John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Or Earthquakes stop their ancient Course, and bring

  Diverted Streams to feed a distant Spring.

  So Lycus, swallow’d up, is seen no more,

  But far from thence knocks out another Door.

  Thus Erasinus dives; and blind in Earth 420

  Runs on, and gropes his way to second Birth.

  Starts up in Argos Meads, and shakes his Locks

  Around the Fields, and fattens all the Flocks.

  So Mysus by another way is led,

  And, grown a River now disdains his Head: 425

  Forgets his humble Birth, his Name forsakes,

  And the proud Title of Caicus takes.

  Large Amenane, impure with yellow Sands,

  Runs rapid often, and as often stands;

  And here he threats the drunken Fields to drown, 430

  And there his Dugs deny to give their Liquor down.

  Anigros once did wholesome Draughts afford,

  But now his deadly Waters are abhorr’d:

  Since, hurt by Hercules, as Fame resounds,

  The Centaurs in his current wash’d their Wounds. 435

  The Streams of Hypanis are sweet no more,

  But brackish lose the tast they had before.

  Antissa, Pharos, Tyre in Seas were pent,

  Once Isles, but now increase the Continent;

  While the Leucadian Coast, main Land before, 440

  By rushing Seas is sever’d from the Shore.

  So Zancle to th’ Italian Earth was ty’d,

  And Men once walk’d where Ships at Anchor ride;

  Till Neptune overlook’d the narrow way,

  And in disdain pour’d in the conqu’ring Sea. 445

  Two Cities that adorn’d th’ Achaian Ground,

  Buris and Helice, no more are found,

  But whelm’d beneath a Lake, are sunk and drown’d;

  And Boatsmen through the Chrystal Water show

  To wond’ring Passengers the Walls below. 450

  Near Træzen stands a Hill, expos’d in Air

  To Winter-Winds, of leafy Shadows bare:

  This once was level Ground: But (strange to tell)

  Th’ included Vapors, that in Caverns dwell,

  Lab’ring with Cholick Pangs, and close confin’d, 455

  In vain sought issue for the rumbling Wind:

  Yet still they heav’d for vent, and heaving still

  Inlarg’d the Concave, and shot up the Hill;

  As Breath extends a Bladder, or the Skins

  Of Goats are blown t’ inclose the hoarded Wines: 460

  The Mountain yet retains a Mountain’s Face,

  And gather’d Rubbish heals the hollow space.

  Of many Wonders, which I heard or knew,

  Retrenching most, I will relate but few:

  What, are not Springs with Qualities oppos’d 465

  Endu’d at Seasons, and at Seasons lost?

  Thrice in a Day thine, Ammon, change their Form,

  Cold at high Noon, at Morn and Evening warm:

  Thine, Athaman, will kindle Wood, if thrown

  On the pil’d Earth, and in the waning Moon. 470

  The Thracians have a Stream, if any try

  The tast, his harden’d Bowels petrify;

  Whate’er it touches it converts to Stones,

  And makes a Marble Pavement where it runs.

  Crathis, and Sybaris her Sister Flood, 475

  That slide through our Calabrian Neighbour Wood,

  With Gold and Amber die the shining Hair,

  And thither Youth resort; (for who wou’d not be Fair?)

  But stranger Virtues yet in Streams we find,

  Some change not only Bodies, but the Mind: 480

  Who has not heard of Salmacis obscene.

  Whose Waters into Women soften Men?

  Of Æthyopian Lakes, which turn the Brain

  To Madness, or in heavy Sleep constrain?

  Clytorian Streams the Love of Wine expel, 485

  (Such is the Virtue of th’ abstemious Well;)

  Whether the colder Nymph that rules the Flood

  Extinguishes, and balks the drunken God;

  Or that Melampus (so have some assur’d)

  When the mad Prætides with Charms he cur’d, 490

  And pow’rful Herbs, both Charms and Simples cast

  Into the sober Spring, where still their Virtues last.

  Unlike Effects Lyncestis will produce;

  Who drinks his Waters, tho’ with moderate use,

  Reels as with Wine, and sees with double Sight: 495

  His Heels too heavy, and his Head too light.

  Ladon, once Pheneos, an Arcadian Stream,

  (Ambiguous in th’ Effects, as in the Name)

  By Day is wholesom Bev’rage; but is thought

  By Night infected, and a deadly Draught. 500

  Thus running Rivers, and the standing Lake

  Now of these virtues, now of those partake:

  Time was (and all Things Time and Fate obey)

  When fast Ortygia floated on the Sea;

  Such were Cyanean Isles, when Tiphys steer’d 505

  Betwixt their Streights, and their Collision fear’d;

  They swam where now they sit; and firmly join’d

  Secure of rooting up, resist the Wind.

