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Thou bring'st us an estate, yet leav'st us poor,

Fruition more deceitful is By clogging it with legacies before!

Than thou canst be, when thou dust miss ; The joys which we entire should wed, Men leave thee by obtaining, and straight filee Come deflower'd virgins to our bed;

Some other way again to thee; Good fortunes without gain imported be,

And that's a pleasant country, without doubt Suich mighty custom's paid to thee.

To which all soon return that travel out.
for joy, like wine, kept close does better taste;
If it take air before, its spirits waste.
Hope! Fortune's cheating lottery!

Where for one prize an hundred blanks there be ;
Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far,

| DE SENE VERONENSI, QUI SUBURBIUM NUNQUAM That still or short or wide thine arrows are !

Thin, empty cloud, which th' eye deceives

Felix, qui patriis, &c. .
With shapes that our own fancy gives !
A cloud, which gilt and painted now appears,

Happy the man, who his whole time doth bound But must drop presently in tears!

Within th' inclosure of his little ground. When thy false beams o'er Reason's light prevail,

Happy the man, whom the same humble place By ignes fatui for north-stars we sail.

(Th' hereditary cottage of his race)

From his first rising infancy has known, Brother of Fear, more gayly clad!

And by degrees sees gently bending down,
The merrier fool o' th' two, yet quite as mad : With natural propension, to that earth
Sire of Repentance! child of fond Desire ! Which both presery'd his life, and gave him birth
That blow’st the chymics', and the lovers', fire, Him no false distant lights, by fortune set,
Leading them still insensibly on

Could ever into foolish wanderings get.
By the strange witchcraft of “anon !" He never dangers either saw or fear'd.
By thee the one does changing Nature, through The dreadful storms at sea he never heard.
Her endless labyrinths, pursue;

He never heard the shrill alarms of war,
And th' other chases woman, whilst she goes Or the worse noises of the lawyers' bar.
More ways and turns than hunted Nature knows. No change of consuls marks to him the year

The change of seasons is his calendar. |The cold and heat, winter and summer shows,

Autumn by fruits, and spring by flowers, he knows FOR HOPE

He measures time by land-marks, and has found Hope! of all ills that men endure,

For the whole day the dial of his ground. The only cheap and universal cure!

| A neighboring wood, born with himself, he sees, Thou captive's freedom, and thou sick man's health!

healthil And loves his old contemporary trees. Thou loser's victory, and thou beggar's wealth!

He 'as only heard of near Verona's name, Thou manna, which from Heaven we eat,

And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame, To every taste a several meat!

Does with a like concernment notice take Thou strong retreat! thou sure-entail'd estate,

Of the Red-sea, and of Benacus' lake. Which nought has power to alienate.

Thus health and strength he to a third age enjoys Thou pleasant, honest flatterer! for none

And sees a long posterity of boys. Flauer unhappy men, but thou alone!

About the spacious world let others roam,

The voyage, life, is longest made at home.
Hope! thou first-fruits of happiness !
Thou gentle dawning of a bright success!
Thou good preparative, without which our joy
Does work too strong, and, whilst it cures, destroy!

Who out of Fortune's reach dost sland,

Well, then; I now do plainly see And art a blessing still in hand!

This busy world and I shall ne'er agree; Whilst thee, her earnest-money, we retain,

The very honey of all earthly joy We certain are to gain.

Does of all meats the soonest cloy ; Whether she her bargain break or else fulfil;

And they, methinks, deserve my pity, Thou only good, not worse for ending ill!

Who for it can endure the stings, Brother of Faith! 'twixt whom and thee

| The crowd, and buzz, and murmurings, The joye of Heaven and Earth divided be!

Of this great hive, the city.
Though Faith be heir, and have the fixt estate, Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
Thy portion yet in movables is great.

May I a small house and large garden have ! Happiness itself's all one

And a few friends, and many books, both true, In thee, or in possession!

Both wise, and both delightful too! Only the future's thine, the present his !

And, since love ne'er will from me flee, Thine's the more hard and noble bliss :

A mistress moderately fair, Best apprehender of our joys! which hast

And good as guardian-angels are, So long a reach, and yet canst hold so fast!

Only belov'd, and loving me! Hope! thou sad lovers' only friend!

Oh, fountains! when in you shall I Thou Way, that may'st dispute it with the End! Myself, eas'd of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? For love, I fear, 's a fruit that does delight Oh fields! oh woods! when, when shall I be mad: The taste itself less than the smell and sight.

The happy tenant of your shade?

Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood; I Ah, wretched We! poets of earth! but thou Where all the riches lie, that she

Wert living the same poet which thou’rt now; Had coined and stamped for good.

Whilst angels sing to thee their airs divine, Pride and ambition here

And joy in an applause so great as thine,

Equal society with them to hold,
Only in far-fetched metaphors appear ;
Here naught but winds can hurtful murmurs scat-

Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the

old: ter,

And they, kind spirits I shall all rejoice to see And naught but Echo flatter.

