt made friends. + Whose heads, though ne'er so differing in their creed, + I' th' point of treason yet were well agreed. + 'Mongst these, extorting Ishban first appears, 280 + Pursued by a meagre troop of bankrupt heirs. + Blest times when Ishban, he whose occupation + So long has been to cheat, reforms the nation! + Ishban of conscience suited to his trade, + As good a saint as usurer ever made. + Yet Mammon has not so engross'd him quite, + But Belial lays as large a claim of spite; + Who, for those pardons from his prince he draws, + Returns reproaches, and cries up the cause. + That year in which the city he did sway, 290 + He left rebellion in a hopeful way, + Yet his ambition once was found so bold, + To offer talents of extorted gold; + Could David's wants have so been bribed, to shame + And scandalize our peerage with his name; + For which, his dear sedition he'd forswear, + And e'en turn loyal to be made a peer. + Next him, let railing Rabsheka have place, + So full of zeal he has no need of grace; + A saint that can both flesh and spirit use, 300 + Alike haunt conventicles and the stews: + Of whom the question difficult appears, + If most i' th' preacher's or the bawd's arrears. + What caution could appear too much in him + That keeps the treasure of Jerusalem! + Let David's brother but approach the town, + Double our guards, he cries, we are undone. + Protesting that he dares not sleep in 's bed + Lest he should rise next morn without his head. + + Next[74] these, a troop of busy spirits press, 310 + Of little fortunes, and of conscience less; + With them the tribe, whose luxury had drain'd + Their banks, in former sequestrations gain'd; + Who rich and great by past rebellions grew, + And long to fish the troubled streams anew. + Some future hopes, some present payment draws, + To sell their conscience and espouse the cause. + Such stipends those vile hirelings best befit, 318 + Priests without grace, and poets without wit. + Shall that false Hebronite escape our curse, + Judas, that keeps the rebels' pension-purse; + Judas, that pays the treason-writer's fee, + Judas, that well deserves his namesake's tree; + Who at Jerusalem's own gates erects + His college for a nursery of sects; + Young prophets with an early care secures, + And with the dung of his own arts manures! + What have the men of Hebron here to do? + What part in Israel's promised land have you? + Here Phaleg the lay-Hebronite is come, 330 + 'Cause like the rest he could not live at home; + Who from his own possessions could not drain + An omer even of Hebronitish grain; + Here struts it like a patriot, and talks high + Of injured subjects, alter'd property: + An emblem of that buzzing insect just, + That mounts the wheel, and thinks she raises dust. + Can dry bones live? or skeletons produce + The vital warmth of cuckoldising juice? + Slim Phaleg could, and at the table fed, 340 + Return'd the grateful product to the bed. + A waiting-man to travelling nobles chose, + He his own laws would saucily impose, + Till bastinadoed back again he went, + To learn those manners he to teach was sent. + Chastised he ought to have retreated home, + But he reads politics to Absalom. + For never Hebronite, though kick'd and scorn'd, + To his own country willingly return'd. + --But leaving famish'd Phaleg to be fed, 350 + And to talk treason for his daily bread, + Let Hebron, nay let hell, produce a man + So made for mischief as Ben-Jochanan. + A Jew of humble parentage was he, + By trade a Levite, though of low degree: + His pride no higher than the desk aspired, + But for the drudgery of priests was hired + To read and pray in linen ephod brave, + And pick up single shekels from the grave. + Married at last, but finding charge come faster, 360 + He could not live by God, but changed his master: + Inspired by want, was made a factious tool, + They got a villain, and we lost a fool. + Still violent, whatever cause he took, + But most against the party he forsook; + For renegadoes, who ne'er turn by halves, + Are bound in conscience to be double knaves. + So this prose-prophet took most monstrous pains + To let his masters see he earn'd his gains. + But, as the devil owes all his imps a shame, 370 + He chose the apostate for his proper theme; + With little pains he made the picture true, + And from reflection took the rogue he drew. + A wondrous work, to prove the Jewish nation + In every age a murmuring generation; + To trace them from their infancy of sinning, + And show them factious from their first beginning. + To prove they could rebel, and rail, and mock, + Much to the credit of the chosen flock; + A strong authority which must convince, 380 + That saints own no allegiance to their prince; + As 'tis a leading-card to make a whore, + To prove her mother had turn'd up before. + But, tell me, did the drunken patriarch bless + The son that show'd his father's nakedness? + Such thanks the present church thy pen will give, + Which proves rebellion was so primitive. + Must ancient failings be examples made? + Then murderers from Cain may learn their trade. + As thou the heathen and the saint hast drawn, 390 + Methinks the apostate was the better man: + And thy hot father, waving my respect, + Not of a mother-church but of a sect. + And such he needs must be of thy inditing; + This comes of drinking asses' milk and writing. + If Balak should be call'd to leave his place, + As profit is the loudest call of grace, + His temple, dispossess'd of one, would be + Replenished with seven devils more by thee. + + Levi, thou art a load, I'll lay thee down, 400 + And show Rebellion bare, without a gown; + Poor slaves in metre, dull and addle-pated, + Who rhyme below even David's psalms translated; + Some in my speedy pace I must outrun, + As lame Mephibosheth the wizard's son: + To make quick way I'll leap o'er heavy blocks, + Shun rotten Uzza, as I would the pox; + And hasten Og and Doeg to rehearse, + Two fools that crutch their feeble sense on verse: + Who, by my muse, to all succeeding times 410 + Shall live in spite of their own doggrel rhymes. + + Doeg, though without knowing how or why, + Made still a blundering kind of melody; + Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin, + Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in; + Free from all meaning, whether good or bad, + And, in one word, heroically mad: + He was too warm on picking-work to dwell, + But fagoted his notions as they fell, + And if they rhymed and rattled, all was well. 420 + Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire, + For still there goes some thinking to ill-nature: + He needs no more than birds and beasts to think, + All his occasions are to eat and drink. + If he call rogue and rascal from a garret, + He means you no more mischief than a parrot; + The words for friend and foe alike were made, + To fetter them in verse is all his trade. + For almonds he'll cry whore to his own mother: + And call young Absalom king David's brother. 430 + Let him be gallows-free by my consent, + And nothing suffer, since he nothing meant. + Hanging supposes human soul and reason-- + This animal's below committing treason: + Shall he be hang'd who never could rebel? + That's a preferment for Achitophel. + The woman....... + Was rightly sentenced by the law to die; + But 'twas hard fate that to the gallows led + The dog that never heard the statute read. 440 + Railing in other men may be a crime, + But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: + Instinct he follows, and no further knows, + For to write verse with him is to transpose. + 'Twere pity treason at his door to lay, + _Who makes heaven's gate a lock to its own key_:[75] + Let him rail on, let his invective muse + Have four and twenty letters to abuse, + Which, if he jumbles to one line of sense, + Indict him of a capital offence. 450 + In fireworks give him leave to vent his spite-- + Those are the only serpents he can write; + The height of his ambition is, we know, + But to be master of a puppet-show; + On that one stage his works may yet appear, + And a month's harvest keeps him all the year. + + Now stop your noses, readers, all and some, + For here's a tun of midnight work to come; + Og, from a treason-tavern rolling home, + Round as a globe, and liquor'd every chink, 460 + Goodly and great he sails behind his link; + With all this bulk there's nothing lost in Og, + For every inch that is not fool is rogue: + A monstrous mass of foul corrupted matter, + As all the devils had spued to make the batter. + When wine has given him courage to blaspheme, + He curses God, but God before cursed him; + And if man could have reason, none has more, + That made his paunch so rich, and him so poor. + With wealth he was not trusted, for Heaven knew 470 + What 'twas of old to pamper up a Jew; + To what would he on quail and pheasant swell, + That even on tripe and carrion could rebel? + But though Heaven made him poor (with reverence speaking), + He never was a poet of God's making; + The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull, + With this prophetic blessing--Be thou dull; + Drink, swear, and roar, forbear no lewd delight + Fit for thy bulk--do anything but write: + Thou art of lasting make, like thoughtless men, 480 + A strong nativity--but for the pen! + Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink, + Still thou mayst live, avoiding pen and ink. + I see, I see, 'tis counsel given in vain, + For treason botch'd in rhyme will be thy bane; + Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck, + 'Tis fatal to thy fame and to thy neck: + Why should thy metre good king David blast? + A psalm of his will surely be thy last. + Dar'st thou presume in verse to meet thy foes, 490 + Thou whom the penny pamphlet foil'd in prose? + Doeg, whom God for mankind's mirth has made, + O'ertops thy talent in thy very trade; + Doeg to thee, thy paintings are so coarse, + A poet is, though he's the poet's horse. + A double noose thou on thy neck dost pull, + For writing treason, and for writing dull; + To die for faction is a common evil, + But to be hang'd for nonsense is the devil: + Hadst thou the glories of thy king express'd, 500 + Thy praises had been satire at the best; + But thou in clumsy verse, unlick'd, unpointed, + Hast shamefully defied the Lord's anointed: + I will not rake the dunghill for thy crimes, + For who would read thy life that reads thy rhymes? + But of king David's foes, be this the doom, + May all be like the young man Absalom; + And, for my foes, may this their blessing be, + To talk like Doeg, and to write like thee! + + Achitophel, each rank, degree, and age, 510 + For various ends neglects not to engage; + The wise and rich, for purse and counsel brought, + The fools and beggars, for their number sought: + Who yet not only on the town depends, + For even in court the faction had its friends; + These thought the places they possess'd too small, + And in their hearts wish'd court and king to fall: + Whose names the muse disdaining, holds i' the dark, + Thrust in the villain herd without a mark; + With parasites and libel-spawning imps, 520 + Intriguing fops, dull jesters, and worse pimps. + Disdain the rascal rabble to pursue, + Their set cabals are yet a viler crew: + See where, involved in common smoke, they sit; + Some for our mirth, some for our satire fit: + These, gloomy, thoughtful, and on mischief bent, + While those, for mere good-fellowship, frequent + The appointed club, can let sedition pass, + Sense, nonsense, anything to employ the glass; + And who believe, in their dull honest hearts, 530 + The rest talk reason but to show their parts; + Who ne'er had wit or will for mischief yet, + But pleased to be reputed of a set. + + But in the sacred annals of our plot, + Industrious Arod never be forgot: + The labours of this midnight-magistrate, + May vie with Corah's to preserve the state. + In search of arms, he fail'd not to lay hold + On war's most powerful, dangerous weapon--gold. + And last, to take from Jebusites all odds, 540 + Their altars pillaged, stole their very gods; + Oft would he cry, when treasure he surprised, + 'Tis Baalish gold in David's coin disguised; + Which to his house with richer relics came, + While lumber idols only fed the flame: + For our wise rabble ne'er took pains to inquire, + What 'twas he burnt, so 't made a rousing fire. + With which our elder was enrich'd no more + Than false Gehazi with the Syrian's store; + So poor, that when our choosing-tribes were met, 550 + Even for his stinking votes he ran in debt; + For meat the wicked, and, as authors think, + The saints he choused for his electing drink; + Thus every shift and subtle method past, + And all to be no Zaken at the last. + + Now, raised on Tyre's sad ruins, Pharaoh's pride + Soar'd high, his legions threatening far and wide; + As when a battering storm engender'd high, + By winds upheld, hangs hovering in the sky, + Is gazed upon by every trembling swain-- 560 + This for his vineyard fears, and that, his grain; + For blooming plants, and flowers new opening these, + For lambs yean'd lately, and far-labouring bees: + To guard his stock each to the gods does call, + Uncertain where the fire-charged clouds will fall: + Even so the doubtful nations watch his arms, + With terror each expecting his alarms. + Where, Judah! where was now thy lion's roar? + Thou only couldst the captive lands restore; + But thou, with inbred broils and faction press'd, 570 + From Egypt needst a guardian with the rest. + Thy prince from Sanhedrims no trust allow'd, + Too much the representers of the crowd, + Who for their own defence give no supply, + But what the crown's prerogatives must buy: + As if their monarch's rights to violate + More needful were, than to preserve the state! + From present dangers they divert their care, + And all their fears are of the royal heir; + Whom now the reigning malice of his foes 580 + Unjudged would sentence, and e'er crown'd depose. + Religion the pretence, but their decree + To bar his reign, whate'er his faith shall be! + By Sanhedrims and clamorous crowds thus press'd, + What passions rent the righteous David's breast! + Who knows not how to oppose or to comply-- + Unjust to grant, or dangerous to deny! + How near, in this dark juncture, Israel's fate, + Whose peace one sole expedient could create, + Which yet the extremest virtue did require, 590 + Even of that prince whose downfall they conspire! + His absence David does with tears advise, + To appease their rage. Undaunted he complies. + Thus he, who, prodigal of blood and ease, + A royal life exposed to winds and seas, + At once contending with the waves and fire, + And heading danger in the wars of Tyre, + Inglorious now forsakes his native sand, + And like an exile quits the promised land! + Our monarch scarce from pressing tears refrains, 600 + And painfully his royal state maintains, + Who now, embracing on the extremest shore, + Almost revokes what he enjoin'd before: + Concludes at last more trust to be allow'd + To storms and seas than to the raging crowd! + Forbear, rash muse! the parting scene to draw, + With silence charm'd as deep as theirs that saw! + Not only our attending nobles weep, + But hardy sailors swell with tears the deep! + The tide restrain'd her course, and more amazed, 610 + The twin-stars on the royal brothers gazed: + While this sole fear-- + Does trouble to our suffering hero bring, + Lest next the popular rage oppress the king! + Thus parting, each for the other's danger grieved, + The shore the king, and seas the prince received. + Go, injured hero! while propitious gales, + Soft as thy consort's breath, inspire thy sails; + Well may she trust her beauties on a flood, + Where thy triumphant fleets so oft have rode! 620 + Safe on thy breast reclined, her rest be deep, + Rock'd like a Nereid by the waves asleep; + While happiest dreams her fancy entertain, + And to Elysian fields convert the main! + Go, injured hero! while the shores of Tyre + At thy approach so silent shall admire, + Who on thy thunder still their thoughts employ, + And greet thy landing with a trembling joy! + + On heroes thus the prophet's fate is thrown, + Admired by every nation but their own; 630 + Yet while our factious Jews his worth deny, + Their aching conscience gives their tongue the lie. + Even in the worst of men the noblest parts + Confess him, and he triumphs in their hearts, + Whom to his king the best respects commend + Of subject, soldier, kinsman, prince, and friend; + All sacred names of most divine esteem, + And to perfection all sustain'd by him; + Wise, just, and constant, courtly without art, + Swift to discern and to reward desert; 640 + No hour of his in fruitless ease destroy'd, + But on the noblest subjects still employ'd: + Whose steady soul ne'er learn'd to separate + Between his monarch's interest and the state; + But heaps those blessings on the royal head, + Which he well knows must be on subjects shed. + + On what pretence could then the vulgar rage + Against his worth and native rights engage? + Religious fears their argument are made-- + Religious fears his sacred rights invade! 650 + 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, + 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 + Not only claim'd their conscience, but their lands; 660 + They grudge God's tithes, how therefore shall they yield + An idol full possession of the field? + 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, + 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. 670 + + As vain our fears of Egypt's potent aid, + Not so has Pharaoh learn'd 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; + 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; 680 + 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, + 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. 690 + From these deceivers our divisions spring, + Our weakness, and the growth of Egypt's king; + These, with pretended friendship to the state, + Our crowds' suspicion of their prince create; + Both pleased and frighten'd with the specious cry, + 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: 700 + 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; + 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! 710 + When thick as Egypt's locusts on the sand, + 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, + 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, 720 + 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 still 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. 730 + At last his deep resentments silence broke, + The imperial palace shook, while thus he spoke-- + + Then Justice wait, and Rigour take her time, + For lo! our mercy is become our crime: + While halting Punishment her stroke delays, + 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 judge between her friends and foes? + When shall we see expired deceivers' sway, + And credit what our God and monarchs say? + 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, + To avoid those mischiefs which they seem'd to dread: + But first, e'er 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 destroy'd the nation's rest! 760 + 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, + And this the privilege of royal blood? + But grant we should confirm the wrongs they press, + 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. 770 + 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, + 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. 780 + The same rough means that 'suage the crowd, appease + Our senates 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, + 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. 790 + + He said, the attendants heard with awful joy, + 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, + 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. 800 + The field confess'd his power in arms before, + 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. + Through Sion's streets his glad arrival's spread, + 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 distress'd, + A virtue proper to the brave and best; 810 + '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; + 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; 820 + 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, + 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, 830 + His triumphs, so resounded far and near, + Miss'd not his young ambitious rival's ear; + And as when joyful hunters' clamorous train, + Some slumbering lion wakes in Moab's plain, + Who oft had forced the bold assailants yield, + 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: 840 + 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, + And thus on shelves the credulous youth convey'd? + 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 balk his charge, and for himself to shift, 850 + In which his dexterous 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 + Lest their recanting chief the cause betray, + Who on a father's grace his hopes may ground, + And for his pardon with their heads compound. + Him therefore, e'er his fortune slip her time. + The statesman plots to engage in some bold crime 860 + Past pardon--whether to attempt his bed, + 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 + 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 care what claimer's crown'd, except the true. 870 + Wake, Absalom! approaching ruin shun, + And see, O 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; + 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; 880 + 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 Absalom, + 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: 890 + 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, + 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! 900 + 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, + And David not their grievance, but the king. + Seized now with panic fear the faction lies, + Lest this clear truth strike Absalom's charm'd eyes, + Lest he perceive, from long enchantment free, + What all beside the flatter'd youth must see: 910 + 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. + 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, 920 + Whether fierce Vulcan's rage the furzy plain + Had seized, engender'd by some careless swain; + Or swelling Neptune lawless inroads made, + And to their cell of store his flood convey'd; + The commonwealth broke up, distracted go, + 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; + Dejecting all, and ruefully dismay'd, + For shekel without treat or treason paid. 930 + 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, + Immortalized in laurell'd Asaph's verse: + Hard task! yet will not I thy flight recall, + View heaven, and then enjoy thy glorious fall. 940 + + First write Bezaliel, whose illustrious name + Forestalls our praise, and gives his poet fame. + The Kenites' rocky province his command, + A barren limb of fertile Canaan's land; + Which for its generous natives yet could be + 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! 950 + To aid the crown and state his greatest zeal, + His second care that service to conceal; + Of dues observant, firm to every trust, + And to the needy always more than just; + Who truth from specious falsehood can divide, + 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. 960 + 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 dismay'd, + And David's cause long since confess'd his aid. + + Brave Abdael o'er the prophet's 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. 970 + That praise was his; what therefore did remain + 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, + 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 Gilboa's hills forsake, + And Jordan mix his stream with Sodom's lake; 980 + Or seas retired, their secret stores disclose, + And to the sun their scaly brood expose, + Or swell'd above the cliffs their billows raise, + Before the muses leave their patron's praise. + + Eliab our next labour does invite, + And hard the task to do Eliab right. + 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. 990 + His age with only one mild heiress bless'd, + 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, + 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! 1000 + That no Achitophel thy ruin boast; + 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. + 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. 1010 + 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; + Who, with a loyalty that did excel, + 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. 1020 + 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; + 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 1030 + 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, + 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? + We'll crown thee with a wreath from thy own tree! 1040 + 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, + 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! + How tender of the offending young man's fame! 1050 + 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 could a fairer prospect yield, + 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? 1060 + 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 + Our royal hero's beauteous, dear remains; + Who now sails off with winds nor wishes slack, + To bring his sufferings' bright companion back. + But e'er such transport can our sense employ, + A bitter grief must poison half our joy; 1070 + 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 Askelon to know, + 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. 