Look on me kindly, and some pity shew, 30 Ev'n to a bee to buzz within your bow'r, Now to my cost the force of Love I find; His brother whelps and he ran wild about the wood. Ah nymph, train'd up in his tyrannic court, To make the suff'rings of your slaves your sport! Unheeded ruin! treacherous delight! O polish'd hardness, soften'd to the sight! 40 Whose radiant eyes your ebon brows adorn, Like midnight those, and these like break SPOKEN BY MR. BETTERTON [This play, by Southerne, was acted and printed in 1684; it is noted in the Term Catalogue for Trinity Term (June) of that year. The prologue was reprinted in the third edi tion, 1702, of Miscellany Poems, the First Purt, with the heading, A Prologue, spoken by Mr. Betterton, written by Mr. Dryden. The present text follows that printed with the play in 1684. On the epilogue to the same play, see Appendir I, p. 920, below.] How comes it, gentlemen, that nowadays, When all of you so shrewdly judge of plays, Our poets tax you still with want of sense? All prologues treat you at your own expense. Sharp citizens a wiser way can go; 10 Vows that from him no nymph deserves a satire; Nor will he ever draw I mean his rhyme, [This tragedy, by Lee, was first printed in 1684. The epilogue is not assigned to Dryden in this edition or in the early collected editions of Lee's works. It appears, however, in the third edition, 1702, of Miscellany Poems, the First Part, with the words, written by Mr. Dryden," after the title. The present text follows that printed with the play in 1684.] OUR hero's happy in the play's conclusion; The holy rogue at last has met confusion: Eusebius (for you know I read Greek authors) Reports that, after all these plots and slaughters, The court of Constantine was full of glory, And every Trimmer turn'd Addressing Tory. They follow'd him in herds as they were mad; When Clause was king, then all the world was glad: 10 Whigs kept the places they possess'd before, And most were in a way of getting more; TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON, ON HIS EXCELLENT ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE [An Essay on Translated Verse, by Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscommon, was first published in 1684; a second edition, corrected and enlarged," appeared the next year. Dryden's poem is prefixed to both editions; in the second it is slightly revised. Dryden several times refers to Roscommon with warm admiration: see his Preface to Ovid's Epistles (p. 90, above), his Preface to Sylva (pp. 176, 178, 179, below), and his Dedication of the Eneis (p. 514, below). In 1683 Roscommon prefixed a complimentary poem to the third issue of Religio Laici. The present text follows the second edition.] WHETHER the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian shore, The seeds of arts and infant science bore, 'Tis sure the noble plant, translated first, Advanc'd its head in Grecian gardens nurs'd. The Grecians added verse; their tuneful tongue Made nature first and nature's God their 40 Or his own Virgil sing a nobler strain. How much in him may rising Ireland boast, How much in gaining him has Britain lost! Their island in revenge has ours reclaim'd; The more instructed we, the more we still are sham'd. 'Tis well for us his generous blood did flow, Deriv'd from British channels long ago; That here his conquering ancestors were nurs'd, And Ireland but translated England first: 51 |