John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

Behold! how he protects your Friends opprest,

  Receives the Banish’d, succours the Distress’d:

  Behold, for you may read an honest open breast.

  He stands in Day-light, and disdains to hide

  An Act to which by Honour he is ty’d, 880

  A generous, laudable, and Kingly Pride.

  Your Test he would repeal, his Peers restore,

  This when he says he means, he means no more.

  Well, said the Panther, I believe him just,

  And yet ——

  And yet, ’tis but because you must, 885

  You would be trusted, but you would not trust.

  The Hind thus briefly; and disdained t’ inlarge

  On Pow’r of Kings, and their Superiour charge,

  As Heav’ns Trustees before the People’s choice:

  Tho’ sure the Panther did not much rejoyce 890

  To hear those Echo’s given of her once Loyal voice.

  The Matron woo’d her Kindness to the last,

  But cou’d not win; her hour of Grace was past.

  Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring

  To leave the Woolf and to believe her King, 895

  She gave Her up, and fairly wished her Joy

  Of her late Treaty with her new Ally:

  Which well she hop’d wou’d more successfull prove,

  Than was the Pigeons and the Buzzards love.

  The Panther ask’d what concord there cou’d be 900

  Betwixt two kinds whose Natures disagree?

  The Dame reply’d, ’Tis sung in ev’ry Street,

  The common chat of Gossips when they meet:

  But, since unheard by you, ’tis worth your while

  To take a wholesome Tale, though told in homely stile. 905

  A plain good Man, whose Name is understood,

  (So few deserve the name of Plain and Good)

  Of three fair lineal Lordships stood possess’d,

  And liv’d, as reason was, upon the best.

  Inur’d to hardships from his early Youth, 910

  Much had he done and suffered for his truth:

  At Land, and Sea, in many a doubtfull Fight,

  Was never known a more advent’rous Knight,

  Who oftner drew his Sword, and always for the right.

  As fortune wou’d (his fortune came tho’ late) 915

  He took Possession of his just Estate;

  Nor rack’d his Tenants with increase of Rent,

  Nor liv’d too sparing, nor too largely spent;

  But overlook’d his Hinds, their Pay was just

  And ready, for he scorn’d to go on trust: 920

  Slow to resolve, but in performance quick;

  So true, that he was awkward at a trick.

  For little Souls on little shifts rely,

  And coward Arts of mean Expedients try:

  The noble Mind will dare do anything but lye. 925

  False friends, (his deadliest foes,) could find no way

  But shows of honest bluntness, to betray;

  That unsuspected plainness he believ’d;

  He looked into Himself, and was deceiv’d.

  Some lucky Planet sure attends his Birth, 930

  Or Heav’n would make a Miracle on Earth;

  For prosp’rous Honesty is seldom seen

  To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win;

  It looks as Fate with Nature’s Law would strive,

  To show Plain-dealing once an age may thrive: 935

  And, when so tough a frame she could not bend,

  Exceeded her Commission to befriend.

  This gratefull man, as Heaven encreas’d his Store,

  Gave God again, and daily fed his Poor;

  His House with all convenience was purvey’d; 940

  The rest he found, but rais’d the Fabrick where he pray’d;

  And in that Sacred Place his beauteous Wife

  Employ’d Her happiest hours of Holy Life.

  Nor did their Alms extend to those alone

  Whom common Faith more strictly made their own; 945

  A sort of Doves were hous’d too near their Hall,

  Who cross the Proverb, and abound with Gall.

  Tho’ some, ’tis true, are passively inclin’d,

  The greater Part degenerate from their kind;

  Voracious Birds, that hotly Bill and breed, 950

  And largely drink, because on Salt they feed.

  Small Gain from them their Bounteous Owner draws;

  Yet, bound by Promise, he supports their Cause,

  As Corporations priviledg’d by Laws.

  That House, which harbour to their kind affords, 955

  Was built, long since, God knows, for better Birds;

  But flutt’ring there, they nestle near the Throne,

  And lodge in Habitations not their own,

  By their high Crops, and Corny Gizzards known.

