The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume I Part 26

The royal husbandman appear'd, And plough'd, and sow'd, and till'd; The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd, And bless'd the obedient field: When straight a double harvest rose; Such as the swarthy Indian mows; Or happier climates near the line, Or Paradise manured and dress'd by hands divine.

XIII.

As when the new-born Phoenix takes his way, His rich paternal regions to survey, Of airy choristers a numerous train Attends his wondrous progress o'er the plain; So, rising from his father's urn, So glorious did our Charles return; The officious Muses came along-- A gay harmonious quire, like angels ever young: The Muse that mourns him now, his happy triumph sung, Even they could thrive in his auspicious reign; And such a plenteous crop they bore Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, As Britain never knew before.

Though little was their hire, and light their gain, Yet somewhat to their share he threw; Fed from his hand, they sung and flew, Like birds of Paradise that lived on morning dew.

Oh, never let their lays his name forget!

The pension of a prince's praise is great.

Live, then, thou great encourager of arts!

Live ever in our thankful hearts; Live blest above, almost invoked below; Live and receive this pious vow, Our patron once, our guardian angel now!

Thou Fabius of a sinking state, Who didst by wise delays divert our fate, When faction like a tempest rose, In death's most hideous form, Then art to rage thou didst oppose, To weather-out the storm: Not quitting thy supreme command, Thou held'st the rudder with a steady hand, Till safely on the sh.o.r.e the bark did land: The bark that all our blessings brought, Charged with thyself and James, a doubly royal fraught.

XIV.

Oh, frail estate of human things, And slippery hopes below!

Now to our cost your emptiness we know, For 'tis a lesson dearly bought, a.s.surance here is never to be sought.

The best, and best beloved of kings, And best deserving to be so, When scarce he had escaped the fatal blow Of faction and conspiracy, Death did his promised hopes destroy: He toil'd, he gain'd, but lived not to enjoy.

What mists of Providence are these, Through which we cannot see!

So saints, by supernatural power set free, Are left at last in martyrdom to die; Such is the end of oft-repeated miracles.

Forgive me, Heaven, that impious thought!

'Twas grief for Charles, to madness wrought, That question'd thy supreme decree.

Thou didst his gracious reign prolong, Even in thy saints' and angels' wrong, His fellow-citizens of immortality: For twelve long years of exile borne, Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return: So strictly wert thou just to pay, Even to the driblet of a day.

Yet still we murmur and complain, The quails and manna should no longer rain; Those miracles 'twas needless to renew; The chosen stock has now the promised land in view.

XV.

A warlike prince ascends the regal state, A prince long exercised by fate: Long may he keep, though he obtains it late!

Heroes in Heaven's peculiar mould are cast, They and their poets are not form'd in haste; Man was the first in G.o.d's design, and man was made the last.

False heroes, made by flattery so, Heaven can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow; But ere a prince is to perfection brought, He costs Omnipotence a second thought.

With toil and sweat, With hardening cold, and forming heat, The Cyclops did their strokes repeat, Before the impenetrable s.h.i.+eld was wrought.

It looks as if the Maker would not own The n.o.ble work for His, Before 'twas tried and found a masterpiece.

XVI.

View, then, a monarch ripen'd for a throne!

Alcides thus his race began, O'er infancy he swiftly ran; The future G.o.d at first was more than man: Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate, Even o'er his cradle lay in wait; And there he grappled first with fate: In his young hands the hissing snakes he press'd, So early was the deity confess'd.

Thus by degrees he rose to Jove's imperial seat; Thus difficulties prove a soul legitimately great.

Like his, our hero's infancy was tried; Betimes the Furies did their snakes provide; And to his infant arms oppose His father's rebels, and his brother's foes; The more oppress'd, the higher still he rose: Those were the preludes of his fate, That form'd his manhood, to subdue The Hydra of the many-headed hissing crew.

XVII.

As after Numa's peaceful reign, The martial Ancus did the sceptre wield, Furbish'd the rusty sword again, Resumed the long-forgotten s.h.i.+eld, And led the Latins to the dusty field; So James the drowsy genius wakes Of Britain, long entranced in charms, Restive and slumbering on its arms: 'Tis roused, and with a new-strung nerve, the spear already shakes, No neighing of the warrior steeds, No drum, or louder trumpet, needs To inspire the coward, warm the cold-- His voice, his sole appearance makes them bold.

Gaul and Batavia dread the impending blow; Too well the vigour of that arm they know; They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal foe.

Long may they fear this awful prince, And not provoke his lingering sword; Peace is their only sure defence, Their best security his word: In all the changes of his doubtful state, His truth, like Heaven's, was kept inviolate, For him to promise is to make it fate.

His valour can triumph o'er land and main; With broken oaths his fame he will not stain; With conquest basely bought, and with inglorious gain.

XVIII.

For once, O Heaven! unfold thy adamantine book; And let his wondering senate see, If not thy firm immutable decree, At least the second page of strong contingency; Such as consists with wills originally free: Let them with glad amazement look On what their happiness may be: Let them not still be obstinately blind, Still to divert the good thou hast design'd, Or with malignant penury, To starve the royal virtues of his mind.

Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test, O give them to believe, and they are surely blest!

They do; and with a distant view I see The amended vows of English loyalty.

And all beyond that object, there appears The long retinue of a prosperous reign, A series of successful years, In orderly array, a martial, manly train.

Behold even the remoter sh.o.r.es, A conquering navy proudly spread; The British cannon formidably roars, While starting from his oozy bed, The a.s.serted Ocean rears his reverend head; To view and recognise his ancient lord again: And with a willing hand, restores The fasces of the main.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 90: 'An eagre:' a tide swelling above another tide--observed on the River Trent.]

[Footnote 91: 'Short and Hobbes:' two physicians who attended on the king.]

[Footnote 92: 'King:' King David.]

[Footnote 93: 'The prophet:' Elijah.]

VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS, PARAPHRASED.

CREATOR SPIRIT, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come, visit every pious mind; Come, pour thy joys on human kind; From sin and sorrow set us free, And make thy temples worthy thee.

O source of uncreated light, The Father's promised Paraclete!

Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, Our hearts with heavenly love inspire; Come, and thy sacred unction bring To sanctify us, while we sing!

Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Rich in thy sevenfold energy!

Thou strength of his Almighty hand, Whose power does heaven and earth command: Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!

Refine and purge our earthly parts; But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!

Our frailties help, our vice control, Submit the senses to the soul; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay thy hand, and hold them down!

Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe: Give us thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by thee.

Immortal honour, endless fame, Attend the Almighty Father's name The Saviour Son be glorified, Who for lost man's redemption died: And equal adoration be, Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER.

A POEM, IN THREE PARTS.

--Antiquam exquirite matrem.