by John Dryden
Our once bold Rival in the British Main,
Now tamely glad her unjust Claim to cease,
And buy our Friendship with her Idol, Gain.
22
Fame of th’ asserted Sea, through Europe blown, 85
Made France and Spain ambitious of his Love;
Each knew that Side must conquer, he wou’d own;
And for him fiercely, as for Empire, strove.
23
No sooner was the French-Man’s Cause embrac’d,
Than the light Monsieur the grave Don out-weigh’d: 90
His Fortune turn’d the Scale where-e’er ’twas cast,
Tho’ Indian mines were in the other laid.
24
When absent, yet we conquer’d in his Right;
For tho’ some meaner Artist’s Skill were shown,
In mingling Colours, or in placing Light, 95
Yet still the fair Designment was his own.
25
For from all Tempers he cou’d Service draw
The worth of each, with its Alloy, he knew;
And, as the Confident of Nature, saw
How she Complections did divide and brew. 100
26
Or he their single Vertues did survey,
By Intuition, in his own large Breast,
Where all the rich Idea’s of them lay,
That were the Rule and Measure to the rest.
27
When such Heroick Vertue Heaven sets out, 105
The Stars, like Commons, sullenly obey;
Because it drains them, when it comes about;
And therefore is a Tax they seldom pay.
28
From this high Spring, our Foreign Conquests flow,
Which yet more glorious Triumphs do portend; 110
Since their Commencement to his Arms they owe,
If Springs as high as Fountains may ascend.
29
He made us Free-men of the Continent,
Whom Nature did like Captives treat before;
To nobler Preys the English Lion sent, 115
And taught him first in Belgian Walks to roar.
30
That old unquestion’d Pirate of the Land,
Proud Rome, with Dread the Fate of Dunkirk heard;
And trembling, wish’d behind more Alps to stand,
Although an Alexander were her Guard. 120
31
By his Command we boldly cross’d the Line
And bravely fought where Southern Stars arise;
We trac’d the far-fetched Gold unto the Mine,
And that which brib’d our Fathers, made our Prize.
32
Such was our Prince, yet own’d a Soul above 125
The highest Acts it could produce to show:
Thus poor Mechanick Arts in Publick move,
Whilst the deep Secrets beyond Practice go.
33
Nor dy’d he when his Ebbing Fame went less,
But when fresh Laurels courted him to live: 130
He seem’d but to prevent some new Success,
As if above what Triumphs Earth could give.
34
His latest Victories still thickest came,
As near the Centre, Motion does increase;
Till he, press’d down by his own weighty Name, 135
Did, like the Vestal, under Spoils decease.
35
But first, the Ocean, as a tribute, sent
That Giant-Prince of all her Watry Herd;
And th’ Isle, when her protecting Genius went,
Upon his Obsequies loud Sighs conferr’d. 140
36
No Civil Broils have since his Death arose,
But Faction now, by Habit, does obey;
And Wars have that Respect for his Repose,
As winds for Halcyons when they breed at Sea.
37
His Ashes in a Peaceful Urn shall rest, 145
His Name a great Example stands to show,
How strangely high Endeavours may be bless’d,
Where Piety and Valour jointly go.
Astræa Redux.
A Poem on the Happy Restoration and Return of His Sacred Majesty Charles the Second
NOW with a general Peace the World was blest,
While Ours, a World divided from the rest,
A dreadful Quiet felt, and worser far
Than Armes, a sullen Interval of War:
Thus, when black Clouds draw down the lab’ring Skies, 5
Ere yet abroad the winged Thunder flies,
An horrid Stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence We the Tempest fear.
Th’ ambitious Swede like restless Billows tost
On this hand gaining what on that he lost, 10
Though in his life he Blood and Ruine breath’d,
To his now guideless Kingdom Peace bequeath’d;
And Heaven, that seem’d regardless of our Fate,
For France and Spain did Miracles create,
Such mortal Quarrels to compose in Peace 15
As Nature bred and Int’rest did encrease.
We sigh’d to hear the fair Iberian Bride
Must grow a Lilie to the Lilies side,
While Our cross Stars deny’d us Charles his bed
Whom Our first Flames and Virgin Love did wed. 20
For his long absence Church and State did groan;
Madness the Pulpit, Faction seiz’d the Throne:
Experienc’d Age in deep despair was lost
To see the Rebel thrive, the Loyal crost:
Youth that with Joys had unacquainted been 25
Envy’d gray hairs that once good Days had seen:
We thought our Sires, not with their own content,
Had ere we came to age our Portion spent.
Nor could our Nobles hope their bold Attempt
Who ruined Crowns would Coronets exempt: 30
For when by their designing Leaders taught
To strike at Pow’r which for themselves they sought,
The vulgar gull’d into Rebellion, arm’d,
Their blood to action by the Prize was warm’d;
The Sacred Purple then and Scarlet Gown, 35
Like sanguine Dye, to Elephants was shewn.
