THE	WIFE	OF	BATH.
	181
	But	told	it	under	matrimonial	seal,
	With	strict	injunction	never	to	reveal.
	The	secret	heard,	she	plighted	him	her	troth,
	(And	sacred	sure	is	every	woman's	oath)
	The	royal	malady	should	rest	unknown,
	Both	for	her	husband's	honour	and	her	own	;
	But	ne'ertheless	she	pin'd	with	discontent	;
	The	counsel	rumbled	till	it	found	a	vent.
	The	thing	she	knew	she	was	obliged	to	hide	;
	By	interest	and	by	oath	the	wife	was	ty'd	;
	But	if	she	told	it	not,	the	woman	dy'd.
	Loth	to	betray	a	husband	and	a	prince,
	But	she	must	burst,	or	blab	:	and	no	pretence
	Of	honour	ty'd	her	tongue	from	self-defence.
	A	marshy	ground	commodiously	was	near,
	Thither	she	ran,	and	held	her	breath	for	fear,
	Lest	if	a	word	she	spoke	of	any	thing,
	That	word	might	be	the	secret	of	the	king.
	Thus	full	of	counsel	to	the	fen	she	went,
	Grip'd	all	the	way,	and	longing	for	a	vent	;
	Arriv'd,	by	pur<	necessity	compcll'd,
	On	her	majestic	marrow-bones	she	kneel'd	:
	Then	to	the	water's	brink	she	laid	her	head
	And,	as	a	bittour	bumps	within	a	reed,
	"	To	thee	alone,	O	Lake,"	she	said,	"	I	tell,
	(	And,	as	thy	queen,	command	thee	to	conceal)	:
	Beneath	his	locks	the	king	my	husband	wears
	A	goodly	royal	pair	of	ass's	ears.
	Now	I	have	eas'd	my	bosom	of	the	pain,
	Till	the	next	longing	fit	return	again."
	Thus	through	a	woman	was	the	secret	known;
	Tell	us,	and	in	effect	you	tell	the	town.
	But	to	my	tale	:	The	knight	with	heavy	cheer,
	Wandering	in	vain,	had	now	consum'd	the	year	:
	One	day	was	only	left	to	solve	the	doubt,
	Yet	knew	no	more	than	when	he	first	set	out.
	But	home	he	must,	and,	as	th'	award	had	been,
	Yield	up	his	body	captive	to	the	queen.
	In	this	despairing	state	he	hapt	to	ridef
	As	Fortune	led	him,	by	a	forest	side	:
	Lonely	the	vale,	and	full	of	horrour	stood,
	Brown	with	the	shade	of	a	religious	wood	:
	When	full	before	him	at	the	noon	of	night,
	(The	Moon	was	up,	and	shot	a	gleamy	light)
	He	saw	a	quire	of	ladies	in	a	round,
	That	featly	footing	seem'd	to	skim	the	ground	:
	Thus	dancing	hand	in	hand,	so	light	they	were,
	He	knew	not	where	they	trod,	on	earth	or	air.
	At	speed	he	drove,	and	came	a	sudden	guest,
	In	hope	where	many	women	were,	at	least,
	Some	one	by	chance	might	answer	his	request.
	But	faster	than	his	horse	the	ladies	flew,
	And	in	a	trice	were	vanish'd	out	of	view.
	One	only	hag	remain'd	:	but	fouler	far
	Than	grandame	apes	in	Indian	forests	are	;
	Against	a	wither'd	oak	she	lean'd	her	weight,
	Propp'd	on	her	trusty	staff,	not	half	upright,
	And	dropp'd	an	aukward	court'sy	to	the	knight.
	Then	said,	"	What	makes	you,	sir,	so	late	abroad
	Without	a	guide,	and	this	no	beaten	road?
	Or	want	you	aught	that	here	you	hope	to	find,
	Or	travel	for	some	trouble	in	your	mind	?
	The	last	I	guess	;	and	if	I	read	aright,
	Those	of	our	sex	are	bound	to	serve	a	knight;
	Perhaps	good	counsel	may	your	grief	assuage,
	Then	tell	your	pain	:	for	wisdom	is	in	age."	[know
	To	this	the	knight	:	"	Good	mother,	would	you
	The	secret	cause	and	spring	of	all	my	woe	?
	My	life	must	with	to-morrow's	light	expire,
	Unless	I	tell	what	women	most	desire.
	Now	could	you	help	me	at	this	hard	essay,
	Or	for	your	inborn	goodness,	or	for	pay	;	-
	Yours	is	my	life,	redeem'd	by	your	advice,
	Ask	what	you	please,	and	I	will	pay	the	price	:
	The	proudest	kercliief	of	the	court	shall	rest
	(	Well	satisfy'd	of	what	they	love	the	best"
	I	"	Plight	me	thy	faith,"	quoth	she,	"	That	what	I	ask,
	Thy	danger	over,	and	perform'd	thy	task,
	That	thou	shalt	give	for	hire	of	thy	demand	;
	Here	take	thy	oath,	and	seal	it	on	my	hand	;
	I	warrant	thee,	on	peril	of	my	life,
	Thy	words	shall	please	both	widow,	maid,	and	wife.	"
	More	words	there	needed	not	to	move	the	knight,
	To	take	her	offer,	and	his	truth	to	plight.
	With	that	she	spread	a	mantle	on	the	ground,
	And,	first	inquiring	whither	he	was	bound.
	Bade	liim	not	fear,	though	long	and	rough	the	way,
	At	court	he	should	arrive	ere	break	of	day	;
	His	horse	should	find	the	way	without	a	guide,
	She	said	:	with	fury	they	began	to	ride,
	He	on	the	midst,	the	beldam	at	his	side.
	The	horse,	what	devil	drove	I	cannot	tell,
	But	only	this,	they	sped	their	journey	well	:
	And	all	the	way	the	crone	inform'd	the	knight,
	How	he	should	answer	the	demand	aright	[spread
	To	court	they	came	;	the	news	was	quickly
	Of	his	returning	to	redeem	his	head.
	The	female	senate	was	assembled	soon,
	With	all	the	mob	of	women	of	the	town	:
	The	queen	sate	lord	chief	justice	of	the	hall,
	And	bade	the	crier	cite	the	criminal.
	The	knight	appear'd	;	and	silence	they	proclaim:
	Then	first	the	culprit	answer'd	to	his	name	:
	And,	after	forms	of	law,	was	last	requir'd
	To	name	the	thing	that	women	most	desir'd.
	Th'	offender,	taught	his	lesson	by	the	way,
	And	by	his	counsel	order'd	what	to	say,
	Thus	bold	began	:	"	My	lady	liege,"	said	he,
	"	What	all	your	sex	desire	is	sovereignty.
	The	wife	affects	her	husband	to	command	:
	All	must	be	hers,	both	money,	house,	and	land.
	The	maids	are	mistresses	ev'n	in	their	name	;
	And	of	their	servants	full	dominion	claim.
	This,	at	the	peril	of	my	head,	I	say,
	A	blunt	plain	truth,	the	sex	aspires	to	sway,
	You	to	rule	all,	while	we,	like	slaves,	obey.*
	There	was	not	one,	or	widow,	maid,	or	wife,
	But	said	the	knight	had	well	deserv'd	his	life.
	Ev'n	fair	Geneura,	with	a	blush,	confess'd
	The	man	had	found	what	women	love	the	best
	Up	starts	the	beldam,	who	was	there	unseen	:
	And,	reverence	made,	accosted	thus	the	queen.
	"	My	liege,"	said	she,	"	before	the	court	arise,
	May	I,	poor	wretch,	find	favour	in	your	eyes,
	To	grant	my	just	request	:	'twas	I	who	taught
	The	knight	this	answer,	and	inspir'd	his	thought.
	None	but	a	woman	could	a	man	direct
	To	tell	us	women,	what	we	most	affect
	But	first	I	swore	him	on	his	knightly	troth,
	(	And	here	demand	performance	of	his	oath)
	To	grant	the	boon	that	next	I	should	desire	;
	He	gave	his	faith,	and	I	expect	my	hire	:
	My	promise	is	fulfill'd	:	I	sav'd	his	life,
	And	claim	his	debt,	to	take	me	for	his	wife."
	The	knight	was	ask'd,	nor	could	his	oath	deny,
	But	hoped	they	would	not	force	him	to	comply.
	The	women,	who	would	rather	wrest	the	laws,
	Than	let	a	sister-plaintiff	lose	the	cause,
	(	As	judges	on	the	bench	more	gracious	are,
	And	more	attent,	to	brothers	of	the	bar,)
	N	3


DRYDEN.
