by John Dryden
Shepherdess. Tell me Thirsis, tell your Anguish,
Why you Sigh, and why you Languish;
When the Nymph whom you Adore,
Grants the Blessing of Possessing,
What can Love and I do more? 5
Shepherd. Think it’s Love beyond all Measure,
Makes me faint away with Pleasure;
Strength of Cordial may destroy,
And the Blessing of possessing
Kills me with Excess of Joy. 10
Shepherdess. Thirsis, how can I believe you?
But confess and I’le forgive you;
Men are false, and so are you;
Never Nature fram’d a Creature
To enjoy, and yet be true. 15
Shepherd. Mine’s a Flame beyond expiring,
Still possessing, still desiring,
Fit for Love’s imperial Crown;
Ever shining, and refining,
Still the more ’tis melted down. 20
Chorus together. Mine’s a Flame beyond expiring,
Still possessing, still desiring,
Fit for Love’s imperial Crown;
Ever shining, and refining,
Still the more ’tis melted down. 25
Celia, that I once was blest, from Amphitryon
I
Celia, that I once was blest
Is now the Torment of my Brest;
Since to curse me, you bereave me
Of the Pleasures I possest:
Cruel Creature, to deceive me! 5
First to love, and then to leave me.
II
Had you the Bliss refus’d to grant,
Then I had never known the want:
But possessing once the Blessing,
Is the Cause of my Complaint: 10
Once possessing is but tasting;
’Tis no Bliss that is not lasting.
III
Celia now is mine no more;
But I am hers and must adore:
Nor to leave her will endeavour; 15
Charms, that captiv’d me before,
No Unkindness can dissever;
Love that’s true, is Love for ever.
Fair Iris I love and hourly I dye, from Amphitryon
I
FAIR Iris I love and hourly I dye,
But not for a Lip nor a languishing Eye:
She’s fickle and false, and there I agree;
For I am as false and as fickle as she:
We neither believe what either can say; 5
And, neither believing, we neither betray.
II
’Tis civil to swear and say Things of course;
We mean not the taking for better or worse.
When present we love, when absent agree;
I think not of Iris, nor Iris of me: 10
The Legend of Love no Couple can find
So easie to part, or so equally join’d.
Pastoral Dialogue, from Amphitryon
I
Thyrsis. Fair Iris and her Swain
Were in a shady Bow’r;
Where Thyrsis long in vain
Had sought the Shepherd’s hour
At length his Hand advancing upon her snowy Breast, 5
He said, O kiss me longer,
And longer yet and longer,
If you will make me Blest.
II
Iris. An easie yielding Maid
By trusting is undone; 10
Our Sex is oft betray’d
By granting Love too soon.
If you desire to gain me, your Suff’rings to redress;
Prepare to love me longer,
And longer yet, and longer, 15
Before you shall possess.
III
Thyrsis. The little Care you show,
Of all my Sorrows past,
Makes Death appear too slow,
And Life too long to last. 20
Fair Iris kiss me kindly, in pity of my Fate;
And kindly still, and kindly,
Before it is too late.
IV
Iris. You fondly Court your Bliss,
And no Advances make; 25
’Tis not for Maids to kiss,
But ’tis for Men to take.
So you may kiss me kindly, and I will not rebell;
But kindly still, and kindly,
But Kiss me not and tell. 30
V
A RONDEAU
Chorus. Thus at the Height we love and live,
And fear not to be poor:
We give, and give, and give, and give,
Till we can give no more:
But what to day will take away, 35
To Morrow will restore.
Thus at the height we love and live,
And fear not to be poor.
Oh Sight, the Mother of Desires, from King Arthur
Man sings
Oh SIGHT, the Mother of Desires,
What Charming Objects dost thou yield!
’Tis sweet, when tedious Night expires,
To see the Rosie Morning guild
The Mountain-Tops and paint the Field! 5
But when Clorinda comes in Sight,
She makes the Summers Day more bright;
And when she goes away, ’tis Night.
Chorus. When fair Clorinda comes in Sight, &c.
Woman sings
’Tis sweet the Blushing Morn to view; 10
And Plains adorn’d with Pearly Dew:
But such cheap Delights to see,
Heaven and Nature
Give each Creature;
They have Eyes, as well as we. 15
This is the Joy, all Joys above,
To see, to see,
That only she,
That only she we love!
Chorus. This is the Joy, all Joys above, &c. 20
Man sings
And, if we may discover,
What Charms both Nymph and Lover,
’Tis, when the Fair at Mercy lies,
With Kind and Amorous Anguish,
To Sigh, to Look, to Languish, 25
On each others Eyes!
Chorus of all Men and Women
And if we may discover, &c.
How happy the Lover, from King Arthur
1
HOW happy the Lover,
How easie his Chain,
How pleasing his Pain!
How sweet to discover
He sighs not in vain. 5
For Love ev’ry Creature
Is form’d by his Nature;
No Joys are above
The Pleasures of Love.
2
In vain are our Graces, 10
In vain are your Eyes,
If Love you despise;
When Age furrows Faces,
’Tis time to be wise.
Then use the short Blessing, 15
That flies in Possessing:
No Joys are above
The Pleasures of Love.
Song of Æolus, from King Arthur
YE blust’ring Brethren of the Skies,
Whose Breath has ruffled all the Watry Plain,
Retire, and let Britannia rise,
In Triumph o’er the Main.
Serene and Calm, and void of Fear, 5
The Queen of Islands must appear:
Serene and Calm, as when the Spring
The New-Created World began,
And Birds on Boughs did softly sing,
Their peaceful Homage paid to Man, 10
While Eurus did his Blasts forbear
In Favour of the Tender Year.
Retreat, rude Winds, Retreat,
To Hollow Rocks, your Stormy Seat;
There swell your Lungs, and vainly, vainly threat. 15
Song of Pan and Nereide, from King Arthur
ROUND thy Coasts, Fair Nymph of Britain,
For thy Guard our Waters flow:
Proteus all his Herds admitting
On thy Greens to Graze below.
Foreign Lands thy Fishes Tasting 5
Learn from thee Luxurious Fasting.
1
For Folded Flocks, on Fruitful Plains,
The Shepherds and the Farmers Gains,
Fair Britain all the world outvyes;
And Pan, as in Arcadia reigns 10
Where Pleasure mixt with Profit lyes.
2
Though Jasons Fleece was Fam’d of old,
The British Wool is growing Gold;
No Mines can more of Wealth supply:
It keeps the Peasant from the Cold, 15
And takes for Kings the Tyrian Dye.
Your Hay it is Mow’d, and your Corn is Reap’d, from King Arthur
Comus. Your Hay it is Mow’d, and your Corn is Reap’d;
Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap’d:
Come, my Boys, come;
Come, my Boys, come;
And merrily Roar out Harvest Home. 5
Chorus. Come, my Boys, come, &c.
1 Man. WE ha’ cheated the Parson, we’ll cheat him agen,
For why shou’d a Blockhead ha’ One in Ten?
One in Ten,
One in Ten, 10
For why shou’d a Blockhead ha’ One in Ten?
2 For Prating so long like a Book-learn’d Sot,
Till Pudding and Dumplin burn to Pot,
Burn to Pot,
Burn to Pot, 15
Till Pudding and Dumplin burn to Pot.
Chorus. Burn to Pot, &c.
3 We’ll toss off our Ale till we canno’ stand,
And Hoigh for the Honour of old England:
Old England, 20
Old England,
And Hoigh for the Honour of Old England.
Chorus. Old England, &c.
Song of Venus, from King Arthur
1
FAIREST Isle, all Isles Excelling,
Seat of Pleasure, and of Loves;
Venus here will chuse her Dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian Groves.
2
Cupid, from his Fav’rite Nation, 5
Care and Envy will Remove;
Jealousy that poysons Passion,
And Despair that dies for Love.
3
Gentle Murmurs, sweet Complaining,
Sighs that blow the Fire of Love; 10
Soft Repulses, kind Disdaining,
Shall be all the Pains you prove.
4
Ev’ry Swain shall pay his Duty,
Grateful ev’ry Nymph shall prove;
And as these Excel in Beauty, 15
Those shall be Renown’d for Love.
No, no, poor suff’ring Heart, no Change endeavour, from Cleomenes
NO, no, poor suff’ring Heart, no Change endeavour,
Choose to sustain the smart, rather than leave her;
My ravish’d Eyes behold such Charms about her,
I can dye with her, but not live without her
One tender Sigh of hers to see me Languish, 5
Will more than pay the price of my past Anguish:
Beware, O cruel Fair, how you smile on me,
’Twas a kind look of yours that has undone me.
2
Love has in store for me one happy Minute,
And She will end my pain who did begin it; 10
Then no day void of Bliss, or Pleasure leaving,
Ages shall slide away without perceiving:
Cupid shall guard the Door the more to please us,
And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us:
Time and Death shall depart, and say in flying, 15
Love has found out a way to Live by Dying.
Song of Jealousie, from Love Triumphant
1
WHAT State of Life can be so blest
As Love, that warms a Lover’s Breast?
Two Souls in one, the same desire
To grant the Bliss, and to require!
But if in Heav’n a Hell we find, 5
’Tis all from thee,
O Jealousie!
Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie,
Thou Tyrant of the Mind!
2
All other ills, tho sharp they prove, 10
Serve to refine, and perfect Love:
In absence, or unkind disdain,
Sweet Hope relieves the Lover’s pain:
But ah, no Cure but Death we find
To set us free 15
From Jealousie:
O Jealousie!
Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie,
Thou Tyrant of the Mind.
3
False in thy Glass all Objects are, 20
Some set too near, and some too far:
Thou art the Fire of endless Night
The Fire that burns, and gives no Light.
All Torments of the Damn’d we find
In only thee 25
O Jealousie!
Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie
Thou Tyrant of the Mind!
Song for a Girl, from Love Triumphant
1
YOUNG I am, and yet unskill’d
How to make a Lover yield:
How to keep, or how to gain,
When to love; and when to feign.
2
Take me, take me, some of you, 5
While I yet am Young and True;
E’re I can my Soul disguise;
Heave my Breasts, and roul my Eyes.
3
Stay not till I learn the way,
How to Lye, and to Betray: 10
He that has me first, is blest,
For I may deceive the rest.
4
Cou’d I find a blooming Youth,
Full of Love, and full of Truth,
Brisk, and of a janty mean 15
I shou’d long to be Fifteen.
TRANSLATIONS
CONTENTS
Amaryllis; Or, the Third Idyllium of Theocritus, paraphras’d
The Epithalamium of Helen and Menelaus, from the Eighteenth Idyllium of Theocritus
The Despairing Lover, from the Twenty-third Idyllium of Theocritus
The Beginning of the First Book of Lucretius
The Beginning of the Second Book of Lucretius
The Latter Part of the Third Book of Lucretius; against the Fear of Death
From Book the Fifth of Lucretius
The Third Ode of the First Book of Horace; Inscribed to the Earl of Roscommon, on his intended Voyage to Ireland
The Ninth Ode of the First Book of Horace
The Twenty-ninth Ode of the Third Book of Horace
The Second Epode of Horace
The First Book of Homer’s Ilias
The Last Parting of Hector and Andromache. From the Sixth Book of Homer’s Iliad
The Dedication to Examen Poeticum, 1693
The First Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Meleager and Atalanta, Out of the Eighth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Baucis and Philemon, Out of the Eighth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
The Fable of Iphis and Ianthe, From the Ninth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Pygmalion and the Statue, Out of the Tenth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Cinyras and Myrrha, Out of the Tenth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Ceyx and Alcyone, Out of the Eleventh Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Æsacus transformed into a Cormorant. From the Eleventh Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
The Twelfth Book of the Metamorphoses, wholly translated
The Speeches of Ajax and Ulysses; From Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XIII
The Fable of Acis, Polyphemus, and Galatea. From the Thirteenth Book of the Metamorphoses
Of the Pythagorean Philosophy; From the Fifteenth Book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses
Preface concerning Ovid’s Epistles
Veni, Creator Spiritus
Te Deum
Hymn for the Nativity of St. John Baptist
L
ines in a Letter to his Lady Cousin, Honor Driden
Lines printed under the engraved portrait of Milton, in Tonson’s folio edition of the Paradise Lost, 1688
Impromptu Lines addressed to his Cousin, Mrs. Creed
Fragment of a Character of Jacob Tonson
Ovid’s Epistles: Canace to Macareus
Ovid’s Epistles: Helen to Paris
Ovid’s Epistles: Dido to Æneas
The First Book of Ovid’s Art of Love
Ovid’s Amours. Book I. Eleg. I.
Ovid’s Amours. Book I. Eleg. IV.
Ovid’s Amours. Book II. Eleg. XIX.
From Juvenal
Juvenal: The First Satyr
Juvenal: The Third Satyr
Juvenal: The Sixth Satyr
Juvenal: The Tenth Satyr
Juvenal: The Sixteenth Satyr
Aulus Persius Flaccus: Prologue to the First Satyr
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The First Satyr.
In Dialogue betwixt the Poet and his friend or Monitor
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The Second Satyr.
Dedicated to his friend Plotius Macrinus, on his Birth-day
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The Third Satyr
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The Fourth Satyr
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The Fifth Satyr
Aulus Persius Flaccus: The Sixth Satyr
Preface to Sylvae, or the Second Part of Poetical Miscellanies, 1685
For this last half Year I have been troubled with the disease (as I may call it) of Translation; the cold Prose fits of it (which are always the most tedious with me) were spent in the History of the League; the hot (which succeeded them) in this Volume of Verse Miscellanies. The truth is, I fancied to my self, a kind of ease in the change of the Paroxism; never suspecting but the humour wou’d have wasted itself in two or three Pastorals of Theocritus, and as many Odes of Horace. But finding, or at least thinking I found, something that was more pleasing in them than my ordinary productions, I encourag’d myself to renew my old acquaintance with Lucretius and Virgil; and immediately fix’d upon some parts of them, which had most affected me in the reading. These were my natural Impulses for the undertaking: But there was an accidental motive which was full as forcible, and God forgive him who was the occasion of it. It was my Lord Roscommon’s Essay on Translated Verse; which made me uneasie till I tried whether or no I was capable of following his Rules, and of reducing the speculation into practice. For many a fair Precept in Poetry is like a seeming Demonstration in the Mathematicks, very specious in the Diagram, but failing in the Mechanick Operation. I think I have generally observ’d his instructions; I am sure my reason is sufficiently convinc’d both of their truth and usefulness; which, in other words, is to confess no less a vanity, than to pretend that I have at least in some places made Examples to his Rules. Yet withall, I must acknowledge that I have many times exceeded my Commission; for I have both added and omitted, and even sometimes very boldly made such expositions of my Authors, as no Dutch Commentator will forgive me. Perhaps, in such particular passages, I have thought that I discover’d some beauty yet undiscovered by those Pedants, which none but a Poet could have found. Where I have taken away some of their Expressions, and cut them shorter, it may possibly be on this consideration, that what was beautiful in the Greek or Latin, would not appear so shining in the English; and where I have enlarg’d them, I desire the false Criticks would not always think that those thoughts are wholly mine, but that either they are secretly in the Poet, or may be fairly deduc’d from him; or at least, if both those considerations should fail, that my own is of a piece with his, and that if he were living, and an Englishman, they are such as he wou’d probably have written. 1