John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  And forc’d himself to drive; but lov’d to draw.

  For Fear but freezes Minds; but Love, like Heat,

  Exhales the Soul sublime, to seek her Native Seat.

  To Threats, the stubborn Sinner oft is hard,

  Wrap’d in his Crimes, against the Storm prepar’d; 35

  But, when the milder Beams of Mercy play,

  He melts, and throws his cumb’rous Cloak away.

  Lightnings and Thunder (Heav’ns Artillery)

  As Harbingers before th’ Almighty fly:

  Those, but proclaim his Stile, and disappear; 40

  The stiller Sound succeeds; and God is there.

  The Tythes, his Parish freely paid, he took;

  But never Su’d; or Curs’d with Bell and Book.

  With Patience bearing wrong; but off’ring none:

  Since every Man is free to lose his own. 45

  The Country-Churles, according to their Kind,

  (Who grudge their Dues, and love to be behind,)

  The less he sought his Off’rings, pinch’d the more;

  And prais’d a Priest, contented to be Poor.

  Yet, of his little, he had some to spare, 50

  To feed the Famish’d, and to cloath the Bare:

  For Mortify’d he was to that degree,

  A poorer than himself, he wou’d not see

  True Priests, he said, and Preachers of the Word,

  Were only Stewards of their Soveraign Lord, 55

  Nothing was theirs; but all the publick Store,

  Intrusted Riches to relieve the Poor.

  Who, shou’d they steal, for want of his Relief

  He judg’d himself Accomplice with the Thief.

  Wide was his Parish; not contracted close 60

  In Streets, but here and there a straggling House;

  Yet still he was at Hand, without Request

  To serve the Sick; to succour the Distress’d;

  Tempting, on Foot, alone, without affright,

  The Dangers of a dark, tempestuous Night. 65

  All this the good old Man perform’d alone,

  Nor spar’d his pains; for Curate he had none.

  Nor durst he trust another with his Care;

  Nor rode himself to Pauls, the publick Fair,

  To chaffer for Preferment with his Gold, 70

  Where Bishopricks, and sine Cures are sold.

  But duly watch’d his Flock, by Night and Day;

  And from the prowling Wolf, redeem’d the Prey,

  And hungry sent the wily Fox away.

  The Proud he tam’d, the Penitent he chear’d: 75

  Nor to rebuke the rich Offender fear’d.

  His Preaching much, but more his Practice wrought;

  (A living Sermon of the Truths he taught;)

  For this by Rules severe his Life he squar’d:

  That all might see the Doctrin which they heard. 80

  For Priests, he said, are Patterns for the rest:

  (The Gold of Heav’n, who bear the God Impress’d:)

  But when the precious Coin is kept unclean,

  The Soveraign’s Image is no longer seen.

  If they be foul, on whom the People trust, 85

  Well may the baser Brass contract a rust.

  The Prelate for his Holy Life he priz’d;

  The worldly Pomp of Prelacy despis’d.

  His Saviour came not with a gawdy Show,

  Nor was his Kingdom of the World below. 90

  Patience in Want, and Poverty of Mind,

  These Marks of Church and Churchmen he design’d,

  And living taught; and dying left behind.

  The Crown he wore was of the pointed Thorn:

  In Purple he was Crucify’d, not born. 95

  They who contend for Place and high Degree,

  Are not his Sons, but those of Zebadee.

  Not, but he knew the Signs of Earthly Pow’r

  Might well become St. Peter’s Successor;

  The Holy Father holds a double Reign, 100

  The Prince may keep his Pomp; the Fisher must be plain.

  Such was the Saint; who shone with every Grace:

  Reflecting, Moses-like, his Maker’s Face.

  God saw his Image lively was express’d;

  And his own Work, as in Creation, bless’d. 105

  The Tempter saw him too, with envious Eye,

  And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.

  He took the time when Richard was depos’d,

  And High and Low with happy Harry clos’d.

  This Prince, tho’ great in Arms, the Priest withstood, 110

  Near tho’ he was, yet not the next of Blood.