1080 + + Calm were the elements, night's silence deep, + The waves scarce murmuring, and the winds asleep; + Yet fate for ruin takes so still an hour, + And treacherous sands the princely bark devour; + Then death unworthy seized a generous race, + To virtue's scandal, and the stars' disgrace! + Oh! had the indulgent powers vouchsafed to yield, + Instead of faithless shelves, a listed field; + A listed field of Heaven's and David's foes, + Fierce as the troops that did his youth oppose, 1090 + 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, + Of whom kind force could scarce the fates defraud; + Who for such followers lost, O 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, 1100 + 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; + Nor stretch'd on roses in the myrtle grove, + 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, 1110 + Long must his patience strive with fortune's rage, + And long-opposing gods themselves engage; + Must see his country flame, his friends destroy'd, + Before the promised empire be enjoy'd. + Such toil of fate must build a man of fame, + 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 delay'd, + On the instant is in all her bloom array'd; 1120 + The winds breathe low, the element serene; + Yet mark what motion in the waves is seen! + Thronging and busy as Hyblaean swarms, + Or straggled soldiers summon'd to their arms, + See where the princely bark in loosest pride, + With all her guardian fleet, adorns the tide! + High on her deck the royal lovers stand, + Our crimes to pardon, e'er they touch'd our land. + Welcome to Israel and to David's breast! + Here all your toils, here all your sufferings rest. 1130 + + This year did Ziloah rule Jerusalem, + 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, + That faction at the next election fail'd, + When even the common cry did justice found, + And merit by the multitude was crown'd: + With David then was Israel's peace restored, + Crowds mourn'd their error, and obey'd their lord. 1140 + + * * * * * + +A KEY TO BOTH PARTS OF ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL. + + _Aldael_--General Monk, Duke of Albemarle. + + _Abethdin_--The name given, through + this poem, to a Lord-Chancellor + in general. + + _Absalom_--Duke of Monmouth, natural + son of King Charles II. + + _Achitophel_--Anthony Ashley Cooper, + Earl of Shaftesbury. + + _Adriel_--John Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave. + + _Agag_--Sir Edmundbury Godfrey. + + _Amiel_--Mr Seymour, Speaker of the + House of Commons. + + _Amri_--Sir Heneage Finch, Earl of + Winchelsea, and Lord Chancellor. + + _Annabel_--Duchess of Monmouth. + + _Arod_--Sir William Waller. + + _Asaph_--A character drawn by Tate + for Dryden, in the second part + of this poem. + + _Balaam_--Earl of Huntingdon. + + _Balak_--Barnet. + + _Barzillai_--Duke of Ormond. + + _Bathsheba_--Duchess of Portsmouth. + + _Benaiah_--General Sackville. + + _Ben Jochanan_--Rev. Samuel Johnson. + + _Bezaliel_--Duke of Beaufort. + + _Caleb_--Ford, Lord Grey of Werk. + + _Corah_--Dr Titus Oates. + + _David_--King Charles II. + + _Doeg_--Elkanah Settle, the city poet. + + _Egypt_--France. + + _Eliab_--Sir Henry Bennet, Earl of + Arlington. + + _Ethnic-Plot_--The Popish Plot. + + _Gath_--The Land of Exile, more particularly + Brussels, where King + Charles II. long resided. + + _Hebrew Priests_--The Church of + England Clergy. + + _Hebron_--Scotland. + + _Helon_--Earl of Feversham, a Frenchman + by birth, and nephew to + Marshal Turenne. + + _Hushai_--Hyde, Earl of Rochester. + + _Ishban_--Sir Robert Clayton, Alderman, + and one of the City Members. + + _Ishbosheth_--Richard Cromwell. + + _Israel_--England. + + _Issachar_--Thomas Thynne, Esq., + who was shot in his coach. + + _Jebusites_--Papists. + + _Jerusalem_--London. + + _Jews_--English. + + _Jonas_--Sir William Jones, a great + lawyer. + + _Jordan_--Dover. + + _Jotham_--Saville, Marquis of Halifax. + + _Jothram_--Lord Dartmouth. + + _Judas_--Mr Ferguson, a canting + teacher. + + _Mephibosheth_--Pordage. + + _Michal_--Queen Catharine. + + _Nadab_--Lord Howard of Escrick. + + _Og_--Shadwell. + + _Othniel_--Henry, Duke of Grafton, + natural son of King + Charles II. by the Duchess of Cleveland. + + _Phaleg_--Forbes. + + _Pharaoh_--King of France. + + _Rabsheka_--Sir Thomas Player, one + of the City Members. + + _Sagan of Jerusalem_--Dr Compton, + Bishop of London, youngest son + to the Earl of Northampton. + + _Sanhedrim_--Parliament. + + _Saul_--Oliver Cromwell. + + _Sheva_--Sir Roger Lestrange. + + _Shimei_--Slingsby Bethel, Sheriff of + London in 1680. + + _Sion_--England. + + _Solymaean Rout_--London Rebels. + + _Tyre_--Holland. + + _Uzza_--Jack Hall. + + _Zadoc_--Sancroft, Archbishop of + Canterbury. + + _Zaken_--A Member of the House of + Commons. + + _Ziloah_--Sir John Moor, Lord Mayor + in 1682. + + _Zimri_--Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 67: 'Annabel:' Lady Ann Scott, daughter of Francis, third Earl +of Buccleuch.] + +[Footnote 68: 'Adam-wits:' comparing the discontented to Adam and his +fall.] + +[Footnote 69: 'Triple bond:' alliance between England, Sweden, and +Holland; broken by the second Dutch war through the influence of France +and Shaftesbury.] + +[Footnote 70: 'Vare:' _i.e._, wand, from Spanish _vara_.] + +[Footnote 71: 'Him:' Dr Dolben, Bishop of Rochester.] + +[Footnote 72: 'Ruler of the day:' Phaeton.] + +[Footnote 73: The second part was written by Mr Nahum Tate, and is by no +means equal to the first, though Dryden corrected it throughout. The +poem is here printed complete.] + +[Footnote 74: 'Next:' from this to the line, 'To talk like Doeg, and to +write like thee,' is Dryden's own.] + +[Footnote 75: 'Who makes,' &c.: a line quoted from Settle.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE MEDAL.[76] + + +A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION. + + +EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. + +For to whom can I dedicate this poem with so much justice as to you? It +is the representation of your own hero: it is the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of your 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 enhanced, 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 him 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 imagination 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",[77] 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 against 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 for the public welfare, to promote +sedition? Does your definition 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 his 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 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 everything 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 it is apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, it is 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 +Huguenot, murdered Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot 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 further 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 intrenched behind the Council of Trent: +so now, when your affairs are in a 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: it is the proper time to +say anything 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.[78] But there is +this small difference betwixt them, that the ends of 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 only one 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; for if scandal be not allowed, you are no +freeborn 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 nonconformist 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 signifies 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[79] 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 +profane, and saucy jack, and atheistic 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 +predecessors, 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 of it is, it is indifferent to your humble servant, whatever your +party says or thinks of him. + + * * * * * + + Of all our antic sights and pageantry, + Which English idiots run in crowds to see, + The Polish[80] Medal bears the prize alone: + A monster, more the favourite of the town + Than either fairs or theatres have shown. + 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, + Laetamur, which, in Polish, is rejoice. + The day, month, year, to the great act are join'd: + And a new canting holiday design'd. + Five days he sate, 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, e'er a man: + So young his hatred to his prince began. + Next this (how wildly will ambition steer!) 30 + 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. + 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. + 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. + Behold him now exalted into trust; + 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; 60 + At best, as little honest as he could, + And, like white witches[81], 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[82]; + Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold. + From hence those tears! that Ilium of our woe! + Who helps a powerful friend, forearms a foe. + What wonder if the waves prevail so far, + When he cut down the banks that made the bar? 70 + 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, + 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 his 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; + 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 theirs, 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, + 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 recall the son. 100 + 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; + 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 burns; + So all are God Almighties in their turns. 110 + 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, + Secured succession to secure our peace. + Thus property and sovereign sway, at last, + In equal balances were justly cast: + But this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd horse-- + Instructs the beast to know his native force; 120 + 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: + 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. 130 + 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; + 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. 140 + No justice to their righteous cause allow'd; + But baffled by an arbitrary crowd. + And medals graved their conquest to record, + The stamp and coin of their adopted lord. + + The man[83] who laugh'd but once, to see an ass + Mumbling make the cross-grain'd thistles pass, + Might laugh again to see a jury chaw + The prickles of unpalatable law. + The witnesses, that leech-like lived on blood, + Sucking for them was medicinally good; 150 + But when they fasten'd on their fester'd sore, + Then justice and religion they forswore, + Their maiden oaths debauch'd into a whore. + Thus men are raised by factions, and decried; + And rogue and saint distinguish'd by their side. + 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: 160 + 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 inquire; + But since our sects in prophecy grow higher, + The text inspires not them, but they the text inspire. + + London, thou great emporium of our isle, + O thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile! + How shall I praise or curse to thy desert? + Or separate thy sound from thy corrupted part? 170 + I call thee Nile; the parallel will stand; + Thy tides of wealth o'erflow the fatten'd land; + Yet monsters from thy large increase we find, + Engender'd on the slime thou leav'st behind. + Sedition has not wholly seized on thee, + Thy nobler parts are from infection free. + 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. 180 + The head[84] 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; + 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! 190 + 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, + 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 dethrone, + And they'll be sure to make his cause their own. 200 + 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! + 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, 210 + 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. + Thus when the heir was from the vineyard thrown, + The rich possession was the murderer's own. + In vain to sophistry they have recourse: + By proving theirs no plot, they prove 'tis worse-- 220 + 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 his dignity and fame, + He should have leave to exercise the name, + And hold the cards, while commons play'd 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, 240 + That waits impatient for the last command. + Thus outlaws open villainy 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, 250 + 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 tempest purges what it breeds, + To recommend the calmness that succeeds. + + But thou, the pander of the people's hearts, + O crooked soul, and serpentine in arts, + Whose blandishments a loyal land have whored, + And broke the bonds she plighted to her lord; + What curses on thy blasted name will fall! 260 + 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. + 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, + That preach up thee for God, dispense thy laws, + And with thy stum ferment their fainting cause? 270 + Fresh fumes of madness raise; and toil and sweat + 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 theirs 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; 280 + That unconcern'd can at rebellion sit, + And wink at crimes he did himself commit. + A tyrant theirs; the heaven their priesthood paints + A conventicle of gloomy, sullen saints; + A heaven like Bedlam, slovenly and sad, + Foredoom'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, + And crowds profane with impious arms prevail, 290 + 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, + 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; 300 + 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 the tadpole train, + Will croak to heaven for help, from this devouring crane. + 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, + In hate of kings shall cast 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 haec opprobria, vobis + Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli." + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 76: 'The Medal:' see 'Life.'] + +[Footnote 77: A pamphlet vindicating Lord Shaftesbury from being +concerned in any plotting designs against the King. Wood says, the +general report was, that it was written by the earl himself.] + +[Footnote 78: 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.] + +[Footnote 79: 'Brother:' George Cooper, Esq., brother to the Earl of +Shaftesbury, was married to a daughter of Alderman Oldfield; and, being +settled in the city, became a great man among the Whigs and fanatics.] + +[Footnote 80: 'Polish:' Shaftesbury was said to have entertained hopes +of the crown of Poland.] + +[Footnote 81: 'White witches:' who wrought good ends by infernal means.] + +[Footnote 82: 'Loosed our triple hold:' our breaking the alliance with +Holland and Sweden, was owing to the Earl of Shaftesbury's advice.] + +[Footnote 83: 'The Man:' Crassus.] + +[Footnote 84: 'The head,' &c.: alluding to the lord mayor and the two +sheriffs: the former, Sir John Moor, being a Tory; the latter, Shute and +Pilkington, Whigs.] + + * * * * * + + + + +RELIGIO LAICI; OR, A LAYMAN'S FAITH. + +AN EPISTLE. + + +THE PREFACE. + + +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 objected 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 farther +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 Japhet (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 should 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. 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 Ham and Japhet 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 revelation, 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, it is 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 inconsistent 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. It is 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 upon 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 far 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 more plausibility of reason it combats our religion, +with so much more caution it ought to be avoided: therefore the prudence +of our Church is to be commended, which has interposed her 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 oar faith, I have +unavoidably created to myself two sorts of enemies: the Papists indeed, +more directly, because they have kept the Scriptures 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 peers 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 wiredrawing 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 case. 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 the 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, Santare, Simancha,[85] 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 vel paulum +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 hominum Christianorum dominatu_, 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 authorised. And their champion +Bellarmine has told the world, in his Apology, that the king of England +is a vassal to the pope, _ratione directi domini_, and that he holds in +villanage of his Roman landlord: 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 was 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 drank: but that +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 detesting 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 maintained, amongst others, _ex cathedra_, 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 government +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 VIII. 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 VI., 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 saint-like 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 see, 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[86] and Coppinger, as the story tells us, got up into a +pease-cart and harangue 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 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 compassed 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 like 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 another 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 subject, 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,[87] 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 poet 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. + + * * * * * + + Dim as the borrow'd 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 + Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, + But guide us 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 + From cause to cause, to nature's secret head; + And found that one first principle must be: + But what, or who, that UNIVERSAL HE: + Whether some soul encompassing 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; 20 + Not even the Stagyrite 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 + What most concern'd the good of human kind: + For happiness was never to be found, + But vanish'd from them 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: + 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. + 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? + Or finite reason reach Infinity? 40 + For what could fathom God were more than He. + + The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground; + Cries [Greek: eureka], the mighty secret's found: + God is that spring of good; supreme and best; + We made to serve, and in that service blest; + 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 praise and pray: 50 + 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; + 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-- 60 + The bad meet punishment, the good reward. + + 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! + These truths are not the product of thy mind, + But dropp'd from heaven, and of a nobler kind. + Reveal'd religion first inform'd thy sight, + And reason saw not, till faith sprung the light. + Hence all thy natural worship takes the source: 70 + 'Tis revelation what thou think'st discourse. + Else how com'st thou to see these truths so clear, + Which so obscure to heathens did appear? + Not Plato these, nor Aristotle found: + Nor he whose wisdom oracles renown'd. + 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, 80 + 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! + + Darest thou, poor worm, offend Infinity? + And must the terms of peace be given by thee? + Then thou art Justice in the last appeal; + 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, 100 + 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: + 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. 110 + 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 + Not paid; or paid, inadequate in price: + What further means can reason now direct, + Or what relief from human wit expect? + That shows us sick; and sadly are we sure + Still to be sick, till Heaven reveal the cure: 120 + 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 Scripure all in equal balance thrown, + And our one Sacred Book will be that one. + + 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 130 + 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 word is scarce more ancient than the law: + Heaven's early care prescribed for every age; + 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, 140 + 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. + + 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, 150 + 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. + 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; 160 + 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? + 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 170 + Which must to all, and every where be known: + 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: + 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? + In other parts it helps, that ages past, 180 + 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? + + Of all objections this indeed is chief + To startle reason, stagger frail belief: + 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, 190 + Much more may strangers who ne'er heard His name. + And though no name be for salvation known, + But that of his Eternal Son alone; + Who knows how far transcending goodness can + Extend the merits of that Son to man? + 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, 200 + 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; + And by their conscience be condemn'd or freed. + Most righteous doom! because a rule reveal'd + Is none to those from whom it was conceal'd. + Then those who follow'd reason's dictates right, + Lived up, and lifted high their natural light; + With Socrates may see their Maker's face, 210 + While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. + Nor does it balk my charity to find + The Egyptian bishop[88] of another mind: + For though his creed eternal truth contains, + 'Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains + 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, 220 + 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, even 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; + Those youthful hours which, of thy equals most 230 + In toys have squander'd, or in vice have lost, + Those hours hast thou to nobler use employ'd; + And the severe delights of truth enjoy'd. + Witness this weighty book, in which appears + The crabbed toil of many thoughtful years, + Spent by thy author, in 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, 240 + They Junius and Tremellius[89] may defy; + Save pains in various readings, and translations; + And without Hebrew make most learn'd quotations. + A work so full with various learning fraught, + So nicely ponder'd, yet so strongly wrought, + 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, 250 + 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: + 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 260 + 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, + 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, 270 + How can we think have oral sounds endured? + 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. + + O but, says one, tradition set aside, + Where can we hope for an unerring guide? + For since the original Scripture has been lost, + All copies disagreeing, maim'd the most, + Or Christian faith can have no certain ground, 280 + Or truth in Church Tradition must be found. + + Such an omniscient Church we wish indeed: + 'Twere worth both Testaments, cast in the Creed: + But if this mother be a guide so sure, + As can all doubts resolve, all truth secure, + Then her infallibility, 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. 300 + 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? + This to affirm were ignorance or pride. + Are there not many points, some needful sure + To saving faith, that Scripture leaves obscure? + Which every sect will wrest a several way, + For what one sect interprets, all sects may. 310 + 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. + + 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, 320 + Who never heard this question brought in play. + Th' 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. + The few by nature form'd, with learning fraught, + Born to instruct, as others to be taught, + Must study well the sacred page; and see + Which doctrine, this or that, does best agree + With the whole tenor of the work divine: 330 + 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: + 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, 340 + 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. + 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. + + The partial Papists would infer from hence, + Their Church, in last resort, should judge the sense. + But first they would assume, with wondrous art, + Themselves to be the whole, who are but part, + Of that vast frame the Church; yet grant they were 360 + 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: + The welcome news is in the letter found; + The carrier's not commissioned 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, 370 + A gainful trade their clergy did advance: + When want of learning kept 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 and spell: + 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, 380 + Poor laymen took salvation on content; + As needy men take money, good or bad: + God's Word they had not, but th' priest's they had. + Yet, whate'er false conveyances they made, + The lawyer still was certain to be paid. + 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, 390 + 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: + 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 had full as bad a consequence: + The Book thus put in every vulgar hand, 400 + 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. + 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: 410 + 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; + Occasion'd by great zeal and little thought. + While crowds unlearn'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. 