John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Oft they came up, and pinch’d her tender Side, 115

  Mercy, O Mercy, Heav’n, she ran, and cry’d;

  When Heav’n was nam’d, they loos’d their Hold again

  Then sprung she forth, they follow’d her amain.

  Not far behind, a Knight of swarthy Face,

  High on a Coal-black Steed pursu’d the Chace; 120

  With flashing Flames his ardent Eyes were fill’d,

  And in his Hands a naked Sword he held:

  He chear’d the Dogs to follow her who fled,

  And vow’d Revenge on her devoted Head.

  As Theodore was born of noble Kind, 125

  The Brutal Action rowz’d his manly Mind:

  Mov’d with unworthy Usage of the Maid,

  He, though unarm’d, resolv’d to give her Aid.

  A Saplin Pine he wrench’d from out the Ground,

  The readiest Weapon that his Fury found. 130

  Thus, furnish’d for Offence, he cross’d the way

  Betwixt the graceless Villain, and his Prey.

  The Knight came thund’ring on, but from afar

  Thus in imperious Tone forbad the War:

  Cease, Theodore, to proffer vain Relief, 135

  Nor stop the vengeance of so just a Grief;

  But give me leave to seize my destin’d Prey,

  And let eternal Justice take the way:

  I but revenge my Fate; disdain’d, betray’d,

  And suff’ring Death for this ungrateful Maid. 140

  He say’d, at once dismounting from the Steed;

  For now the Hell-hounds with superiour Speed

  Had reach’d the Dame, and fast’ning on her Side,

  The Ground with issuing Streams of Purple dy’d.

  Stood Theodore Surpriz’d in deadly Fright, 145

  With chatt’ring Teeth, and bristling Hair upright;

  Yet arm’d with inborn Worth, What e’er said he,

  Thou art, who know’st me better than I thee;

  Or prove thy rightful Cause, or be defy’d.

  The Spectre, fiercely staring, thus reply’d. 150

  Know, Theodore, thy Ancestry I claim,

  And Guido Cavalcanti was my Name.

  One common Sire our Fathers did beget,

  My Name and Story some remember yet:

  Thee, then a Boy, within my Arms I laid, 155

  When for my Sins I lov’d this haughty Maid;

  Not less ador’d in Life, nor serv’d by Me,

  Than proud Honoria now is lov’d by Thee.

  What did I not her stubborn Heart to gain?

  But all my Vows were answer’d with Disdain; 160

  She scorn’d my Sorrows, and despis’d my Pain.

  Long time I dragg’d my Days in fruitless Care,

  Then loathing Life, and plung’d in deep Despair,

  To finish my unhappy Life, I fell

  On this sharp Sword, and now am damn’d in Hell. 165

  Short was her Joy; for soon th’ insulting Maid

  By Heav’n’s Decree in the cold Grave was laid,

  And as in unrepenting Sin she dy’d,

  Doom’d to the same bad Place, is punish’d for her Pride;

  Because she deem’d I well deserv’d to die, 170

  And made a Merit of her Cruelty.

  There, then, we met; both try’d, and both were cast,

  And this irrevocable Sentence pass’d;

  That she whom I so long pursu’d in vain,

  Should suffer from my Hands a lingring Pain: 175

  Renew’d to Life, that she might daily die,

  I daily doom’d to follow, she to fly;

  No more a Lover but a mortal Foe,

  I seek her Life (for Love is none below:)

  As often as my Dogs with better speed 180

  Arrest her Flight, is she to Death decreed:

  Then with this fatal Sword on which I dy’d,

  I pierce her open’d Back or tender Side,

  And tear that harden’d Heart from out her Breast,

  Which, with her Entrails, makes my hungry Hounds a Feast. 185

  Nor lies she long, but as her Fates ordain,

  Springs up to Life, and fresh to second Pain,

  Is sav’d to Day, to Morrow to be slain.

  This, vers’d in Death, th’ infernal Knight relates,

  And then for Proof fulfill’d their common Fates; 190

  Her Heart and Bowels through her Back he drew,

  And fed the Hounds that help’d him to pursue.