  Had Richard unconstrain’d, resign’d the Throne,

  A King can give no more than is his own:

  The Title stood entail’d, had Richard had a Son.

  Conquest, an odious Name, was laid aside, 115

  Where all submitted, none the Battle try’d.

  The senseless Plea of Right by Providence,

  Was, by a flatt’ring Priest, invented since:

  And lasts no longer than the present sway;

  But justifies the next who comes in play. 120

  The People’s Right remains; let those who dare

  Dispute their Pow’r, when they the Judges are.

  He join’d not in their Choice; because he knew

  Worse might, and often did from Change ensue.

  Much to himself he thought; but little spoke: 125

  And, Undepriv’d, his Benefice forsook.

  Now, through the Land, his Cure of Souls he stretch’d,

  And like a Primitive Apostle preach’d.

  Still Chearful; ever Constant to his Call;

  By many follow’d; Lov’d by most, Admir’d by All. 130

  With what he beg’d, his Brethren he reliev’d;

  And gave the Charities himself receiv’d;

  Gave, while he Taught; and Edify’d the more,

  Because he shew’d by Proof, ’twas easy to be Poor.

  He went not, with the Crowd, to see a Shrine; 135

  But fed us by the way, with Food divine.

  In deference to his Virtues, I forbear

  To show you, what the rest in Orders were

  This Brillant is so Spotless, and so Bright,

  He needs no Foyl: But shines by his own proper Light. 140

  Sigismonda and Guiscardo

  From Boccace

  WHILE Norman Tancred in Salerno reign’d,

  The Title of a Gracious Prince he gain’d;

  Till turn’d a Tyrant in his latter Days,

  He lost the Lustre of his former Praise,

  And from the bright Meridian where he stood 5

  Descending, dipp’d his Hands in Lovers Blood.

  This Prince, of Fortunes Favour long possess’d,

  Yet was with one fair Daughter only bless’d;

  And bless’d he might have been with her alone:

  But oh! how much more happy, had he none! 10

  She was his Care, his Hope, and his Delight,

  Most in his Thought, and ever in his Sight:

  Next, nay beyond his Life, he held her dear;

  She liv’d by him, and now he liv’d in her.

  For this, when ripe for Marriage, he delay’d 15

  Her Nuptial Bands, and kept her long a Maid,

  As envying any else should share a Part

  Of what was his, and claiming all her Heart.

  At length, as Publick Decency requir’d,

  And all his Vassals eagerly desir’d, 20

  With Mind averse, he rather underwent

  His Peoples Will than gave his own Consent

  So was she torn, as from a Lover’s Side,

  And made almost in his despite a Bride.

  Short were her Marriage-Joys; for in the Prime 25

  Of Youth, her Lord expir’d before his time;

  And to her Father’s Court in little space

  Resto
r’d anew, she held a higher Place;

  More lov’d, and more exalted into Grace.

  This Princess fresh and young, and fair, and wise, 30

  The worshipp’d Idol of her Father’s Eyes,

  Did all her Sex in ev’ry Grace exceed,

  And had more Wit beside than Women need.

  Youth, Health, and Ease, and most an amorous Mind,

  To second Nuptials had her Thoughts inclin’d; 35

  And former Joys had left a secret Sting behind.

  But, prodigal in ev’ry other Grant,

  Her Sire left unsupply’d her only Want;

  And she, betwixt her Modesty and Pride,

  Her Wishes, which she could not help, would hide. 40

  Resolv’d at last to lose no longer Time,

  And yet to please her self without a Crime,

  She cast her Eyes around the Court, to find

  A worthy Subject suiting to her Mind,

  To him in holy Nuptials to be ty’d, 45

  A seeming Widow, and a secret Bride.

  Among the Train of Courtiers, one she found

  With all the Gifts of bounteous Nature crown’d,

  Of gentle Blood; but one whose niggard Fate

  Had set him far below her high Estate; 50

  Guiscard his Name was call’d, of blooming Age,

  Now Squire to Tancred, and before his Page;

  To him, the Choice of all the shining Crowd,

  Her Heart the noble Sigismonda vow’d.