  Nor Ætna vomiting sulphureous Fire

  Will ever belch; for Sulphur will expire, 510

  (The Veins exhausted of the liquid Store;)

  Time was she cast no Flames; in time will cast no more.

  For whether Earth’s an Animal, and Air

  Imbibes, her Lungs with Coolness to repair,

  And what she sucks remits; she still requires 515

  Inlets for Air, and Outlets for her Fires;

  When tortur’d with convulsive Fits she shakes,

  That Motion chokes the vent, till other vent she makes:

  Or when the Winds in hollow Caves are clos’d,

  And subtil Spirits find that way oppos’d, 520

  They toss up Flints in Air; the Flints that hide

  The Seeds of Fire, thus toss’d in Air, collide,

  Kindling the Sulphur, till the Fewel spent

  The Cave is cool’d, and the fierce Winds relent.

  Or whether Sulphur, catching Fire, feeds on 525

  Its unctuous Parts, till all the Matter gone,

  The Flames no more ascend; for Earth supplies

  The Fat that feeds them; and when Earth denies

  That Food, by length of Time consum’d, the Fire

  Famish’d for want of Fewel must expire. 530

  A Race of Men there are, as Fame has told,

  Who shiv’ring suffer Hyperborean Cold,

  Till nine times bathing in Minerva’s Lake,

  Soft Feathers, to defend their naked Sides, they take.

  ’Tis said, the Scythian Wives (believe who will) 535

  Transform themselves to Birds by Magick Skill;

  Smear’d over with an Oil of wond’rous Might,

  That adds new Pinions to their airy Flight.

  But this by sure Experiment we know,

  That living Creatures from Corruption grow: 540

  Hide in a hollow Pit a slaughter’d Steer,

  Bees from his putrid Bowels will appear;

  Who like their Parents haunt the Fields, and bring

  Their Hony-Harvest home, and hope another Spring.

  The Warlike-Steed is multiply’d we find, 545

  To Wasps and Hornets of the Warrior Kind.

  Cut from a Crab his crooked Claws, and hide

  The rest in Earth, a Scorpion thence will glide

  And shoot his Sting, his Tail in Circles toss’d

  Refers the Limbs his backward Father lost. 550

  And Worms, that Stretch on Leaves their filmy Loom,

  Crawl from their Bags, and Butterflies become

  Ev’n Slime begets the Frog’s loquacious Race:

  Short of their Fee
t at first, in little Space

  With Arms and Legs endu’d, long leaps they take, 555

  Rais’d on their hinder part, and swim the Lake,

  And waves repel: For Nature gives their Kind,

  To that intent, a length of Legs behind.

  The Cubs of Bears a living lump appear,

  When whelp’d, and no determin’d Figure wear. 560

  Their Mother licks ‘em into Shape, and gives

  As much of Form, as she her self receives.

  The Grubs from their sexangular abode

  Crawl out unfinish’d, like the Maggot’s Brood:

  Trunks without Limbs; till time at Leisure brings 565

  The Thighs they wanted, and their tardy Wings.

  The Bird who draws the Carr of Juno, vain

  Of her crown’d Head, and of her Starry Train;

  And he that bears th’ Artillery of Jove,

  The strong-pounc’d Eagle; and the billing Dove; 570

  And all the feather’d Kind, who cou’d suppose

  (But that from sight the surest Sense he knows)

  They from th’ included Yolk, not ambient White arose.

  There are who think the Marrow of a Man,

  Which in the Spine, while he was living, ran; 575

  When dead, the Pith corrupted will become

  A Snake, and hiss within the hollow Tomb.

  All these receive their Birth from other Things;

  But from himself the Phœnix only springs:

  Self-born, begotten by the Parent Flame 580

  In which he burn’d, another and the same:

  Who not by Corn or Herbs his Life sustains,

  But the sweet Essence of Amomum drains

  And watches the rich Gums Arabia bears,

  While yet in tender Dew they drop their Tears. 585

  He, (his five Centuries of life fulfill’d)

  His Nest on Oaken Boughs begins to build,

  Or trembling tops of Palm: and first he draws

  The Plan with his broad Bill, and crooked Claws,

  Nature’s Artificers; on this the Pile 590

  Is form’d, and rises round, then with the Spoil

  Of Casia, Cynamon, and Stems of Nard,

  (For Softness strew’d beneath,) his Fun’ral Bed is rear’d:

  Fun’ral and Bridal both; and all around

  The Borders with corruptless Myrrh are crown’d: 595

  On this incumbent; till ætherial Flame

  First catches, then consumes the costly Frame;

  Consumes him too, as on the Pile he lies;

  He liv’d on Odours, and in Odours dies.

