With Socrates may see their Maker's 210 face, While thousand rubric-martyrs want a place. Nor does it balk my charity, to find Th' Egyptian bishop of another mind: For tho' his creed eternal truth contains, "Tis hard for man to doom to endless pains All who believ'd not all his zeal requir'd, Unless he first could prove he was inspir'd. 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 Digression path has tried; to the trans(A much unskilful, but wellmeaning guide:) Yet what they are, ev'n these lator of Father Simon's Crit ical History of the Old crude thoughts were Testament. bred As nature's height and art's last hand requir'd; As much as man could compass, uninspir'd. Where we may see what errors have been made Both in the copier's and translator's trade; How Jewish, Popish interests have prevail'd, And where infallibility has fail'd. 250 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, tho' deriv'd from heav nly birth, Has been but carelessly preserv'd on earth; If God's own people, who of God before 260 Knew what we know, and had been promis'd 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 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 forc'd 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. objection. Their Church, in last resort, should judge the sense; objection. But first they would assume, Answer to the with wondrous art, Themselves to be the whole, who are but In search of heav'n, than all the Church before; Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we see Without much hazard may be let alone: 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 Sha-Il's rhymes will serve. POEMS INCLUDED IN MISCELLANY POEMS (THE FIRST MISCELLANY), 1684 [In 1684 there was printed for Jacob Tonson" a volume with title-page reading, Miscellany Poems, containing a New Translation of Virgills Ec'ogues, Ovid's Love Elegies. Odes of Horace, and other Authors, with several Original Poems, by the most Eminent Hands; and with the motto: Et ros. O lauri, carpam, et te, proxima myrte; ... Sic posita quoniam suaveis miscetis odores. This book is generally referred to as the First Miscellany. A second edition appeared in 1692, a third in 1702, and a fourth in 1716. (The title-page of the third edition reads, Miscellany Poems, the First Part. Publish'd by Mr. Dryden: that of the fourth edition reads, The First Part of Miscellany Poems. Publish'd by Mr. Dryden.) The collection has no preface and opens with new editions of Mac Flecknoe, Absalom and Achitophel, and The Medal: next come various translations from Greek and Latin authors, mixed with a few original poems; then fol-. lows a collection of prologues and epilogues; finally, after a few scattering poems, a translation of Virgil's Eclogues concludes the book. Among the "eminent hands were Sir Charles Sedley, the Earl of Mulgrave, the Earl of Roscommon, the Earl of Rochester, Otway, Rymer, Tate, Duke, and Creech. Dryden was, however, by far the largest contributor to the volume. In the contents of the third and fourth editions, published after Dryden's death, Tonson, or an editor, nade important changes. The prologues and epilogues by Dryden have already been printed in their chronological order, so far as it could be ascertained. Of Virgil's Eclogues Dryden translated the fourth and ninth. These versions he reprinted, with some revision, in his complete translation of Virgil, published in 1697. They are therefore omitted at this point: the variant readings of the earlier texts are given in the notes to the Virgil. Of Dryden's work only the three following poems remain to be printed as first published in Miscellany Poems, 1684. The text follows the first edition.] These are the arts that best secure thy reign, And this the food that must my fires maintain. Gross easy love does, like gross diet, pall, In squeasy stomachs honey turns to gall. Had Danae not been kept in brazen tow'rs, Jove had not thought her worth his golden show'rs. When Juno to a cow turn'd Io's shape, 29 The watchman help'd her to a second leap. Let him who loves an easy Whetstone whore, Pluck leaves from trees, and drink the common shore. The jilting harlot strikes the surest blow, A truth which I by sad experience know. The kind poor constant creature we despise; Man but pursues the quarry while it flies. But thou, dull husband of a wife too fair, Stand on thy guard, and watch the precious Damn him who loves to lead so dull a life. Now I can neither sigh, nor whine, nor pray; All those occasions thou hast ta'en away. Why art thou so incorrigibly civil? Do somewhat I may wish thee at the Devil. For shame be no accomplice in my treason, A pimping husband is too much in reason. 60 Once more wear horns, before I quite forsake her, In hopes whereof, I rest thy cuckold-maker. AMARYLLIS OR, THE THIRD IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRI. TUS, PARAPHRAS'D So faithful I, and you so much forsworn! Far off you view'd them with a longing eye Upon the topmost branch (the tree was high): Yet nimbly up, from bough to bough I swerv'd, And for to-morrow have ten more reserv'd. |