"[76] These devices were
invented
by
John Ogilby, gent.
John Ogilby, gent.
Dryden - Complete
Note XIX.
_The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles his name. _--P. 37.
When the English fleet came on the coast of Holland, the Duke of York
took possession of it, as Lord High Admiral. "After he had spent the
day there in receiving information of the state of the fleet, and a
catalogue of the names of the several ships, his Highness returned with
it that night to the king, that his majesty might make alterations, and
new christen these ships, which too much preserved the memory of the
late governors, and of the republic. "--CLARENDON. The Naseby was too
odious a name to be preserved, and it was changed to the Royal Charles,
and the Swiftsure to the James. The Royal Charles fell into the hands
of the Dutch at the surprize of Chatham.
Note XX.
----_Great Gloster's weight. _--P. 37.
Henry of Oatlands, Duke of Glocester, third son of Charles I. He
embarked on this occasion with his brother, by whom he was dearly
beloved. He died of the small-pox on the 13th September following,
deeply and generally lamented.
Note XXI.
_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. _--P. 38.
Johnson remarks, that this extraordinary piece of complaisance in the
land is not without a precedent. A French poet read to Malherbe some
verses, in which he mentioned the kingdom of France as advancing to
meet the king. "Though this happened in my time," observed the critic,
"it is strange I should not remember it. " In the next couplet, Albion
does penance in a sheet, because her cliffs are chalky; had they been
black, she would have been in mourning of course. But the civility
of such inanimate objects, according to the poets of this reign, was
truly wonderful, considering their present insensibility. In a poem,
"On the Arrival of her Royal Highness, and Happy Marriage to the Most
Illustrious Prince James Duke of York, &c. 1673," not only do dolphins
dance about the vessel, but, yet more surprising,
When first she launched, the ambitious waves no more
Would kiss the lips of the forsaken shore;
But, proud of such rich freight, began t' aspire,
As if they'd quench the elemental fire:
So that philosophers since scarce agree,
Whether the earth or ocean highest be.
The trembling compass had forgot to stir,
Instead o'the north pole, pointing still at her;
At which the pilot wonders, till he spies
Two north poles culminant at once,--her eyes.
Note XXII.
_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. _--P. 36.
"And he said, Thou shall not see my face: for there shall no man see me
and live.
"And the Lord said, Behold there is a place by me, and thou shalt stand
upon a rock;
"And it shall come to pass, when my glory cometh by, that I will put
thee into a clift of the rock, and will cover thee with my hand while
I pass by;
"And I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts, but
my face shall not be seen. " _Exodus_, Chap. XXXIII. verses 20, 21, 22,
23.
"And the Lord descended in the cloud, and stood with him there, and
proclaimed the name of the Lord.
"And the Lord passed before him, and proclaimed, The Lord, the Lord God
merciful and gracious, long suffering, and abundant in goodness and
truth. " _Exodus_, Chap. XXXIV. verses 5, 6.
Note XXIII.
_Your power to justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws. _--P. 36.
By the declaration of King Charles II. , dated at Breda, 14th April,
1660, a free pardon was promised to all subjects, of what degree or
quality soever, for their share in the late civil war, excepting only
such as should hereafter be excepted by Parliament. The House of
Peers, irritated by their sufferings during the late troubles, were
disposed to make very general exceptions from the proposed indemnity.
But the king came in person to the house, and beseeched them, in the
most affecting terms, to extend the benefit of the bill to all who
had not been the immediate instruments of his father's death. Upon
which principle, the "Act of Oblivion" was constructed accordingly.
Even among the judges of his father, the King distinguished Ingoldsby,
and others, as fit objects of mercy. Thus the law's rigid letter, as
pronounced by him, was "softer made. "
Note XXIV.
_How shall I speak of that triumphant day,
When you renewed the expiring pomp of May!
A month that owns an interest in your name;
You and the flowers are its peculiar claim. _--P. 37.
Charles II. was born on the 29th of May, 1630, and upon the same
day of the same month, 1660, he "renewed the expiring pomp of May,"
by making his triumphal entry into his metropolis, for the purpose
of resuming the throne of his forefathers. The immense crowds which
assembled to witness an event, which was to close the wounds of civil
discord, seemed, says Clarendon, as if the whole kingdom had been
gathered together. For a full account of his triumphant procession,
with the cloth of gold, and cloth of silver, velvet cloaks, gold
chains, kettle-drums, trumpets, and common council-men, see _Baker's
Chronicle_. One part of the show was particularly striking to the
actors in the late commotions: "I must confess," says the republican
Ludlow, "it was a strange sight to me, to see the horse that had
formerly belonged to our army, now put upon an employment, so different
from that which they had at first undertaken; especially when I
considered, that, for the most part, they had not been raised out of
the meanest of the people, and without distinction, as other armies had
been; but that they consisted of such as had engaged themselves from a
spirit of liberty, in defence of their rights and religion. " LUDLOW'S
_Memoirs_, Vol. III. p. 16.