  Yet hitherto she kept her Love conceal’d, 55

  And with close Glances ev’ry Day beheld

  The graceful Youth; and ev’ry Day increas’d

  The raging Fire that burn’d within her Breast;

  Some secret Charm did all his Acts attend,

  And what his Fortune wanted, hers could mend; 60

  Till, as the Fire will force its outward way,

  Or, in the Prison pent, consume the Prey;

  So long her earnest Eyes on his were set,

  At length their twisted Rays together met;

  And he, surpriz’d with humble Joy, survey’d 65

  One sweet Regard, shot by the Royal Maid:

  Not well assur’d, while doubtful Hopes he nurs’d,

  A second Glance came gliding like the first;

  And he, who saw the Sharpness of the Dart,

  Without Defence receiv’d it in his Heart. 70

  In Publick though their Passion wanted Speech,

  Yet mutual Looks interpreted for each:

  Time, Ways, and Means of Meeting were deny’d,

  But all those Wants ingenious Love supply’d.

  Th’ inventive God, who never fails his Part, 75

  Inspires the Wit, when once he warms the Heart.

  When Guiscard next was in the Circle seen,

  Where Sigismonda held the Place of Queen,

  A hollow Cane within her Hand she brought,

  But in the Concave had enclos’d a Note; 80

  With this she seem’d to play, and, as in sport,

  Toss’d to her Love, in presence of the Court;

  Take it, she said; and when your Needs require,

  This little Brand will serve to light your Fire.

  He took it with a Bow, and soon divin’d 85

  The seeming Toy was not for nought design’d:

  But when retir’d, so long with curious Eyes

  He view’d the Present, that he found the Prize.

  Much was in little writ; and all convey’d

  With cautious Care, for fear to be betray’d 90

  By some false Confident or Fav’rite Maid.

  The Time, the Place, the Manner how to meet,

  Were all in punctual Order plainly writ:

  But since a Trust must be, she thought it best

  To put it out of Laymens Pow’r at least, 95

  And for their solemn Vows prepar’d a Priest.

  Guiscard (her secret purpose understood)

  With Joy prepar’d to meet the coming Good;

  Nor Pains nor Danger was resolv’d to spare,

  But use the Means appointed by the Fair. 100

  Near the proud Palace of Salerno stood

  A Mount of rough Ascent, and thick with Wood;

  Through this a Cave was dug with vast Expence,

  The Work it seem’d of some suspicious Prince,

  Who, when abusing Pow’r with lawless Might, 105

  From Publick Justice would secure his Flight.

  The Passage made by many a winding Way,

  Reach’d ev’n the Room in which the Tyrant lay.

  Fit for his purpose, on a lower Floor

  He lodg’d, whose Issue was an Iron Door, 110

  From whence, by Stairs descending to the Ground,

  In the blind Grot a safe Retreat he found.

  Its Outlet ended in a Brake o’ergrown

  With Brambles, choak’d by Time, and now unknown.

  A Rift there was, which from the Mountains Height 115

  Convey’d a glimm’ring and malignant Light,

  A Breathing-place to draw the Damps away,

  A Twilight of an intercepted Day.

  The Tyrants Den, whose Use, though lost to Fame,

  Was now th’ Apartment of the Royal Dame; 120

  The Cavern, only to her Father known,

  By him was to his Darling-Daughter shown.

  Neglected long she let the Secret rest,

  Till Love recall’d it to her lab’ring Breast,

  And hinted as the Way by Heav’n design’d 125

  The Teacher, by the Means he taught, to blind.

  What will not Women do, when Need inspires

  Their Wit, or Love their Inclination fires!

  Though Jealousie of State th’ Invention found,

  Yet Love refin’d upon the former Ground. 130

  That Way, the tyrant had reserv’d, to fly

  Pursuing Hate, now serv’d to bring two Lovers nigh.

  The Dame, who long in vain had kept the Key,

  Bold by Desire, explor’d the secret Way;

  Now try’d the Stairs, and wading through the Night, 135

  Search’d all the deep Recess, and issu’d into Light.