Thus when the bold Typhocus scal’d the Sky
And forc’d great Jove from his own Heaven to fly,
(What King, what Crown from Treasons reach is free,
If Jove and Heaven can violated be?), 40
The lesser Gods that shar’d his prosp’rous State
All suffer’d in the Exil’d Thunderer’s Fate.
The Rabble now such Freedom did enjoy,
As Winds at Sea, that use it to destroy:
Blind as the Cyclops, and as wild as he, 45
They own’d a lawless savage Libertie,
Like that our painted Ancestors so priz’d
Ere Empire’s Arts their Breasts had Civiliz’d.
How Great were then Our Charles his woes, who thus
Was forc’d to suffer for Himself and us! 50
He toss’d by fate, and hurried up and down,
Heir to his Fathers Sorrows, with his Crown,
Could taste no sweets of Youths desired Age,
But found his Life too true a Pilgrimage.
Unconquer’d yet in that forlorn Estate, 55
His Manly Courage overcame his Fate.
His Wounds he took like Romans on his Breast,
Which by his Vertue were with Laurels drest.
As Souls reach Heav’n, while yet in Bodies pent,
So did he live above his Banishment. 60
That Sun, which we beheld with couz’ned eyes
Within the Water, mov’d along the Skies.
How easie ’tis when Destiny proves kind,
With full spread Sails to run before the Wind,
But those that ‘gainst stiff Gales laveering go 65
Must be at o
nce resolv’d and skilful too.
He would not like soft Otho hope prevent,
But stay’d and suffer’d Fortune to repent.
These Virtues Galba in a Stranger sought;
And Piso to Adopted Empire brought. 70
How shall I then my doubtful Thoughts express
That must his Suff’rings both regret and bless.!
For when his early Valour Heav’n had crost,
And all at Worc’ster but the honour lost,
Forc’d into exile from his rightful Throne, 75
He made all Countries where he came his own,
And viewing Monarchs secret Arts of sway
A Royal Factor for their Kingdoms lay.
Thus banish’d David spent abroad his time,
When to be Gods Anointed was his Crime, 80
And when restor’d, made his proud Neighbours rue
Those choise Remarks he from his Travels drew:
Nor is he only by Afflictions shown
To conquer others Realms, but rule his own:
Recov’ring hardly what he lost before, 85
His Right indears it much, his Purchase more.
Inur’d to suffer ere he came to raign,
No rash procedure will his Actions stain.
To bus’ness ripened by digestive thought,
His future rule is into Method brought: 90
As they who first Proportion understand,
With easie Practice reach a Master’s hand.
Well might the Ancient Poets then confer
On Night, the honour’d name of Counseller,
Since struck with rayes of prosp’rous Fortune blind, 95
We Light alone in dark Afflictions find.
In such adversities to Scepters train’d,
The name of Great his famous Grandsire gain’d:
Who yet a King alone in Name and Right,
With hunger, cold and angry Jove did fight; 100
Shock’d by a Covenanting Leagues vast Pow’rs,
As holy and as Catholick as ours:
Till Fortunes fruitless spight had made it known
Her blows not shook but riveted his Throne.
Some lazy Ages, lost in Sleep and Ease 105
No action leave to busie Chronicles;
Such, whose supine felicity but makes
In story Casmes, in Epoche’s mistakes;
O’re whom Time gently shakes his wings of Down,
Till with his silent Sickle they are mown: 110
Such is not Charles his too too active age,
Which govern’d by the wild distemper’d rage
Of some black Star infecting all the Skies,
Made him at his own cost like Adam wise.
Tremble ye Nations who secure before, 115
Laught at those Arms that’ gainst our selves we bore;
Rous’d by the lash of his own stubborn Tail,
Our Lion now will foreign Foes assail.
With Alga who the sacred Altar strows?
To all the Sea-Gods Charles an Offering owes; 120
A Bull to thee Portunus shall be slain
A Lamb to you the Tempests of the Main:
For those loud Storms that did against him rore
Have cast his shipwrack’d Vessel on the shore.
Yet, as wise Artists mix their Colours so 125
That by degrees they from each other go,
Black steals unheeded from the neighb’ring white
Without offending the well couz’ned sight,
So on us stole our blessed change; while we
Th’ effect did feel but scarce the manner see. 130
Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny
To Flow’rs that in its womb expecting lie,
Do seldom their usurping Pow’r withdraw,
But raging Floods persue their hasty Thaw:
Our Thaw was mild, the Cold not chas’d away, 135
But lost in kindly heat of lengthned day.
Heav’n would no bargain for its Blessings drive,
But what we could not pay for, freely give.