420 + 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. + + 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: 430 + Faith is not built on disquisitions vain; + 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 + 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, + 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. 450 + + Thus have I made my own opinions clear; + Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear: + And this unpolish'd, rugged verse I chose, + As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose: + For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, + Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 85: 'Not to name Mariana, Bellarmine,' &c.: all Jesuits and +controversial writers in the Roman Catholic Church.] + +[Footnote 86: Hacket was a man of learning; he had much of the +Scriptures by heart, and made himself remarkable by preaching in an +enthusiastic strain. In 1591, he made a great parade of sanctity, +pretended to divine inspiration, and visions from God.] + +[Footnote 87: The son of the celebrated John Hampden. He was in the +Ryehouse Plot, and fined L15,000, which was remitted at the Revolution.] + +[Footnote 88: 'Bishop:' Athanasius.] + +[Footnote 89: 'Junius and Tremellius:' Francis Junius and Emanuel +Tremellius, two Calvinist ministers, who, in the sixteenth century, +joined in translating the Bible from Hebrew into Latin.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: + +A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING CHARLES +II. + + I. + + 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; + 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, + Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky; + We lived as unconcern'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: + 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, + "Our gracious prince was dead." + No sickness known before, no slow disease, + To soften grief by just degrees: + But like a hurricane on Indian seas, + The tempest rose; + An unexpected burst of woes; + 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 + (At once it shall), + Should gape immense, and rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball; + So swift and so surprising was our fear: + Our Atlas fell indeed, but Hercules was near. + + II. + + 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 + 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 pray'd, + 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, + (Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,) + Who can describe the amazement of his face! + Horror in all his pomp was there, + 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: + 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 + 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, + An image now of death. + 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; + No wife, no brother, such a grief could know, + Nor any name but friend. + + III. + + O wondrous changes of a fatal scene, + Still varying to the last! + Heaven, though its hard decree was past, + 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 ethereal throne, + Such as his wondrous life had oft and 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 he could, + 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, + 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 heard; + 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, + The medicinal head, the ready hand, + 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. + + IV. + + 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, + 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; + Friends to congratulate their friends made haste; + And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd: + Above the rest heroic James appear'd-- + Exalted more, because he more had fear'd: + His manly heart, whose noble pride + Was still above + Dissembled hate or varnish'd love, + Its more than common transport could not hide; + But like an eagre[90] rode in triumph o'er the tide. + Thus, in alternate course, + 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; + 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, + 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, + By charms of art was hurried down, + Forced with regret to leave her native sphere, + Came but awhile on liking here: + Soon weary of the painful strife, + And made but faint essays of life: + An evening light + Soon shut in night; + A strong distemper, and a weak relief, + Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. + + V. + + The sons of art all medicines tried, + 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 play'd. + Death never won a stake with greater toil, + 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; + 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 Caesar could sustain: + 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; + More, infinitely more, than he, + Against the worst of rebels, could decree, + A traitor, or twice pardon'd enemy. + Now art was tried without success, + No racks could make the stubborn malady confess. + The vain insurancers of life, + And they who most perform'd and promised less, + Even Short and Hobbes[91] forsook the unequal strife. + Death and despair were in their looks, + 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. + + VI. + + Death was denounced; that frightful sound + Which even the best can hardly bear, + He took the summons void of fear; + And unconcern'dly cast his eyes around; + As if to find and dare the grisly challenger. + What death could do he lately tried, + 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. + Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave, + He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. + + VII. + + As if some angel had been sent + To lengthen out his government, + And to foretell as many years again, + As he had number'd in his happy reign, + So cheerfully he took the doom + Of his departing breath; + Nor shrunk nor stepp'd aside for death; + But with unalter'd pace kept on, + 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, + 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, + To whom both Heaven, + The right had given + And his own love bequeathed supreme command: + He took and press'd that ever loyal hand + Which could in peace secure his reign, + 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; + 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. + + VIII. + + That king[92] who lived to God's own heart, + Yet less serenely died than he: + 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. + 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; + 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 heightening arts are spent, + I cast into a shade. + That all-forgiving king, + The type of Him above, + That inexhausted spring + Of clemency and love; + Himself to his next self accused, + And asked 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, + 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. + 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 plenteously confess'd. + + IX. + + Amidst that silent shower, the royal mind + An easy passage found, + And left its sacred earth behind: + Nor murmuring groan express'd, nor labouring sound, + Nor any least tumultuous breath; + 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[93] knew him there. + That peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine, + That peace thou leavest to thy imperial line, + That peace, oh, happy shade, be ever thine! + + X. + + For all those joys thy restoration brought, + For all the miracles it wrought, + For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd + Into the nation's bleeding wound, + 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-- + 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. + 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, + Thou hast derived this mighty blessing down, + And fix'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, + Not foreign or domestic treachery, + Gould 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; + But kept the native toughness of the steel. + + XI. + + Be true, O 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: + The load's too weighty: thou mayest 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, + 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; + 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. + + XII. + + 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! + Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before; + But all uncultivated lay + Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway; + With rank Geneva weeds run o'er, + And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore. + The royal husbandman appear'd, + 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; + Such as the swarthy Indian mows; + Or happier climates near the line, + Or Paradise manured and dress'd by hands divine. + + XIII. + + As when the new-born Phoenix takes his way, + His rich paternal regions to survey, + Of airy choristers a numerous train + Attends 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-- + A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young: + The Muse that mourns him now, his happy triumph sung, + Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign; + And such a plenteous crop they bore + Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XIV. + + Oh, frail estate of human things, + And slippery hopes below! + 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, + 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, + 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! + '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: + For twelve long years of exile borne, + Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return: + 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 stock has now the promised land in view. + + XV. + + A warlike prince ascends the regal state, + A prince long exercised by fate: + 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, + 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, + 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. + + XVI. + + 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; + The more oppress'd, the higher still he rose: + Those were the preludes of his fate, + That form'd his manhood, to subdue + The Hydra of the many-headed hissing crew. + + XVII. + + As after Numa's peaceful reign, + 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 + 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 + 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. + 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, + 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. + + XVIII. + + For once, O 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: + 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, + To starve the royal virtues of his mind. + Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test, + O give them to believe, and they are surely blest! + They do; and with a distant view I see + The amended vows of English loyalty. + 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 even the remoter shores, + 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 recognise his ancient lord again: + And with a willing hand, restores + The fasces of the main. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 90: 'An eagre:' a tide swelling above another tide--observed + on the River Trent.] + + [Footnote 91: 'Short and Hobbes:' two physicians who attended on the + king.] + + [Footnote 92: 'King:' King David.] + + [Footnote 93: 'The prophet:' Elijah.] + + * * * * * + + + + + VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED. + + CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid + The world's foundations first were laid, + Come, visit every pious mind; + Come, pour thy joys on human kind; + From sin and sorrow set us free, + And make thy temples worthy thee. + + O source of uncreated light, + The Father's promised Paraclete! + Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, + Our hearts with heavenly love inspire; + Come, and thy sacred unction bring + To sanctify us, while we sing! + + Plenteous of grace, descend from high, + Rich in thy sevenfold energy! + Thou strength of his Almighty hand, + Whose power does heaven and earth command: + Proceeding Spirit, our defence, + Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, + And crown'st thy gift with eloquence! + + Refine and purge our earthly parts; + But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! + Our frailties help, our vice control, + Submit the senses to the soul; + And when rebellious they are grown, + Then lay thy hand, and hold them down! + + Chase from our minds the infernal foe, + And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; + And, lest our feet should step astray, + Protect and guide us in the way. + + Make us eternal truths receive, + And practise all that we believe: + Give us thyself, that we may see + The Father, and the Son, by thee. + + Immortal honour, endless fame, + Attend the Almighty Father's name + The Saviour Son be glorified, + Who for lost man's redemption died: + And equal adoration be, + Eternal Paraclete, to thee! + + * * * * * + + + + +THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. + + A POEM, IN THREE PARTS. + + --Antiquam exquirite matrem. + Et vera incessa patuit Dea. + VIRG. + + * * * * * + + +PREFACE. + +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 _their_ 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 concerning 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 else, 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 +contended for their classical ordination (not to speak of rites and +ceremonies) will they at length 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 hand 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 is +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 this 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 declares 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 +commonplaces of satire, whether true or false, which are urged by the +members of the one Church against the other: at which I hope no reader +of either party will be scandalized, because they are not of my +invention, but as old, to my knowledge, as the times of Boccace and +Chaucer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other. + + * * * * * + + +PART I. + + A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged, + Fed on the 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. + + 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 slaughter'd army lay in blood, + Extended o'er the Caledonian wood, + Their native walk; whose vocal blood arose, + 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 renew'd; + 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, + And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own, + The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd + By sovereign power, her company disdain'd; + Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye + Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 30 + '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. + + The bloody Bear, an independent beast, + Unlick'd to form, in groans her hate express'd. + Among the timorous kind the quaking Hare[94] + Profess'd neutrality, but would not swear. + Next her the buffoon Ape[95], 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, + With fat pollutions fill'd the sacred place, + 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 betray'd, + With broken tusks, and with a borrow'd name; 50 + He shunn'd the vengeance, and conceal'd the shame: + So lurk'd in sects unseen. With greater guile + False Reynard[96] fed on consecrated spoil: + The graceless beast by Athanasius first + Was chased from Nice, then by Socinus nursed: + His impious race their blasphemy renew'd, + 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, 60 + Hence they began, and here they all will end. + + What weight of ancient witness can prevail, + If private reason hold the public scale? + But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide + For erring judgments an unerring guide! + Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, + A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. + O teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, + And search no farther than thyself reveal'd; + But her alone for my director take, 70 + Whom thou hast promised never to forsake! + My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; + My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, + Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, + My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. + Such was I, such by nature still I am; + Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. + Good life be now my task; my doubts are done: + What more could fright my faith, than Three in One? + Can I believe Eternal God could lie 80 + Disguised in mortal mould and infancy? + That the great Maker of the world could die? + And after that trust my imperfect sense, + Which calls in question His Omnipotence? + Can I my reason to my faith compel, + And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebel? + Superior faculties are set aside; + Shall their subservient organs be my guide? + Then let the moon usurp the rule of day, + And winking tapers show the sun his way; 90 + For what my senses can themselves perceive, + I need no revelation to believe. + Can they who say the Host should be descried + By sense, define a body glorified? + Impassable, and penetrating parts? + 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, 100 + 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? + + '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, 110 + 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? + 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 120 + On the proponent, Heaven's authority. + If, then, our faith we for our guide admit, + Vain is the farther search of human wit; + As when the building gains a surer stay, + We take the unuseful scaffolding away. + Reason by sense no more can understand; + The game is play'd into another hand. + Why choose we, then, like bilanders,[97] to creep + Along the coast, and land in view to keep, + When safely we may launch into the deep? 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? + 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? + Rest, then, my soul, from endless anguish freed: + Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed. + Faith is the best insurer of thy bliss; + The bank above must fail before the venture miss. + + But heaven and heaven-born faith are far from thee, 150 + Thou first apostate[98] to divinity. + Unkennell'd range in thy Polonian plains; + A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf[99] 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, + Wild in effect, though in appearance tame, + Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissful bower, + And, muzzled though they seem, the mutes devour. + More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 160 + 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 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. + Full many a year[100] his hateful head had been 170 + 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. + These last deduce him from th' Helvetian kind, + Who near the Leman lake his consort lined: + That fiery Zuinglius first th' 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 + From Moses' hand the sovereign sway to wrest, + And Aaron of his ephod to divest: + Till opening earth made way for all to pass, + And could not bear the burden of a class. + The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark, 190 + 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, + In woods and caves the rebel race began. + + O happy pair, how well have you increased! + What ills in Church and State have you redress'd! + With teeth untried, and rudiments of claws, + Your first essay was on your native laws: 200 + 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[101] still be small, + Bounded betwixt a puddle[102] and a wall; + 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. + 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, + 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; 230 + As only Indian shades of sight deprive, + And magic plants will but in Colchos thrive; + So Presbytery and pestilential zeal + Can only nourish in a commonweal. + + From Celtic woods is chased the wolfish crew; + But ah! some pity even to brutes is due: + 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. 240 + 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, + 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. 250 + + One portion of informing fire was given + To brutes, the inferior family of heaven: + The Smith Divine, as with a careless beat, 253 + 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: 260 + Reason to rule, and 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, 270 + 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: + 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, 280 + For differing worship of the Deity. + Thus persecution rose, and further space + Produced the mighty hunter of his race[103]. + Not so the blessed Pan his flock increased, + Content to fold them from the famish'd beast: + Mild were his laws; the Sheep and harmless Hind 286 + 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. + + O 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, + May guard their fences from the invading foe. + Where birth has placed them, let them safely share + The common benefit of vital air. + Themselves unharmful, let them live unharm'd; + Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarm'd: 300 + 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 repress'd, 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 310 + 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: 320 + 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; + To them the Hind and Panther are the same. + + The Panther[104] sure the noblest, next the Hind, + And fairest creature of the spotted kind; + Oh, could her inborn stains be wash'd away, + She were too good to be a beast of prey! 330 + How can I praise, or blame, and not offend, + Or how divide the frailty from the friend? + 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. 340 + 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 dropt half way down, nor lower fell; + So poised, so gently she descends from high, + 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. 350 + A Lion[105] 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, + A well match'd pair, got graceless Heresy. + God's and king's rebels have the same good cause, + To trample down divine and human laws: + Both would be call'd reformers, and their hate + Alike destructive both to Church and State: 360 + 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, + Where souls are starved, and senses gratified! + Where marriage pleasures midnight prayers supply, + And matin bells, a melancholy cry, + Are tuned to merrier notes, Increase and multiply. + Religion shows a rosy-colour'd face; 370 + Not batter'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. + + 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 380 + 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; + 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 390 + Their diligence of careful herds below. + 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. + 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 disavow'd the rest, 400 + Was Calvin's brand, that stigmatized 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, + And yet 'tis flat idolatry to bow, + 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, 420 + 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. + 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; 430 + But sure no Church can better morals boast: + True to her king her principles are found; + O that her practice were but half so sound! + Steadfast in various turns of state she stood, + And seal'd her vow'd affection with her blood: + Nor will I meanly tax her constancy, + That interest or obligement made the tie + Bound to the fate of murder'd monarchy. + Before the sounding axe so falls the vine, + Whose tender branches round the poplar twine. 440 + 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; + 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[106] counsel, her new-chosen mate; + Still she's the fairest of the fallen crew, 450 + 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? + 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, even that's as plain 460 + 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: + 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: 470 + 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? + 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. 