Note XXV.
_That star, that at your birth shone out so bright,
It stained the duller sun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew. _--P. 37.
There was a star visible on Charles' birth-day, 29th May, 1630; a
circumstance much dwelt upon, by his party, during the civil wars.
Lilly, the astrologer, who embraced the cause of the Commonwealth,
assures us, it was nothing more than the planet Venus, which is
sometimes visible in the day-time; and truly, if we judge of the matter
by its influence on the merry monarch, Venus has the best title to
be held the dominant power at his nativity. Lilly also repeats the
following lines, presented to Charles I. (by the astrologer himself, I
suppose,) when he went to St Paul's, to return thanks for the birth of
his son:
_Rex ubi Paulinias accessit gratus ad aras,
Immicuit medio lucida stella polo:
Dic divina mihi tractans ænigmata cœli,
Hæc oriens nobis quid sibi stella velit?
Magnus in occiduo princeps modo nascitur orbe,
Moxque sub eclipsi regna orientis erunt. _
LILLY'S Monarchy, or no Monarchy.
Our author seems to allude to this star in the "Duke of Guise," where,
speaking literally of Henry III. , but covertly of Charles II. , he makes
Melanax say,
----He cannot be deposed,
He may be killed; a violent fate attends him,
But at his birth there shone a regal star.
Vol. VII. p. 74.
A poetical follower of Monmouth introduces the Duke of York murmuring
against the good fortune of his brother, and exclaiming,
Curse on that planet, whose benign ray
Gilds the bright pavement of the Milky Way;
And is so good, so influential
To the great master of the Milky Hall.
The same star, it would seem, was again visible in 1660.
Note XXVI.
_And as old Time his offspring swallowed down. _--P. 37.
The minutes, hours, days, and other subdivisions of time, may be
accounted his children, which he is fancifully said to devour, as he
passes over them.
Note XXVII.
_And France, that did an exile's presence fear. _--P. 37.
Charles was obliged to leave France, less because his presence was
feared in itself, than the displeasure of Cromwell, for affording him
shelter.
TO
HIS SACRED MAJESTY,
A
PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION.
The ceremony of Charles the Second's coronation was deferred until the
year succeeding his Restoration, when it was solemnized with extreme
magnificence, on the 22d April, 1661, being St George's day. Charles
moved from the Tower to Whitehall, through a series of triumphal
arches, stages, and pageants, all of which presented, at once, the joy
and wealth of his people before the eyes of the monarch. The poets, it
may readily be believed, joined in the general gratulation; but, from
the rudeness of their style, and puerility of their conceits, Charles,
whose taste was undoubted, must have soon distinguished our author's
superior energy of diction, and harmony of language. In most respects
we may consider this piece as written in the style of the preceding,
yet with less affectation of witty and far-fetched allusion. The
description of the spring, beginning, "Now our sad ruins are removed
from sight," is elegantly fancied, and so smoothly expressed, that
even the flow of the language seems to mark the mild and delightful
influence of the season it describes. Much quaintness remains to be
weeded out. The name of the king is sent on high, wrapped soft and warm
in music, like flames on the wings of incense; and, anon, music has
found a tomb in Charles, and lies drowned in her own sweetness; while
the fragrant scent, begun from the royal person, and confined within
the hallowed dome, flies round and descends on him in richer dew. Above
all, we are startled to hear of
A queen, near whose chaste womb, ordained by fate,
The souls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
Neither, if we read (with the first edition) _from_ instead of _near_,
is the intelligibility, or decorum of the passage much improved. If
any of the souls of these unborn monarchs waited for bodies from Queen
Catharine, they waited long in vain. But with all these defects, there
is in this little piece that animation of language and idea, which
always affords the most secure promise of genius.
The first edition is printed for Henry Herringman, 1661.
TO HIS
SACRED MAJESTY,
A
PANEGYRIC
ON
HIS CORONATION.
In that wild deluge where the world was drowned,
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 drowned,
It left behind it false and slippery ground;
And the more solemn pomp was still deferred,
'Till new-born nature in fresh looks appeared.