	To	threats	the	stubborn	sinner	oft	is	hard,
	Wrapp'd	in	his	crimes,	against	the	storm	prepar'd	;
	But	when	the	milder	beams	of	Mercy	play,
	He	melts,	and	throws	his	cumbrous	cloak	away.
	Lightning	and	thunder	(Heaven's	artillery)
	As	harbingers	before	th'	Almighty	fly	:
	Those	but	proclaim	his	style,	and	disappear	;
	The	stiller	sound	succeeds,	and	God	is	there.
	The	tithes,	his	parish	freely	paid,	he	took	;
	But	never	sued,	or	curs'd	with	bell	and	book.
	With	patience	bearing	wrong	;	but	offering	none	:
	Since	every	man	is	free	to	lose	his	own.
	The	country	churls,	according	to	their	kind,
	(Who	grudge	their	dues,	and	love	to	be	behind,)
	The	less	he	sought	his	offerings,	pinch'd	the	more,
	And	prais'd	a	priest	contented	to	be	poor.
	Yet	of	his	little	he	had	some	to	spare,
	To	feed	the	famish'	d,	and	to	clothe	the	bare	:
	For	mortify	'd	he	was	to	that	degree,
	A	poorer	than	himself	he	would	not	see.
	True	priests,	he	said,	and	preachers	of	the	word,
	Were	only	stewards	of	their	sovereign	lord	;
	Nothing	was	theirs	;	but	all	the	public	store	:
	Intrusted	riches,	to	relieve	the	poor.
	Who,	should	they	steal,	for	want	of	his	relief,
	He	judg'd	himself	accomplice	with	the	thief.
	Wide	was	his	parish	;	not	contracted	close
	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.
	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	Paul's,	the	public	fair,
	To	chaffer	for	preferment	with	his	gold,
	Where	bishoprics	and	sinecures	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	cheer'd	:
	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	doctrine	which	they	heard.
	For	priests,	he	said,	are	patterns	for	the	rest
	(The	gold	of	Heaven,	who	bear	the	God	impress'd)	:
	But	when	the	precious	coin	is	kept	unclean,
	The	sovereign's	image	is	no	longer	seen.
	If	they	be	foul	on	whom	the	people	trust,
	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	gaudy	show	;
	Nor	was	his	kingdom	of	the	world	below.
	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	crucified,	not	born.
	They	who	contend	for	place	and	high	degree,
	Are	not	his	sons,	but	those	of	Zebedee.
	Not	but	he	knew	the	signs	of	earthly	power
	Might	well	become	Saint	Peter's	successor	;
	The	holy	father	holds	a	double	reign,	[plain.
	The	prince	may	keep	his	pomp,	the	fisher	must	be
	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.
	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,	though	great	in	arms,	the	priest
	withstood	:
	Near	though	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,
	Where	all	submitted,	none	the	battle	try'd.
	The	senseless	plea	of	right	by	Providence
	Was,	by	a	flattering	priest,	invented	since	;
	And	lasts	no	longer	than	the	present	sway	;
	But	justifies	the	next	who	comes	in	play.
	The	people's	right	remains	;	let	those	who	dare
	Dispute	their	power,	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	;
	And,	undepriv'd,	his	benefice	forsook,	[stretch'd	:
	Now,	through	the	land,	his	cure	of	souls	he
	And	like	a	primitive	apostle	preach'd.
	Still	cheerful	;	ever	constant	to	his	call	;
	By	many	follow'd	;	lov'd	by	most,	admir'd	by	alL
	With	wliat	he	begg'd,	his	brethren	he	reliev'd	;
	And	gave	the	charities	himself	receiv'd.
	Gave,	while	he	taught	;	and	edify	'd	the	more,
	Because	he	show'd,	by	proof,	'twas	easy	to	be	poor.
	He	\vcnt	not	with	the	crowd	to	see	a	shrine;
	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	:
	TJiis	brilliant	is	so	spotless,	and	so	bright,
	He	needs	no	foil,	but	shines	by	his	own	proper
	light.
	THEODORE	AND	HONORIA.
	OF	all	the	cities	in	Romanian	lands,
	The	chief,	and	most	renown'd,	Ravenna	stands,
	Adorn'd	in	ancient	times	with	arms	and	arts,
	And	rich	inhabitants,	with	generous	hearts.
	But	Theodore	the	brave,	above	the	rest,
	With	gifts	of	Fortune	and	of	Nature	bless'd,
	The	foremost	place	for	wealth	and	honour	held,
	And	all	in	feats	of	chivalry	excell'd.
	This	noble	youth	to	madness	lov'd	p	dame
	Of	high	degree,	Honoria	was	her	name	;
	Fair	as	the	fairest,	but	of	haughty	mind,
	And	fiercer	than	became	so	soft	a	kind.
	Proud	of	her	birth	(for	equal	she	had	none)	;
	The	rest	she	scorn	'd,	but	hated	him	alone	;
	His	gifts,	liis	constant	courtship,	nothing	gain'd	;
	For	she,	the	more	he	lov'd,	the	more	disdain'd.
	He	liv'd	with	all	the	pomp	he	could	devise,
	At	tilts	and	tournaments	obtain'd	the	prize	;
	But	found	no	favour	in	his	lady's	eyes	:
	Relentless	as	a	rock,	the	lofty	maid,
	Turn'd	all	to	poison,	that	he	did	or	said	:	L	movc
	Nor	prayers,	nor	tears,	nor	offer'd	vows,	could
	The	work	went	backward	;	and	the	more	he	strove
	T'	advance	his	suit,	Hie	farther	from	her	love.
	Weary'd	at	length,	and	wanting	remedy,
	He	doubted	oft,	and	oft	resolv'd	to	die.


THEODORE	AND	HONORIA.
	185
	But	Pride	stood	ready	to	prevent	the	blow,
	For	who	would	die	to	gratify	a	foe	?
	His	generous	mind	disdain'd	so	mean	a	fate	;
	That	pass'd,	his	next	endeavour	was	to	hate.
	But	vainer	th.it	relief	than	all	the	rest,
	The	less	he	hop'd,	with	more	desire	possess'd	;
	Love	stood	the	siege,	and	would	not	yield	Ids	breast.
	Change	was	the	next,	but	change	deceiv'd	his	care	;
	He	sought	a	fairer,	but	found	none	so	fair.
	He	would	have	worn	her	out	by	slow	degrees,
	As	men	by	fasting	starve	th'	untam'd	disease	:
	But	present	love	requir'd	a	present	ease.
	Looking	he	feeds	alone	his	famisird	eyes,
	Feeds	lingering	Death,	but	looking	not	he	dies.
	Yet	still	he	chose	the	longest	way	to	Fate,
	Wasting	at	once	his	life	and	his	estate.
	His	friends	beheld,	and	pit	\M	him	in	vain,
	For	wliat	advice	can	ease	a	lover's	pain	!
	Absence,	the	best	expedient	they	could	find,
	Might	save	the	fortune,	if	not	cure	the	mind	:
	This	means	they	long	propos'd,	but	little	gain'd,
	Yet,	after	much	pursuit,	at	length	obtain'd.
	Hard	you	may	think	it	was	to	give	consent,
	But	struggling	with	his	own	desires	he	went,
	"With	large	expense,	and	with	a	pompous	train,
	Provided	as	to	visit	France	and	Spain,
	Or	for	some	distant	voyage	o'er	the	main.
	But	Love	had	clipp'd	his	wings,	and	cut	him	short,
	Confin'd	within	the	purlieus	of	the	court.
	Three	miles	he	went,	nor	farther	could	retreat	;
	His	travels	ended	at	his	country	seat:
	To	Chassis'	pleasing	plains	he	took	his	way,
	There	pitch'd	his	tents,	and	there	resolv'd	to	stay.
	The	spring	was	in	the	prime	;	the	neighbouring
	grove
	Supply'd	with	birds,	the	choristers	of	Love	:
	Music	unbought,	that	minister'd	delight
	To	morning	walks,	and	lull'd	his	cares	by	night	:
	There	he	discliarg'd	his	friends	:	but	not	th'	expense
	Of	frequent	treats,	and	proud	magnificence.
	He	liv'd	as	kings	retire,	though	more	at	large
	From	public	business,	yet	with	equal	charge	;
	With	house	and	heart	still	open	to	receive	:
	As	well	content	as	Love	would	give	him	leave	:
	He	would	have	liv'd	more	free	;	but	many	a	guest,
	Who	could	forsake	the	friend,	pursued	the	feast.
	It	hapt	one	morning,	as	his	fancy	led,
	Before	lu's	usual	hour	he	left	his	bed	;
	To	walk	within	a	lonely	lawn,	that	stood
	On	every	side	surrounded	by	a	wood	:
	Alone	he	walk'd,	to	please	his	pensive	mind,
	And	sought	the	deepest	solitude	to	find	;
	'Twas	in	a	grove	of	spreading	pines	he	stray'd;
	The	winds	within	the	quivering	branches	play'd,
	And	dancing	trees	a	mournful	music	made.