480 + How can she censure, or what crime pretend, + But Scripture may be construed to defend? + Even those, whom for rebellion she transmits 483 + To civil power, her doctrine first acquits; + Because no disobedience can ensue, + 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. 490 + 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,-- + A patent during pleasure of the state! + + Thus is the Panther neither loved nor fear'd, + A mere mock queen of a divided herd; + Whom soon by lawful power she might control, + Herself a part submitted to the whole. 500 + 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, + 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. 510 + + 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; + Levees and couchees pass'd without resort. + So hardly can usurpers manage well 517 + Those whom they first instructed to rebel. + More liberty begets desire of more; + The hunger still increases with the store. + 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; + 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, 530 + The sovereign Lion[107] 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; + Survey'd 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, 540 + 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 restrain'd, + Now frisk'd about her, and old kindred feign'd. + Whether for love or interest, every sect + Of all the savage nation show'd respect. + The viceroy Panther could not awe the herd; 549 + The more the company, the less they fear'd. + 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 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, 560 + To chat a while on their adventures pass'd: + 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, + She thought this hour the 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. 570 + After some common talk what rumours ran, + The lady of the spotted muff began. + + * * * * * + + FOOTNOTES: + + [Footnote 94: 'Hare:' the Quakers.] + + [Footnote 95: 'Ape:' latitudinarians in general.] + + [Footnote 96: 'Reynard:' the Arians.] + + [Footnote 97: 'Bilanders:' an old word for a coasting boat.] + + [Footnote 98: 'First Apostate:' Arius.] + + [Footnote 99: 'Wolf:' Presbytery.] + + [Footnote 100: 'Many a year:' referring to the price put on the head of + wolves in Wales.] + + [Footnote 101: 'Kennel:' Geneva.] + + [Footnote 102: 'Puddle:' its lake.] + + [Footnote 103: 'Mighty hunter of his race:' Nimrod.] + + [Footnote 104: 'Panther:' Church of England.] + + [Footnote 105: 'Lion:' Henry VIII.] + + [Footnote 106: + 'Isgrim:' the wolf.] + + [Footnote 107: 'Lion:' James II.] + + + PART II. + + + Dame, said the Panther, times are mended well, + Since late among the Philistines[108] you fell. + The toils were pitch'd, a spacious tract of ground + With expert huntsmen was encompass'd round; + The enclosure narrow'd; the sagacious power 5 + Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour. + 'Tis true, the younger Lion[109] 'scaped the snare, + But all your priestly Calves[110] lay struggling there, + As sacrifices on their altar laid; + While you, their careful mother, wisely fled, 10 + Not trusting destiny to save your head; + For, whate'er promises you have applied + To your unfailing Church, the surer side + 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, + Those toils were for your own dear self design'd, + As well as me, and with the self-same throw, 20 + 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 + 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 + You kept, and stood in the main question dumb. + Dumb you were born indeed; but thinking long + The Test[111] it seems at last has loosed your tongue. 30 + And to explain what your forefathers meant, + By real presence in the sacrament, + After long fencing push'd against the wall. + Your salvo 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, 40 + Yet in your sense I never own'd it there. + A real virtue we by faith receive, + And that we in the sacrament believe. + 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 AEsop's fable you repeat; + You know who took the shadow for the meat: + Your Church's substance thus you change at will, 50 + 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. + Long time you fought, redoubled battery bore, + But, after all, against yourself you swore; + Your 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; + For all have not the gift of martyrdom. + + The Panther grinn'd at this, and thus replied: 60 + That men may err was never yet denied. + But, if that common principle be true, + The canon, dame, is levell'd full at you. + But, shunning long disputes, I fain would see + That wondrous wight Infallibility. + Is he from Heaven, this mighty champion, come; + Or lodged below in subterranean Rome? + First, seat him somewhere, and derive his race, + Or else conclude that nothing has no place. + + Suppose (though I disown it), said the Hind, 70 + The certain mansion were not yet assign'd; + The doubtful residence no proof can bring + Against the plain existence of the thing. + Because philosophers may disagree + If sight by emission or reception be, + Shall it be thence inferr'd, I do not see? + But you require an answer positive, + Which yet, when I demand, you dare not give; + For fallacies in universals live. + I then affirm that this unfailing guide 80 + In Pope and General Councils must reside; + Both lawful, both combined: what one decrees + By numerous votes, the other ratifies: + On this undoubted sense the Church relies. + 'Tis true, some doctors in a scantier space, + I mean, in each apart, contract the place. + Some, who to greater length extend the line, + The Church's after-acceptation join. + This last circumference appears too wide; + The Church diffused is by the Council tied; 90 + As members by their representatives + Obliged to laws which Prince and Senate gives. + Thus some contract, and some enlarge the space: + In Pope and Council, who denies the place, + Assisted from above with God's unfailing grace? + Those canons all the needful points contain; + Their sense so obvious, and their words so plain, + That no disputes about the doubtful text + Have hitherto the labouring world perplex'd. + If any should in after-times appear, 100 + New Councils must be call'd, to make the meaning clear: + Because in them the power supreme resides; + And all the promises are to the guides. + This may be taught with sound and safe defence; + But mark how sandy is your own pretence, + Who, setting Councils, Pope, and Church aside, + Are every man his own presuming guide. + The Sacred Books, you say, are full and plain. + And every needful point of truth contain: + All who can read interpreters may be: 110 + Thus, though your several Churches disagree, + Yet every saint has to himself alone + The secret of this philosophic stone. + These principles your jarring sects unite, + When differing doctors and disciples fight. + Though Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, holy chiefs, + Have made a battle royal of beliefs; + Or, like wild horses, several ways have whirl'd + The tortured text about the Christian world; + Each Jehu lashing on with furious force, 120 + That Turk or Jew could not have used it worse; + No matter what dissension leaders make, + Where every private man may save a stake: + Ruled by the Scripture and his own advice, + Each has a blind by-path to Paradise; + Where, driving in a circle, slow or fast, + Opposing sects are sure to meet at last. + A wondrous charity you have in store + For all reform'd to pass the narrow door: + So much, that Mahomet had scarcely more. 130 + For he, kind prophet, was for damning none; + But Christ and Moses were to save their own: + Himself was to secure his chosen race, + Though reason good for Turks to take the place, + And he allow'd to be the better man, + In virtue of his holier Alcoran. + + True, said the Panther, I shall ne'er deny + My brethren may be saved as well as I: + Though Huguenots condemn our ordination, + Succession, ministerial vocation; 140 + And Luther, more mistaking what he read, + Misjoins the sacred body with the bread: + Yet, lady, still remember, I maintain, + The Word in needful points is only plain. + + Needless, or needful, I not now contend, + For still you have a loop-hole for a friend; + Rejoin'd the matron: but the rule you lay + Has led whole flocks, and leads them still astray, + In weighty points, and full damnation's way. + For did not Arius first, Socinus now, 150 + The Son's Eternal Godhead disavow? + And did not these by gospel texts alone + Condemn our doctrine, and maintain their own? + Have not all heretics the same pretence + To plead the Scriptures in their own defence? + How did the Nicene Council then decide + That strong debate? was it by Scripture tried? + No, sure; to that the rebel would not yield; + Squadrons of texts he marshall'd in the field: + That was but civil war, an equal set, 160 + Where piles with piles[112], and eagles eagles met. + With texts point-blank and plain he faced the foe. + And did not Satan tempt our Saviour so? + The good old bishops took a simpler way; + Each ask'd but what he heard his father say, + Or how he was instructed in his youth, + And by tradition's force upheld the truth. + + The Panther smiled at this; and when, said she, + Were those first Councils disallow'd by me? + Or where did I at sure Tradition strike, 170 + Provided still it were apostolic? + + Friend, said the Hind, you quit your former ground, + Where all your faith you did on Scripture found: + Now 'tis Tradition join'd with Holy Writ; + But thus your memory betrays your wit. + + No, said the Panther, for in that I view, + When your tradition's forged, and when 'tis true. + I set them by the rule, and, as they square, + Or deviate from, undoubted doctrine there, + This oral fiction, that old faith declare. 180 + + Hind: The Council steer'd, it seems, a different course; + They tried the Scripture by Tradition's force: + But you Tradition by the Scripture try; + 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, + When not evinced by Scripture to be true, 190 + And Scripture, as interpreted by you. + But here you tread upon unfaithful ground; + Unless you could infallibly expound: + 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, + Nay, often ground our titles on the same: + After long labour lost, and time's expense, 200 + Both grant the words, and quarrel for the sense. + Thus all disputes for ever must depend; + For no dumb rule can controversies end. + 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, + And yet your clerks would sit in Moses' chair; + At least 'tis proved against your argument, 210 + 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? + 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, + And trusts no farther than the next above; + Where all the rounds like Jacob's ladder rise, 220 + The lowest hid in earth, the topmost in the skies. + + Sternly the savage did her answer mark, + Her glowing eye-balls glittering in the dark, + 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; + But from the Wolf such wishes oft I meet: + You learn'd this language from the Blatant Beast, 230 + 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 + To load with envy, we retort your own, + For when Traditions in your faces fly, 240 + Resolving not to yield, you must decry. + As when the cause goes hard, the guilty man + Excepts, and thins his jury all he can; + So when you stand of other aid bereft, + You to the Twelve Apostles would be left. + Your friend the Wolf did with more craft provide + To set those toys, Traditions, quite aside; + And Fathers too, unless when, reason spent, + He cites them but sometimes for ornament. + But, madam Panther, you, though more sincere, 250 + Are not so wise as your adulterer: + The private spirit is a better blind, + 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? + On his own reason safer 'tis to stand, + Than be deceived and damn'd at second-hand. 260 + 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. + And yet they grow upon you every day, + While you, to speak the best, are at a stay, 270 + 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: + 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. + Shall she command who has herself rebell'd? + Is Antichrist by Antichrist expell'd? 280 + Did we a lawful tyranny displace, + To set aloft a bastard of the race? + Why all these wars to win the Book, if we + Must not interpret for ourselves, but she? + 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; + You never mount them but in time of need. + Like mercenaries, hired for home defence, 290 + They will not serve against their native prince. + Against domestic foes of hierarchy + These are drawn forth, to make fanatics fly; + 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? 300 + And if all saving doctrines are not there, + Or sacred penmen could not make them clear, + From after ages we should hope in vain + 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. + Thus by Tradition faith was planted first; + Succeeding flocks succeeding pastors nursed. 310 + 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. + 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, + But wit may gloss, and malice may obscure; + Not those indited by his first command, 320 + 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, + And, as mistakes arose, or discords fell, 330 + Or bold seducers taught them to rebel, + As charity grew cold, or faction hot, + Or long neglect their lessons had forgot, + 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; + Nor first intended but occasional, + Their absent sermons; nor if they contain 340 + All needful doctrines, are those doctrines plain. + Clearness by frequent preaching must be wrought: + They writ but seldom, but they daily taught. + 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? + A guide was therefore needful, therefore made; + And, if appointed, sure to be obey'd. 350 + Thus, with due reverence to the Apostle's writ, + By which my sons are taught, to which submit; + I think those truths their sacred works contain, + The Church alone can certainly explain; + 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. + Because, as I have urged before, 'tis mute, + And is itself the subject of dispute. 360 + 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. + 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, 370 + But with subordination to her guide; + (I wish the cause were on that issue tried.) + Much less the Scripture; for suppose debate + Betwixt pretenders to a fair estate, + Bequeath'd 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: + All vouch the words their interest to maintain, + And each pretends by those his cause is plain. 380 + Shall then the Testament award the right? + No, that's the Hungary for which they fight; + The field of battle, subject of debate; + 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. + + Suppose, the fair apostate said, I grant, + The faithful flock some living guide should want, 390 + Your arguments an endless chase pursue; + Produce this vaunted leader to our view, + This mighty Moses of the chosen crew. + + The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired, + With force renew'd, to victory aspired; + And, looking upward to her kindred sky, + As once our Saviour own'd his Deity, + Pronounced his words:--"She whom ye seek am I," + Nor less amazed this voice the Panther heard, + Than were those Jews to hear a God declared. 400 + Then thus the matron modestly renew'd: + Let all your prophets and their sects be view'd, + And see to which of them yourselves think fit + The conduct of your conscience to submit: + Each proselyte would vote his doctor best, + With absolute exclusion to the rest: + Thus would your Polish diet disagree, + And end, as it began, in anarchy: + Yourself the fairest for election stand, + Because you seem crown-general of the land: 410 + But soon against your superstitious lawn + Some Presbyterian sabre would be drawn: + In your establish'd laws of sovereignty + The rest some fundamental flaw would see, + And call rebellion gospel-liberty. + To Church-decrees your articles require + Submission modified, if not entire. + Homage denied, to censures you proceed: + But when Curtana[113] will not do the deed. + You lay that pointless clergy-weapon by, 420 + And to the laws, your sword of justice, fly. + Now this your sects the more unkindly take + (Those prying varlets hit the blots you make), + Because some ancient friends of yours declare, + Your only rule of faith the Scriptures are, + Interpreted by men of judgment sound, + Which every sect will for themselves expound; + Nor think less reverence to their doctors due + For sound interpretation, than to you. + If then, by able heads, are understood 430 + Your brother prophets, who reform'd abroad; + Those able heads expound a wiser way, + That their own sheep their shepherd should obey. + But if you mean yourselves are only sound, + That doctrine turns the Reformation round, + And all the rest are false reformers found; + Because in sundry points you stand alone, + Not in communion join'd with any one; + And therefore must be all the Church, or none. + Then, till you have agreed whose judge is best, 440 + Against this forced submission they protest: + While sound and sound a different sense explains, + Both play at hardhead till they break their brains; + And from their chairs each other's force defy, + While unregarded thunders vainly fly. + I pass the rest, because your Church alone + Of all usurpers best could fill the throne. + But neither you, nor any sect beside, + For this high office can be qualified, + With necessary gifts required in such a guide. 450 + For that which must direct the whole must be + Bound in one bond of faith and unity: + But all your several Churches disagree. + The consubstantiating Church and priest + Refuse communion to the Calvinist: + The French reform'd from preaching you restrain, + Because you judge their ordination vain; + And so they judge of yours, but donors must ordain. + In short, in doctrine, or in discipline, + Not one reform'd can with another join: 460 + But all from each, as from damnation, fly; + No union they pretend, but in Non-Popery. + Nor, should their members in a Synod meet, + Could any Church presume to mount the seat, + Above the rest, their discords to decide; + None would obey, but each would be the guide: + And face to face dissensions would increase; + For only distance now preserves the peace. + All in their turns accusers, and accused: + Babel was never half so much confused: 470 + What one can plead, the rest can plead as well; + For amongst equals lies no last appeal, + And all confess themselves are fallible. + Now since you grant some necessary guide, + All who can err are justly laid aside: + Because a trust so sacred to confer 476 + Shows want of such a sure interpreter; + And how can he be needful who can err? + Then, granting that unerring guide we want, + That such there is you stand obliged to grant: 480 + Our Saviour else were wanting to supply + Our needs, and obviate that necessity. + It then remains, the Church can only be + The guide, which owns unfailing certainty; + Or else you slip your hold, and change your side, + Relapsing from a necessary guide. + But this annex'd condition of the crown, + Immunity from errors, you disown; + Here then you shrink, and lay your weak pretensions down. + For petty royalties you raise debate; 490 + But this unfailing universal state + You shun; nor dare succeed to such a glorious weight; + And for that cause those promises detest + With which our Saviour did his Church invest; + But strive to evade, and fear to find them true, + As conscious they were never meant to you: + All which the Mother Church asserts her own, + And with unrivall'd claim ascends the throne. + So, when of old the Almighty Father sate + In council, to redeem our ruin'd state, 500 + Millions of millions, at a distance round, + Silent the sacred consistory crown'd, + To hear what mercy, mix'd with justice, could propound: + All prompt, with eager pity, to fulfil + The full extent of their Creator's will. + But when the stern conditions were declared, + A mournful whisper through the host was heard, + And the whole hierarchy, with heads hung down, + Submissively declined the ponderous proffer'd crown. + Then, not till then, the Eternal Son from high 510 + Rose in the strength of all the Deity: + Stood forth to accept the terms, and underwent + A weight which all the frame of heaven had bent. + Nor he himself could bear, but as Omnipotent. + Now, to remove the least remaining doubt, + That even the blear-eyed sects may find her out, + Behold what heavenly rays adorn her brows, + What from his wardrobe her beloved allows + To deck the wedding-day of his unspotted spouse. + Behold what marks of majesty she brings; 520 + Richer than ancient heirs of eastern kings! + Her right hand holds the sceptre and the keys, + To show whom she commands, and who obeys: + With these to bind, or set the sinner free, + With that to assert spiritual royalty. + + One in herself, not rent by schism,[114] but sound, + Entire, one solid shining diamond; + Not sparkles shatter'd into sects like you: + One is the Church, and must be to be true: + One central principle of unity. 530 + As undivided, so from errors free, + As one in faith, so one in sanctity. + Thus she, and none but she, the insulting rage + Of heretics opposed from age to age: + Still when the giant-brood invades her throne, + She stoops from heaven, and meets them half way down, + And with paternal thunder vindicates her crown. + But like Egyptian sorcerers you stand, + And vainly lift aloft your magic wand, + To sweep away the swarms of vermin from the land: 540 + You could like them, with like infernal force, + Produce the plague, but not arrest the course. + But when the boils and blotches, with disgrace 543 + And public scandal, sat upon the face, + Themselves attack'd, the Magi strove no more, + They saw God's finger, and their fate deplore; + Themselves they could not cure of the dishonest sore. + Thus one, thus pure, behold her largely spread, + Like the fair ocean from her mother-bed; + From east to west triumphantly she rides, 550 + All shores are water'd by her wealthy tides. + The Gospel-sound, diffused from pole to pole, + Where winds can carry, and where waves can roll, + The self-same doctrine of the sacred page + Convey'd to every clime, in every age. + + Here let my sorrow give my satire place, + To raise new blushes on my British race; + Our sailing-ships like common sewers we use, + And through our distant colonies diffuse + The draught of dungeons, and the stench of stews, 560 + Whom, when their home-bred honesty is lost, + We disembogue on some far Indian coast: + Thieves, panders, paillards,[115] sins of every sort; + Those are the manufactures we export; + And these the missioners our zeal has made: + For, with my country's pardon be it said, + Religion is the least of all our trade. + + Yet some improve their traffic more than we; + For they on gain, their only god, rely, + And set a public price on piety. 570 + Industrious of the needle and the chart, + They run full sail to their Japonian mart; + Prevention fear, and, prodigal of fame, + Sell all of Christian,[116] to the very name; + Nor leave enough of that, to hide their naked shame. + + Thus, of three marks, which in the Creed we view, + Not one of all can be applied to you: 577 + Much less the fourth; in vain, alas! you seek + The ambitious title of Apostolic: + God-like descent! 'tis well your blood can be + Proved noble in the third or fourth degree: + For all of ancient that you had before, + (I mean what is not borrow'd from our store) + Was error fulminated o'er and o'er; + Old heresies condemn'd in ages past, + By care and time recover'd from the blast. + + 'Tis said with ease, but never can be proved, + The Church her old foundations has removed, + And built new doctrines on unstable sands: + Judge that, ye winds and rains: you proved her, yet she stands. 590 + Those ancient doctrines charged on her for new, + Show when and how, and from what hands they grew. + We claim no power, when heresies grow bold, + To coin new faith, but still declare the old. + How else could that obscene disease be purged, + When controverted texts are vainly urged? + To prove tradition new, there's somewhat more + Required, than saying, 'twas not used before. + Those monumental arms are never stirr'd, + Till schism or heresy call down Goliah's sword. 600 + + Thus, what you call corruptions, are, in truth, + The first plantations of the Gospel's youth; + Old standard faith: but cast your eyes again, + And view those errors which new sects maintain, + Or which of old disturb'd the Church's peaceful reign; + And we can point each period of the time, + When they began, and who begot the crime; + Can calculate how long the eclipse endured, + Who interposed, what digits were obscured: + Of all which are already pass'd away, 610 + We know the rise, the progress, and decay. + + Despair at our foundations then to strike, + Till you can prove your faith Apostolic; + A limpid stream drawn from the native source; + Succession lawful in a lineal course. + Prove any Church, opposed to this our head, + So one, so pure, so unconfinedly spread, + Under one chief of the spiritual state, + The members all combined, and all subordinate. + Show such a seamless coat, from schism so free, 620 + In no communion join'd with heresy. + If such a one you find, let truth prevail: + Till when your weights will in the balance fail: + A Church unprincipled kicks up the scale. + But if you cannot think (nor sure you can + Suppose in God what were unjust in man) + That He, the fountain of eternal grace, + Should suffer falsehood, for so long a space, + To banish truth, and to usurp her place: + That seven successive ages should be lost, 630 + And preach damnation at their proper cost; + That all your erring ancestors should die, + Drown'd in the abyss of deep idolatry: + If piety forbid such thoughts to rise, + Awake, and open your unwilling eyes: + God hath left nothing for each age undone, + From this to that wherein he sent his Son: + Then think but well of him, and half your work is done. + See how his Church, adorn'd with every grace, 639 + With open arms, a kind forgiving face, + Stands ready to prevent her long-lost son's embrace. + Not more did Joseph o'er his brethren weep, + Nor less himself could from discovery keep, + When in the crowd of suppliants they were seen, + And in their crew his best-loved Benjamin. + That pious Joseph in the Church behold, + To feed your famine,[117] and refuse your gold: + The Joseph you exiled, the Joseph whom you sold. + + Thus, while with heavenly charity she spoke, + A streaming blaze the silent shadows broke; 650 + Shot from the skies; a cheerful azure light: + The birds obscene to forests wing'd their flight, + And gaping graves received the wandering guilty sprite. + + Such were the pleasing triumphs of the sky, + For James his late nocturnal victory; + The pledge of his Almighty Patron's love, + The fireworks which his angels made above. + I saw myself the lambent easy light + Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night: + The messenger with speed the tidings bore; 660 + News, which three labouring nations did restore; + But Heaven's own Nuntius was arrived before. + + By this, the Hind had reach'd her lonely cell, + And vapours rose, and dews unwholesome fell. + When she, by frequent observation wise, + As one who long on heaven had fix'd her eyes, + Discern'd a change of weather in the skies; + The western borders were with crimson spread, + The moon descending look'd all flaming red; + She thought good manners bound her to invite 670 + The stranger dame to be her guest that night. + 'Tis true, coarse diet, and a short repast, + (She said) were weak inducements to the taste + Of one so nicely bred, and so unused to fast: + But what plain fare her cottage could afford, + A hearty welcome at a homely board, + Was freely hers; and, to supply the rest, + An honest meaning, and an open breast: + Last, with content of mind, the poor man's wealth, + A grace-cup to their common patron's health. 680 + This she desired her to accept, and stay + For fear she might be wilder'd in her way, + Because she wanted an unerring guide; + And then the dew-drops on her silken hide + Her tender constitution did declare, + Too lady-like a long fatigue to bear, + And rough inclemencies of raw nocturnal air. + But most she fear'd that, travelling so late, + Some evil-minded beasts might lie in wait, + And, without witness, wreak their hidden hate. 690 + + The Panther, though she lent a listening ear, + Had more of lion in her than to fear: + Yet, wisely weighing, since she had to deal + With many foes, their numbers might prevail, + Return'd her all the thanks she could afford, + And took her friendly hostess at her word: + Who, entering first her lowly roof, a shed + With hoary moss, and winding ivy spread, + Honest enough to hide an humble hermit's head, + Thus graciously bespoke her welcome guest: 700 + So might these walls, with your fair presence blest, + Become your dwelling-place of everlasting rest; + Not for a night, or quick revolving year; + Welcome an owner, not a sojourner. + This peaceful seat my poverty secures; + War seldom enters but where wealth allures: + Nor yet despise it; for this poor abode + Has oft received, and yet receives a God; + A God victorious of the Stygian race + Here laid his sacred limbs, and sanctified the place, 710 + This mean retreat did mighty Pan contain: + Be emulous of him, and pomp disdain, + And dare not to debase your soul to gain. + + The silent stranger stood amazed to see + Contempt of wealth, and wilful poverty: + And, though ill habits are not soon controll'd, + A while suspended her desire of gold. + But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws, + Not violating hospitable laws; + And pacified her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws. 720 + + The Hind did first her country cates provide; + Then couch'd herself securely by her side. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 108: 'Philistines:' the Cromwellians, &c.] + +[Footnote 109: 'Younger lion:' Charles II.] + +[Footnote 110: 'Priestly calves,' &c.: this alludes to the Commons +voting in 1641 that all deans, chapters, &c. should be abolished.] + +[Footnote 111: 'The Test:' the Test Act, passed in 1672, enjoined the +abjuration of the real presence in the sacrament.] + +[Footnote 112: 'Piles, &c.:' the Roman arms--_pili_ and eagles.] + +[Footnote 113: 'Curtana:' the name of King Edward the Confessor's sword, +without a point, an emblem of mercy, and carried before the king at the +coronation.] + +[Footnote 114: 'Not rent by schism:' marks of the Catholic Church from +the Nicene creed.] + +[Footnote 115: 'Paillards:' a French word for licentious persons.] + +[Footnote 116: 'Sell all of Christian,' &c.: it is said that the Dutch, +in order to secure to themselves the whole trade of Japan, trample on +the cross, and deny the name of Jesus.] + +[Footnote 117: 'Feed your famine:' the renunciation of the Benedictines +to the abbey lands.] + + + +PART III. + + + Much malice, mingled with a little wit, + Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ: + Because the Muse has peopled Caledon + With Panthers, Bears, and Wolves, and beasts unknown, + As if we were not stock'd with monsters of our own. + Let AEsop answer, who has set to view + Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew; + And mother Hubbard,[118] in her homely dress, + Has sharply blamed a British Lioness; + That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep, 10 + Exposed obscenely naked and asleep. + Led by those great examples, may not I + The wanted organs of their words supply? + If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then + For brutes to claim the privilege of men. + + Others our Hind of folly will indite, + To entertain a dangerous guest by night. + Let those remember, that she cannot die + Till rolling time is lost in round eternity; + Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed, 20 + Because the Lion's peace[119] was now proclaim'd: + The wary savage would not give offence, + To forfeit the protection of her prince; + But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete, + When all her furry sons in frequent senate met; + Meanwhile she quench'd her fury at the flood, + And with a lenten salad cool'd her blood. + Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant, + Nor did their minds an equal banquet want. + For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove 30 + To express her plain simplicity of love, + Did all the honours of her house so well, + No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal. + She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme, + To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme; + Remembering every storm which toss'd the state, + When both were objects of the public hate, + And dropp'd a tear betwixt for her own children's fate. + + Nor fail'd she then a full review to make + Of what the Panther suffer'd for her sake: 40 + Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care, + Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,[120] + Her strength to endure, her courage to defy; + Her choice of honourable infamy. + On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged; + Then with acknowledgment herself she charged; + For friendship, of itself an holy tie, + Is made more sacred by adversity. + Now should they part, malicious tongues would say, + They met like chance companions on the way, 50 + Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd; + While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd; + But that once o'er, the short-lived union ends; + The road divides, and there divide the friends. + + The Panther nodded when her speech was done, + And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone: + But said her gratitude had gone too far + For common offices of Christian care. + If to the lawful heir she had been true, + She paid but Caesar what was Caesar's due. 60 + I might, she added, with like praise describe + Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe: + But incense from my hands is poorly prized; + For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despised. + I served a turn, and then was cast away; + You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display, + And sip the sweets, and bask in your great patron's day. + + This heard, the matron was not slow to find + What sort of malady had seized her mind: + Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despite, 70 + And canker'd malice stood in open sight: + Ambition, interest, pride without control, + And jealousy, the jaundice of the soul; + Revenge, the bloody minister of ill, + With all the lean tormentors of the will. + 'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose + Her new-made union with her ancient foes, + Her forced civilities, her faint embrace, + Affected kindness with an alter'd face: + Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound, 80 + As hoping still the nobler parts were sound: + But strove with anodynes to assuage the smart, + And mildly thus her medicine did impart. + + Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain; + It shows a rest of kindness to complain; + A friendship loath to quit its former hold; + And conscious merit may be justly bold. + But much more just your jealousy would show, + If others' good were injury to you: + Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to see 90 + Rewarded worth and rising loyalty! + Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown. + The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown, + Are the most pleasing objects I can find, + Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind: + When virtue spooms before a prosperous gale, + My heaving wishes help to fill the sail; + And if my prayers for all the brave were heard, + Caesar should still have such, and such should still reward. + + The labour'd earth your pains have sow'd and till'd; 100 + 'Tis just you reap the product of the field: + Yours be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain + To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. + Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care, + Your charity, for alms, may safely spare, + For alms are but the vehicles of prayer. + My daily bread is literally implored; + I have no barns nor granaries to hoard. + If Caesar to his own his hand extends, + Say which of yours his charity offends: 110 + You know he largely gives to more than are his friends. + Are you defrauded when he feeds the poor? + Our mite decreases nothing of your store. + I am but few, and by your fare you see + My crying sins are not of luxury. + Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws, + And makes you break our friendship's holy laws; + For barefaced envy is too base a cause. + + Show more occasion for your discontent; + Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent: 120 + Some German quarrel, or, as times go now, + Some French, where force is uppermost, will do. + When at the fountain's head, as merit ought + To claim the place, you take a swilling draught, + How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw, + And tax the sheep for troubling streams below; + Or call her (when no farther cause you find) + An enemy possess'd of all your kind! + But then, perhaps, the wicked world would think, + The Wolf design'd to eat as well as drink. 130 + + This last allusion gall'd the Panther more, + Because indeed it rubb'd upon the sore. + Yet seem'd she not to wince, though shrewdly pain'd: + But thus her passive character maintain'd. + + I never grudged, whate'er my foes report, + Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court. + You have your day, or you are much belied, + But I am always on the suffering side: + You know my doctrine, and I need not say, + I will not, but I cannot disobey. 140 + On this firm principle I ever stood; + He of my sons who fails to make it good, + By one rebellious act renounces to my blood. + + Ah, said the Hind, how many sons have you, + Who call you mother, whom you never knew! + But most of them who that relation plead, + Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead. + They gape at rich revenues which you hold, + And fain would nibble at your grandame Gold; + Inquire into your years, and laugh to find 150 + Your crazy temper shows you much declined. + Were you not dim and doted, you might see + A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree, + No more of kin to you, than you to me. + Do you not know, that for a little coin, + Heralds can foist a name into the line? + They ask you blessing but for what you have; + But once possess'd of what with care you save, + The wanton boys would piss upon your grave. + + Your sons of latitude that court your grace, 160 + Though most resembling you in form and face. + Are far the worst of your pretended race. + And, but I blush your honesty to blot, + Pray God you prove them lawfully begot: + For in some Popish libels I have read, + The Wolf has been too busy in your bed; + At least her hinder parts, the belly-piece, + The paunch, and all that Scorpio claims, are his. + Their malice too a sore suspicion brings; + For though they dare not bark, they snarl at kings: 170 + Nor blame them for intruding in your line; + Fat bishoprics are still of right divine. + + Think you your new French proselytes[121] are come + To starve abroad, because they starved at home? + Your benefices twinkled from afar; + They found the new Messiah by the star: + Those Swisses fight on any side for pay, + And 'tis the living that conforms, not they. + Mark with what management their tribes divide, + Some stick to you, and some to the other side, 180 + That many churches may for many mouths provide. + More vacant pulpits would more converts make; + All would have latitude enough to take: + The rest unbeneficed your sects maintain; + For ordinations without cures are vain, + And chamber practice is a silent gain. + Your sons of breadth at home are much like these; + Their soft and yielding metals run with ease: + They melt, and take the figure of the mould; + But harden and preserve it best in gold. 190 + + Your Delphic sword, the Panther then replied, + Is double-edged, and cuts on either side. + Some sons of mine, who bear upon their shield + Three steeples argent in a sable field, + Have sharply tax'd your converts, who unfed + Have follow'd you for miracles of bread; + Such who themselves of no religion are, + Allured with gain, for any will declare. + Bare lies with bold assertions they can face; + But dint of argument is out of place. 200 + The grim logician puts them in a fright; + 'Tis easier far to flourish than to fight. + Thus our eighth Henry's marriage they defame; + They say the schism of beds began the game, + Divorcing from the Church to wed the dame: + Though largely proved, and by himself profess'd, + That conscience, conscience would not let him rest: + + I mean, not till possess'd of her he loved, + And old, uncharming Catherine was removed. + For sundry years before he did complain, 210 + And told his ghostly confessor his pain. + With the same impudence without a ground, + They say, that look the Reformation round, + No Treatise of Humility is found. + But if none were, the gospel does not want; + Our Saviour preach'd it, and I hope you grant, + The Sermon on the Mount was Protestant. + + No doubt, replied the Hind, as sure as all + The writings of Saint Peter and Saint Paul: + On that decision let it stand or fall. 220 + Now for my converts, who, you say, unfed, + Have follow'd me for miracles of bread; + Judge not by hearsay, but observe at least, + If since their change their loaves have been increased. + The Lion buys no converts; if he did, + Beasts would be sold as fast as he could bid. + Tax those of interest who conform for gain, + Or stay the market of another reign: + Your broad-way sons would never be too nice + To close with Calvin, if he paid their price; 230 + But, raised three steeples higher, would change their note, + And quit the cassock for the canting-coat. + Now, if you damn this censure, as too bold, + Judge by yourselves, and think not others sold. + + Meantime my sons, accused by fame's report, + Pay small attendance at the Lion's court, + Nor rise with early crowds, nor flatter late; + For silently they beg who daily wait. + Preferment is bestow'd, that comes unsought; + Attendance is a bribe, and then 'tis bought. 240 + How they should speed, their fortune is untried; + For not to ask, is not to be denied. + For what they have, their God and king they bless, + And hope they should not murmur, had they less. + But if reduced, subsistence to implore, + In common prudence they should pass your door. + Unpitied Hudibras,[122] your champion friend, + Has shown how far your charities extend. + This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read, + "He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead." 250 + + With odious atheist names[123] you load your foes; + Your liberal clergy why did I expose? + It never fails in charities like those. + In climes where true religion is profess'd, + That imputation were no laughing jest. + But imprimatur,[124] with a chaplain's name, + Is here sufficient licence to defame. + What wonder is't that black detraction thrives? + The homicide of names is less than lives; + And yet the perjured murderer survives. 260 + + This said, she paused a little, and suppress'd + The boiling indignation of her breast. + She knew the virtue of her blade, nor would + Pollute her satire with ignoble blood: + Her panting foe she saw before her eye, + And back she drew the shining weapon dry. + So when the generous Lion has in sight + His equal match, he rouses for the fight; + But when his foe lies prostrate on the plain, + He sheaths his paws, uncurls his angry mane, 270 + And, pleased with bloodless honours of the day, + Walks over and disdains the inglorious prey. + So James, if great with less we may compare, + Arrests his rolling thunderbolts in air! + And grants ungrateful friends a lengthen'd space, + To implore the remnants of long-suffering grace. + + This breathing-time the matron took; and then + Resumed the thread of her discourse again. + Be vengeance wholly left to powers divine, + And let Heaven judge betwixt your sons and mine: 280 + If joys hereafter must be purchased here + With loss of all that mortals hold so dear, + Then welcome infamy and public shame, + And, last, a long farewell to worldly fame. + 'Tis said with ease, but, oh, how hardly tried + By haughty souls to human honour tied! + O sharp convulsive pangs of agonizing pride! + Down then, thou rebel, never more to rise, + And what thou didst, and dost, so dearly prize, + That fame, that darling fame, make that thy sacrifice. 290 + 'Tis nothing thou hast given, then add thy tears + For a long race of unrepenting years: + 'Tis nothing yet, yet all thou hast to give: + Then add those may-be years thou hast to live: + Yet nothing still; then poor, and naked come: + Thy father will receive his unthrift home, + And thy blest Saviour's blood discharge the mighty sum. + + Thus (she pursued) I discipline a son, + Whose uncheck'd fury to revenge would run: + He champs the bit, impatient of his loss, 300 + And starts aside, and flounders at the Cross. + Instruct him better, gracious God, to know, + As thine is vengeance, so forgiveness too: + That, suffering from ill tongues, he bears no more + Than what his sovereign bears, and what his Saviour bore. + + It now remains for you to school your child, + And ask why God's anointed he reviled; + A king and princess dead! did Shimei worse? + The cursor's punishment should fright the curse: + Your son was warn'd, and wisely gave it o'er, 310 + But he who counsell'd him has paid the score: + The heavy malice could no higher tend, + But woe to him on whom the weights descend. + So to permitted ills the Demon flies; + His rage is aim'd at him who rules the skies: + Constrain'd to quit his cause, no succour found, + The foe discharges every tire around, + In clouds of smoke abandoning the fight; + But his own thundering peals proclaim his flight. + + In Henry's change his charge as ill succeeds; 320 + To that long story little answer needs: + Confront but Henry's words with Henry's deeds. + Were space allow'd, with ease it might be proved, + What springs his blessed Reformation moved. + The dire effects appear'd in open sight, + Which from the cause he calls a distant flight, + And yet no larger leap than from the sun to light. + + Now let your sons a double paean sound, + A Treatise of Humility is found. + 'Tis found, but better it had ne'er been sought, 330 + Than thus in Protestant procession brought. + The famed original through Spain is known, + Rodriguez' work, my celebrated son, + Which yours, by ill-translating, made his own; + Conceal'd its author, and usurp'd the name, + The basest and ignoblest theft of fame. + My altars kindled first that living coal; + Restore, or practice better, what you stole: + That virtue could this humble verse inspire, + 'Tis all the restitution I require. 340 + + Glad was the Panther that the charge was closed, + And none of all her favourite sons exposed. + For laws of arms permit each injured man, + To make himself a saver where he can. + Perhaps the plunder'd merchant cannot tell + The names of pirates in whose hands he fell; + But at the den of thieves he justly flies, + And every Algerine is lawful prize. + No private person in the foe's estate + Can plead exemption from the public fate. 350 + Yet Christian laws allow not such redress; + Then let the greater supersede the less. + But let the abettors of the Panther's crime + Learn to make fairer wars another time. + Some characters may sure be found to write + Among her sons; for 'tis no common sight, + A spotted dam, and all her offspring white. + + The savage, though she saw her plea controll'd, + Yet would not wholly seem to quit her hold, + But offer'd fairly to compound the strife, 360 + And judge conversion by the convert's life. + 'Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange, + So few should follow profitable change: + For present joys are more to flesh and blood, + Than a dull prospect of a distant good. + 'Twas well alluded by a son of mine + (I hope to quote him is not to purloin), + Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss; + The larger loadstone that, the nearer this: + The weak attraction of the greater fails; 370 + We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails: + But when the greater proves the nearer too, + I wonder more your converts come so slow. + Methinks in those who firm with me remain, + It shows a nobler principle than gain. + + Your inference would be strong, the Hind replied, + If yours were in effect the suffering side: + Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess, + Nor are their prospects in reversion less. + My proselytes are struck with awful dread; 380 + Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head; + The respite they enjoy but only lent, + The best they have to hope, protracted punishment. + Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail, + Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale. + While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease, + That is, till man's predominant passions cease, + Admire no longer at my slow increase. + + By education most have been misled; + So they believe, because they so were bred. 390 + The priest continues what the nurse began, + And thus the child imposes on the man. + The rest I named before, nor need repeat: + But interest is the most prevailing cheat, + The sly seducer both of age and youth; + They study that, and think they study truth. + When interest fortifies an argument, + Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent; + For souls, already warp'd, receive an easy bent. + Add long prescription of establish'd laws, 400 + And pique of honour to maintain a cause, + And shame of change, and fear of future ill, + And zeal, the blind conductor of the will; + And chief among the still-mistaking crowd, + The fame of teachers obstinate and proud, + And, more than all, the private judge allow'd; + Disdain of Fathers which the dance began, + And last, uncertain whose the narrower span, + The clown unread, and half-read gentleman. + + To this the Panther, with a scornful smile: 410 + Yet still you travel with unwearied toil, + And range around the realm without control, + Among my sons for proselytes to prowl, + And here and there you snap some silly soul. + You hinted fears of future change in state; + Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fate! + Perhaps you think your time of triumph near, + But may mistake the season of the year; + The Swallow's[125] fortune gives you cause to fear. + + For charity, replied the matron, tell 420 + What sad mischance those pretty birds befell. + + Nay, no mischance, the savage dame replied, + But want of wit in their unerring guide, + And eager haste, and gaudy hopes, and giddy pride. + Yet, wishing timely warning may prevail, + Make you the moral, and I'll tell the tale. + + The Swallow, privileged above the rest + Of all the birds, as man's familiar guest, + Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold, + But wisely shuns the persecuting cold: 430 + Is well to chancels and to chimneys known, + Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone. + From hence she has been held of heavenly line, + Endued with particles of soul divine. + This merry chorister had long possess'd + Her summer seat, and feather'd well her nest: + Till frowning skies began to change their cheer, + And time turn'd up the wrong side of the year; + The shedding trees began the ground to strow + With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow. 440 + Sad auguries of winter thence she drew, + Which by instinct, or prophecy, she knew: + When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes, + And seek a better heaven, and warmer climes. + + Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height, + And, call'd in common council, vote a flight; + The day was named, the next that should be fair: + All to the general rendezvous repair, + They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves in air. + But whether upward to the moon they go, 450 + Or dream the winter out in caves below, + Or hawk at flies elsewhere, concerns us not to know. + + Southwards, you may be sure, they bent their flight, + And harbour'd in a hollow rock at night: + Next morn they rose, and set up every sail; + The wind was fair, but blew a mackerel gale: + The sickly young sat shivering on the shore, + Abhorr'd salt water never seen before, + And pray'd their tender mothers to delay + The passage, and expect a fairer day. 460 + + With these the Martin readily concurr'd, + A church-begot, and church-believing bird; + Of little body, but of lofty mind, + Round-bellied, for a dignity design'd, + And much a dunce, as Martins are by kind. + Yet often quoted Canon-laws, and Code, + And Fathers which he never understood; + But little learning needs in noble blood. + For, sooth to say, the Swallow brought him in, + Her household chaplain, and her next of kin: 470 + In superstition silly to excess, + And casting schemes by planetary guess: + In fine, short-wing'd, unfit himself to fly, + His fears foretold foul weather in the sky. + + Besides, a Raven from a wither'd oak, + Left of their lodging, was observed to croak. + That omen liked him not; so his advice + Was present safety, bought at any price; + A seeming pious care, that cover'd cowardice. + To strengthen this, he told a boding dream 480 + Of rising waters, and a troubled stream, + Sure signs of anguish, dangers, and distress, + With something more, not lawful to express: + By which he slily seem'd to intimate + Some secret revelation of their fate. + For he concluded, once upon a time, + He found a leaf inscribed with sacred rhyme, + Whose antique characters did well denote + The Sibyl's hand of the Cumaean grot: + The mad divineress had plainly writ, 490 + A time should come (but many ages yet), + In which, sinister destinies ordain, + A dame should drown with all her feather'd train, + And seas from thence be call'd the Chelidonian main. + At this, some shook for fear, the more devout + Arose, and bless'd themselves from head to foot. + + 'Tis true, some stagers of the wiser sort + Made all these idle wonderments their sport: + They said, their only danger was delay, + And he, who heard what every fool could say, 500 + Would never fix his thought, but trim his time away. + The passage yet was good; the wind, 'tis true, + Was somewhat high, but that was nothing new, + No more than usual equinoxes blew. + The sun, already from the Scales declined, + Gave little hopes of better days behind, + But change, from bad to worse, of weather and of wind. + Nor need they fear the dampness of the sky + Should flag their wings, and hinder them to fly + 'Twas only water thrown on sails too dry. 510 + But, least of all, philosophy presumes + Of truth in dreams, from melancholy fumes: + Perhaps the Martin, housed in holy ground, + Might think of ghosts that walk their midnight round, + Till grosser atoms, tumbling in the stream + Of fancy, madly met, and clubb'd into a dream: + As little weight his vain presages bear, + Of ill effect to such alone who fear: + Most prophecies are of a piece with these, + Each Nostradamus can foretell with ease: 520 + Not naming persons, and confounding times, + One casual truth supports a thousand lying rhymes. + + The advice was true; but fear had seized the most, + And all good counsel is on cowards lost. + The question crudely put to shun delay, + 'Twas carried by the major part to stay. + + His point thus gain'd, Sir Martin dated thence + His power, and from a priest became a prince. + He order'd all things with a busy care, + And cells and refectories did prepare, 530 + And large provisions laid of winter fare: + But now and then let fall a word or two + Of hope, that Heaven some miracle might show, + And for their sakes the sun should backward go; + Against the laws of nature upward climb, 535 + And, mounted on the Ram, renew the prime: + For which two proofs in sacred story lay, + Of Ahaz' dial, and of Joshua's day. + In expectation of such times as these, + A chapel housed them, truly call'd of ease: 540 + For Martin much devotion did not ask: + They pray'd sometimes, and that was all their task. + + It happen'd, as beyond the reach of wit + Blind prophecies may have a lucky hit, + That this accomplish'd, or at least in part, + Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art. + Some Swifts, the giants of the Swallow kind, + Large-limb'd, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind + (For Swisses, or for Gibeonites design'd), + These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane, 550 + To suck fresh air, survey'd the neighbouring plain; + And saw (but scarcely could believe their eyes) + New blossoms flourish, and new flowers arise; + As God had been abroad, and, walking there, + Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year: + The sunny hills from far were seen to glow + With glittering beams, and in the meads below + The burnish'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold to flow. + At last they heard the foolish Cuckoo sing, + Whose note proclaim'd the holiday of spring. 560 + + No longer doubting, all prepare to fly, + And repossess their patrimonial sky. + The priest before them did his wings display; + And that good omens might attend their way, + As luck would have it, 'twas St Martin's day. + + Who but the Swallow triumphs now alone? + The canopy of heaven is all her own: + Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair, + And glide along in glades, and skim in air, + And dip for insects in the purling springs, 570 + And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings. + Their mothers think a fair provision made, + That every son can live upon his trade: + And, now the careful charge is off their hands, + Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands: + The youthful widow longs to be supplied; + But first the lover is by lawyers tied + To settle jointure-chimneys on the bride. + So thick they couple, in so short a space, + That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace. + Their ancient houses running to decay, + Are furbish'd up, and cemented with clay; 580 + They teem already; store of eggs are laid, + And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid. + Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear + In flocks to greet the new returning year, + To bless the founder, and partake the cheer. + + And now 'twas time (so fast their numbers rise) + To plant abroad, and people colonies. + The youth drawn forth, as Martin had desired 590 + (For so their cruel destiny required), + Were sent far off on an ill-fated day; + The rest would needs conduct them on their way, + And Martin went, because he fear'd alone to stay. + + So long they flew with inconsiderate haste, + That now their afternoon began to waste; + And, what was ominous, that very morn + The sun was enter'd into Capricorn; + Which, by their bad astronomer's account, + That week the Virgin balance should remount. 600 + An infant moon eclipsed him in his way, + And hid the small remainders of his day. + The crowd, amazed, pursued no certain mark; + But birds met birds, and jostled in the dark: + Few mind the public in a panic fright; + And fear increased the horror of the night. + Night came, but unattended with repose; + Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close: + Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose. + + What should they do, beset with dangers round, 610 + No neighbouring dorp,[126] no lodging to be found, + But bleaky plains, and bare unhospitable ground. + The latter brood, who just began to fly, + Sick-feather'd, and unpractised in the sky, + For succour to their helpless mother call: + She spread her wings; some few beneath them crawl; + She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all. + To augment their woes, the winds began to move, + Debate in air, for empty fields above, + Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain 620 + His rattling hailstones mix'd with snow and rain. + + The joyless morning late arose, and found + A dreadful desolation reign around-- + Some buried in the snow, some frozen to the ground. + The rest were struggling still with death, and lay + The Crows' and Ravens' rights, an undefended prey: + Excepting Martin's race; for they and he + Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree: + But soon discover'd by a sturdy clown, + He headed all the rabble of a town, 630 + And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down. + Martin himself was caught alive, and tried + For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide + No Martin there in winter shall abide. + High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear, + He breathed his last, exposed to open air; + And there his corpse, unbless'd, is hanging still, + To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill. + + The patience of the Hind did almost fail; + For well she mark'd the malice of the tale;[127] 640 + Which ribald art their Church to Luther owes; + In malice it began, by malice grows; + He sow'd the Serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest rose. + But most in Martin's character and fate, + She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate, + The people's rage, the persecuting state: + Then said, I take the advice in friendly part; + You clear your conscience, or at least your heart: + Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill, + For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill: 650 + As for my sons, the family is bless'd, + Whose every child is equal to the rest; + No Church reform'd can boast a blameless line; + Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine: + Or else an old fanatic[128] author lies, + Who summ'd their scandals up by centuries. + But through your parable I plainly see + The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity; + The sunshine that offends the purblind sight: + Had some their wishes, it would soon be night. 660 + Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you: + Your sons are malcontents, but yet are true, + As far as non-resistance makes them so; + But that's a word of neutral sense, you know, + A passive term, which no relief will bring, + But trims betwixt a rebel and a king. + + Rest well assured, the Pardelis replied, + My sons would all support the regal side, + Though Heaven forbid the cause by battle should be tried. + + The matron answer'd with a loud Amen, 670 + And thus pursued her argument again. + If, as you say, and as I hope no less, + Your sons will practise what yourselves profess, + What angry power prevents our present peace? + The Lion, studious of our common good, + Desires (and kings' desires are ill withstood) + To join our nations in a lasting love; + The bars betwixt are easy to remove; + For sanguinary laws were never made above. + If you condemn that prince of tyranny, 680 + Whose mandate forced your Gallic friends to fly, + Make not a worse example of your own; + Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown, + And let the guiltless person throw the stone. + His blunted sword your suffering brotherhood + Have seldom felt; he stops it short of blood: + But you have ground the persecuting knife, + And set it to a razor edge on life. + Cursed be the wit, which cruelty refines, + Or to his father's rod the scorpion's joins! 690 + Your finger is more gross than the great monarch's loins. + But you, perhaps, remove that bloody note, + And stick it on the first reformer's coat. + Oh, let their crime in long oblivion sleep! + 'Twas theirs indeed to make, 'tis yours to keep. + Unjust, or just, is all the question now; + 'Tis plain, that not repealing you allow. + + To name the Test would put you in a rage; + You charge not that on any former age, + + But smile to think how innocent you stand, 700 + Arm'd by a weapon put into your hand, + Yet still remember that you wield a sword + Forged by your foes against your sovereign lord; + Design'd to hew the imperial cedar down, + Defraud succession, and dis-heir the crown. + To abhor the makers, and their laws approve, + Is to hate traitors, and the treason love. + What means it else, which now your children say, + We made it not, nor will we take away? + + Suppose some great oppressor had by slight 710 + Of law, disseised your brother of his right, + Your common sire surrendering in a fright; + Would you to that unrighteous title stand, + Left by the villain's will to heir the land? + More just was Judas, who his Saviour sold; + The sacrilegious bribe he could not hold, + Nor hang in peace, before he render'd back the gold. + What more could you have done, than now you do, + Had Oates and Bedlow, and their plot been true? + Some specious reasons for those wrongs were found; 720 + Their dire magicians threw their mists around, + And wise men walk'd as on enchanted ground. + But now when time has made the imposture plain + (Late though he follow'd truth, and limping held her train), + What new delusion charms your cheated eyes again? + The painted harlot might a while bewitch, + But why the hag uncased, and all obscene with itch? + + The first Reformers were a modest race; + Our peers possess'd in peace their native place; + And when rebellious arms o'erturn'd the state, 730 + They suffer'd only in the common fate: + But now the Sovereign mounts the regal chair, + And mitred seats are full, yet David's bench is bare. + Your answer is, they were not dispossess'd; + They need but rub their metal on the test + To prove their ore: 'twere well if gold alone + Were touch'd and tried on your discerning stone; + But that unfaithful Test unsound will pass + The dross of atheists, and sectarian brass: + As if the experiment were made to hold 740 + For base production, and reject the gold. + Thus men ungodded may to places rise, + And sects may be preferr'd without disguise: + No danger to the Church or State from these; + The Papist only has his writ of ease. + No gainful office gives him the pretence + To grind the subject, or defraud the prince. + Wrong conscience, or no conscience, may deserve + To thrive, but ours alone is privileged to starve. + Still thank yourselves, you cry; your noble race 750 + We banish not, but they forsake the place; + Our doors are open: true, but ere they come, + You toss your 'censing Test, and fume the room; + As if 'twere Toby's[129] rival to expel, + And fright the fiend who could not bear the smell. + + To this the Panther sharply had replied; + But having gain'd a verdict on her side, + She wisely gave the loser leave to chide; + Well satisfied to have the But and Peace, + And for the plaintiff's cause she cared the less, 760 + Because she sued in _forma pauperis_; + Yet thought it decent something should be said; + For secret guilt by silence is betray'd. + So neither granted all, nor much denied, + But answer'd with a yawning kind of pride: + + Methinks such terms of proffer'd peace you bring, + As once AEneas to the Italian king: + By long possession all the land is mine; + You strangers come with your intruding line, + To share my sceptre, which you call to join. 770 + You plead, like him, an ancient pedigree, + And claim a peaceful seat by fate's decree. + In ready pomp your sacrificer stands, + To unite the Trojan and the Latin bands, + And, that the league more firmly may be tied, + Demand the fair Lavinia for your bride. + Thus plausibly you veil the intended wrong, + But still you bring your exiled gods along; + And will endeavour, in succeeding space, + Those household puppets on our hearths to place. 780 + Perhaps some barbarous laws have been preferr'd; + I spake against the Test, but was not heard; + These to rescind, and peerage to restore, + My gracious Sovereign would my vote implore: + I owe him much, but owe my conscience more. + + Conscience is then your plea, replied the dame, + Which, well inform'd, will ever be the same. + But yours is much of the chameleon hue, + To change the dye with every distant view. + When first the Lion sat with awful sway, 790 + Your conscience taught your duty to obey: + He might have had your Statutes and your Test; + No conscience but of subjects was profess'd. + He found your temper, and no farther tried, + But on that broken reed, your Church, relied. + In vain the sects assay'd their utmost art, + With offer'd treasure to espouse their part; + Their treasures were a bribe too mean to move his heart. + But when, by long experience, you had proved, + How far he could forgive, how well he loved; 800 + A goodness that excell'd his godlike race, + And only short of Heaven's unbounded grace; + A flood of mercy that o'erflow'd our isle, + Calm in the rise, and fruitful as the Nile; + Forgetting whence our Egypt was supplied, + You thought your sovereign bound to send the tide: + Nor upward look'd on that immortal spring, + But vainly deem'd, he durst not be a king: + Then Conscience, unrestrain'd by fear, began + To stretch her limits, and extend the span; 810 + Did his indulgence as her gift dispose, + And made a wise alliance with her foes. + Can Conscience own the associating name, + And raise no blushes to conceal her shame? + For sure she has been thought a bashful dame. + But if the cause by battle should be tried, + You grant she must espouse the regal side: + O Proteous Conscience, never to be tied! + What Phoebus from the Tripod shall disclose, + Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes? 820 + Homer, who learn'd the language of the sky, + The seeming Gordian knot would soon untie; + Immortal powers the term of Conscience know, + But Interest is her name with men below. + + Conscience or Interest be 't, or both in one, + The Panther answer'd in a surly tone, + The first commands me to maintain the crown, + The last forbids to throw my barriers down. + Our penal laws no sons of yours admit, + Our Test excludes your tribe from benefit. 830 + These are my banks your ocean to withstand, + Which, proudly rising, overlooks the land; + And, once let in, with unresisted sway, + Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away. + Think not my judgment leads me to comply + With laws unjust, but hard necessity; + Imperious need, which cannot be withstood, + Makes ill authentic, for a greater good. + Possess your soul with patience, and attend: + A more auspicious planet may ascend; 840 + Good fortune may present some happier time, + With means to cancel my unwilling crime; + (Unwilling, witness all ye Powers above!) + To mend my errors, and redeem your love: + That little space you safely may allow; + Your all-dispensing power protects you now. + + Hold, said the Hind, 'tis needless to explain; + You would postpone me to another reign; + Till when you are content to be unjust: + Your part is to possess, and mine to trust. 850 + A fair exchange proposed of future chance, + For present profit and inheritance. + Few words will serve to finish our dispute; + Who will not now repeal, would persecute. + To ripen green revenge your hopes attend, + Wishing that happier planet would ascend. + For shame let Conscience be your plea no more: + To will hereafter, proves she might before; + But she's a bawd to gain, and holds the door. + + Your care about your banks infers a fear 860 + Of threatening floods and inundations near; + If so, a just reprise would only be + Of what the land usurp'd upon the sea; + And all your jealousies but serve to show + Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low. + To intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws, + Is to distrust the justice of your cause; + And argues that the true religion lies + In those weak adversaries you despise. + + Tyrannic force is that which least you fear; 700 + The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear: + Avert it, Heaven! nor let that plague be sent + To us from the dispeopled continent. + + But piety commands me to refrain; + Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign. + Behold! how he protects your friends oppress'd, + Receives the banish'd, succours the distress'd: + Behold, for you may read an honest open breast. + He stands in day-light, and disdains to hide + An act, to which by honour he is tied, 880 + A generous, laudable, and kingly pride. + Your Test he would repeal, his peers restore; + This when he says he means, he means no more. + + Well, said the Panther, I believe him just, + And yet---- + And yet, 'tis but because you must; + You would be trusted, but you would not trust. + The Hind thus briefly; and disdain'd to enlarge + On power of kings, and their superior charge, + As Heaven's trustees before the people's choice: 890 + Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice + To hear those echoes given of her once loyal voice. + + The matron woo'd her kindness to the last, + But could not win; her hour of grace was past. + Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring + To leave the Wolf, and to believe her king, + She gave her up, and fairly wish'd her joy + Of her late treaty with her new ally: + Which well she hoped would more successful prove, + Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love. 900 + The Panther ask'd what concord there could be + Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree? + The dame replied: 'Tis sung in every street, + The common chat of gossips when they meet; + But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while + To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely style. + + A plain good man,[130] whose name is understood + (So few deserve the name of plain and good), + Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd, + And lived, as reason was, upon the best. 910 + Inured to hardships from his early youth, + Much had he done, and suffer'd for his truth: + At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight, + Was never known a more adventurous knight, + Who oftener drew his sword, and always for the right. + + As fortune would (his fortune came, though late) + He took possession of his just estate: + Nor rack'd his tenants with increase of rent; + Nor lived too sparing, nor too largely spent; + But overlook'd his hinds; their pay was just, 920 + And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust: + Slow to resolve, but in performance quick; + So true, that he was awkward at a trick. + For little souls on little shifts rely, + And coward arts of mean expedients try; + The noble mind will dare do anything but lie. + False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way + But shows of honest bluntness, to betray: + That unsuspected plainness he believed; + He looked into himself, and was deceived. 930 + Some lucky planet sure attends his birth, + Or Heaven would make a miracle on earth; + For prosperous honesty is seldom seen + To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win. + It looks as fate with nature's law would strive, + To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive: + And, when so tough a frame she could not bend, + Exceeded her commission to befriend. + + This grateful man, as Heaven increased his store. + Gave God again, and daily fed his poor. 940 + His house with all convenience was purvey'd; + The rest he found, but raised the fabric where he pray'd; + And in that sacred place his beauteous wife + Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life. + + Nor did their alms extend to those alone, + Whom common faith more strictly made their own; + A sort of Doves[131] were housed too near their hall, + Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall. + Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclined, + The greater part degenerate from their kind; 950 + Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed, + And largely drink, because on salt they feed. + Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws; + Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause, + As corporations privileged by laws. + + That house which harbour to their kind affords, + Was built, long since, God knows for better birds; + But fluttering there, they nestle near the throne, + And lodge in habitations not their own, + By their high crops and corny gizzards known. 960 + Like Harpies, they could scent a plenteous board, + Then to be sure they never fail'd their lord: + The rest was form, and bare attendance paid; + They drank, and ate, and grudgingly obey'd. + The more they fed, they raven'd still for more; + They drain'd from Dan, and left Beersheba poor. + All this they had by law, and none repined; + The preference was but due to Levi's kind; + But when some lay-preferment fell by chance, + The gourmands made it their inheritance. 970 + When once possess'd, they never quit their claim; + For then 'tis sanctified to Heaven's high name; + And, hallow'd thus, they cannot give consent, + The gift should be profaned by worldly management. + + Their flesh was never to the table served; + Though 'tis not thence inferr'd the birds were starved; + But that their master did not like the food, + As rank, and breeding melancholy blood. + Nor did it with his gracious nature suit, + Even though they were not Doves, to persecute: 980 + Yet he refused (nor could they take offence) + Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence. + Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought, + Which, new from treading, in their bills they brought: + But left his hinds each in his private power, + That those who like the bran might leave the flour. + He for himself, and not for others, chose, + Nor would he be imposed on, nor impose; + But in their faces his devotion paid, + And sacrifice with solemn rites was made, 990 + And sacred incense on his altars laid. + Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure + Repaid their commons with their salt-manure; + Another farm[132] he had behind his house, + Not overstock'd, but barely for his use: + Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed, + And from his pious hands received their bread. + Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes, + Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries: + Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn, 1000 + A cruise of water and an ear of corn; + Yet still they grudged that modicum, and thought + A sheaf in every single grain was brought. + Fain would they filch that little food away, + While unrestrain'd those happy gluttons prey. + And much they grieved to see so nigh their hall, + The bird that warn'd St Peter of his fall; + That he should raise his mitred crest on high, + And clap his wings, and call his family + To sacred rites; and vex the ethereal powers 1010 + With midnight matins at uncivil hours: + Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest, + Just in the sweetness of their morning rest. + Beast of a bird, supinely when he might + Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light! + What if his dull forefathers used that cry, + Could he not let a bad example die? + The world was fallen into an easier way; + This age knew better than to fast and pray. + Good sense in sacred worship would appear 1020 + So to begin, as they might end the year. + Such feats in former times had wrought the falls + Of crowing Chanticleers[133] in cloister'd walls. + Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled; + And sister Partlet,[134] with her hooded head, + Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed. + The way to win the restive world to God, + Was to lay by the disciplining rod, + Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer: + Religion frights us with a mien severe. 1030 + 'Tis prudence to reform her into ease, + And put her in undress to make her please; + A lively faith will bear aloft the mind, + And leave the luggage of good works behind. + + Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught: + You need not ask how wondrously they wrought: + But sure the common cry was all for these, + Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease. + Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail, + And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail; 1040 + (For vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face, + Is daunted at the sight of awful grace;) + An hideous figure of their foes they drew, + Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true; + And this grotesque design exposed to public view. + One would have thought it some Egyptian piece, + With garden-gods, and barking deities, + More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies. + All so perverse a draught, so far unlike, + It was no libel where it meant to strike. 1050 + Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small, + To view the monster, crowded Pigeon Hall. + There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees + Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees: + And by him, a misshapen, ugly race; + The curse of God was seen on every face: + No Holland emblem could that malice mend, + But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend. + + The master of the farm, displeased to find + So much of rancour in so mild a kind, 1060 + Enquired into the cause, and came to know, + The passive Church had struck the foremost blow; + With groundless fears and jealousies possess'd, + As if this troublesome intruding guest + Would drive the birds of Venus from their nest; + A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd; + But Interest will not trust, though God should plight his word. + + A law,[135] the source of many future harms, + Had banish'd all the poultry from the farms; + With loss of life, if any should be found 1070 + To crow or peck on this forbidden ground. + That bloody statute chiefly was design'd + For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind; + But after-malice did not long forget + The lay that wore the robe and coronet. + For them, for their inferiors and allies, + Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise: + By which unrighteously it was decreed, + That none to trust or profit should succeed, + Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked weed:[136] 1080 + Or that, to which old Socrates was cursed, + Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst. + + The patron (as in reason) thought it hard + To see this inquisition in his yard, + By which the Sovereign was of subjects' use debarr'd. + All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw + The effects of so unnatural a law: + But still the Dove-house obstinately stood + Deaf to their own and to their neighbours' good; + And which was worse, if any worse could be, 1090 + Repented of their boasted loyalty: + Now made the champions of a cruel cause. + And drunk with fumes of popular applause; + For those whom God to ruin has design'd, + He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind. + + New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise, + Suggested dangers, interposed delays; + And emissary Pigeons had in store, + Such as the Meccan prophet used of yore, + To whisper counsels in their patron's ear; 1100 + And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear. + The master smiled to see them work in vain, + To wear him out, and make an idle reign: + He saw, but suffer'd their protractive arts, + And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts: + But they abused that grace to make allies, + And fondly closed with former enemies; + For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise. + + After a grave consult what course were best, + One, more mature in folly than the rest, 1110 + Stood up, and told them, with his head aside, + That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied: + And therefore, since their main impending fear + Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer, + Some potent bird of prey they ought to find, + A foe profess'd to him, and all his kind: + Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyrie nigh, + Well pounced to fasten, and well wing'd to fly; + One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak: + The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak, 1120 + Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest, + The noble Buzzard[137] ever pleased me best; + Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie, + We call him but a Hawk by courtesy. + I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, + And more, in time of war has done us harm: + But all his hate on trivial points depends; + Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends. + For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care; + Cramm'd chickens are a more delicious fare. 1130 + On this high potentate, without delay, + I wish you would confer the sovereign sway: + Petition him to accept the government, + And let a splendid embassy be sent. + + This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed, + Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. + + Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard, + His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepared, + With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard. + He came, and crown'd with great solemnity; 1140 + God save king Buzzard, was the general cry. + + A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, + He seem'd a son of Anak for his height: + Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer: + Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter: + Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delight; + A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte. + A theologue more by need than genial bent; + By breeding sharp, by nature confident. + Interest in all his actions was discern'd; 1150 + More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd: + Or forced by fear, or by his profit led, + Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled: + But brought the virtues of his heaven along; + A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. + And yet with all his arts he could not thrive; + The most unlucky parasite alive. + Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, + And then himself pursued his compliment; + But by reverse of fortune chased away, 1160 + His gifts no longer than their author stay: + He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, + And leaves the stench of ordures in the place. + Oft has he flatter'd and blasphemed the same; + For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name: + The hero and the tyrant change their style + By the same measure that they frown or smile. + When well received by hospitable foes, + The kindness he returns, is to expose: + For courtesies, though undeserved and great, 1170 + No gratitude in felon-minds beget; + As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat. + His praise of foes is venomously nice; + So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice: + "A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice." + Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, + Because he knows Confession stands for one; + Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, + And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd: + But he, uncall'd, his patron to control, 1180 + Divulged the secret whispers of his soul; + Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, + And offer'd to the Moloch of the times. + Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, + Invulnerable in his impudence, + He dares the world; and, eager of a name, + He thrusts about, and jostles into fame. + Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets, + And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets. + So fond of loud report, that not to miss 1190 + Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) + He rather would be known for what he is. + + Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test, + Though half his virtues are not here express'd; + The modesty of fame conceals the rest. + The spleenful Pigeons never could create + A prince more proper to revenge their hate: + Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save; + A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave: + For all the grace the landlord had allow'd, 1200 + But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; + Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd. + They long their fellow-subjects to enthral, + Their patron's promise into question call, + And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all. + + False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest, + As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd; + Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want; + For now the Pigeons too had learn'd to cant. + The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase; 1210 + Nor doors nor windows can contain the press: + For birds of every feather fill the abode; + Even Atheists out of envy own a God: + And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come, + Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome. + That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute, + Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute: + No rigour of the laws to be released, + And much the less, because it was their Lord's request: + They thought it great their Sovereign to control, 1220 + And named their pride, nobility of soul. + + 'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, + Were short of power, their purpose to effect: + But with their quills did all the hurt they could, + And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food: + And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, + Though naming not the patron, to infer, + With all respect, he was a gross idolater. + + But when the imperial owner did espy, + That thus they turn'd his grace to villany, 1230 + Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, + He strove a temper for the extremes to find, + So to be just, as he might still be kind; + Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounced a doom + Of sacred strength for every age to come. + By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, + No rights infringed, but licence to oppress: + Such power have they as factious lawyers long + To crowns ascribed, that Kings can do no wrong. + But since his own domestic birds have tried 1240 + The dire effects of their destructive pride, + He deems that proof a measure to the rest, + Concluding well within his kingly breast, + His fowls of nature too unjustly were oppress'd. + He therefore makes all birds of every sect + Free of his farm, with promise to respect + Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. + His gracious edict the same franchise yields + To all the wild increase of woods and fields, + And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds: 1250 + To Crows the like impartial grace affords, + And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds: + Secured with ample privilege to feed, + Each has his district, and his bounds decreed; + Combined in common interest with his own, + But not to pass the Pigeon's Rubicon. + + Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; + All prophecies accomplish'd from above, + From Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove. + Reduced from her imperial high abode, 1260 + Like Dionysius to a private rod, + The Passive Church, that with pretended grace + Did her distinctive mark in duty place, + Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face. + + What after happen'd is not hard to guess: + The small beginnings had a large increase, + And arts and wealth succeed, the secret spoils of peace. + 'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late, + Become the smiths of their own foolish fate: + Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour; 1270 + But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power: + Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away, + Dissolving in the silence of decay. + + The Buzzard, not content with equal place, + Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race; + To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, + And all together make a seeming goodly flight: + But each have separate interests of their own; + Two Czars are one too many for a throne. + Nor can the usurper long abstain from food; 1280 + Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood: + And may be tempted to his former fare, + When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair. + Bare benting times, and moulting months may come, + When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home; + Or, rent in schism (for so their fate decrees), + Like the tumultuous college of the bees,[138] + They fight their quarrel, by themselves oppress'd; + The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast. + + Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end, 1290 + Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend; + But, with affected yawnings at the close, + Seem'd to require her natural repose: + For now the streaky light began to peep; + And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep. + The dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest + The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest. + Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait, + With glorious visions of her future state. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 118: 'Mother Hubbard:' Mother Hubbard's tale, written by +Spenser.] + +[Footnote 119: 'Lion's peace:' liberty of conscience, and toleration of +all religions.] + +[Footnote 120: 'Exiled heir:' the Duke of York, while opposed by the +favourers and abettors of the Bill of Exclusion, was obliged to retire +from London.] + +[Footnote 121: 'French proselytes:' the French refugees that came into +England after the revocation of the edict of Nantes.] + +[Footnote 122: 'Hudibras:' Butler.] + +[Footnote 123: 'Atheist names:' alluding here and afterwards to +Stillingfleet's attacks on Dryden.] + +[Footnote 124: 'Imprimatur:' the Bishop of London and his chaplains had +formerly the examination of all books, and none could be printed without +their imprimatur, or licence.] + +[Footnote 125: 'Swallow:' this story is supposed to refer to a meeting +of Roman Catholics held in the Savoy to deliberate on King James' +measures, when Father Petre (M. Martin) induced them to join the king's +side, and to remain in England.] + +[Footnote 126: 'Dorp:' hamlet.] + +[Footnote 127: 'The tale:' a parable of the fate of the Papists, soon +fulfilled.] + +[Footnote 128: 'Old fanatic:' Century White, a vehement writer on the +Puritan side.] + +[Footnote 129: 'Toby's:' Tobit; see Apocrypha.] + +[Footnote 130: 'A plain good man:' a character of King James II.] + +[Footnote 131: 'Doves:' the clergy of the Church of England, and other +religions dissenting from that of Rome.] + +[Footnote 132: 'Another farm,' &c.: this alludes to the Popish priests, +whom the king particularly favoured.] + +[Footnote 133: 'Chanticleers:' friars.] + +[Footnote 134: 'Partlet:' nuns.] + +[Footnote 135: 'A law:' penal laws against Popish recusants.] + +[Footnote 136: 'Wicked weed:' the Test Act.] + +[Footnote 137: 'Buzzard:' Bishop Burnet.] + +[Footnote 138: 'College of the bees:' College of Physicians.] + + * * * * * + + + + +MAC FLECKNOE.[139] + + All human things are subject to decay, + And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. + This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young + Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long; + In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, + Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute. + This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, + And blest with issue of a large increase; + Worn out with business, did at length debate + To settle the succession of the state: 10 + And, pondering which of all his sons was fit + To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, + Cried, 'Tis resolved; for nature pleads, that he + Should only rule, who most resembles me. + Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, + Mature in dulness from his tender years: + Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he + Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. + The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, + But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 20 + Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, + Strike through, and make a lucid interval; + But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, + His rising fogs prevail upon the day. + Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye, + And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: + Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain, + And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. + Heywood and Shirley[140] were but types of thee, + Thou last great prophet of tautology. 30 + Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, + Was sent before but to prepare thy way; + And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came + To teach the nations in thy greater name. + My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, + When to king John of Portugal I sung, + Was but the prelude to that glorious day, + When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, + With well-timed oars before the royal barge, + Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge; 40 + And big with hymn, commander of an host, + The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets toss'd. + Methinks I see the new Arion sail, + The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. + At thy well-sharpen'd thumb, from shore to shore + The trebles squeak for fear, the basses roar: + Echoes from Pissing-Alley, Shadwell call, + And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. + About thy boat the little fishes throng, + As at the morning toast that floats along. 50 + Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, + Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand. + St Andre's[141] feet ne'er kept more equal time, + Not even the feet of thy own Psyche's[142] rhyme: + Though they in number as in sense excel; + So just, so like tautology, they fell, + That, pale with envy, Singleton[143] forswore + The lute and sword, which he in triumph bore, + And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more. + + Here stopp'd the good old sire, and wept for joy, 60 + In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. + All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, + That for anointed dulness he was made. + + Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind + (The fair Augusta much to fears inclined), + An ancient fabric raised to inform the sight, + There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight: + A watch-tower once; but now, so fate ordains, + Of all the pile an empty name remains: + From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, 70 + Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys, + Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep, + And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. + Near these a Nursery[144] erects its head, + Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred; + Where unfledged actors learn to laugh and cry, + Where infant punks their tender voices try, + And little Maximins the gods defy. + Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, + Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear; 80 + But gentle Simkin[145] just reception finds + Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds: + Pure clinches the suburban muse affords, + And Panton[146] waging harmless war with words. + Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, + Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. + For ancient Decker[147] prophesied long since, + That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, + Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense: + To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe, 90 + But worlds of Misers[148] from his pen should flow; + Humourists and hypocrites it should produce, + Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.[149] + + Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown + Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. + Roused by report of fame, the nations meet, + From near Bunhill, and distant Watling Street. + No Persian carpets spread the imperial way, + But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay: + From dusty shops neglected authors come, 100 + Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum. + Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby[150] there lay, + But loads of Shadwell almost choked the way. + Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepared, + And Herringman[151] was captain of the guard. + The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, + High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. + At his right hand our young Ascanius sate, + Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state. + His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace, 110 + And lambent dulness play'd around his face. + As Hannibal did to the altars come, + Sworn by his fire, a mortal foe to Rome; + So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, + That he till death true dulness would maintain; + And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, + Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. + The king himself the sacred unction made, + As king by office, and as priest by trade. + In his sinister hand, instead of ball, 120 + He placed a mighty mug of potent ale; + Love's Kingdom[152] to his right he did convey, + At once his sceptre and his rule of sway; + Whose righteous lore the prince had practised young, + And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. + His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread, + That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. + Just at the point of time, if fame not lie, + On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. + So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook, 130 + Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. + The admiring throng loud acclamations make, + And omens of his future empire take. + The sire then shook the honours of his head, + And from his brows damps of oblivion shed, + Full on the filial dulness: long he stood, + Repelling from his breast the raging god; + At length burst out in this prophetic mood: + + Heavens bless my son, from Ireland let him reign + To far Barbadoes on the western main; 140 + Of his dominion may no end be known, + And greater than his father's be his throne; + Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!-- + He paused, and all the people cried, Amen. + Then thus continued he: My son, advance + Still in new impudence, new ignorance. + Success let others teach, learn thou from me + Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. + Let Virtuosos[153] in five years be writ; + Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. 150 + Let gentle George[154] in triumph tread the stage, + Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage; + Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit, + And in their folly show the writer's wit. + Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence, + And justify their author's want of sense. + Let them be all by thy own model made + Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid; + That they to future ages may be known, + Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. 160 + Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, + All full of thee, and differing but in name. + But let no alien Sedley[155] interpose, + To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.[156] + And when false flowers of rhetoric thou wouldst cull, + Trust nature, do not labour to be dull; + But write thy best, and top; and, in each line, + Sir Formal's[157] oratory will be thine: + Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, + And does thy northern dedications fill. 170 + Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame, + By arrogating Jonson's hostile name. + Let Father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, + And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. + Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: + What share have we in nature, or in art? + Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, + And rail at arts he did not understand? + Where made he love in prince Nicander's[158] vein, + Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? 180 + Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my a--e, + Promised a play, and dwindled to a farce? + When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, + As thou whole Etheridge dost transfuse to thine? + But so transfused, as oil and waters flow, + His always floats above, thine sinks below. + This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, + New humours to invent for each new play: + This is that boasted bias of thy mind, + By which one way to dulness 'tis inclined: 190 + Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, + And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. + Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence + Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. + A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, + But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. + Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; + Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. + With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself to write, + Thy inoffensive satires never bite. 200 + In thy felonious heart though venom lies, + It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. + Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame + In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. + Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command, + Some peaceful province in Acrostic land. + There thou mayst wings display and altars[159] raise, + And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. + Or, if thou wouldst thy different talents suit, + Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute. 210 + + He said; but his last words were scarcely heard: + For Bruce and Longville[160] had a trap prepared, + And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. + Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, + Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. + The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, + With double portion of his father's art. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 139: 'Mac Flecknoe:' Richard Flecknoe, from whom this poem +derives its name, was an Irish priest, and author of plays.] + +[Footnote 140: 'Heywood and Shirley:' play writers in Queen Elizabeth's +time.] + +[Footnote 141: 'St Andre:' a famous French dancing-master.] + +[Footnote 142: 'Psyche:' an opera of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 143: 'Singleton:' a musician of the time.] + +[Footnote 144: 'Nursery:' a theatre for training actors.] + +[Footnote 145: 'Simkin:' a character of a cobbler, in an interlude.] + +[Footnote 146: 'Panton:' a famous punster.] + +[Footnote 147: 'Decker:' Thomas Decker, a dramatic poet of James I.'s +reign.] + +[Footnote 148: 'Worlds of Misers:' 'The Miser' and 'The Humourists' were +two of Shadwell's comedies.] + +[Footnote 149: 'Raymond' and 'Bruce:' the first of these is an insipid +character in 'The Humourists'; the second, in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 150: 'Ogleby:' translator of Virgil.] + +[Footnote 151: 'Herringman:' Henry Herringman, a bookseller; see +'Life.'] + +[Footnote 152: 'Love's Kingdom:' this is the name of the only play of +Flecknoe's, which was acted, but miscarried in the representation.] + +[Footnote 153: 'Virtuoso:' a play of Shadwell's.] + +[Footnote 154: 'Gentle George:' Sir George Etheredge.] + +[Footnote 155: 'Alien Sedley:' Sir Charles Sedley was supposed to assist +Shadwell in writing his plays.] + +[Footnote 156: 'Epsom prose:' alluding to Shadwell's play of 'Epsom +Wells.'] + +[Footnote 157: 'Formal:' a character in 'The Virtuoso.'] + +[Footnote 158: 'Nicander:' a character of a lover in Shadwell's opera of +'Psyche.'] + +[Footnote 159: 'Wings and altars:' forms in which old acrostics were +cast. See Herbert's 'Temple.'] + +[Footnote 160: 'Bruce and Longville:' two characters in Shadwell's +'Virtuoso.'] + + * * * * * + + + + +BRITANNIA REDIVIVA: + +A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN JUNE 10, 1688. + + Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care + To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: + Preventing angels met it half the way, + And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. + + Just on the day, when the high-mounted Sun + Did furthest in his northern progress run, + He bended forward, and even stretch'd the sphere + Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year, + To view a brighter sun in Britain born; + That was the business of his longest morn; 10 + The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. + + Departing Spring could only stay to shed + Her bloomy beauties on the genial bed, + But left the manly Summer in her stead, + With timely fruit the longing land to cheer, + And to fulfil the promise of the year. + Betwixt two seasons comes the auspicious heir, + This age to blossom, and the next to bear. + + Last solemn Sabbath[161] saw the Church attend, + The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend; 20 + But when his wondrous octave[162] roll'd again, + He brought a royal infant in his train. + So great a blessing to so good a king, + None but the Eternal Comforter could bring. + + Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, + As once in council, to create our sire? + It seems as if they sent the new-born guest + To wait on the procession of their feast; + And on their sacred anniverse decreed + To stamp their image on the promised seed. 30 + Three realms united, and on one bestow'd, + An emblem of their mystic union show'd: + The Mighty Trine the triple empire shared, + As every person would have one to guard. + + Hail, son of prayers! by holy violence + Drawn down from heaven; but long be banish'd thence, + And late to thy paternal skies retire: + To mend our crimes, whole ages would require; + To change the inveterate habit of our sins, + And finish what thy godlike sire begins. 40 + Kind Heaven, to make us Englishmen again, + No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. + + The sacred cradle to your charge receive, + Ye seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve; + Thy father's angel, and thy father join, + To keep possession, and secure the line; + But long defer the honours of thy fate: + Great may they be like his, like his be late; + That James this running century may view, + And give his son an auspice to the new. 50 + + Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: + For see the Dragon[163] winged on his way, + To watch the travail,[164] and devour the prey. + Or, if allusions may not rise so high, + Thus, when Alcides[165] raised his infant cry, + The snakes besieged his young divinity: + But vainly with their forked tongues they threat; + For opposition makes a hero great. + To needful succour all the good will run, 60 + And Jove assert the godhead of his son. + + O still repining at your present state, + Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate, + Look up, and read in characters of light + A blessing sent you in your own despite. + The manna falls, yet that celestial bread + Like Jews you munch, and murmur while you feed. + May not your fortune be, like theirs, exiled, + Yet forty years to wander in the wild! + Or if it be, may Moses live at least, 70 + To lead you to the verge of promised rest! + + Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow + What plants will take the blight, and what will grow, + By tracing Heaven, his footsteps may be found: + Behold! how awfully he walks the round! + God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways, + The rise of empires, and their fall surveys; + More, might I say, than with an usual eye, + He sees his bleeding church in ruin lie, + And hears the souls of saints beneath his altar cry. 80 + Already has he lifted high the Sign,[166] + Which crown'd the conquering arms of Constantine; + The Moon[167] grows pale at that presaging sight, + And half her train of stars have lost their light. + + Behold another Sylvester,[168] to bless + The sacred standard, and secure success; + Large of his treasures, of a soul so great, + As fills and crowds his universal seat. + Now view at home a second Constantine; + (The former too was of the British line;)[169] 90 + Has not his healing balm your breaches closed, + Whose exile many sought, and few opposed? + Or, did not Heaven by its eternal doom + Permit those evils, that this good might come? + So manifest, that even the moon-eyed sects + See whom and what this Providence protects. + Methinks, had we within our minds no more + Than that one shipwreck on the fatal Ore,[170] + That only thought may make us think again, + What wonders God reserves for such a reign. 100 + To dream that Chance his preservation wrought, + Were to think Noah was preserved for nought; + Or the surviving eight were not design'd + To people Earth, and to restore their kind. + + When humbly on the royal babe we gaze, + The manly lines of a majestic face + Give awful joy: 'tis Paradise to look + On the fair frontispiece of Nature's book: + If the first opening page so charms the sight, + Think how the unfolded volume will delight! 110 + + See how the venerable infant lies + In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes + The father's soul, with an undaunted view, + Looks out, and takes our homage as his due. + See on his future subjects how he smiles, + Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles; + But with an open face, as on his throne, + Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own. + Born in broad day-light, that the ungrateful rout + May find no room for a remaining doubt; 120 + Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun, + And the true eaglet safely dares the sun. + + Fain would the fiends[171] have made a dubious birth, + Loath to confess the Godhead clothed in earth: + But sicken'd, after all their baffled lies, + To find an heir-apparent of the skies: + Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge, + And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. + + Not great AEneas[172] stood in plainer day, + When, the dark mantling mist dissolved away, 130 + He to the Tyrians show'd his sudden face, + Shining with all his goddess mother's grace: + For she herself had made his countenance bright, + Breathed honour on his eyes, and her own purple light. + + If our victorious Edward,[173] as they say, + Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, + Why may not years, revolving with his fate, + Produce his like, but with a longer date; + One, who may carry to a distant shore + The terror that his famed forefather bore? 140 + But why should James or his young hero stay + For slight presages of a name or day? + We need no Edward's fortune to adorn + That happy moment when our prince was born: + Our prince adorns his day, and ages hence + Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince. + + Great Michael, prince of all the ethereal hosts, + And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts; + And thou, the adopted patron of our isle,[174] + With cheerful aspects on this infant smile: 150 + The pledge of Heaven, which, dropping from above, + Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. + + Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought, + When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught; + Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, + Nor did the avenging angel yet retire, + But purged our still increasing crimes with fire, + Then perjured plots, the still impending Test, + And worse--but charity conceals the rest: + Here stop the current of the sanguine flood; 160 + Require not, gracious God, thy martyrs' blood; + But let their dying pangs, their living toil, + Spread a rich harvest through their native soil: + A harvest ripening for another reign, + Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. + + Enough of early saints one womb has given; + Enough increased the family of Heaven: + Let them for his and our atonement go; + And, reigning blest above, leave him to rule below. + + Enough already has the year foreshow'd 170 + His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd, + The meads were floated with a weeping spring, + And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing: + The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints, + And the same shivering sweat his lord attaints. + When will the minister of wrath give o'er? + Behold him at Araunah's threshing-floor:[175] + He stops, and seems to sheathe his flaming brand, + Pleased with burnt incense from our David's hand. + David has bought the Jebusite's abode, 180 + And raised an altar to the living God. + + Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys sincere; + No future ills nor accidents appear, + To sully and pollute the sacred infant's year. + Five months to discord and debate were given: + He sanctifies the yet remaining seven. + Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be blest, + And prelude to the realm's perpetual rest! + + Let his baptismal drops for us atone; + Lustrations for offences not his own. 190 + Let Conscience, which is Interest ill disguised, + In the same font be cleansed, and all the land baptized. + + Unnamed as yet;[176] at least unknown to fame: + Is there a strife in Heaven about his name, + Where every famous predecessor vies, + And makes a faction for it in the skies? + Or must it be reserved to thought alone? + Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton.[177] + Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd; + Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd,[178] + To shun the spells and sorceries of those 200 + Who durst her infant majesty oppose. + But when his tender strength in time shall rise + To dare ill tongues, and fascinating eyes; + This isle, which hides the little Thunderer's fame, + Shall be too narrow to contain his name: + The artillery of heaven shall make him known; + Crete[179] could not hold the god, when Jove was grown. + + As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born,[180] + Whom arms and arts did equally adorn, 210 + Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste + Minerva's name to Venus had debased; + So this imperial babe rejects the food + That mixes monarch's with plebeian blood: + Food that his inborn courage might control, + Extinguish all the father in his soul, + And, for his Estian race, and Saxon strain, + Might reproduce some second Richard's reign. + Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood: + But kings too tame are despicably good: 220 + Be this the mixture of this regal child, + By nature manly, but by virtue mild. + + Thus far the furious transport of the news + Had to prophetic madness fired the Muse; + Madness ungovernable, uninspired, + Swift to foretell whatever she desired. + Was it for me the dark abyss to tread, + And read the book which angels cannot read? + How was I punish'd, when the sudden blast,[181] + The face of heaven, and our young sun o'ercast! 230 + Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she roll'd, + Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told; + At three insulting strides she stalk'd the town, + And, like contagion, struck the loyal down. + Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but, mounted high, + The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. + Here black rebellion shooting from below + (As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow[182]) + And here the sons of God are petrified with woe: + An apoplex of grief: so low were driven 240 + The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. + + As, when pent vapours run their hollow round, + Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground, + Break bellowing forth, and no confinement brook, + Till the third settles what the former shook; + Such heavings had our souls; till, slow and late, + Our life with his return'd, and Faith prevail'd on Fate. + By prayers the mighty blessing was implored, + To prayers was granted, and by prayers restored. + + So, ere the Shunamite[183] a son conceived, 250 + The prophet promised, and the wife believed. + A son was sent, the son so much desired; + But soon upon the mother's knees expired. + The troubled seer approach'd the mournful door, + Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before, + Then stretch'd his limbs upon the child, and mourn'd, + + Thus Mercy stretches out her hand, and saves + Desponding Peter sinking in the waves. + + As when a sudden storm of hail and rain 260 + Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain, + Think not the hopes of harvest are destroy'd + On the flat field, and on the naked void; + The light unloaded stem, from tempest freed, + Will raise the youthful honours of his head; + And soon, restored by native vigour, bear + The timely product of the bounteous year. + + Nor yet conclude all fiery trials past: + For Heaven will exercise us to the last; + Sometimes will check us in our full career, 270 + With doubtful blessings, and with mingled fear; + That, still depending on his daily grace, + His every mercy for an alms may pass, + With sparing hands will diet us to good; + Preventing surfeits of our pamper'd blood. + So feeds the mother bird her craving young + With little morsels, and delays them long. + + True, this last blessing was a royal feast; + But where's the wedding-garment on the guest? + Our manners, as religion were a dream, 280 + Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. + In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell, + And injuries with injuries repel; + Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, + Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. + Thus Israel sinn'd, impenitently hard, + And vainly thought the present ark their guard;[184] + But when the haughty Philistines appear, + They fled, abandon'd to their foes and fear; + Their God was absent, though his ark was there. 290 + Ah! lest our crimes should snatch this pledge away, + And make our joys the blessings of a day! + For we have sinn'd him hence, and that he lives, + God to his promise, not our practice gives. + Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty scale, + But James and Mary, and the Church, prevail. + Nor Amalek can rout the chosen bands,[185] + While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses' hands. + + By living well, let us secure his days; + Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways, 300 + No force the free-born spirit can constrain, + But charity and great examples gain. + Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day: + 'Tis god-like God in his own coin to pay. + + But you, propitious queen, translated here, + From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere, + Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year: + You, who your native climate have bereft + Of all the virtues, and the vices left; + Whom piety and beauty make their boast, 310 + Though beautiful is well in pious lost; + So lost, as star-light is dissolved away, + And melts into the brightness of the day; + Or gold about the regal diadem, + Lost to improve the lustre of the gem. + What can we add to your triumphant day? + Let the great gift the beauteous giver pay. + For should our thanks awake the rising sun, + And lengthen, as his latest shadows run, + That, though the longest day, would soon, too soon be done. 320 + Let angels' voices with their harps conspire, + But keep the auspicious infant from the quire; + Late let him sing above, and let us know + No sweeter music than his cries below. + + Nor can I wish to you, great Monarch, more + Than such an annual income to your store; + The day which gave this Unit, did not shine + For a less omen, than to fill the Trine. + After a prince, an admiral beget; + The Royal Sovereign wants an anchor yet. 330 + Our isle has younger titles still in store, + And when the exhausted land can yield no more, + Your line can force them from a foreign shore. + + The name of Great your martial mind will suit; + But justice is your darling attribute: + Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one hero's[186] due, + And, in him, Plutarch prophesied of you. + A prince's favours but on few can fall, + But justice is a virtue shared by all. + + Some kings the name of conquerors have assumed, 340 + Some to be great, some to be gods presumed; + But boundless power and arbitrary lust + Made tyrants still abhor the name of just; + They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives, + And fear'd a title that reproach'd their lives. + + The Power, from which all kings derive their state, + Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate, + Is equal both to punish and reward; + For few would love their God, unless they fear'd. + + Resistless force and immortality 350 + Make but a lame, imperfect, deity: + Tempests have force unbounded to destroy, + And deathless being, even the damn'd enjoy; + And yet Heaven's attributes, both last and first, + One without life, and one with life accurst: + But justice is Heaven's self, so strictly he, + That could it fail, the Godhead could not be. + This virtue is your own; but life and state + Are one to Fortune subject, one to Fate: + Equal to all, you justly frown or smile; 360 + Nor hopes nor fears your steady hand beguile; + Yourself our balance hold, the world's our isle. + + * * * * * + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 161: 'Solemn Sabbath:' Whit-Sunday.] + +[Footnote 162: 'Wondrous octave:' Trinity Sunday.] + +[Footnote 163: 'The Dragon:' alluding only to the Commonwealth party, +here and in other places of the poem.] + +[Footnote 164: 'The travail:' see Rev. xii. 4.] + +[Footnote 165: 'Alcides:' Hercules.] + +[Footnote 166: 'Sign:' the sign of the cross, as denoting the Roman +Catholic faith.] + +[Footnote 167: 'The moon:' the Turkish crescent.] + +[Footnote 168: 'Another Sylvester:' the Pope in James II.'s time is here +compared to him that governed the Romish Church in the time of +Constantine.] + +[Footnote 169: 'British line:' St Helen, mother of Constantine the +Great, was an Englishwoman.] + +[Footnote 170: 'Fatal Ore:' the sandbank on which the Duke of York had +like to have been lost in 1682, on his voyage to Scotland, is known by +the name of Lemman Ore.] + +[Footnote 171: 'Fiends:' the malcontents who doubted the truth of the +birth are here compared to the evil spirits that tempted our Saviour in +the wilderness.] + +[Footnote 172: 'AEneas:' see Virgil; AEneid, I.] + +[Footnote 173: 'Edward:' Edward the Black Prince, born on Trinity +Sunday.] + +[Footnote 174: 'Patron of our isle': St George.] + +[Footnote 175: 'Araunah's threshing-floor:' alluding to the passage in 1 +Kings xxiv.] + +[Footnote 176: 'Unnamed as yet:' the prince was christened but not named +when this poem was published.] + +[Footnote 177: 'Tetragrammaton:' Jehovah, or the name of God, unlawful +to be pronounced by the Jews.] + +[Footnote 178: 'Rome was kept concealed:' some authors say, that the +true name of Rome was kept a secret.] + +[Footnote 179: 'Crete:' Candia, where Jupiter was born and bred +secretly.] + +[Footnote 180: 'Brain was born:' Pallas or Minerva, said by the poets to +have sprung from the brain of Jove, and to have been bred up by hand, as +was this young prince.] + +[Footnote 181: 'Sudden blast:' the sudden false report of the prince's +death.] + +[Footnote 182: 'Moments grow:' those giants are feigned to have grown +fifteen yards every day.] + +[Footnote 183: 'Shunamite:' see 2 Kings iv.] + +[Footnote 184: 'Ark their guard:' see 1 Sam. iv. 10.] + +[Footnote 185: 'Amalek can rout the chosen bands:' see Exod. xviii. 8.] + +[Footnote 186: Aristides, surnamed the Just.] + + * * * * * + + + +END OF FIRST VOLUME. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of John Dryden, Vol +I, by John Dryden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POETICAL WORKS OF DRYDEN V.1 *** + +***** This file should be named 11488.txt or 11488.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11488/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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