The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees,
Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees;
Three centuries he grows, and three he stays,
Supreme in state, and in three more decays:
So wears the paving pebble in the street,
And towns and towers their fatal periods meet
So rivers, rapid once, now naked lie,
Forsaken of their springs, and leave their channels
dry:
So man, at first a drop, dilates with heat,
Then formed, the little heart begins to beat;
Secret he feeds, unknowing in the cell;
At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the shell,
And struggles into breath, and cries for aid;
Then, helpless, in his mother's lap is laid.
He creeps, he walks, and, issuing into man,
Grudges their life, from whence his own began ;
Retchless* of laws, affects to rule alone,
Anxious to reign, and restless on the throne;
First vegetive, then feels, and reasons last;
Rich of three souls, and lives all three to waste.
Some thus, but thousands more in flower of
For few arrive to run the latter stage.
Sunk in the first, in battle some are slain,
And others whelmed beneath the stormy main.
What makes all this, but Jupiter the king,
At whose command we perish, and we spring?
Then 'tis our best, since thus ordained to die,
To make a virtue of necessity;
Take what he gives, since to rebel is vain;
The bad grows better, which we well sus-
tain;
* [This form of "reckless was common enough, and interesting, not least because it gave rise to the further and deceptive form "wretchless" (Article on Predestination, "wretchlessness of most unclean desperation ").—ED.]
And could we choose the time, and choose aright,
"Tis best to die, our honour at the height.
When we have done our ancestors no shame,
But served our friends, and well secured our fame;
Then should we wish our happy life to close,
And leave no more for fortune to dispose.
So should we make our death a glad relief
From future shame, from sickness, and from grief; 1095 Enjoying, while we live, the present hour,
And dying in our excellence and flower.
Then round our deathbed every friend should
And joy us of our conquest early won;
While the malicious world, with envious tears,
Should grudge our happy end, and wish it theirs.
Since then our Arcite is with honour dead,
Why should we mourn, that he so soon is freed,
Or call untimely, what the gods decreed?
With grief as just, a friend may be deplored,
From a foul prison to free air restored.
Ought he to thank his kinsman or his wife,
Could tears recall him into wretched life?
Their sorrow hurts themselves; on him is lost;
And, worse than both, offends his happy ghost. 1110 What then remains, but, after past annoy,
To take the good vicissitude of joy ;
To thank the gracious gods for what they
Possess our souls, and while we live, to live?
Ordain we then two sorrows to combine,
And in one point the extremes of grief to join;
That thence resulting joy may be renewed,
As jarring notes in harmony conclude.
Then I propose, that Palamon shall be
In marriage joined with beauteous Emily;
* [Often mischievously altered into "joyous.”—ED.]
For which already I have gained the assent
Of
my free people in full parliament.
Long love to her has borne the faithful knight,
And well deserved, had fortune done him right:
"Tis time to mend her fault, since Emily,
By Arcite's death, from former vows is free;
you, fair sister, ratify the accord,
And take him for your husband and your lord.
"Tis no dishonour to confer your grace
On one descended from a royal race;
And were he less, yet years of service past,
From grateful souls, exact reward at last.
Pity is heaven's and yours; nor can she find
A throne so soft as in a woman's mind."
He said she blushed; and, as o'erawed by
might,
Seemed to give Theseus what she gave the knight.
Then, turning to the Theban, thus he said :-
"Small arguments are needful to persuade
Your temper to comply with my command:
And, speaking thus, he gave Emilia's hand.
Smiled Venus, to behold her own true knight
Obtain the conquest, though he lost the fight;
And blessed, with nuptial bliss, the sweet labori-
ous night.
Eros and Anteros,* on either side,
One fired the bridegroom, and one warmed the
And long-attending Hymen, from above,
Showered on the bed the whole Idalian grove.
All of a tenor was their after-life,
No day discoloured with domestic strife;
* [Dryden might plead etymology and the authority of Plato for this use of "Anteros.' But later classical use rather represents that divinity as malign, either directly opposing Love, or at least punishing those who do not requite affection. -ED.]
No jealousy, but mutual truth believed,
Secure repose, and kindness undeceived.
Thus heaven, beyond the compass of his thought,
Sent him the blessing he so dearly bought.
So may the Queen of Love long duty bless,
And all true lovers find the same success!
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