The Prince of Peace would, like himself, confer
A Gift unhop’d without the price of war. 140
Yet, as he knew his Blessings worth, took care
That we should know it by repeated Pray’r,
Which storm’d the skies and ravish’d Charles from thence,
As Heav’n itself is took by violence.
Booth’s forward Valour only serv’d to shew 145
He durst that duty pay we all did owe:
Th’ Attempt was fair; but Heav’n’s prefixed hour
Not come; so like the watchful Travellor,
That by the Moons mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again and clos’d his weary eyes. 150
’Twas MONK, whom Providence design’d to loose
Those real bonds false Freedom did impose.
The blessed Saints that watch’d this turning Scene
Did from their Stars with joyful wonder lean,
To see small Clues draw vastest weights along, 155
Not in their bulk but in their order strong.
Thus Pencils can by one slight touch restore
Smiles to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond Chymæra’s we persue
As Fancy frames for Fancy to subdue; 160
But when ourselves to action we betake,
It shuns the Mint, like Gold that Chymists make:
How hard was then his Task, at once to be,
What in the body natural we see;
Mans Architect distinctly did ordain 165
The charge of Muscles, Nerves, and of the Brain.
Through viewless Conduits Spirits to dispense,
The Springs of Motion from the Seat of Sense.
’Twas not the hasty product of a day,
But the well ripened Fruit of wise delay. 170
He like a patient Angler er’e he stroak,
Would let them play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the Stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it strait doth crush.
Wise Leeches will not vain Receipts obtrude, 175
While growing Pains pronounce the Humors crude;
Deaf to complaints they wait upon the Ill,
Till some safe Crisis authorize their Skill.
Nor could his Acts too close a Vizard wear
To scape their Eyes whom Guilt had taught to fear, 180
And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispossest.
Once Sacred house, which when they entr’d in,
They thought the place could sanctifie a sin;
Like those that vainly hop’d kind Heav’n would wink, 185
While to excess on Martyrs Tombs they drink.
And as devouter Turks first warn their Souls
To part, before they taste forbidden Bowls,
So these when their black Crimes they went about,
First timely charm’d their useless Conscience out. 190
Religions Name against it self was made;
The Shadow serv’d the Substance to invade:
Like Zealous Missions they did Care pretend
Of Souls in shew, but made the Gold their end.
The incensed Powr’s beheld with scorn from high 195
An Heaven so far distant from the Sky,
Which durst, with horses hoofs that beat the Ground
And Martial Brass bely the Thunders Sound.
’Twas hence at length just Vengeance thought it fit
To speed their Ruin by their impious wit. 200
Thus Sforza curs’d with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the Pow’r his Wit did gain.
Henceforth their Fogue must spend at lesser rate,
Than in its flames to wrap a Nations Fate.
Suffer’d to live, they are like Helots set 205
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A virtuous Shame within us to beget.
For by example most we sinn’d before
And glass-like clearness mixt with frailty bore,
But since, reform’d by what we did amiss,
We by our suff’rings learn to prize our bliss. 210
Like early Lovers, whose unpractis’d hearts
Were long the May-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their Jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their Fires again.
’Twas this produc’d the Joy, that hurried o’re 215
Such swarms of English to the Neighb’ring shore
To fetch that Prize, by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish’d Trade
Oh had you seen from Schevelines barren Shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) 220
Afflicted Holland to his Farewel bring
True sorrow, Holland to regret a King;
While waiting him his Royal Fleet did ride,
And willing Winds to their lowr’d Sails denied.
The wavering Streamers, Flags, and Standart out, 225
The merry Seamens rude but chearful Shout;
And last the Cannons voice that shook the Skies,
And, as it fares in sudden Extasies,
At once bereft us both of Ears and Eyes.
The Naseby now no longer Englands shame, 230
But better to be lost in Charles his name
(Like some unequal Bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her Lord: The joyful London meets
The Princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swift-sure groans beneath great Glouc’sters weight. 235
Secure as when the Halcyon breeds, with these,
He that was born to drown might cross the Seas.
Heav’n could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three Nations ventur’d at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles his Voyage bless’d, 240
Which in his right had Miracles confess’d.
The Winds that never Moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy could not enlarge
Their straightned Lungs, or conscious of their Charge. 245
The British Amphitryte smooth and clear
In richer Azure never did appear;
Proud her returning Prince to entertain
With the submitted Fasces of the Main.
And welcom now (Great Monarch) to your own; 250
Behold th’ approaching Cliffes of Albion;
It is no longer Motion cheats your view,
As you meet it, the Land approacheth you.
The Land returns, and in the white it wears
The marks of Penitence and Sorrow bears. 255
But you, whose Goodness your Descent doth show,
Your Heav’nly Parentage and Earthly too;