	The	place	itself	was	suiting	to	his	care,
	Uncouth	and	savage,	as	the	cruel	fair.
	He	wander'd	on,	unknowing	where	he	went
	Lost	in	the	wood,	and	all	on	love	intent	:
	The	Day	already	half	his	race	had	run,
	And	summon'd	him	to	due	repast	at	noon,
	But	Love	could	feel	no	hunger	but	his	own.
	Whilst	listening	to	the	murmuring	leaves	he	stood,
	More	than	a	mile	immers'd	within	the	wood,
	At	once	the	wind	was	laid	;	the	whispering	sound
	Was	dumb	;	a	rising	earthquake	rock'd	the	ground;
	With	deeper	brown	the	grove	was	overspread	;
	A	sudden	horrour	seized	his	giddy	head,
	And	his	ears	tinkled,	and	his	colour	fled.
	Nature	was	in	alarm	;	some	danger	nigh
	Sttm'd	UircoicnM,	though	unseen	to	mortal	eye.
	Unus'd	to	fear,	he	summon'd	all	his	soul,
	And	stood	collected	in	himself,	and	whole	;
	Not	long	:	for	soon	a	whirlwind	rose	around,
	And	from	afar	he	heard	a	screaming	sound,
	As	of	a	dame	distress'd,	who	cry'd	for	aid,
	And	HUM	with	loud	laments	the	secret	shade.
	A	thicket	close	beside	the	grove	there	stood,
	With	briers	and	brambles	choak'd,	and	dwarfish
	wood;
	From	thence	the	noise,	which	now,	approaching	near,
	With	more	distinguish'd	notes	invades	his	ear	;
	He	rais'd	his	head,	and	saw	a	beauteous	maid,
	With	hair	dishevell'd,	issuing	through	the	shade	;
	Stripp'd	of	her	clothes,	and	ev'n	those	parts	reveal'd,
	Which	modest	Nature	keeps	from	sight	conceal	'd.
	Her	face,	her	hands,	her	naked	limbs	were	torn,
	With	passing	through	the	brakes,	and	prickly	thorn	;
	Two	mastiffs	gaunt	and	grim	her	flight	pursu'd,
	And	oft	their	fasten	M	fangs	in	blood	embru'd	;
	Oft	they	came	up,	and	pinch'd	her	tender	side,
	"	Mercy,	O	mercy	Heaven	!"	she	ran,	and	cry'd.
	When	Heaven	was	nam'd,	they	loos'd	their	hold
	again,
	Then	sprang	she	forth,	they	follow	'd	her	amain.
	Not	far	behind,	a	knight	of	swarthy	face,
	High	on	a	coal-black	steed	pursu'd	the	chase	:
	With	flashing	flames	his	ardent	eyes	were	fill'd,
	And	in	his	hand	a	naked	sword	he	held	:
	He	cheer'd	the	dogs	to	follow	her	who	fled,
	And	vow'd	revenge	on	her	devoted	head.
	As	Theodore	was	born	of	noble	kind,
	The	brutal	action	rous'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.
	Thus	furnish'd	for	offence,	he	cross'd	the	way
	Betwixt	the	graceless	villain	and	his	prey.
	The	knight	came	thundering	on,	but,	from	afar,
	Tims	in	imperious	tone	forbade	the	war	:
	"	Cease,	Theodore,	to	proffer	vain	relief,
	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	suffering	death	for	this	ungrateful	maid."
	He	said,	at	once	dismounting	from	the	steed	;
	For	now	the	hell-hounds	with	superior	speed
	Had	reach'd	the	dame,	and,	fastening	on	her	side,
	The	ground	with	issuing	streams	of	purple	dy'd,
	Stood	Theodore	surpris'd	in	deadly	fright,
	With	chattering	teeth,	and	bristling	hair	upright	;
	Yet	arm'd	with	inborn	worth,	"	Whate'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	:
	"	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,
	When	for	my	sins	I	lov'd	tliis	haughty	maid	;
	Not	less	ador'd	in	life,	nor	serv'd	by	me,
	Than	proud	Honoria	now	is	loved	by	thee.
	What	did	I	not	her	stubborn	heart	to	gain	?
	But	all	my	vows	were	answer'd	with	disdain	:
	She	scorn'd	my	sorrows,	and	despis'd	my	pain.
	Ix>ng	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	daiun'd	in	HclL


186
	DRYDEN.
	"	Short	was	her	joy	;	for	soon	th'	insulting	maid
	By	Heaven's	decree	in	this	cold	grave	was	laid.
	And	as	in	unrepcntcd	sin	she	dy'd,	[pride:
	"Uooin'd	to	the	same	bad	place	is	punish'd	for	her
	Because	she	deemed	I	well	deserv'd	to	die,
	And	made	a	merit	of	her	cruelty.	[cast,
	There,	then,	we	met	;	both	try'd,	and	both	were
	And	this	irrevocable	sentence	pass'd;
	That	she,	whom	I	so	long	pursu'd	in	vain,
	Should	suffer	from	my	hands	a	lingering	pain	:
	llenew'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
	Arrest	her	flight,	is	she	to	death	decreed	:
	Then	with	this	fatal	sword,	on	which	I	dy'd,
	I	pierce	her	open	back,	or	tender	side,
	And	tear	that	harden'd	heart	from	out	her	breast,
	Which,	with	her	entrails,	makes	my	hungry	hounds
	a	feast.
	Nor	lies	she	long,	but,	as	her	Fates	ordain,
	Springs	up	to	life,	and	fresh	to	second	pain,
	Is	sav'd	to-day,	to-inorrow	to	be	slain."
	This,	vers'd	in	death,	th'	infernal	knight	relates,
	And	then	for	proof	fulfill'd	the	common	fates	;
	Her	heart	and	bowels	through	her	back	he	drew,
	And	fed	the	hounds	that	help'd	him	to	pursue,
	Stt-rn	look'd	the	fiend,	as	frustrate	of	his	will,
	Not	half	sufhVd,	and	greedy	yet	to	kill.
	And	now	the	soul,	expiring	through	the	wound,
	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	condemned	by	Fate
	To	daily	death	;	and	every	several	place,
	Conscious	of	her	disdain	and	my	disgrace,
	Must	witness	her	just	punishment	;	and	be
	A	soene	of	triumph	and	revenge	to	me	!
	As	in	this	grove	I	took	my	last	farewell,
	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,
	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	;
	And	all	the	vision	vanish'd	from	the	place.
	Long	stood	the	noble	youth	oppress'd	with	awe
	And	stupid	at	the	wondrous	things	he	sav/,	[law.
	Surpassing	common	faith,	transgressing	Nature's
	He	would	have	been	asleep,	and	wish'd	to	wake,
	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
	From	Heaven,	which	cannot	impious	acts	decree,
	Uesolv'd	within	himself	to	shun	the	snare,
	Which	Hell	for	his	destruction	did	prepare	;
	And,	as	his	better	genius	should	direct,
	From	an	ill	cause	to	draw	a	good	effect.
	Inspir'd	from	Heaven	he	homeward	took	his	way,
	Nor	pal	I'd	his	new	design	with	long	delay	:
	But	of	his	train	a	trusty	servant	sent,
	To	cail	his	friends	together	at	his	tent.
	They	came,	and,	usual	salutations	paid,
	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,
	Though	late	yet	is	at	last	become	my	care	:
	My	heart	shall	be	my	own	;	my	vast	expense
	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,
	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.
	The	day	was	come,	the	guests	invited	came,
	And,	with	the	rest,	th'	inexorable	dame	:
	A	feast	prepar'd	with	riotous	expense,
	Much	cost,	more	care,	and	most	magnificence.
	The	place	ordain'd	was	in	that	haunted	grove,
	Where	the	revenging	ghost	pursu'd	his	love	:
	The	tables	in	a	proud	pavilion	spread,
	With	flowers	below,	and	tissue	overhead	:
	The	rest	in	rank,	Honoria,	chief	in	place,
	Was	artfully	contriv'd	to	set	her	face
	To	front	the	thicket,	and	behold	the	chase.
	The	feast	was	serv'd,	the	time	so	well	forecast,
	That	just	when	the	desert	and	fruits	were	plac'd,
	The	fiend's	alarm	began	;	the	hollow	sound
	Sung	in	the	leaves,	the	forest	shook	around.
	Air	blackcn'd,	roll'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	thefamish'd	hounds	that	sought	their	food,
	And	grip'dher	flanks,	and	oft	essay'd	their	jaws	in
	blood.