  An Infant-Phœnix from the former springs, 600

  His Father’s Heir, and from his tender Wings

  Shakes off his Parent Dust; his Method he pursues,

  And the same Lease of Life on the same Terms renews:

  When grown to Manhood he begins his Reign,

  And with stiff Pinions can his Flight sustain, 605

  He lightens of its Load the Tree that bore

  His Father’s Royal Sepulcher before,

  And his own Cradle: This (with pious Care

  Plac’d on his Back) he cuts the buxome Air,

  Seeks the Sun’s City, and his sacred Church, 610

  And decently lays down his Burden in the Porch.

  A Wonder more amazing wou’d we find?

  Th’ Hyæna shows it, of a double kind,

  Varying the Sexes in alternate Years,

  In one begets, and in another bears. 615

  The thin Camelion, fed with Air, receives

  The colour of the Thing to which he cleaves.

  India when conquer’d, on the conqu’ring God

  For planted Vines the sharp-ey’d Lynx bestow’d,

  Whose Urine, shed before it touches Earth, 620

  Congeals in Air, and gives to Gems their Birth.

  So Coral soft and white in Oceans Bed,

  Comes harden’d up in Air, and glows with Red.

  All changing Species should my Song recite;

  Before I ceas’d, wou’d change the Day to Night. 625

  Nations and Empires flourish and decay,

  By turns command, and in their turns obey;

  Time softens hardy People, Time again

  Hardens to War a soft, unwarlike Train.

  Thus Troy, for ten long Years, her Foes withstood, 630

  And daily bleeding bore th’ expence of Blood:

  Now for thick Streets it shows an empty Space,

  Or only fill’d with Tombs of her own perish’d Race,

  Her self becomes the Sepulcher of what she was.

  Mycene, Sparta, Thebes of mighty Fame, 635

  Are vanish’d out of Substance into Name,

  And Dardan Rome, that just begins to rise,

  On Tiber’s Banks, in time shall mate the Skies;

  Widening her Bounds, and working on her way,

  Ev’n now she meditates Imperial Sway: 640

  Yet this is change, but she by changing thrives,

  Like Moons new-born, and in her Cradle strives

  To fill her Infant-Horns; an Hour shall come

  When the round World shall be contain’d in Rome.

  For thus old Saws fortel, and Helenus 645

  Anchises drooping Son enliven’d thus,

  When Ilium now was in a sinking State,

  And he was doubtful of his future Fate:

  O Goddess-born, with thy hard Fortune strive,

  Troy never can be lost, and thou alive. 650

  Thy Passage thou shalt free through Fire and Sword,

  And Troy in Foreign Lands shall be restor’d.

  In happier Fields a rising Town I see,

  Greater than what e’er was, or is, or e’er shall be:

  And Heav’n yet owes the World a Race deriv’d from Thee. 655

  Sages, and Chiefs of other Lineage born,

  The City shall extend, extended shall adorn:

  But from Iulus he must draw his Birth,

  By whom thy Rome shall rule the conquer’d Earth:

  Whom Heav’n will lend Mankind on Earth to reign, 660

  And late require the precious Pledge again.

  This Helenus to great Æneas told,

  Which I retain, e’er since in other Mould

  My Soul was cloath’d; and now rejoice to view

  My Country Walls rebuilt, and Troy reviv’d anew, 665

  Rais’d by the fall: Decreed by Loss to Gain;

  Enslav’d but to be free, and conquer’d but to reign.

  ’Tis time my hard-mouth’d Coursers to controul,

  Apt to run Riot, and transgress the Goal:

  And therefore I conclude, whatever lies 670

  In Earth, or flits in Air, or fills the Skies,

  All suffer change, and we, that are of Soul

  And Body mix’d, are Members of the whole.

  Then, when our Sires, or Grandsires shall forsake

  The Forms of Men, and brutal Figures take, 675

  Thus hous’d, securely let their Spirits rest,

  Nor violate thy Father in the Beast,

  Thy Friend, thy Brother, any of thy Kin;

  If none of these, yet there’s a Man within:

  O spare to make a Thyestæan Meal, 680

  T’ inclose his Body, and his Soul expel.