  Stern look’d the Fiend, as frustrate of his Will,

  Not half suffic’d, and greedy yet to kill.

  And now the Soul expiring through the Wound, 195

  Had left the Body breathless on the Ground,

  When thus the grisly Spectre spoke again:

  Behold the Fruit of ill-rewarded Pain:

  As many Months as I sustain’d her Hate,

  So many Years is she condemn’d by Fate 200

  To daily Death; and ev’ry several Place,

  Conscious of her Disdain, and my Disgrace,

  Must witness her just Punishment; and be

  A Scene of Triumph and Revenge to me.

  As in this Grove I took my last Farewel, 205

  As on this very spot of Earth I fell,

  As Friday saw me die, so she my Prey

  Becomes ev’n here, on this revolving Day.

  Thus while he spoke, the Virgin from the Ground

  Upstarted fresh, already clos’d the Wound, 210

  And unconcern’d for all she felt before,

  Precipitates her Flight along the Shore:

  The Hell-hounds, as ungorg’d with Flesh and Blood

  Pursue their Prey, and seek their wonted Food:

  The Fiend remounts his Courser; mends his Pace, 215

  And all the Vision vanish’d from the Place.

  Long stood the noble Youth oppress’d with Awe

  And stupid at the wond’rous Things he saw

  Surpassing common Faith; transgressing Nature’s Law.

  He would have been asleep, and wish’d to wake. 220

  But Dreams, he knew, no long Impression make,

  Though strong at first: If Vision, to what end,

  But such as must his future State portend?

  His Love the Damsel, and himself the Fiend.

  But yet reflecting that it could not be 225

  From Heav’n, which cannot impious Acts decree,

  Resolv’d within him self to shun the Snare

  Which hell for his Distruction did prepare;

  And as his better Genius should direct

  From an ill Cause to draw a good effect. 230

  Inspir’d from Heav’n he homeward took his way,

  Nor pall’d his new Design with long delay;

  But of his Train a trusty Servant sent,

  To call his Friends together at his Tent.

  They came, and usual Salutations paid, 235

  With Words premeditated thus he said:

  What you have often counsell’d, to remove

  My vain pursuit of unregarded Love;

  By Thrift my sinking Fortune to repair,

  Tho’ late, yet is at last become my Care: 240

  My Heart shall be my own; my vast Expence

  Reduc’d to bounds, by timely Providence:

  This only I require; invite for me

  Honoria, with her Father’s Family,

  Her Friends, and mine; the Cause I shall display, 245

  On Friday next, for that’s th’ appointed Day.

  Well pleas’d were all his Friends, the Task was light;

  The Father, Mother, Daughter they invite

  Hardly the Dame was drawn to this repast;

  But yet resolv’d, because it was the last. 250

  The Day was come; the Guests invited came,

  And, with the rest, th’ inexorable Dame:

  A Feast prepar’d with riotous Expence,

  Much C
ost, more Care, and most Magnificence.

  The Place ordain’d was in that haunted Grove 255

  Where the revenging Ghost pursu’d his Love:

  The Tables in a proud Pavilion spread,

  With Flow’rs below, and Tissue overhead:

  The rest in rank; Honoria chief in place

  Was artfully contriv’d to set her Face 260

  To front the Thicket and behold the Chace.

  The Feast was serv’d; the time so well forecast,

  That just when the Dessert, and Fruits were plac’d,

  The Fiend’s Alarm began; the hollow sound

  Sung in the Leaves, the Forest shook around, 265

  Air blacken’d; rowl’d the Thunder; groan’d the ground.

  Nor long before the loud Laments arise,

  Of one distress’d, and Mastiffs mingled Cries;

  And first the Dame came rushing through the Wood,

  And next the famish’d Hounds that sought their Food 270

  And grip’d her Flanks, and oft essay’d their Jaws in Blood.

  Last came the Fellon on the Sable Steed,

  Arm’d with his naked Sword, and urg’d his Dogs to speed:

  She ran, and cry’d; her Flight directly bent,

  (A Guest unbidden) to the fatal Tent, 275

  The Scene of Death, and Place ordain’d for Punishment.

  Loud was the Noise, aghast was every Guest,

  The Women shriek’d, the Men forsook the Feast;

  The Hounds at nearer distance hoarsely bay’d;

  The Hunter close pursu’d the visionary Maid, 280

  She rent the Heav’n with loud Laments, imploring Aid.

  The Gallants, to protect the Ladies right,

  Their Fauchions brandish’d at the grisly Spright;

  High on his Stirups, he provok’d the Fight.

  Then on the Crowd he cast a furious Look, 285

  And wither’d all their Strength before he strook:

  Back on your Lives; let be, said he, my Prey,

  And let my Vengeance take the destin’d way.

  Vain are your Arms, and vainer your Defence,

  Against th’ eternal Doom of Providence: 290

  Mine is th’ ungrateful Maid by Heav’n design’d:

  Mercy she would not give, nor Mercy shall she find.

  At this the former Tale again he told

  With thund’ring Tone, and dreadful to behold:

  Sunk were their Hearts with Horror of the Crime, 295

  Nor needed to be warn’d a second time,

  But bore each other back; some knew the Face,

  And all had heard the much lamented Case

  Of him who fell for Love, and this the fatal Place.

  And now th’ infernal Minister advanc’d, 300

  Seiz’d the due Victim, and with Fury lanch’d

  Her Back, and piercing through her inmost Heart,

  Drew backward, as before, th’ offending part.

  The reeking Entrails next he tore away,

  And to his meagre Mastiffs made a Prey: 305

  The pale Assistants on each other star’d,

  With gaping Mouths for issuing Words prepar’d;

  The still-born sounds upon the Palate hung,

  And dy’d imperfect on the faltring Tongue.

  The Fright was general; but the Female Band 310

  (A helpless Train) in more Confusion stand;

  With horror shuddring, on a heap they run,

  Sick at the sight of hateful Justice done;

  For Conscience rung th’ Alarm, and made the Case their own.

  So spread upon a Lake, with upward Eye, 315

  A plump of Fowl behold their Foe on high;

  They close their trembling Troop; and all attend

  On whom the sowsing Eagle will descend.

  But most the proud Honoria fear’d th’ Event,

  And thought to her alone the Vision sent. 320

  Her Guilt presents to her distracted Mind

  Heav’n’s Justice, Theodore’s revengeful Kind,

  And the same Fate to the same Sin assign’d;

  Already sees her self the Monster’s Prey,

  And feels her Heart, and Entrails torn away. 325

  ’Twas a mute Scene of Sorrow, mix’d with fear;

  Still on the Table lay th’ unfinished Cheer;

  The Knight, and hungry Mastiffs stood around,

  The mangled Dame lay breathless on the Ground;

  When on a suddain reinspired with Breath, 330

  Again she rose, again to suffer Death;

  Nor stay’d the Hell-hounds, nor the Hunter stay’d,

  But follow’d, as before, the flying Maid:

  Th’ Avenger took from Earth th’ avenging Sword,

  And mounting light as Air, his Sable Steed he spurr’d: 335

  The Clouds dispell’d, the Sky resum’d her Light,

  And Nature stood recover’d of her Fright.

  But Fear, the last of Ills, remain’d behind,

  And Horror heavy sat on ev’ry Mind.

  Nor Theodore incourag’d more his Feast, 340

  But sternly look’d, as hatching in his Breast

  Some deep Design, which when Honoria view’d

  The fresh Impulse her former Fright renew’d:

  She thought her self the trembling Dame who fled,

  And him the grisly Ghost that spurr’d th’ infernal Steed: 345

  The more dismay’d, for when the Guests withdrew,

  Their courteous Host saluting all the Crew

  Regardless passed her o’er; nor grac’d with kind adieu.

  That sting infix’d within her haughty Mind,

  The downfal of her Empire she divin’d; 350

  And her proud Heart with secret Sorrow pin’d.

  Home as they went, the sad Discourse renew’d

  Of the relentless Dame to Death pursu’d,

  And of the Sight obscene so lately view’d;

  None durst arraign the righteous Doom she bore, 355

  Ev’n they who pity’d most yet blam’d her more:

  The Parallel they needed not to name,

  But in the Dead they damn’d the living Dame.