  Like Harpy’s, they could scent a plenteous board; 960

  Then, to be sure, they never fail’d their Lord.

  The rest was form, and bare Attendance paid,

  They drunk, and eat, and grudgingly obey’d.

  The more they fed, they raven’d still for more,

  They drain’d from Dan, and left Beersheba poor; 965

  All this they had by Law, and none repin’d,

  The pref’rence was but due to Levi’s Kind,

  But when some Lay-preferment fell by chance

  The Gourmands made it their Inheritance.

  When once possess’d they never quit their Claim, 970

  For then ’tis sanctify’d to Heav’ns high Name;

  And Hallow’d thus, they cannot give Consent,

  The Gift should be prophan’d by Worldly management.

  Their Flesh was never to the Table served;

  Tho’ ’tis not thence inferr’d the Birds were starv’d; 975

  But that their Master did not like the Food,

  As rank, and breeding Melancholy Blood.

  Nor did it with His Gracious Nature suite,

  Ev’n though they were not Doves, to persecute:

  Yet He refused, (nor could they take Offence) 980

  Their Glutton Kind should teach him abstinence.

  Nor Consecrated Grain their Wheat he thought,

  Which, new from treading, in their Bills they brought:

  But left his Hinds, each in his Private Pow’r,

  That those who like the Bran might leave the Flow’r. 985

  He for himself, and not for others chose,

  Nor would He be impos’d on, nor impose;

  But in their Faces His Devotion paid,

  And Sacrifice with Solemn Rites was made,

  And Sacred Incense on his Altars laid. 990

  Besides these jolly Birds, whose Crops impure

  Repaid their Commons with their Salt Manure,

  Another Farm he had behind his House,

  Not overstock’t, but barely for his use;

  Wherein his poor Domestick poultry Fed 995

  And from His Pious Hands received their Bread.

  Our pamper’d Pigeons with malignant Eyes

  Beheld these Inmates and their Nurseries:

  Tho’ hard their fare, at Ev’ning and at Morn,

  A Cruise of Water and an Ear of Corn, 1000

  Yet still they grudg’d that Modicum, and thought

  A Sheaf in ev’ry single Grain was brought;

  Fain would they filch that little Food away,

  While unrestrain’d those happy Gluttons prey.

  And much they griev’d to see so nigh their Hall 1005

  The Bird that warned St. Peter of his Fall;

  That he should raise his miter’d Crest on high,

  And clap his Wings and call his Family

  To Sacred Rites; and vex th’ Etherial Pow’rs

  With midnight Mattins at uncivil Hours: 1010

  Nay more, his quiet Neighbours should molest,

  Ju
st in the sweetness of their Morning rest.

  Beast of a bird, supinely when he might

  Lye snugg and sleep, to rise before the light:

  What if his dull Forefathers used that cry, 1015

  Cou’d he not let a Bad Example dye?

  The World was fallen into an easier way;

  This Age knew better, than to Fast and Pray.

  Good Sense in Sacred Worship would appear

  So to begin, as they might end the year. 1020

  Such feats in former times had wrought the falls

  Of crowing Chanticleers in Cloyster’d Walls.

  Expell’d for this and for their Lands, they fled;

  And Sister Partlet, with her hooded head

  Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-Bed. 1025

  The way to win the restiff World to God

  Was to lay by the Disciplining Rod,

  Unnatural Fasts, and Foreign Forms of Pray’r;

  Religion frights us with a meen severe.

  ’Tis Prudence to reform her into Ease, 1030

  And put Her in Undress, to make Her pleas;

  A lively Faith will bear aloft the Mind

  And leave the Luggage of Good Works behind.

  Such Doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught;

  You need not ask how wondrously they wrought; 1035

  But sure the common Cry was all for these,

  Whose Life, and Precept both encourag’d Ease.

  Yet fearing those alluring Baits might fail,

  And Holy Deeds o’re all their Arts prevail,

  (For Vice, tho’ frontless and of harden’d Face, 1040

  Is daunted at the sight of awfull Grace,)

  An hideous Figure of their Foes they drew

  Nor Lines, nor Looks, nor Shades, nor Colours true;

  And this Grotesque design, expos’d to Publick view.

  One would have thought it some Ægyptian Piece, 1045

  With Garden-Gods, and barking Deities,

  More thick than Ptolomey has stuck the Skies.

  All so perverse a Draught, so far unlike,

  It was no Libell where it meant to strike:

  Yet still the daubing pleas’d, and Great and Small 1050

  To view the Monster crowded Pigeon-hall.

  There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees,

  Adoring Shrines, and Stocks of Sainted Trees;

  And by him a mishapen, ugly Race;

  The curse of God was seen on ev’ry face. 1055

  No Holland emblem could that Malice mend,

  But still the worse the look the fitter for a Fiend.

  The Master of the Farm, displeas’d to find

  So much of Rancour in so mild a kind,

  Enquir’d into the Cause, and came to know, 1060

  The Passive Church had struck the foremost blow:

  With groundless Fears, and Jealousies possest,

  As if this troublesome intruding Guest

  Would drive the Birds of Venus from their Nest.

  A Deed his inborn Equity abhorr’d, 1065

  But Int’rest will not trust, tho God should plight his Word.

  A Law, the Source of many Future harms,

  Had banish’d all the Poultry from the Farms;

  With loss of Life, if any should be found

  To crow or peck on this forbidden Ground. 1070

  That Bloody Statute chiefly was design’d

  For Chanticleer the white, of Clergy kind;

  But after-malice did not long forget

  The Lay that wore the Robe and Coronet.

  For them, for their Inferiours and Allyes, 1075

  Their Foes a deadly Shibboleth devise:

  By which unrighteously it was decreed,

  That none to Trust, or Profit should succeed,

  Who would not swallow first a poysonous wicked Weed;

  Or that to which old Socrates was curs’t, 1080

  Or Henbane-Juice to swell’em till they burst.

  The Patron (as in reason) thought it hard

  To see this Inquisition in his Yard,

  By which the Soveraign was of Subjects use debarred.

  All gentle means he try’d, which might withdraw 1085

  Th’ Effects of so unnatural a Law:

  But still the Dove-house obstinately stood

  Deaf to their own, and to their Neighbours good:

  And which was worse, (if any worse could be)

  Repented of their boasted Loyalty: 1090

  Now made the Champions of a cruel Cause,

  And drunk with Fumes of Popular Applause;

  For those whom God to ruine has design’d,

  He fits for Fate, and first destroys their Mind.

  New Doubts indeed they daily strove to raise, 1095

  Suggested Dangers, interpos’d Delays;

  And Emissary Pigeons had in store,

  Such as the Meccan Prophet us’d of yore,

  To whisper Counsels in their Patrons Ear;

  And veil’d their false Advice with Zealous Fear. 1100

  The Master smiled to see ‘em work in vain,

  To wear him out and make an idle reign:

  He saw, but suffer’d their Protractive Arts,

  And strove by mildness to reduce their Hearts;

  But they abused that Grace to make Allyes 1105

  And fondly clos’d with former Enemies;

  For fools are double Fools, endeav’ring to be wise.

  After a grave Consult what course were best,

  One, more mature in Folly than the rest,

  Stood up, and told ‘em with his head aside, 1110

  That desp’rate Cures must be to desp’rate Ills apply’d:

  And therefore, since their main impending fear

  Was from th’ encreasing race of Chanticleer:

  Some Potent Bird of Prey they ought to find,

  A Foe profess’d to him and all his kind: 1115

  Some haggar’d Hawk, who had her eyry nigh,

  Well pounc’d to fasten, and well wing’d to fly;

  One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak:

  The Musquet, and the Coystrel were too weak,

  Too fierce the Falcon, but, above the rest, 1120

  The noble Buzzard ever pleas’d me best;

  Of small Renown, ’tis true; for, not to lye,

  We call him but a Hawk by courtesie.

  I know he haunts the Pigeon-house and Farm,

  And more, in time of War has done us harm; 1125

  But all his hate on trivial Points depends,

  Give up our Forms, and we shall soon be friends.

  For Pigeons flesh he seems not much to care;

  Cram’d Chickens are a more delicious fare;

  On this high Potentate, without delay, 1130

  I wish you would conferr the Sovereign sway;

  Petition him t’ accept the Government,

  And let a splendid Embassy be sent.

  This pithy speech prevail’d; and all agreed,

  Old Enmity’s forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. 1135

  Their welcom Suit was granted soon as heard,

  His Lodgings furnish’d, and a Train prepar’d,

  With B’s upon their Breast, appointed for his Guard.

  He came, and Crown’d with great Solemnity,

  God save King Buzzard, was the gen’rall cry. 1140

  A Portly Prince, and goodly to the sight,

  He seem’d a Son of Anach for his height:

  Like those whom stature did to Crowns prefer;

  Black-brow’d and bluff, like Homer’s Jupiter;

  Broad-backed and Brawny built for Loves delight, 1145

  A Prophet form’d to make a female Proselyte.

  A Theologue more by need, than genial bent,

  By Breeding sharp, by Nature confident,

  Int’rest in all his Actions was discern’d;

  More leérn’d than Honest, more a Wit than learn’d. 1150

  O
r forc’d by Fear, or by his Profit led,

  Or both conjoyn’d, his Native clime he fled:

  But brought the Vertues of his Heav’n along;

  A fair Behaviour, and a fluent Tongue.

  And yet with all his Arts he could not thrive; 1155

  The must unlucky Parasite alive.

  Loud Praises to prepare his Paths he sent,

  And then himself pursu’d his Compliment!

  But, by reverse of Fortune chac’d away,

  His Gifts no longer than their Author stay; 1160

  He shakes the Dust against th’ ungrateful race,

  And leaves the stench of Ordures in the place.

  Oft has he flatter’d, and blasphem’d the same,

  For in his Rage, he spares no Sov’rains name:

  The Hero, and the Tyrant change their style 1165

  By the same measure that they frown or smile;

  When well receiv’d by hospitable Foes,

  The kindness he returns, is to expose:

  For Courtesies, tho’ undeserv’d and great,

  No gratitude in Fellon-minds beget; 1170

  As tribute to his Wit, the churl receives the treat.

  His praise of Foes is venomously Nice,

  So touch’d, it turns a Vertue to a Vice:

  A Greek, and bountiful forewarns us twice.

  Sev’n sacraments he wisely do’s disown, 1175

  Because he knows Confession stands for one;

  Where sins to sacred silence are convey’d,

  And not for Fear, or Love, to be betray’d:

  But he, uncall’d, his Patron to controul,

  Divulg’d the secret whispers of his Soul; 1180

  Stood forth th’ accusing Sathan of his Crimes,

  And offerd to the Moloch of the Times.

  Prompt to assayle, and careless of defence,

  Invulnerable in his Impudence,

  He dares the World, and, eager of a name, 1185

  He thrusts about, and justles into fame.

  Frontless and Satyr-proof, he scowr’s the streets,

  And runs an Indian muck at all he meets.

  So fond of loud Report, that not to miss

  Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) 1190

  He rather would be known, for what he is.

  Such was and is the Captain of the test,

  Tho’ half his Vertues are not here express’t;

  The modesty of Fame conceals the rest.

  The spleenful Pigeons never could create 1195

  A Prince more proper to revenge their hate;

  Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save;

  A King, whom in his wrath, th’ Almighty gave:

  For all the Grace the Landlord had allow’d

  But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud, 1200

  Gave time to fix their Friends, and to seduce the Crowd.

  They long their Fellow-Subjects to inthrall,