Thus, Royal Sir, to see you landed here,
Was cause enough of triumph for a year:
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 warmed the ground, and called 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;[68]
But this untainted year is all your own,
Your glories may without our crimes be shown.
We had not yet exhausted all our store,
When you refreshed our joys by adding more:
As heaven, of old, dispensed celestial dew,
You gave us manna, and still gave 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 opened scenes of flowers and blossoms bring,
To grace this happy day, while you appear,
Not king of us alone, but of the year.
All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart;
Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part:
Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim,
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.
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.
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 drowned.
He, that brought peace, all[69] discord could atone,
His name is music of itself alone.
Now while the sacred oil anoints your head,
And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread
Through the large dome, the people's joyful sound,
Sent back, is still preserved in hallowed ground;
Which in one blessing mixed descends on you,
As heightened 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:
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 maintained with good,
As bodies nourished with resembling food.
You have already quenched sedition's brand;
And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land.
The jealous sects, that dare not trust their cause
So far from their own will as to the laws,
You for their umpire and their synod take,
And their appeal alone to Cæsar make. [70]
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.
Your calmness does no after-storms provide,
Nor seeming patience mortal anger hide.
When empire first from families did spring,
Then every father governed 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 designed to noble ends;
Born to command the mistress of the seas,
Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please.
Hither in summer evenings you repair,
To taste the fraischeur 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,[71]
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence,
When even your pleasures serve for our defence.
Beyond your court flows in the admitted tide,[72]
Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide:
Here in a royal bed the waters sleep;
When tired at sea, within this bay they creep.
Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects,[73]
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, ordained by fate,
The souls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
It was your love before made discord cease:
Your love is destined to your country's peace.
Both Indies,[74] 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:
Propitious oracles are begged with vows,
And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs[75].
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 68: Note I. ]
[Footnote 69: The first edition reads _and_ for _all_. ]
[Footnote 70: Note II. ]
[Footnote 71: Note III. ]
[Footnote 72: Note IV. ]
[Footnote 73: Note V. ]
[Footnote 74: Spain and Portugal, both desirous to ally themselves with
Charles by marriage. ]
[Footnote 75: Note VI. ]
NOTES
ON
THE PANEGYRIC ON THE CORONATION.
Note I.
_Some guilty months had in your triumphs shared. _
After the Restoration, several of the regicides were condemned to
death; but the king, with unexampled lenity, remitted the capital
punishment of many of these deep offenders. Only six of the king's
judges were executed; and, when to that number are added, the fanatic
Peters, who compared the suffering monarch to Barabbas, Coke, the
solicitor, who pleaded against Charles on his mock trial, and Hacker,
who commanded the guard, and brutally instigated, and even compelled
them to cry for execution, we have the number of nine, who suffered
for a fact, the most enormous in civilized history, till our age
produced a parallel. There was also an insurrection of the fierce and
hot-brained sect of fanatics, who called themselves fifth-monarchy
men, and devoutly believed, that the Millennium, and the reign of the
saints, was about to begin. Willing to contribute their share to this
happy consummation, these enthusiasts, headed by the fanatic Venner,
rushed into the streets of London; and, though but sixty in number,
were not overpowered without long resistance, and much bloodshed. These
incidents, Dryden, always happy in his allusion to the events of the
day, assigns as a reason for deferring the coronation to an untainted
year. Perhaps, however, he only meant to say, that, as Charles was
not restored till May, 1660, the preceding months of that year were
unworthy to share in the honour, which the coronation would have
conferred upon it.
Note II.
_The jealous sects----
You for their umpire, and their synod take,
And their appeal alone to Cæsar make. _
The conferences held at Savoy House, betwixt the presbyterians and the
bishops, excited hopes among those who did not understand the temper
of theological controversy, that these two powerful divisions of the
protestant church might be reconciled to each other. The quakers,
anabaptists, and other inferior sects, applied, by petitions and humble
addresses, to the king, to be permitted to worship God, according to
their consciences. Thus, the whole modelling of ecclesiastical matters
seemed to be in the hands of the king.
Note III.
_In stately frigates most delight you find. _
Charles the Second had a strong mechanical genius, and understood
ship-building, in particular, more completely than became a monarch,
if it were possible that a king of England could be too intimately
acquainted with what concerns the bulwark of his empire. The king's
skill in matters of navigation is thus celebrated by the author of
a Poem upon his Majesty's Coronation, the 22d April, 1661, being St
George's day.
The seaman's art, and his great end commerce,
Through all the corners of the universe,
Are not alone the subject of your care,
But your delight, and you their polar-star;
And even mechanic arts do find from you,
Both entertainment and improvement too.
Note IV.
_Beyond your court flows in the admitted tide. _
By the improvements made by Charles the Second on St James's Park,
there was a connection made with the river, which Waller has celebrated
in these lines, as a work of superior merit to founding a city.
Instead of rivers rolling by the side
Of Eden's garden, here flows in the tide.
The sea, which always served his empire, now
Pays tribute to our prince's pleasure too.
Of famous cities we the founders know;
But rivers old as seas, to which they go,
Are nature's bounty: 'tis of more renown,
To make a river, than to build a town.
_On St James's Park, as lately improved by His Majesty. _
Note V.
_Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects. _
The canal in St James's park formed a decoy for water-fowl, with which
it was stocked. This circumstance, like the former, is noticed by
Waller:
Whilst over head a flock of new-sprung fowl
Hangs in the air and does the sun controul.
Darkening the air, they hover o'er, and shrowd
The wanton sailors with a feathered cloud.
The water-fowl, thus celebrated, were particular favourites of the
king, who fed them with his own hand. His affection for his dogs and
ducks is noticed in many a libel.
Note VI.
_Thus from your Royal Oak, like Jove's of old,
Are answers sought, and destinies foretold;
Propitious oracles are begged with vows,
And crowns that grow upon the sacred boughs. _
This is in allusion to a device exhibited over the triumphal arch, in
Leadenhall street, through which the king passed in his way from the
Tower to Whitehall, on the day of his coronation. Behind a picture of
the king appeared, deciphered in a large table, "the Royal Oak, bearing
crowns and sceptres, instead of acorns; amongst the leaves in a label
_Miraturque novas frondes et non suà poma. _
As designing its reward, for the shelter it afforded his majesty,
after the fight at Worcester.
"[76] These devices were invented by
John Ogilby, gent. , to the conduct of whom the poetical part of the
coronation, as it is termed in his writ of privilege, was solely
entrusted. The same fancy is commemorated, by the author of "Loyal
Reflections on his Majesty's Restoration, Procession, and Coronation,"
who thus apostrophises the Royal Oak:
Thou vegetive soul, whose glory 'tis and pride
To suffer wounds, or sink, not to divide;
Whose branches Ogilby's rich fancy made
Bear crowns for nuts, but thy best fruit was shade.
When Charles lodged in thy boughs, thou couldst not want
Many degrees to be a sensitive plant.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 76: Ogilby's relation of his Majesty's entertainment passing
through the city of London to his coronation. ]
TO
LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.
&c.
The great statesman, to whom Dryden made this new-year's offering, was
the well known Earl of Clarendon, of whose administration Hume gives
the following striking account:
"Clarendon not only behaved with wisdom and justice in the office of
chancellor: all the counsels, which he gave the king, tended equally
to promote the interest of prince and people. Charles, accustomed, in
his exile, to pay entire deference to the judgment of this faithful
servant, continued still to submit to his direction; and for some time
no minister was ever possessed of more absolute authority. He moderated
the forward zeal of the royalists, and tempered their appetite
for revenge. With the opposite party, he endeavoured to preserve,
inviolate, all the king's engagements. He kept an exact register of the
promises which had been made, for any service; and he employed all his
industry to fulfil them. "
Notwithstanding the merits of Clarendon, and our author's prophecy in
the following verses, that
He had already wearied fortune so,
She could no longer be his friend or foe;
this great statesman was doomed to be one of the numberless victims to
the uncertainty of court favour. His fall took place in 1667, when he
was attainted and banished. The popular discontent was chiefly excited
against him, by a groundless charge of corruption; an accusation to
which the vulgar lend a greedy and implicit faith, because ignorance is
always suspicious, and low minds, not knowing how seldom avarice is the
companion of ambition, conceive the opportunities of peculation to be
not only numerous, but irresistibly tempting. Accordingly, the heroes
of Athens, as well as the patriots of Rome, were usually stigmatized
with this crime; bare suspicion of which, it would seem, is usually
held adequate to the fullest proof. Nor have instances been wanting
in our own days, of a party adopting the same mode, to blacken the
character of those, whose firmness and talents impeded their access to
power, and public confidence.
In the address to the Chancellor, Dryden has indulged his ingenuity
in all the varied and prolonged comparisons and conceits, which were
the taste of his age. Johnson has exemplified Dryden's capacity of
producing these elaborate trifles, by referring to the passage, which
compares the connection between the king and his minister, to the
visible horizon. "It is," says he, "so successfully laboured, that
though at last it gives the mind more perplexity than pleasure, and
seems hardly worth the study that it costs; yet it must be valued, as
the proof of a mind at once subtle and comprehensive. " The following
couplet, referring to the friendship of Charles I, when in his
distresses, for Clarendon, contains a comparison, which is eminently
happy:
Our setting sun, from his declining seat,
Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat.