How little less than they exalted man may be.
The gods, when they descended, hither
From Heaven did always choose their way;
And therefore we may boldly say,
That 't is the way too thither.

How happy bere should I,
And one dear she, live, and embracing die !

WHERE honor or where conscience does not bind,
She, who is all the world, and can exclude
In deserts solitude!

No other law shall shackle me; I should have then this only fear

Slave to myself I will not be:

Nor shall my future actions be confined Lest men, when they my pleasures see,

By my own present mind. Should hither throng to live like me,

Who by resolves and vows engaged does stand And so make a city here.

For days that yet belong to Fate,
Does, like an unthrift, mortgage his estate

Before it falls into his band.

The bondman of the cloister so

All that he does receive does always owe; AWAKE, awake, my Lyre !

And still as time comes in, it goes away, And tell thy silent master's humble tale

Not to enjoy, but debts to pay. In sounds that may prevail;

Unhappy slave! and pupil to a bell! Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire;

Which his hour's work, as well as hours, does Though so exalted she

tell! And I so lowly be,

Unhappy to the last, the kind releasing knell. Tell her, such different notes make all thy har

Hark! how the strings awake:
And, though the moving hand approach not near
Themselves with awful fear,

A kind of numerous trembling make..
Now all thy forces try,

If mine eyes do e'er declare
Now all thy charms apply,

They've seen a second thing that's fair ; Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.

Or ears that they have music found,

Besides thy voice, in any sound; Weak Lyre! thy virtue sure

If my taste do ever meet, Is useless here, since thou art only found

After thy kiss with aught that's sweet; To cure, but not to wound,

It' my abused touch allow And she to wound, but not to cure.

Aught to be smooth or soft but thou! Too weak too wilt thou prove

If what seasonable springs My passion to remove,

Or the eastern summer brings, Physic to other ills, thou 'rt nourishment to love.

Do my smell persuade at all Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre !

Aught perfume but thy breath to call; For thou canst never tell my humble tale

If all my senses objects be In sounds that will prevail;

Not contracted into thee, Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire :

And so through thee more powerful pase, All thy vain mirth lay by,

As beams do through a burning-glass; Bid thy strings silent lie,

If all things that in Nature are
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre; and let thy master

Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
Be not in thee so epitomized,
That naught material 's not comprised,

May I as worthless seem to thee,

As all but thou appear to me.
Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given
The two most sacred names of earth and heaven,
The hard and rarest union which can be,

Next that of Godhead with humanity.
Long did the Muses banished slaves abide, Love in her sunny eyes does basking play;
And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;

Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair; Like Moses thou (though spells and charms with Love does on both her lips for ever stray, stand)

And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there; Hast brought them pobly home back to their In all her outward parts Love's always seen, Holy Land.

But, oh! he never went within.



JOHN DRYDEN was born at Aldwinckle, North-, of it. On the accession of James II, he became, amptonshire, August 9, 1631. He was educated with that monarch, a convert to the Roman first at Westminster School, under Dr. Busby, Catholic faith, and in 1687 published his “Hind and then at Cambridge, where he took the mas and Panther," a most absurd defence of his ter's degree in 1657. He inherited a small es- adopted church. His pension was now largely tate, and went to London under the patronage increased, his poems were universally read, and of Sir Gilbert Pickering. At the age of twenty he seemed at the very height of prosperity. But he had published an elegy and some epigrams; the revolution deprived him of his laureateship, but his first poem that attracted attention was and reduced him to the necessity of writing " Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Cromwell.” again for bread. He produced more plays, which On the restoration, he changed his politics, and were put upon the stage, but are now, like his sang in praise of Charles II., in “ Astræa Redux" earlier ones, almost forgotten. Dryden was unand " A Panegyric on the Coronation." This like Milton in that he did his best work in the cost him the friendship of Pickering, and he last years of his life. The translation of Virthen became an author by profession. He wrote gil was begun in 1694, and occupied two years. for the stage with considerable success. But Soon after, appeared his “ Ode on Alexander's his rhymed tragedies were deservedly ridiculed Feast," and then he spent a year and a half in by the Duke of Buckingham in "The Rehears- writing his “Fables." He died May 1, 1700, al." In 1663 Dryden married Elizabeth How. and was buried in Westminster Abbey. In ard, daughter of the Earl of Berkshire, and in Dryden's character and conduct as a man there 1670 he was appointed poet-laureate and his. is little to admire; but the student of English toriograpber. In 1681 he wrote “ Absalom and poetry will never cease to regret that such noble Aebitopbel," an elaborate political satire, and powers were so largely wasted on ephemeral and the next year "Mac Flecknoe," a continuation / unworthy themes.