  Ill Customs by degrees to Habits rise,

  Ill Habits soon become exalted Vice:

  What more Advance can Mortals make in Sin

  So near Perfection, who with Blood begin? 685

  Deaf to the Calf that lies beneath the Knife,

  Looks up, and from her Butcher begs her Life:

  Deaf to the harmless Kid, that, e’er he dies,

  All Methods to procure thy Mercy tries,

  And imitates in vain thy Children’s Cries. 690

  Where will he stop, who feeds with Household Bread,

  Then eats the Poultry which before he fed?

  Let
plough thy Steers; that when they lose their Breath,

  To Nature, not to thee, they may impute their Death.

  Let Goats for Food their loaded Udders lend, 695

  And Sheep from Winter-cold thy Sides defend;

  But neither Sprindges, Nets, nor Snares employ,

  And be no more Ingenious to destroy.

  Free as in Air, let Birds on Earth remain,

  Not let insidious Glue their Wings constrain; 700

  Nor opening Hounds the trembling Stag affright,

  Nor purple Feathers intercept his Flight;

  Nor Hooks conceal’d in Baits for Fish prepare,

  Nor Lines to heave ‘em twinkling up in Air.

  Take not away the Life you cannot give: 705

  For all Things have an equal right to live.

  Kill noxious Creatures, where ’tis Sin to save;

  This only just Prerogative we have:

  But nourish Life with vegetable Food,

  And shun the sacrilegious tast of Blood. 710

  These Precepts by the Samian Sage were taught,

  Which Godlike Numa to the Sabines brought,

  And thence transferr’d to Rome, by Gift his own:

  A willing People, and an offer’d Throne.

  O happy Monarch, sent by Heav’n to bless 715

  A Salvage Nation with soft Arts of Peace,

  To teach Religion, Rapine to restrain,

  Give Laws to Lust, and Sacrifice ordain:

  Himself a Saint, a Goddess was his Bride,

  And all the Muses o’er his Acts preside. 720

  Preface concerning Ovid’s Epistles

  The Life of Ovid being already written in our language before the Translation of his Metamorphoses, I will not presume so far upon myself, to think I can add any thing to Mr. Sandys his undertaking. The English reader may there be satisfied, that he flourish’d in the reign of Augustus Cæsar; that he was Extracted from an Ancient Family of Roman Knights; that he was born to the Inheritance of a Splendid Fortune; that he was design’d to the Study of the Law, and had made considerable progress in it, before he quitted that Profession, for this of Poetry, to which he was more naturally form’d. The Cause of his Banishment is unknown; because he was himself unwilling further to provoke the Emperour, by ascribing it to any other reason, than what was pretended by Augustus, which was, the Lasciviousness of his Elegies, and his Art of Love. ’Tis true, they are not to be Excus’d in the severity of Manners, as being able to corrupt a larger Empire, if there were any, than that of Rome: yet this may be said in behalf of Ovid, that no man has ever treated the Passion of Love with so much Delicacy of thought, and of Expression, or search’d into the nature of it more Philosophically than he. And the Emperour, who condemn’d him, had as little reason as another Man to punish that fault with so much severity, if at least he were the Author of a certain Epigram, which is ascrib’d to him, relating to the cause of the first Civil War betwixt himself and Mark Anthony the triumvir, which is more fulsome than any passage I have met with in our Poet. To pass by the naked familiarity of his Expressions to Horace, which are cited in that Author’s Life, I need only mention one notorious Act of his, in taking Livia to his Bed, when she was not only Married, but with Child by her Husband, then living. But Deeds, it seems, may be Justified by Arbitrary Pow’r, when words are question’d in a Poet. There is another ghess of the Grammarians, as far from truth as the first from Reason; they will have him Banish’d for some favours, which, they say, he receiv’d from Julia, the Daughter of Augustus, whom they think he Celebrates under the Name of Corinna in his Elegies. But he, who will observe the Verses which are made to that Mistress, may gather from the whole contexture of them, that Corinna was not a Woman of the highest Quality. If Julia were then Married to Agrippa, why should our Poet make his Petition to Isis, for her safe delivery, and afterwards Condole her Miscarriage; which, for ought he knew, might be by her own Husband? Or indeed how durst he be so bold to make the least discovery of such a Crime, which was no less than Capital, especially Committed against a Person of Agrippa’s Rank? Or, if it were before her Marriage, he would surely have been more discreet, than to have published an Accident which must have been fatal to them both. But what most Confirms me against this Opinion is, that Ovid himself complains, that the true Person of Corinna was found out by the Fame of his Verses to her: which if it had been Julia, he durst not have own’d; and, besides, an immediate punishment must have follow’d. He seems himself more truly to have touch’d at the Cause of his Exile in those obscure verses,