	Last	came	the	felon,	on	his	sable	steed,	[speed.
	Arm'd	with	his	naked	sword,	and	urg'd	his	dogs	to
	She	ran,	and	cry'd,	her	flight	directly	bent
	(A	guest	unbidden)	to	the	fatal	tent,	[ment.
	The	scene	of	death,	and	place	ordain'd	for	punish-
	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,	[aid.
	She	rent	the	Heaven	with	loud	laments,	imploring
	The	gallants,	to	protect	the	lady's	right,
	Their	faulchions	brandish'd	at	the	grisly	sprite	;
	High	on	his	stirrups	he	provok'd	the	fight.
	Then	on	the	crowd	he	cast	a	furious	look,
	And	wither'd	all	their	strength	before	he	spoke	:
	"	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	:
	Mine	is	th'	ungrateful	maid	by	Heaven	design'd	:
	Mercy	she	would	not	give,	nor	mercy	shall	she	find."
	At	this	the	former	tale	again	he	told
	With	thundering	tone,	and	dreadful	to	behold	:
	Sunk	were	their	hearts	with	horrour	of	the	crime,
	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,
	Seiz'd	the	due	victim,	and	with	fury	lanc'd
	Her	back,	and,	piercing	through	her	inmost	heart,
	Drew	backward	as	before	th'	offending	part;


RELIG1O	LAICI.
	187
	The	reeking	entrails	next	he	tore	away,
	And	to	his	meagre	mastiff's	made	a	prey.
	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	faultering	tongue.
	The	fright	was	general	;	but	the	female	band
	(A	helpless	train)	in	more	confusion	stand	:
	With	horrour	shuddering,	on	a	heap	they	run,
	Sick	at	the	sight	of	hateful	justice	done	;	[their	own.
	For	conscience	rung	th'	alarm,	and	made	the	case
	So,	spread	upon	a	lake	with	upward	eye,
	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.
	Her	guilt	presents	to	her	distracted	mind
	Heaven's	justice,	Theodore's	revengeful	kind,
	And	the	same	fr.te	to	the	same	sin	assign'd.
	Already	sees	herself	the	monster's	prey,
	And	feels	her	heart	and	entrails	torn	away.
	'Twas	a	mute	scene	of	sorrow,	mix'd	with	fear	;
	Still	on	the	table	lay	th'	unfinished	cheer	:
	The	knight	and	hungry	mastiff's	stood	around,
	The	mangled	dame	lay	breathless	on	the	ground	;
	When	on	a	sudden,	re-inspir'd	with	breath,
	A^ain	she	rose,	again	to	suffer	death	;
	Nor	staid	the	hell-hounds,	nor	the	hunter	staid,
	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	:
	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	horrour	heavy	sat	on	every	mind.
	Nor	Theodore	encourag'd	more	the	feast,
	But	sternly	look'd,	as	hatching	in	his	breast
	Some	deep	designs	;	which	when	Honoria	view'd,
	The	fresh	impulse	her	former	fright	renew'd	;
	She	thought	herself	the	trembling	dame	who	fled,
	And	him	the	grisly	ghost	that	spurr'd	th'	infernal
	steed	:
	The	more	dismay'd,	for	when	the	guests	withdrew,
	Their	courteous	host,	saluting	all	the	crew,	[adieu	;
	Regardless	pass'd	her	o'er	;	nor	grac'd	with	kind
	That	sting	infix	'd	within	her	haughty	mind
	The	downfall	of	her	empire	she	divin'd	;
	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,
	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	every	little	noise	she	look'd	behind,	t
	For	still	the	knight	was	present	to	her	mind	:
	And	anxious	oft	she	started	on	the	way,
	And	thought	the	horseman-ghost	came	thundering
	for	his	prey.
	Return'd,	she	took	her	bed	with	b'ttle	rest,
	But	in	short	slumbers	dreamt	the	funeral	feast	:
	Awak'd,	she	turn'd	her	side,	and	slept	again	;
	The	same	black	vapours	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	fevcr'd,	with	a	furious	leap
	She	sprang	from	bed,	distracted	in	her	mind,
	And	fear'd,	at	every	utcp,	a	iv.	itching	sprite	behind.
	Darkling	and	desperate,	with	a	staggering	pace,
	Of	death	afraid,	and	conscious	of	disgrace	;
	Fear.	Pride,	Remorse,	at	once	her	heart	assail*	d,
	Pride	put	Remorse	to	flight,	but	Fear	prcvail'd.
	Friday,	the	fatal	day,	when	next	it	came,	[game,
	Her	soul	forethought	the	fiend	would	change	his
	And	her	pursue,	or	Theodore	be	slain,	[plain.
	And	two	ghosts	join	their	packs	to	hunt	her	o'er	the
	This	dreadful	image	so	possess'd	her	mind,
	That,	desperate	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	:
	Of	all	the	men	respected	and	admir'd,
	Of	all	the	dames,	except	herself,	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.
	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	lowering	leave	;	but	who	can	tell,
	What	outward	hate	might	inward	love	conceal	?
	Her	sex's	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	:
	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	;
	Secure	of	her,	the	secret	she	confess'd	;
	And	now	the	cheerful	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,
	If	pity	yet	had	place,	and	reconcile	her	foe.
	The	welcome	message	made,	was	soon	receiv'd	;
	'Twas	to	be	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,
	Shou'd	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	haste)
	The	father,	mother,	and	the	kin	beside,
	Were	overborne	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	:
	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.
	RELIGIO	LAICI.
	AN	EPISTLE.
	DIM	as	the	borrow'd	beams	of	Moon	and	stars
	To	lonely,	weary,	wandering	travellers,
	Is	reason	to	the	soul	:	and	as	on	high,
	Those	rolling	fires	discover	hut	die	sky,
	Not	light	us	here	;	so	Reason's	glimmering	ray
	Was	lent,	not	to	assure	our	doubtful	way,
	i	But	guide	us	upward	to	a	btttvr	day.


THE	COCK	AND	THE	FOX
	197
	And	he,	to	raise	his	voice	with	artful	care,
	(What	will	not	beaux	attempt	to	please	tin-	fair?)
	On	tiptoe	stood	to	sing	with	greater	strength,
	And	stretch'd	his	comely	reck	at	all	the	length	:
	And	while-	hestrain'd	his	voice	to	pierce	the	skies,
	As	saints	in	raptures	ase,	would	shut	his	eyes,
	That	thr	sound	striving	through	the	narrow	throat,
	His	winking	might	avail	to	mend	the	note.
	By	this,	in	song,	he	never	had	his	peer,
	From	swi-et	Cecilia	down	to	Chanticleer;
	Not	Maro's	Muse,	who	sung	the	mighty	man',
	Nor	Pindar's	heavenly	lyre,	nor	Horace	when	a	swan.
	Your	ancestors	proceed	from	race	divine	:
	From	Brennus	and	Bel	inns	is	your	line	;
	Who	gave	to	sovereign	Rome	such	loud	alarms,
	That	ev'n	the	priests	were	not	excus'd	from	arms.
	"	Besides,	a	famous	monk	of	modern	times
	Has	left	of	cocks	recorded	in	his	rhymes,
	That	of	a	parish-priest	the	son	and	heir,
	(When	sons	of	priests	were	from	the	proverb	clear,)
	Affronted	once	a	cock	of	noble	kind,
	And	either	lam'd	his	legs,	or	struck	him	blind	;
	For	which	the	clerk	his	father	was	disgrac'd,
	And	in	his	benefice	another	plac'd.
	Now	sing,	my	lord,	if	not	for	love	of	me,
	Yet	for	the	sake	of	sweet	saint	Charity	;
	Make	hills	and	dales,	and	Earth	and	Heaven	rejoice,
	And	emulate	your	father's	angel	voice."
	The	cock	was	pleas'd	to	hear	him	speak	so	fair,
	And	proud	beside,	as	solar	people	are	;
	Nor	could	the	treason	from	the	truth	descry,
	So	was	he	ravish'd	with	this	flattery	:
	So	much	the	more,	as,	from	a	little	elf,
	He	had	a	high	opinion	of	himself;
	Though	sickly,	slender,	and	not	large	of	limb,
	Concluding	all	the	world	was	made	for	him.
	Ye	princes,	rais'd	by	poets	to	the	gods,
	And	Alexander'd	up	in	lying	odes,
	Believe	not	every	flattering	knave's	report,
	There's	many	a	Reynard	lurking	in	the	court	;
	And	he	shall	be	receiv'd	with	more	regard
	And	listen'd	to,	than	modest	Truth	is	heard.
	This	Chanticleer,	of	whom	the	story	sings,
	Stood	high	upon	his	toes,	and	clapp'd	his	wings;
	Then	stretch'd	his	neck,	and	wink'd	with	both	his
	eyes,
	Ambitious,	as	he	sought	th'	Olympic	prize.
	But,	while	he	pain'd	himself	to	raise	his	note,
	False	Reynard	rush'd,	and	caught	him	by	the	throat.
	Then	on	his	back	he	laid	the	precious	load,
	And	sought	his	wonted	shelter	of	the	wood	;
	Swiftly	he	made	his	way,	the	mischief	done,
	Of	all	unheeded,	and	pursu'd	by	none.
	Alas,	what	stay	is	there	in	human	state,
	Or	who	can	shun	inevitable	fate?
	The	doom	was	written,	the	decree	was	past,
	Ere	the	foundations	of	the	world	were	cast	!
	In	Aries	though	the	Sun	exalted	stood,
	His	patron-planet	to	procure	his	good	;
	Yet	Saturn	was	his	mortal	foe,	and	he,
	In	Libra	rais'd,	oppos'd	the	same	degree	:
	The	rays	both	good	and	bad,	of	equal	power,
	Each	thwarting	other	made	a	mingled	hour.
	On	Friday	morn	he	dreamt	this	direful	dream,
	Cross	to	the	worthy	native,	in	Ids	scheme	!
	Ah,	blissful	Venus,	goddess	of	delight,
	How	could'st	thou	sutler	thy	devoted	knight,
	On	thy	own	day	to	fall	by	foe	oppreWd,
	The	wight	of	all	the	worl'd	who	serv'd	thee	best?
	Who,	true	to	love,	was	all	for	recreation,
	And	minded	not	the	work	of	propagation.
	Gaufride,	who	could'st	M>	well	in	rhyme	complain
	The	death	of	Richard	with	an	arrow	slain,
	Why	had	not	I	thy	Muse,	or	thou	my	heart,
	To	Ring	this	heavy	dirge	with	equal	art!
	That	I	like	thee	on	Friday	might	complain;
	For	on	that	day	was	Coeur	de	Lion	slain.
	Not	louder	cries,	when	Ilium	was	in	flames,
	Were	sent	to	Heaven	by	woeful	Trojan	dames,
	When	Pyrrhus	toss'd	on	high	his	burnish'd	blade,
	And	oflfer'd	Priam	to	his	father's	shade,
	Than	for	the	cock	the	widow'd	poultry	made.
	Fair	Partlet	first,	when	he	was	borne	from	sight,
	With	sovereign	shrieks	bewail'd	her	captive	knight:
	Far	louder	than	the	Carthaginian	wife,
	When	Asdrubal,	her	husband,	lost	his	life,
	When	she	beheld	the	smouldering	flames	ascend,
	And	all	the	Punic	glories	at	an	end	:
	Willing	into	the	fires	she	plung'd	her	head,
	With	greater	ease	than	others	seek	their	bed	;
	Not	more	aghast	the	matrons	of	renown,
	When	tyrant	Nero	burn'd	th'	imperial	town,
	Shriek'd	for	the	downfall	in	a	doleful	cry,
	For	which	their	guiltless	lords	were	doom'd	to	die.
	Now	to	my	story	I	return	again	:
	The	trembling	widow,	and	her	daughters	twain,
	This	woeful	cackling	cry	with	horrour	heard,
	Of	those	distracted	damsels	in	the	yard	;
	And,	starting	up,	beheld	the	heavy	sight,
	How	Reynard	to	the	forest	took	his	flight,
	And	cross	liis	back,	as	in	triumphant	scorn,
	The	hope	and	pillar	of	the	house	was	borne.
	"	The	fox,	the	wicked	fox	!"	was	all	the	cry;
	Out	from	his	house	ran	every	neighbour	nigh	:
	The	vicar	first,	and	after	liim	the	crew
	With	forks	and	staves,	the	felon	to	pursue.
	Ran	Coll	our	dog,	and	Talbot	with	the	band	;
	And	Malkin,	with	her	distaft"	in	her	hand	;
	Ran	cow	and	calf,	and	family	of	hogs,
	In	panic	horrour	of	pursuing	dogs	;
	With	many	a	deadly	grunt	and	doleful	squeak,
	Poor	swine,	as	if	their	pretty	hearts	would	break.
	The	shouts	of	men,	the	women	in	dismay,
	With	shrieks	augment	the	terror	of	the	day	;
	'Die	ducks,	that	heard	the	proclamation	cry'd,
	And	fear'cl	a	persecution	might	betide,
	Full	twenty	miles	from	town	their	voyage	take,
	Obscure	in	rushes	of	the	liquid	lake.
	The	geese	fly	o'er	the	barn	;	the	bees	in	arms
	Drive	headlong	from	their	waxen	cells	in	swarms.
	Jack	Straw	at	London-stone,	with	all	his	rout,
	Struck	not	the	citv	with	so	loud	a	shout	;
	Not	when	with	English	hate	they	did	pursue
	A	Frenchman,	or	an	unbelieving	Jew	;
	Not	when	the	welkin	rung	with	one	and	all	;
	And	echoes	bounded	back	from	Fox's	hall	:	[fall.
	Earth	seem'd	to	sink	beneath,	and	Heaven	above	to
	With	might	and	main	they	chac'd	the	murderous
	fox,
	With	brazen	trumpets,	and	inflated	box,
	To	kindle	Mars	with	military	sounds,
	Nor	wanted	horns	t'	inspire	sagacious	hounds.
	But	see,	how	Fortune	can	confound	the	wise,
	And,	when	they	least	expect	it,	turn	the	dice.
	The	captive	cock,	who	scarce	could	draw	his	breath.
	And	lay	within	the	very	jaws	of	Death	;
	Yet	in	this	agony	his	fancy	wrought,
	And	Fear	stipnlv'd	him	with	this	happy	thought:
	O	3


THE	FLOWER	AND	THE	LEAF
	199
	And,	seiz'd	at	once	with	wonder	and	delight,
	Gaz'd	all	around	mo,	now	to	the	transport	ng	sight.
	'Twos	bench'd	with	turf,	and	goodly	to	he	seen,
	The	thick	young	grass	arose	in	fresher	green	:
	The	mound	was	newly	made,	no	sight	could	pass
	Betwixt	the	nice	partitions	of	the	grass	;
	The	well-united	sods	so	closely	lay	;
	And	all	around	the	shades	defended	it	from	day	:
	For	sycamores	with	eglantine	were	spread,
	A	hedge	about	the	sides,	a	covering	over	head.
	And	so	the	fragrant	brier	was	wove	between,
	The	sycamore	and	flowers	were	mix'd	with	green,
	That	Nature	seem'd	to	vary	the	delight	;
	And	satisfy	'd	at	once	the	smell	and	sight.
	The	master	workman	of	the	bower	was	known
	Through	fairy	lands,	and	built	for	Oberon	;
	Who	twining	leaves	with	such	proportion	drew,
	They	rose	by	measure,	and	by	rule	they	grew	;
	No	mortal	tongue	can	half	the	beauty	tell	:
	For	none	but	hands	divine	could	work	so	well.
	Both	roof	and	sides	were	like	a	parlour	made,
	A	soft	recess,	and	a	cool	summer	shade	;
	The	hedge	was	set	so	thick,	no	foreign	eye
	The	persons	plac'd	within	it	could	espy	:
	But	all	tliat	pass'd	without	with	ease	was	seen,
	As	if	nor	fence	nor	tree	was	plac'd	between.
	'Twas	border'd	with	a	field	;	and	some	was	plain
	With	grass,	and	some	was	sow'd	with	rising	grain.
	That	(now	the	dew	with	spangles	deck'd	the	ground)
	A	sweeter	spot	of	earth	was	never	found.
	I	look'd	and	look'd,	and	still	with	new	delight	;
	Such	joy	my	soul,	such	pleasures	fill'd	my	sight	:
	And	the	fresh	eglantine	exhal'd	a	breath,
	Whose	odours	were	of	power	to	raise	from	death.
	Nor	sullen	discontent,	nor	anxious	care,
	Ev'n	though	brought	thither,	could	inhabit	there:
	But	thence	they	fled	as	from	their	mortal	foe	;
	For	this	sweet	place	could	only	pleasure	know.
	Thus	as	I	mus'd,	I	cast	aside	my	eye,
	And	saw	a	medlar-	tree	was	planted	nigh.
	The	spreading	branches	made	a	goodly	show,
	And	full	of	opening	blooms	was	every	bough	:
	A	goldfinch	there	I	saw	with	gawdy	pride
	Of	painted	plumes,	that	hopp'd	from	side	to	side,
	Still	pecking	as	she	pass'd	;	and	still	she	drew
	The	sweets	from	every	flower,	and	suck'd	the	dew	:
	Suffic'd	at	length,	she	warbled	in	her	throat,
	And	tun'd	her	voice	to	many	a	merry	note,
	But	indistinct,	and	neither	sweet	nor	clear,
	Yet	such	as	sooth'd	my	soul	and	pleas	d	my	ear.
	Her	short	performance	was	no	sooner	try'd,
	When	she	I	sought,	the	nightingale	reply'd	:
	So	sweet,	so	shrill,	so	variously	she	sung,
	Tliat	the	grove	echoed,	and	the	valleys	rung	:
	And	I	so	ravish'd	with	her	heavenly	note,
	I	stood	entranc'd,	and	had	no	room	for	thought,
	But,	all	o'erpower'd	with	ecstasy	of	bliss,
	Was	in	a	pleasing	dream	of	Paradise	;
	At	length	I	wak'd,	and	looking	round	the	bower,
	Search'd	every	tree,	and	pry'd	on	every	flower,
	If	any	where	by	chance	I	might	espy,
	The	rural	poet	of	the	melody	;
	For	still	methought	she	sung	not	far	away	:
	At	last	I	found	her	on	a	laurel	spray.
	Close	by	my	side	she	sat,	and	fair	in	sight,
	Full	in	a	line	against	her	opposite	;
	Where	stood	with	eglantine	the	laurel	twin'd	;
	And	both	their	native	sweets	were	well	conjoin'd.
	On	the	green	bank	I	sat,	and	listen'd	long
	(Sitriag	was	more	convenient	for	the	song)	:
	Nor	till	her	lay	was	ended	could	I	move,
	But	wish'd	to	dwell	for	ever	in	the	grove.
	Only	methought	the	time	too	swiftly	pass'd,
	And	every	note	I	fear'd	would	be	the	last.
	My	sight,	and	smell,	and	hearing	were	employ'd,
	And	all	three	senses	in	full	gust	enjoy'd.
	And	what	alone	did	all	the	rest	surpass,
	The	sweet	possession	of	the	fairy	place	;
	Single,	and	conscious	to	myself	alone
	Of	pleasures	to	th'	excluded	world	unknown	:
	Pleasures	which	no	where	else	were	to	be	found,
	And	all	Elysium	in	a	spot	of	ground.
	Thus	while	I	sat	intent	to	see	and	hear,
	And	drew	perfumes	of	more	than	vital	air,
	All	suddenly	I	heard	th'	approaching	sound
	Of	vocal	music,	on	th*	enchanted	ground	:
	An	host	of	saints	it	seem'd,	so	full	the	quire	;
	As	if	the	bless'd	above	did	all	conspire
	To	join	their	voices,	and	neglect	the	lyre.
	At	length	there	issued	from	the	grove	behind
	A	fair	assembly	of	the	female	kind	:
	A	train	less	fair,	as	ancient	fathers	tell,
	Seduc'd	the	sons	of	Heaven	to	rebel.
	I	pass	their	form,	and	every	cliarming	grace,
	Less	than	an	angel	would	their	worth	debase	:
	But	their	attire,	like	liveries	of	a	kind
	All	rich	and	rare,	is	fresh	within	my	mind.
	In	velvet	white	as	snow	the	troop	was	gown'd.
	The	seams	with	sparkling	emeralds	set	around	:
	Their	hoods	and	sleeves	the	same	;	and	purfled	o'er
	With	diamonds,	pearls,	and	all	the	shining	store
	Of	eastern	pomp	:	their	long	descending	train,
	With	rubies	edg'd,	and	sapphires,	swept	the	plain	:
	High	on	their	heads,	with	jewels	richly	set,
	Each	lady	wore	a	radiant	coronet.
	Beneath	the	circles,	all	the	quire	was	grac'd
	With	chaplets	green,	on	their	fair	foreheads	plac'd.
	Of	laurel	some,	of	woodbine	many	more	;
	And	wreaths	of	agnus-castus	others	bore	:
	These	last,	who	with	those	virgin	crowns	were	dress'd,
	Appear'd	in	higher	honour	than	the	rest.
	They	danc'd	around	:	but	in	the	midst	was	seen
	A	lady	of	a	more	majestic	mien	;
	By	stature	and	by	beauty	mark'd	their	sovereign
	queen.
	She	in	the	midst	began	with	sober	grace	;
	Her	servant's	eyes	were	fixed	upon	her	face,
	And,	as	she	mov	d	or	turn'd,	her	motions	view'd.
	Her	measures	kept,	and	step	by	step	pursued.
	Methought	she	trod	the	ground	with	greater	grace.
	With	more	of	godhead	shining	in	her	face	;
	And	as	in	beauty	she	surpass	d	the	quire,
	So,	nobler	than	the	rest,	was	her	attire.
	A	crown	of	ruddy	gold	enclos'd	her	brow,
	Plain	without	pomp,	and	rich	without	a	show	.
	A	branch	of	agnus-castus	in	her	hand
	She	bore	aloft	(her	sceptre	of	command)	;
	Admir'd,	ador'd	by	all	the	circling	crowd,
	For	wheresoe'er	she	turn'd	her	face,	they	bow'd	:
	And	as	she	danc'd,	a	roundelay	she	sung,
	In	honour	of	the	laurel,	ever	young	:
	She	rais'd	her	voice	on	high,	and	sung	so	clear,
	The	fawns	came	scudding	from	the	groves	to	hear	;
	And	all	the	bending	forest	lent	an	ear.
	At	every	close	she	made,	th'	attending	throng
	Reply'd,	and	bore	the	burthen	of	the	song:
	So	just,	so	small,	yet	in	so	sweet	a	note,
	It	seem'd	the	music	melted	in	the	throat.
	Thus	dancing	on,	and	singing	as	they	danc'd,
	They	to	the	middle	of	the	nu-ad	ad	vane	d,
	O	4


200
	DRYDEN.
	Till	round	my	arbour	a	new	ring	they	made,
	And	footed	it	about	the	secret	shade.
	O'erjoy'd	to	see	the	jolly	troop	so	near,
	But	somewhat	aw'd,	I	shook	with	holy	fear	;
	Yet	not	so	much,	but	that	I	noted	well
	Who	did	the	most	in	song	or	dance	excel.
	Not	long	I	had	observ'd,	when	from	afar
	I	heard	a	sudden	symphony	of	war	;
	The	neighing	coursers,	and	the	soldiers'	cry,
	And	sounding	trumps	that	seem'd	to	tear	the	sky	:
	I	saw	soon	after	this,	behind	the	grove
	From	whence	the	ladies	did	in	order	move,
	Come	issuing	out	in	arms	a	warrior	train,
	That	like	a	deluge	pour'd	upon	the	plain	:
	On	barbed	steeds	they	rode	in	proud	array,
	Thick	as	the	college	of	the	bees	in	May,
	When	swarming	o'er	the	dusky	fields	they	fly,
	New	to	the	flowers,	and	intercept	the	sky.
	So	fierce	they	drove,	their	coursers	were	so	fleet,
	That	the	turf	trembled	underneath	their	feet.
	To	tell	their	costly	furniture	were	long,
	The	summer's	day	would	end	before	the	song	:
	To	purchase	but	the	tenth	of	all	their	store,
	Would	make	the	mighty	Persian	monarch	poor.
	Yet	what	I	can,	I	will	;	before	the	rest
	The	trumpets	issued,	in	white	mantles	dress'd	:
	A	numerous	troop,	and	all	their	heads	around
	With	chaplets	green	of	cerrial-oak	were	crown'd	;
	And	at	each	trumpet	was	a	banner	bound,
	Which,	waving	in	the	wind,	display'd	at	large
	Their	master's	coat	of	arms,	and	knightly	charge.
	Broad	were	the	banners,	and	of	snowy	hue,
	A	purer	web	the	silk-	worm	never	drew.
	The	chief	about	their	necks	the	scutcheons	wore,
	With	orient	pearls	and	jewels	powder'd	o'er	:
	Broad	were	their	collars	too,	and	every	one
	Was	set	about	with	many	a	costly	stone.
	Next	these	of	kings-at-arms	a	godly	train
	In	proud	array	came	prancing	o'er	the	plain	:
	Their	cloaks	were	cloth	of	silver	mix'd	with	gold,
	And	garlands	green	around	their	temples	roll'd	;
	Rich	crowns	were	on	their	royal	scutcheons	placed,
	With	sapphires,	diamonds,	and	with	rubies	grac'd	:
	And	as	the	trumpets	their	appearance	made,
	So	these	in	habits	were	alike	array'd	;
	But	with	a	pace	more	sober,	and	more	slow	;
	And	twenty,	rank	in	rank,	they	rode	a	row.
	The	pursuivants	came	next,	in	number	more	;
	And	like	the	heralds	each	his	scutcheon	bore	:
	Clad	in	white	velvet	all	their	troop	they	led,
	With	each	an	oaken	chaplet	on	his	head.
	Nine	royal	knights	in	equal	rank	succeed,
	Each	warrior	mounted	on	a	fiery	steed:
	In	golden	armour	glorious	to	behold	;
	The	rivets	of	their	arms	were	nail'd	with	gold.
	Their	surcoats	of	white	ermin	fur	were	made,
	With	cloth	of	gold	between,	that	cast	a	glittering
	shade	;
	The	trappings	of	their	steeds	were	of	the	same	;
	The	golden	fringe	ev'n	set	the	ground	on	flame,
	And	drew	a	precious	trail	:	a	crown	divine
	Of	laurel	did	about	their	temples	twine.
	Three	henchmen	were	for	every	knight	assign'd,
	All	in	rich	livery	clad,	and	of	a	kind	:
	White	velvet,	but	unshorn,	for	cloaks	they	wore,
	And	each	within	his	hand	a	truncheon	bore	:
	The	foremost	held	a	helm	of	rare	device	;
	A	prince's	ransom	would	not	pay	the	price.
	The	second	bore	the	buckler	of	his	knight,
	The	third	of	cornel-	wood	a	spear	upright,
	Headed	with	piercing	eel,	and	polish'd	bright.
	Like	to	their	lords	their	equipage	was	seen,
	And	all	their	foreheads	crown'd	with	garlmids	green.
	And	after	these	came,	arin'd	with	spear	and	shield,
	An	host	so	great,	as	cover'd	all	the	field,
	And	all	their	foreheads,	like	the	knights	before,
	With	laurels	ever	green	were	shaded	o'er,
	Or	oak,	or	other	leaves	of	lasting	kind,
	Tenacious	of	the	stem,	and	firm	against	the	wind.
	Some	in	their	hands,	beside	the	lance	and	shield,
	The	boughs	of	woodbine	or	of	hawthorn	held,
	Or	branches	for	their	mystic	emblems	took,
	Of	palm,	of	laurel,	or	of	cerrial-oak.
	Thus	marching	to	the	trumpet's	lofty	sound,
	Drawn	in	two	lines	adverse	they	wheel'd	around,
	And	in	the	middle	meadow	took	their	ground.
	Among	themselves	the	turney	they	divide,
	In	equal	squadrons,	rang'd	on	either	side.
	Then	turn'd	their	horses'	heads,	and	man	to	man,
	And	steed	to	steed	oppos'd,	the	justs	began.
	Then	lightly	set	their	lances	in	the	rest,
	And,	at	the	sign,	against	each	other	press'd	:
	They	met.	I,	sitting	at	my	ease,	beheld
	The	mix'd	events,	and	fortunes	of	the	field.
	Some	broke	their	spears,	some	tumbled	horse	and
	man,
	And	round	the	field	the	lighten'd	coursers	ran.
	An	hour	and	more,	like	tides,	in	equal	sway
	They	rush'd,	and	won	by	turns,	and	lost	the	day	:
	At	length	the	nine	(who	still	together	held)
	Their	fainting	foes	to	shameful	fight	compell'd,
	And	with	resistless	force	o'erran	the	field.
	Thus,	to	their	fame,	when	finish'd	was	the	fight,
	The	victors	from	their	lofty	steeds	alight	:
	Like	them	dismounted	all	the	warlike	train,
	And	two	by	two	proceeded	o'er	the	plain	:
	Till	to	the	fair	assembly	they	advanc	d,
	Who	near	the	secret	harbour	sung	and	danc'd.
	The	ladies	left	their	measures	at	the	sight,
	To	meet	the	cliiefs	returning	from	the	fight,
	And	each	with	open	arms	embrac'd	her	chosen	knight.
	Amid	the	plain	a	spreading	laurel	stood,
	The	grace	and	ornament	of	all	the	wood	:
	That	pleasing	shade	they	sought,	a	soft	retreat
	From	sudden	April	showers,	a	shelter	from	the	heat	:
	Her	leafy	arms	with	such	extent	were	spread,
	So	near	the	clouds	was	her	aspiring	head,
	That	hosts	of	birds,	that	wing	the	liquid	air,
	Perch'd	in	the	boughs,	had	nightly	lodging	ther,e
	And	flocks	of	sheep	beneath	the	shade	from	far
	Might	hear	the	rattling	hail,	and	wiritery	war,
	From	Heaven's	inclemency	here	found	retreat,
	Enjoy'd	the	cool,	and	shunn'd	the	scorching	heat	:
	A	hundred	knights	might	there	at	ease	abide	;
	And	every	knight	a	lady	by	his	side	:
	The	trunk	itself	such	odours	did	bequeath,
	That	a	Moluccan	breeze	to	these	was	commoB
	breath.
	The	lords	and	ladies	here,	approaching,	paid
	Their	homage,	with	a	low	obeisance	made	:
	And	seem'd	to	venerate	the	sacred	shade.
	These	rites	perform'	d,	their	pleasures	they	pursue,
	With	song	of	love,	and	mix	with	pleasures	new	;
	Around	the	holy	tree	their	dance	they	frame,
	And	every	champion	leads	his	chosen	dame.
	I	cast	my	sight	upon	the	farther	field,
	And	a	fresh	object	of	delight	beheld	:
	For	from	the	region	of	the	west	I	heard
	New	music	sound,	and	a	new	troop	appear'd	;
	Of	knights,	and	ladies	mix'd,	a	jolly	band,
	But	all	on	foot	they	march	'd,	and	hand	in	hand.


THE	FLOWER	AND	THE	LEAF.
	201
	The	ladie-;	dress'd	in	ricli	cymnrr	were	seen
	Of	Florence	safjn,	flower	'd	with	white	and	green,
	And	for	a	shade	betwixt	the	bloomy	gridelin.
	The	borders	of	their	petticoats	below
	Were	guarded	thick	with	rubies	on	a	row	;
	And	every	damsel	wore	upon	her	head
	Of	flowers	a	garland	blended	white	and	red.
	Attir'd	in	mantles	all	the	knights	were	seen,
	That	gratify'd	the	view	with	cheerful	green	:
	Their	chaplets	of	their	ladies	colours	were,	[hair.
	Compos'd	of	white	and	red,	to	shade	their	shining
	Before	the	merry	troop	the	minstrels	play'd	;
	All	in	their	master's	liveries	were	array'd,
	And	clad	in	green,	and	on	their	temples	wore
	The	chaplets	white	and	red	their	ladies	bore.
	Their	instruments	were	various	in	their	kind,
	Some	for	the	bow,	and	some	for	breathing	wind	:
	The	sawtry,	pipe,	and	hautboy's	noisy	band,	[hand.
	And	the	soft	lute	trembling	beneath	the	touching
	A	tuft	of	daisies	on	a	flowery	lay
	They	saw,	and	thitherward	they	bent	their	way	;
	To	this	both	knights	and	dames	their	homage	made,
	And	due	obeisance	to	the	daisy	paid.
	And	then	the	band	of	flutes	began	to	play,
	To	which	a	lady	sung	a	virelay	:
	And	still	at	every	close	she	would	repeat
	The	burthen	of	the	song,	"	The	daisy	is	so	sweet."
	'	The	daisy	is	so	sweet,"	when	she	begun,
	The	troop	of	knights	and	dames	continued	on.
	The	concert	and	the	voice	so	charm'd	my	ear,
	And	sooth'd	my	soul,	that	it	was	Heaven	to	hear
	But	soon	their	pleasure	pass'd	:	at	noon	of	day,
	The	Sun	with	sultry	beams	began	to	play	:
	Not	Sirius	shoots	a	fiercer	flame	from	high,
	When	with	his	poisonous	breath	he	blasts	the	sky	:
	Then	droop'd	the	fading	flowers	(their	beauty	fled)
	And	clos'd	their	sickly	eyes,	and	hung	the	head	;
	And,	rivel'd	up	with	heat,	lay	dying	in	their	bed.
	The	ladies	gasp'd,	and	scarcely	could	respire	:
	The	breath	they	drew,	no	longer	air,	but	fire	;
	The	fainty	knights	were	scorch'd	;	and	knew	not
	where
	To	run	for	shelter,	for	no	shade	was	near	;
	And	after	this	the	gathering	clouds	amain
	Pour'd	down	a	storm	of	rattling	hail	and	rain	:
	And	lightning	flash'd	betwixt	:	the	field,	and	flowers,
	Burnt	up	before,	were	buried	in	the	showers.