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


Ix thriving arts long time had Holland grown, Behold two nations, then, engag'd so far,

Crouching at home and cruel when abroad: That each seven years the fitmust shake each land
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own; Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Our king they courted, and our merchants aw'd. Who only can his vast designs withstand.

Trade, which like blood should circularly Aow,

Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost: Thither the wealth of all the world did go,

And seer'd but shipwreck d on so base a coast.

See how he feeds th' 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.

For them alone the Heavens had kindly heat;

In eastern quarries ripening precious dew: for them the Idumean balm did sweat,

And in hot Ceilon spicy forests grew.

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

'The Sun but seem'd the laborer of the year; This saw our king; and long within his breast

Each waring Moon supplied her watery store, His pensive counsels balanc'd to and fro:
To swell those tides which from the line did bear He griev'd the land he freed should be oppress'd

Their brim full vessels to the Belgian shore. | And he less for it than usurpers do.

Thus, mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long, His generous mind the fair ideas drew

And swept the riches of the world from far; l of fame and honor, which in dangers lay ; Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong : Where wealth, like fruit on precipices, grew

And this may prove our se ond Punic war. Not to be gather'd but by birds of prev

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.

By the rich scent we found our persura'd are,

Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in cover lie And round about their murdering canu'n iay,

At once to threaten and invite the eye.

He first survey'd the charge with carefut eyes, Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more har

Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain; The English undertake th' unequal war: Yet judg'd, like vapors that from limbecs rise, Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, It would in richer showers descend cgain.

Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.

Al length resolvid † assert the watery ball, These fight like husbands, but like lovers those : He in himself did whole armadoes bring

These fain would keep, and those more fain erijus Him aged seamen might their inaster call, And to such height their frantic passion grows,

And choose for general, were he not thei. king.! That what both love, both hazard to destroy.

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Or one, that bright companion of the Sun, Go, mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain

Whose glorious aspect seal'd our new-born king For wealth, which so uncertainly must come: And now, a round of greater years begun,

When what was brought so far, and with such pain New influence from his walks of light did bring. Was only kept to lose it nearer home.

Victorious York did first with fam'd success, The son, who twice three months on th'ocean too!

To his known valor make the Dutch give place: Prepar'd to tell what he had pass'd before, Thus Heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, Now sees in English ships the Holland coast, Beginning conquest from his royal race.

And parents’arms, in vain, stretch'd from the shore

But since it was decreed, auspicious king, This careful husband had been long away,

In Britain's right that thou shouldst wed the main, Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, Who on their fingers learn'd to tell the day

And therefore doom'd that Lawson should be slain. On which their father promisd to return.

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.

Such are the proud designs of human-kind,

And so we suffer shipwreck everywhere!
Alas, what port can such a pilot find,

Who in the night of Fate must blindly swer!

Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expir'd, The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill,

To which his pride presum'd to give the law : Heaven in his bosom from our knowledge hides The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retir'd, And draws them in contempt of human skill,

And all was Britain's the wide ocean saw. Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides.

To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair,

Where by our dreadful cannon they lay aw'd: So reverently men quit the open air,

When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.

Let Munster's prelate 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 reig:

And now approach'd their feet from India, fraught Happy, who never trust a stranger's will,
With all the riches of the rising Sun :

| Whose friendship's in his interest understood And precious sand from southern climates brought, Since money given but tempts him to be ill, The fatal regions where the war begun.

When power is too remote to make him good.

Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, [bring: Till now, alone the mighty nations strove;

Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand ; There first the North's cold bosom spices bore, And threatening France, plac'd like a painted Jore

And Winter brooded on the eastern Spring. | Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.

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Were subjects so but only by their choice, Now pass'd, on either side they nimbly tack;

And not from birth did forc'd dominion take, I Both strive to intercept and guide the wind : Our prince alone would have the public voice; And, in its eye, morc c'csely they come back,

And all his neighbors' realms would deserts make. To finish all the deaths they left behind

He without fear a dangerous war pursues,

Which without rashness he began before: As honor made him first the danger choose,

So still he makes it good on virtue's score.

On high-rais'd 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.

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.

And as the built, 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

With equal power he does two chiefs create, Our dreaded admiral from far they threat,

Two such as each seem'd worthiest when alone; Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives Each able to sustain a nation's fate,

All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, Since both had found a greater in their own. He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves

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.

Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought;

But he who meets all danger with disdain, Ev'n in their face his ship to anchor brought,

And steeple-high stood propt upon the main.

The prince long time had courted Fortune's love, At this excess of courage, all amaz'd,
But once possess'd did absolutely reign:

The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw : Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, With such respect in enter'd Rome they gaz'd,

And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain. Who on high chairs the godlike fathers saw.

The duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain, And now, as where Patroclus' body lay,

That Carthage, which he ruin'd, rise once more ;l Here Trojan chiefs advanc'd, and there the Greek And shook aloft the fasces of the main,

Ours o'er the duke their pious wings display, To fright those slaves with what they felt before. And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek.

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