  All this her Letter had so well explain’d,

  Th’ instructed Youth might compass what remain’d;

  The Cavern-mouth alone was hard to find,

  Because the Path disus’d, was out of mind: 140

  But in what Quarter of the Cops it lay,

  His Eye by certain Level could survey:

  Yet (for the Wood perplex’d with Thorns he knew)

  A Frock of Leather o’er his Limbs he drew;

  And thus provided, search’d the Brake around, 145

  Till the choak’d Entry of the Cave he found.

  Thus, all prepar’d, the promis’d Hour arrived,

  So long expected, and so well contriv’d:

  With Love to Friend, th’ impatient Lover went,

  Fenc’d from the Thorns, and trod the deep Descent. 150

  The conscious Priest, who was suborn’d before,

  Stood ready posted at the Postern-door;

  The Maids in distant Rooms were sent to rest,

  And nothing wanted but th’ invited Guest.

  He came, and, knocking thrice, without delay, 155

  The longing Lady heard, and turn’d the Key;

  At once invaded him with all her Charms,

  And the first Step he made, was in her Arms:

  The Leathern Out-side, boistrous as it was,

  Gave way, and bent beneath her strict Embrace: 160

  On either Side the Kisses flew so thick,

  That neither he nor she had Breath to speak.

  The holy Man amaz’d at what he saw,

  Made haste to sanctifie the Bliss by Law;

  And mutter’d fast the Matrimony o’re, 165

  For fear committed Sin should get before.

  His Work perform’d, he left
the Pair alone,

  Because he knew he could not go too soon;

  His Presence odious, when his Task was done.

  What Thoughts he had beseems not me to say, 170

  Though some surmise he went to fast and pray,

  And needed both, to drive the tempting Thoughts away.

  The Foe once gone, they took their full Delight;

  ’Twas restless Rage, and Tempest all the night:

  For greedy Love each Moment would employ, 175

  And grudg’d the shortest Pauses of their Joy.

  Thus were their Loves auspiciously begun,

  And thus with secret Care were carried on,

  The Stealth it self did Appetite restore,

  And look’d so like a Sin, it pleas’d the more. 180

  The Cave was now become a common Way,

  The Wicket, often open’d, knew the Key:

  Love rioted secure, and long enjoy’d,

  Was ever eager, and was never cloy’d.

  But as Extremes are short, of Ill and Good, 185

  And Tides at highest Mark regorge the Flood;

  So Fate, that could no more improve their Joy,

  Took a malicious Pleasure to destroy.

  Tancred, who fondly lov’d, and whose Delight

  Was plac’d in his fair Daughters daily Sight 190

  Of Custom, when his State-Affairs were done,

  Would pass his pleasing Hours with her alone:

  And, as a Father’s Privilege allow’d,

  Without Attendance of th’ officious Crowd.

  It happen’d once, that when in Heat of Day 195

  He try’d to sleep, as was his usual Way,

  The balmy Slumber fled his wakeful Eyes,

  And forc’d him, in his own despite, to rise:

  Of Sleep forsaken, to relieve his Care,

  He sought the Conversation of the Fair; 200

  But with her Train of Damsels she was gone,

  In shady Walks the scorching Heat to shun:

  He would not violate that sweet Recess,

  And found besides a welcome Heaviness

  That seiz’d his Eyes; and Slumber, which forgot 205

  When called before to come, now came unsought.

  From Light retir’d, behind his Daughters Bed,

  He for approaching Sleep compos’d his Head;

  A Chair was ready, for that Use design’d,

  So quilted that he lay at ease reclin’d; 210

  The Curtains closely drawn, the Light to skreen,

  As if he had contriv’d to lie unseen:

  Thus cover’d with an artificial Night,

  Sleep did his Office soon, and seal’d his Sight.

  With Heav’n averse, in this ill-omen’d Hour 215

  Was Guiscard summon’d to the secret Bow’r,

  And the fair Nymph, with Expectation fir’d,

  From her attending Damsels was retir’d: