The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume I Part 8

96 So Lybian huntsmen, on some sandy plain, From shady coverts roused, the lion chase: The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain, And slowly moves, unknowing to give place.

97 But if some one approach to dare his force, He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round; With one paw seizes on his trembling horse, And with the other tears him to the ground.

98 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore; And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, Lie lull'd and panting on the silent sh.o.r.e:

99 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, Upon the deck our careful general stood, And deeply mused on the succeeding day.

100 That happy sun, said he, will rise again, Who twice victorious did our navy see: And I alone must view him rise in vain, Without one ray of all his star for me.

101 Yet like an English general will I die, And all the ocean make my s.p.a.cious grave: Women and cowards on the land may lie; The sea's a tomb that's proper for the brave.

102 Restless he pa.s.s'd the remnant of the night, Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh: And burning s.h.i.+ps, the martyrs of the fight, With paler fires beheld the eastern sky.

103 But now, his stores of ammunition spent, His naked valour is his only guard; Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, And solitary guns are scarcely heard.

104 Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife: This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, For all the glories of so great a life.

105 For now brave Rupert from afar appears, Whose waving streamers the glad general knows: With full spread sails his eager navy steers, And every s.h.i.+p in swift proportion grows.

106 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, And from that length of time dire omens drew Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, Who never fought three days, but to pursue.

107 Then, as an eagle, who, with pious care Was beating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eyrie does repair, And finds her callow infants forced away:

108 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, The broken air loud whistling as she flies: She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries.

109 With such kind pa.s.sion hastes the prince to fight, And spreads his flying canvas to the sound; Him, whom no danger, were he there, could fright, Now absent every little noise can wound.

110 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain, And first the martlet meets it in the sky, And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train.

111 With such glad hearts did our despairing men Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet; And each ambitiously would claim the ken, That with first eyes did distant safety meet.

112 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, And sheets of lightning blast the standing field.

113 Full in the prince's pa.s.sage, hills of sand, And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay; Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, And seamen with dissembled depths betray.

114 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.

115 But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight: His cold experience tempers all his heat, And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight.

116 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, And he the substance, not the appearance chose To rescue one such friend he took more pride, Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.

117 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, Rupert and Albemarle together grow; He joys to have his friend in safety found, Which he to none but to that friend would owe.

118 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, Now long to execute their spleenful will; And, in revenge for those three days they tried, Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still.

119 Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way: With the first blushes of the morn they meet, And bring night back upon the new-born day.

120 His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, And his loud guns speak thick like angry men: It seem'd as slaughter had been breathed all night, And Death new pointed his dull dart again.

121 The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew, And matchless courage since the former fight; Whose navy like a stiff-stretch'd cord did show, Till he bore in and bent them into flight.

122 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends His open side, and high above him shows: Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows.

123 Behind the general mends his weary pace, And sullenly to his revenge he sails: So glides some trodden serpent on the gra.s.s, And long behind his wounded volume trails.

124 The increasing sound is borne to either sh.o.r.e, And for their stakes the throwing nations fear: Their pa.s.sions double with the cannons' roar, And with warm wishes each man combats there.

125 Plied thick and close as when the fight begun, Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away; So sicken waning moons too near the sun, And blunt their crescents on the edge of day.

126 And now reduced on equal terms to fight, Their s.h.i.+ps like wasted patrimonies show; Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, And shun each other's shadows as they grow.

127 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest Two giant s.h.i.+ps, the pride of all the main; Which with his one so vigorously he prest, And flew so home they could not rise again.

128 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, In rain upon the pa.s.sing winds they call: The pa.s.sing winds through their torn canvas play, And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.

129 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, Dreadful as day let into shades below: Without, grim Death rides barefaced in their sight, And urges entering billows as they flow.

130 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore: All three now helpless by each other lie, And this offends not, and those fear no more.

131 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain A course, till tired before the dog she lay: Who, stretch'd behind her, pants upon the plain, Past power to kill, as she to get away.

132 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey; His warm breath blows her flix[44] up as she lies; She trembling creeps upon the ground away, And looks back to him with beseeching eyes.

133 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on; For what they to his courage did refuse, By mortal valour never must be done.

134 This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, And warns his tatter'd fleet to follow home; Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome.

135 The general's force, as kept alive by fight, Now not opposed, no longer can pursue: Lasting till heaven had done his courage right; When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew.

136 He casts a frown on the departing foe, And sighs to see him quit the watery field: His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, For all the glories which the fight did yield.

137 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch: He only does his conquest disavow, And thinks too little what they found too much.

138 Return'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay; No tender thoughts of home his heart divide; Domestic joys and cares he puts away; For realms are households which the great must guide.

139 As those who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digests the yet imperfect ore, And know it will be gold another day:

140 So looks our monarch on this early fight, Th' essay and rudiments of great success; Which all-maturing time must bring to light, While he, like Heaven, does each day's labour bless.

141 Heaven ended not the first or second day, Yet each was perfect to the work design'd; G.o.d and king's work, when they their work survey, A pa.s.sive aptness in all subjects find.

142 In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, His plenteous stores do seasoned timber send; Thither the brawny carpenters repair, And as the surgeons of maim'd s.h.i.+ps attend.

143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, His navy's molted wings he imps once more: Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore.

144 All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm: Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm.

And some on bells of tasted lilies play.