In general, this poem displays more uniform adherence to the
metaphysical style of Cowley, and his contemporaries, than occurs
in any of Dryden's other compositions. May we not suppose, that, in
addressing Clarendon, he adopted the style of those muses, with whom
the Chancellor had conversed in his earlier days, in preference to the
plainer and more correct taste, which Waller, and Denham, had begun
to introduce; but which, to the aged statesman, could have brought
no recollection of what he used to consider as poetry? Certain, at
least, it is, that, to use the strong language of Johnson, Dryden never
after ventured "to bring on the anvil such stubborn and unmanageable
thoughts;" and these lines afford striking evidence, how the lever of
genius, like that of machinery applied to material substances, can
drag together, and compel the approximation of the most unsociable
ideas. Our admiration of both, however, is much qualified, when they
are applied rather to make exhibition of their own powers, than for any
better purpose.
TO
THE LORD-CHANCELLOR HYDE.
PRESENTED ON NEW-YEAR'S-DAY, 1662.
MY LORD,
While flattering crouds officiously appear
To give themselves, not you, an happy year,
And by the greatness of their presents prove
How much they hope, but not how well they love,--
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.
Decayed by time and wars, they only prove
Their former beauty by their former love;
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 suffered banishment.
Thus once, when Troy was wrapped in fire and smoke,
The helpless gods their burning shrines forsook;
They with the vanquished 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.
In open prospect nothing bounds our eye,
Until the earth seems joined 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 joined,
And beyond that no farther heaven can find.
So well your virtues do with his agree,
That, though your orbs of different greatness be,
Yet both are for each other's use disposed,
His to inclose, and yours to be inclosed:
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,
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 disincumbered from those arms she wore.
Heaven would your 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 joined)
His fatal goodness left to fitter times,
Not to increase, but to absolve our crimes:
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 emp'ric politicians use deceit,
Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat;
You boldly shew that skill which they pretend,
And work by means as noble as your end;
Which should you veil, we might unwind the clue,
As men do nature, till we came to you.
And, as the Indies were not found before
Those rich perfumes, which, from the happy shore,
The winds upon their balmy wings conveyed,
Whose guilty sweetness first their world betrayed;
So, by your counsels, we are brought to view
A rich and undiscovered world in you.
By you our monarch does that fame assure,
Which kings must have, or cannot live secure:
For prosperous princes gain their subjects' heart,
Who love that praise in which themselves have part.
By you he fits those subjects to obey,
As heaven's eternal monarch does convey
His power unseen, and man, to his designs,
By his bright ministers, the stars, inclines.
Our setting sun, from his declining seat,
Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat;
And, when his love was bounded in a few
That were unhappy, that they might be true,
Made you the favourite of his last sad times,
That is a sufferer in his subjects' crimes:
Thus, those first favours you received, were sent,
Like heaven's rewards, in earthly punishment:
Yet fortune, conscious of your destiny,
E'en then took care to lay you softly by,
And wrapped your fate among her precious things,
Kept fresh to be unfolded with your king's.
Shewn all at once, you dazzled so our eyes,
As new-born Pallas did the gods surprise,
When, springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound,
She struck the warlike spear into the ground;
Which sprouting leaves did suddenly inclose,
And peaceful olives shaded as they rose.
How strangely active are the arts of peace,
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,
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;
(Envy, that does with misery reside,
The joy and the revenge of ruined 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 sun-shine fall.
You have already wearied Fortune so,
She cannot farther be your friend or foe;
But sits all breathless, and admires to feel
A fate so weighty, that it stops our wheel.
In all things else above our humble fate,
Your equal mind yet swells not into state,
But, like some mountain in those happy isles,
Where in perpetual spring young nature smiles,
Your greatness shews; 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;
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 unimpaired with labours, or with time,
Your age but seems to a new youth to climb.
Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget,
And measure change, but share no part of it.
And still it shall without a weight increase,
Like this new-year, whose 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.
SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.