  At ev’ry little Noise she look’d behind,

  For still the Knight was present to her Mind: 360

  And anxious oft she started on the way,

  And thought the Horseman-Ghost came thundring for his Prey.

  Return’d, she took her Bed with little Rest,

  But in short Slumbers dreamt the Funeral Feast:

  Awak’d, she turned her Side; and slept again, 365

  The same black Vapors mounted in her Brain,

  And the same Dreams return’d with double Pain.

  Now forc’d to wake because afraid to sleep

  Her Blood all Fever’d, with a furious Leap

  She sprung from Bed, distracted in her Mind, 370

  And fear’d, at ev’ry Step, a twitching Spright behind.

  Darkling and desp’rate, with a stagg’ring pace,

  Of Death afraid, and conscious of Disgrace;

  Fear, Pride, Remorse, at once her Heart assail’d,

  Pride put Remorse to flight, but Fear prevail’d, 375

  Friday, the fatal Day, when next it came,

  Her Soul forethought the Fiend would change his Game,

  And her pursue, or Theodore be slain,

  And two Ghosts join their Packs to hunt her o’er the Plain.

  This dreadful Image so possess’d her Mind, 380

  That, desp’rate any Succour else to find,

  She ceas’d all farther Hope; and now began

  To make reflection on th’ unhappy Man.

  Rich, Brave, and Young, who past expression lov’d,

  Proof to Disdain; and not to be remov’d: 385

  Of all the Men respected, and admir’d,

  Of all the Dames, except her self, desir’d:

  Why not of her? Preferr’d above the rest
/>   By him with Knightly Deeds, and open Love profess’d?

  So had another been; where he his Vows address’d. 390

  This quell’d her Pride, yet other Doubts remain’d,

  That once disdaining she might be disdain’d:

  The Fear was just, but greater Fear prevail’d,

  Fear of her Life by hellish Hounds assail’d:

  He took a low’ring leave; but who can tell 395

  What outward Hate might inward Love conceal?

  Her Sexes Arts she knew, and why not then

  Might deep dissembling have a place in Men?

  Here Hope began to dawn; resolv’d to try,

  She fix’d on this her utmost Remedy; 400

  Death was behind, but hard it was to die.

  ’Twas time enough at last on Death to call;

  The Precipice in sight, a Shrub was all,

  That kindly stood betwixt to break the fatal fall.

  One Maid she had, belov’d above the rest: 405

  Secure of her, the Secret she confess’d:

  And now the chearful Light her Fears dispell’d,

  She with no winding turns the Truth conceal’d,

  But put the Woman off, and stood reveal’d:

  With Faults confess’d commission’d her to go, 410

  If Pity yet had place, and reconcile her Foe.

  The welcom Message made, was soon receiv’d;

  ’Twas what he wish’d, and hop’d, but scarce believ’d;

  Fate seem’d a fair occasion to present,

  He knew the Sex, and fear’d she might repent, 415

  Should he delay the moment of Consent.

  There yet remain’d to gain her Friends (a Care

  The modesty of Maidens well might spare;)

  But she with such a Zeal the Cause embrac’d,

  (As Women where they will, are all in hast,) 420

  That Father, Mother, and the Kin beside,

  Were overborn by Fury of the Tide:

  With full consent of all, she chang’d her State,

  Resistless in her Love, as in her Hate.

  By her Example warn’d, the rest beware; 425

  More Easy, less Imperious, were the Fair;

  And that one Hunting which the Devil design’d,

  For one fair Female, lost him half the Kind.

  Cymon and Iphigenia

  From Boccace

  Poeta loquitur,

  OLD as I am, for Ladies Love unfit,

  The Pow’r of Beauty I remember yet,

  Which once inflam’d my Soul, and still inspires my Wit.

  If Love be Folly, the severe Divine

  Has felt that Folly, tho’ he censures mine; 5

  Pollutes the Pleasures of a chast Embrace,

  Acts what I write, and propagates in Grace

  With riotous Excess, a Priestly Race:

  Suppose him free, and that I forge th’ offence,