This Satire was, as the title informs us, written in 1662: probably
towards the latter end of the year, when Charles, having quarrelled
with De Wit, then at the head of the public affairs of Holland, was
endeavouring to patch up an union with France, to which kingdom he
was naturally partial, against the States, whom he hated, both as
a republic, and an association of vulgar merchants. This impolitic
alliance did not then take place, notwithstanding the sale of Dunkirk,
(conquered by the arms of Cromwell,) to France, for L. 400,000. On the
contrary, in 1665 France armed in defence of Holland. But this was
contrary to the expectations and wishes of Charles; and accordingly
Dryden, in 1662, alludes to the union of the two crowns against the
States as a probable event.
The verses are adapted to the comprehension of the vulgar, whom they
were intended to inflame. Bold invective, and coarse raillery, supply
the place of the wit and argument, with which Dryden, when the time
fitted, knew so well how to arm his satire.
The verses, such as they are, appeared to the author well qualified
for the purpose intended; for, when, in 1672, his tragedy of "Amboyna"
was brought forward, to exasperate the nation against Holland, the
following verses were almost literally woven into the prologue and
epilogue of that piece. See Vol. V. pp. 10. 87. Nevertheless, as
forming a link in our author's poetical progress, the present Editor
has imitated his predecessors, in reprinting them among his satires and
political pieces.
SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.
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.
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 gulled 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.
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.
Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation;
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion:
And their new commonwealth hath 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 main,
As their own paunches swell above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth, but humour,
And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour. [77]
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. [78]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 77: Alluding to the hoped for union between France and
England, and to the cure, by touching, for the Evil. ]
[Footnote 78: Cato is said to have laid before the Senate the fine figs
of Africa, and to have reminded them, that the country which produced
these choice fruits was but three days sail from Rome. He used also
to conclude every speech with the famous expression, _Delenda est
Carthago_. ]
TO
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE DUCHESS OF YORK,
ON THE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER THE DUTCH, &c.
The Duchess, here addressed, was Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of
Clarendon, and first wife of James, Duke of York, afterwards James
II. She appears to have been a woman of first-rate talents, as well
as exemplary prudence. Of the last qualification she gave a singular
proof, when her marriage with the Duke was declared. She had admitted
James to her bed while abroad, under a solemn promise of marriage. Many
endeavoured to dissuade him from completing this unequal alliance; and
that a motive, at least an apology, might be supplied for a retreat
from his engagements, Lord Falmouth, Killigrew, and other courtiers,
did not hesitate to boast of favours received from the lady. When
the king's regard for his minister, and James's attachment to his
betrothed wife, occasioned the confirmation of the marriage, these
zealous witnesses found themselves in an unpleasing predicament, till
the Duchess took an opportunity of assuring them, that she was far
from harbouring the least resentment at the reports they had raised,
since they believed them calculated to promote the interest of their
master and her husband. [79] It may be presumed, that Dryden had already
attached himself to the fortunes of the Duke of York, since he so early
addressed the princess, whose posthumous avowal of the Catholic faith
he afterwards attempted to vindicate.
The victory of the 23d June, 1665, was gained by the British fleet,
commanded by the Duke of York, over the Dutch, under the famous Opdam.
It was, like all naval actions between the English and the Dutch, a
fierce, obstinate, and bloody conflict. The fleets met near Harwich
on the 2d June; but the Dutch declined action upon that day, from a
superstitious recollection that it was the anniversary of a dreadful
defeat, received from Blake and Monk in 1653, in which they lost their
famous Admiral, Von Tromp. But on the morning of the third, the fleets
joined battle so near the shore, that the thunder of the combat was
heard all along the English coast. York and Opdam singled each other
out, and lay alongside in close action, till the Dutch vessel (a second
rate) was blown up, and all on board perished. The Dutch fleet then
dispersed and fled, losing nineteen ships sunk and taken, while the
English lost only one. During this dreadful battle the Duke of York
displayed the greatest personal courage. He was in the thickest of the
fire, when one cannon-shot killed Lord Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr
Boyle, by his side, and covered him with the gore of the most faithful
and attached companions of his fortune. Yet this day, the brightest
which ever shone on him, was not without a cloud. When the Dutch fleet
were scattered, and an active pursuit was all that remained to the
victors, Brounker, a gentleman of the Duke's bed-chamber, commanded
Sir John Harman, in the Duke's name, to slacken sail. James was then
asleep, and the flimsy pretext of not disturbing his repose was set
up as a reason for this most untimely interference. The affair was
never well explained. The Duke dismissed Brounker from his service,
and a parliamentary investigation of his conduct took place. [80]
But no adequate punishment was inflicted, and the nation saw, with
displeasure, the fruits of a dear-bought and splendid victory lost by
the unauthorized interference of an officious minion.
The Duchess, as we learn, amongst other authorities, from an old libel,
came down to Harwich to see her husband embark, and afterwards made
the triumphant progress to the north, which is here commemorated. The
splendour of her reception at Harwich is thus censured by the Satirist:
One thrifty ferry-boat, of mother-pearl,
Sufficed of old the Citherean girl;
Yet navies are but fopperies, when here
A small sea mask, and built to court your dear:
Three goddesses in one, Pallas for art,
Venus for sport, but Juno in your heart.
O Duchess, if thy nuptial pomp was mean,
'Tis paid with interest in thy naval scene.
Never did Roman Mark, within the Nile,
So feast the fair Egyptian crocodile;
Nor the Venetian Duke, with such a state,
The Adriatic marry at that rate.
The poem itself is adapted to the capacity and taste of a lady; and, if
we compare it with that which Dryden had two years before addressed to
the Chancellor, it strengthens, I think, very strongly the supposition,
that the old taste of extravagant and over-laboured conceits, with
which the latter abounds, was a stile purposely adapted to gratify the
great Statesman to whom it was addressed, whose taste must necessarily
have been formed upon the ancient standard. The address, which follows,
is throughout easy and complimentary, much in the stile of Waller, as
appears from comparing it with that veteran bard's poem on the same
subject. Although upon a sublime subject, Dryden treats it in the light
most capable of giving pleasure to a fair lady; and the journey of the
duchess to the north is proposed as a theme, nearly as important as the
celebrated victory of her husband.
Accordingly Dryden himself tells us, in the introductory letter to the
"Annus Mirabilis," that, in these lines, he only affected smoothness
of measure and softness of expression; and the verses themselves were
originally introduced in that letter, to vindicate the character there
given of them.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 79: See Memoires de Grammont, Chapitre VIII. for the
Duchess's conduct towards these _temoins a bonne fortune_, as Hamilton
happily calls them. ]
[Footnote 80: Even Harman did not escape suspicion on this occasion.
Marvell gives the following account of his examination before
Parliament:
"Yesterday Harman was brought to the house, to give an account of
slackening sail in the first victory. He had a very good reputation at
his coming in; but when he said, that Mr Bronkard only used arguments,
and justified the thing himself, saying, 'That he had been a madman
had he not done it;' and other witnesses clearly contradicting this,
and proving, that Bronkard brought him orders in the Duke's name, he
lost all credit with us; and yet more, when, upon recollection, he
confessed that Mr Bronkard did bring orders as from the Duke: so he is
committed to the sergeant, and will doubtless be impeached. Both he and
Mr Bronkard, who was also heard, will probably, on Tuesday next, taste
the utmost severity of the house. " ANDREW MARVELL _to the_ MAYOR OF
HULL. _See his Works_, Vol. I. p. 104. ]
TO
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE DUCHESS,
ON THE
MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER
THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE THE 3. 1665.
AND ON
HER JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH.
MADAM,
When, for our sakes, your hero you resigned
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 gained at home.
Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide!
Your honour gave us what your love denied;
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 unmatched 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 hushed, the waves in ranks were cast,
As awfully as when God's people past:
Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow,
These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then with the duke your Highness 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)[81]
While, from afar, we heard the cannon play,
Like distant thunder on a shiny day. [82]
For absent friends we were ashamed to fear,
When we considered 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 ravished the rewards of fame,
And the fair triumphed, 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 marched 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,
Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show.
So, when the new-born Phœnix first is seen,
Her feathered 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 81: Note I. ]
[Footnote 82: Note II. ]
NOTES
ON
THE PRECEDING POEM.
Note I.
_So Moses was upheld while Israel fought. _
"And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel
prevailed; and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed.
"But Moses' hands were heavy, and they took a stone, and put it under
him, and he sat thereon: and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one
on the one side, and the other on the other side, and his hands were
steady until the going down of the sun.
"And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the
sword. " Exodus, chap. xvii. 11, 12, 13th verses.
Note II.
_While, from afar, we heard the cannon play,
Like distant thunder on a shiny day. _
The noise of the battle was distinctly heard at London, as appears from
the Introduction to our author's "Essay on Dramatic Poetry," where the
dialogue is supposed to pass in a barge, in which the speakers had
embarked to hear more distinctly, "those undulations of sound, which,
though almost vanishing before they reached them, seemed yet to retain
somewhat of their first horror which they had betwixt the fleets. " And,
by the sound seeming to retire from them, Eugenius draws an omen of the
enemy's defeat. This whole scene is imagined with so much liveliness,
that we can hardly doubt Dryden was actually an ear-witness of the
combat.
ANNUS MIRABILIS;
THE
YEAR OF WONDERS,
1666,
AN HISTORICAL POEM.
ANNUS MIRABILIS.
This is the first poem of any length which Dryden gave to the public.
Formerly he had only launched out in occasional verses, and, in some
instances, on subjects of no prominent importance. He now spread a
broader canvas, and prepared to depict a more extensive and magnificent
scene. The various incidents of an eventful war between two powerful
nations, who disputed the trident of the ocean, and the tremendous
fire, which had laid London in ashes, were subjects which still
continued to agitate the bosoms of his countrymen. These, therefore,
he ventured to assume as the theme of his poem; and his choice is
justified by the effects which it yet produces upon the reader.
There would have been no doubt, even had the author himself been
silent, that he followed D'Avenant in the choice of the elegiac
stanza, in which the _Annus Mirabilis_ is composed. It is sounding and
harmonious to the ear; and perhaps Dryden still annexed to the couplet
the idea of that harshness, which was so long its characteristick in
the hands of our early English writers. But the four-lined stanza has
also its peculiar disadvantages; and they are admirably stated by the
judicious critic, who first turned the Editor's eyes, and probably
those of many others, on the neglected poem of "Gondibert. "--"The
necessity of comprising a sentence within the limits of the measure, is
the tyranny of Procrustes to thought. For the sake of a disagreeable
uniformity, expression must constantly be cramped or extenuated.
In general, the latter expedient will be practised as the easiest;
and thus both sentiment and language will be enfeebled by unmeaning
expletives. "[83] It is nevertheless true, that Dryden has very seldom
suffered his poem to languish. Every stanza presents us either with
vivid description, or with some strong thought, which is seldom
suffered to glide into tenuity. But this structure of verse has often
laid him under an odd and rather unpleasing necessity, of filling up
his stanza, by coupling a simile, or a moral, expressed in the two
last lines, along with the fact, which had been announced in the
two first. When these comments, or illustrations, however good in
themselves, appear to be intruded upon the narrative or description,
and not naturally to flow out of either, they must be considered as
defects in composition; and a kind of versification, which compels
frequent recurrence to such expedients for filling up the measure, has
a disadvantage, for which mere harmony can hardly compensate. In the
passages which follow, there is produced a stiff and awkward kind of
balance between the story and the poet's reflections and illustrations.
Lawson among the foremost met his fate,
Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament:
Thus as an offering for the Grecian state,
He first was killed, who first to battle went.
* * * * *
To nearest ports their shattered ships repair,
Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed
So reverently men quit the open air,
Where thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.
* * * * *
Like hunted castors, conscious of their store,
Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring;
There first the North's cold bosom spices bore,
And winter brooded on the eastern spring.
When, after such verses, we find one in which the author expresses
a single idea so happily, as just to fill up the _quatrain_, the
difference is immediately visible, betwixt a simile easily and
naturally introduced, and stanzas made up and levelled with what a
poet of those times would perhaps have ventured to call the _travelled
earth_ of versification:
And now four days the sun had seen our woes;
Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire;
It seemed as if the stars more sickly rose,
And farther from the feverish north retire.
Of all these difficulties our author seems to have been aware, from
his preliminary epistle to Sir Robert Howard; and it was probably the
experimental conviction, that they were occasionally invincible, which
induced him thenceforward to desert the _quatrain_; although he has
decided that stanza to be more noble, and of greater dignity, both for
the sound and number, than any other verse in use among us.
The turn of composition, as well as the structure of the verse, is
adopted from "Gondibert. " But Dryden, more completely master of the
English language, and a writer of much more lively imagination and
expression, has, in general, greatly exceeded his master in conceiving
and bringing out the far-fetched ideas and images, with which each
has graced his poem. D'Avenant is often harsh and turgid, and the
construction of his sentences extremely involved. Dryden has his
obscure, and even unintelligible, passages; but they arise from the
extravagance of the idea, not from the want of power to express it. For
example, D'Avenant says,
Near her seems crucified that lucky thief,
In heaven's dark lottery prosperous more than wise,
Who groped at last by chance for heaven's relief,
And throngs undoes with hopes by one drawn prize.
We here perfectly understand the author's meaning, through his
lumbering and unpoetical expression; but, in the following stanza,
Dryden is unintelligible, because he had conceived an idea approaching
to nonsense, while the words themselves are both poetical and
expressive:
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.
In short, Dryden never fails in the power of elegant expression, till
he ventures upon something which it is impossible to express.