	The	ladies	and	the	knights,	no	shelter	nigh,
	Bare	to	the	weather,	and	the	wintery	sky,
	Were	dropping	wet,	disconsolate,	and	wan,
	And	through	their	thin	array	receiv'd	the	rain	;
	While	those	in	white,	protected	by	the	tree,	[free.
	Saw	pass	in	vain	th'	assault,	and	stood	from	danger
	But	as	compassion	mov'd	their	gentle	minds,
	When	ceas'd	the	storm,	and	silent	were	the	winds,
	Displeas'd	at	what,	not	suffering,	they	had	seen,
	They	went	to	cheer	the	faction	of	the	green	:
	The	queen	in	white	array,	before	her	band,
	Saluting,	took	her	rival	by	the	hand	:
	So	did	the	knights	and	dames,	with	courtly	grace,
	And	with	behaviour	sweet,	their	foes	embrace	:
	Then	thus	the	queen	with	laurel	on	her	brow,
	"	Fair	sister,	I	have	suller'd	in	your	woe	;
	Nor	shall	be	wanting	aught	within	my	power
	For	your	relief	in	my	refreshing	bower."
	That	other	answer'd	with	a	lowly	look,
	And	soon	the	gracious	invitation	took	:
	For	ill	at	ease	both	she	and	all	her	train
	The	scorching	Sun	had	borne,	and	beating	rain.
	Like	courtesy	was	us'd	by	all	in	white,	[knight.
	Each	dame	a	dame	receiv'd,	and	every	knight	a
	The	laurel	champion*	with	their	swords	invade
	The	neighbouring	forests,	where	the	justs	were	made,
	And	si	-re	wood	from	the	rotten	hedges	took,
	And	seeds	of	latent	fire	from	flints	provoke	:
	A	cheerful	blaze	arose,	and	by	the	fire	[attire.
	They	warm'd	their	frozen	feet,	and	dry'd	their	wet
	llefresh'd	with	heat,	the	ladies	sought	around
	For	virtuous	herbs,	which	gather'd	from	the	ground
	They	squeez'd	the	juice,	and	cooling	ointment	made,
	Which	on	their	sun-burnt	cheeks	and	their	chapt
	skins	they	laid	:
	Then	sought	green	salads,	which	they	bade	them	eat,
	A	sovereign	remedy	for	inward	heat.
	The	lady	of	the	leaf	ordain'd	a	feast,
	And	made	the	lady	of	the	flower	her	guest	:
	When	lo,	a	bower	ascended	on	the	plain,
	With	sudden	seats	ordain'd,	and	large	for	either	train.
	This	bower	was	near	my	pleasant	arbour	plac'd,
	That	I	could	hear	and	see	whatever	pass'd	:
	The	ladies	sat	with	each	a	knight	between,
	Distinguish'd	by	their	colours,	white	and	green	;
	The	vanquish'd	party	with	the	victors	join'd,	[mind.
	Nor	wanted	sweet	discourse,	the	banquet	of	the
	Meantime	the	minstrels	play'd	on	either	side,
	Vain	of	their	art,	and	for	the	mastery	vy'd	:
	The	sweet	contention	lasted	for	an	hour,
	And	reach'd	my	secret	arbour	from	the	bower.
	The	Sun	was	set	;	and	Vesper,	to	supply
	His	absent	beams,	had	lighted	up	the	sky	:
	When	Philomel,	officious	all	the	day
	To	sing	the	service	of	th'	ensuing	May,
	Fled	from	her	laurel	shade,	and	wing'd	her	flight
	Directly	to	the	queen	array'd	in	white	;
	And,	hopping,	sat	familiar	on	her	hand,
	A	new	musician,	and	increas'd	the	band.
	The	goldfinch,	who,	to	shun	the	scalding	heat,
	Had	chang'd	the	medlar	for	a	safer	seat,
	And,	hid	in	bushes,	'scap'd	the	bitter	shower,
	Now	perch'd	upon	the	lady	of	the	flower	;
	And	either	songster	holding	out	their	throats,
	And	folding	up	their	wings,	renew'd	their	notes	:
	As	if	all	day,	preluding	to	the	fight,
	They	only	had	rehears'd,	to	sing	by	night	:
	The	banquet	ended,	and	the	battle	done,
	They	danc'd	by	star-light	and	the	friendly	Moon	:
	And	when	they	Avere	to	part,	the	laureat	queen
	Supply	*d	with	steeds	the	lady	of	the	green,
	Her	and	her	train	conducting	on	the	way,
	The	Moon	to	follow,	and	avoid	the	day.
	This	when	I	saw,	inquisitive	to	know
	The	secret	moral	of	the	mystic	show,
	I	started	from	my	shade,	in	hopes	to	find
	Some	nymph	to	satisfy	my	longing	mind	:
	And,	as	my	fair	adventure	fell,	1	found
	A	lady	all	in	white,	with	laurel	crown'd,
	Who	clos'd	the	rear,	and	softly	pac'd	along,
	Repeating	to	herself	the	former	song.
	With	due	respect	my	body	I	inclin'd,
	As	to	some	being	of	superior	kind,
	And	made	my	court	according	to	the	day,
	Wishing	her	queen	and	her	a	happy	May.
	"	Great	thanks,	my	daughter,"	with	a	gracious	bow
	She	said	;	and	I,	who	much	desir'd	to	know
	Of	whence	she	was,	yet	fearful	how	to	break
	My	mind,	adventur'd	humbly	thus	to	speak	:
	"	Madam,	might	I	presume	and	not	otiend.
	So	may	the	stars	and	shining	Moon	attend
	Your	nightly	sports,	as	you	vouchsafe	to	tell
	What	nymphs	they	were	who	mortal	forms	excel,
	And	what	the	knights	who	fought	ir.	listed	fields	so
	well."


202
	DRYDEN.
	To	this	the	dame	reply'd	:	"	Fair	daughter,	know,
	That	what	you	saw	was	all	a	fairy	show	:
	And	all	those	airy	shapes	you	now	behold,	[mold,
	Were	human	bodies	once,	and	cloth'd	with	earthly
	Our	souls,	not	yet	prepar'd	for	upper	light,
	Till	doomsday	wander	in	the	shades	of	night	;
	This	only	holiday	of	all	the	year,
	We	privileg'd	in	sunshine	may	appear	:
	With	songs	and	dance	we	celebrate	the	day,
	And	with	due	honours	usher	in	the	May.
	At	other	times	we	reign	by	night	alone,
	And	posting	through	the	skies	pursue	the	Moon:
	But	when	the	morn	arises,	none	are	found	;
	For	cruel	Demogorgon	walks	the	round,
	And	if	he	finds	a	fairy	lag	in	light,
	He	drives	the	wretch	before,	and	lashes	into	night.
	"	All	courteous	are	by	kind	;	and	ever	proud
	With	friendly	offices	to	help	the	good.
	In	every	land	we	have	a	larger	space
	Than	what	is	known	to	you	of	mortal	race	:
	Where	we	with	green	adorn	our	fairy	bowers,
	And	ev'n	this	grove,	unseen	before,	is	ours.
	Know	farther	:	every	lady	cloth'd	in	white,
	And,	crown'd	with	oak	and	laurel	every	knight,
	Are	servants	to	the	Leaf,	by	liveries	known
	Of	innocence	;	and	I	myself	am	one.
	Saw	you	not	her	so	graceful	to	behold
	In	white	attire,	and	crown'd	with	radiant	gold	?
	The	sovereign	lady	of	our	land	is	she,
	Diana	call'd,	the	queen	of	chastity	:
	And,	for	the	spotless	name	of	maid	she	bears,
	That	agnus-castus	in	her	hand	appears	;
	And	all	her	train,	with	leafy	chaplets	crown'd,
	Were	for	unblam'd	virginity	renown'd	;
	But	those	the	chief	and	highest	in	command
	Who	bear	those	holy	branches	in	their	hand	:
	The	knights	adorn'd	with	laurel	crowns	are	they,
	Whom	death	nor	danger	never	could	dismay,
	Victorious	names,	who	made	the	world	obey	:
	Who,	while	they	liv'd,	in	deeds	of	arms	excell'd,
	And	after	death	for	deities	were	held.
	But	those,	who	wear	the	woodbine	on	their	brow,
	Were	knights	of	love,	who	never	broke	their	vow	;
	Firm	to	their	plighted	faith,	and	ever	free
	From	fears,	and	fickle	chance,	and	jealousy.
	The	lords	and	ladies,	who	the	woodbine	bear,
	As	true	as	Tristram	and	Isotta	were."	[nine,
	"	But	what	are	those,"	said	I,	"	th'	unconquer'd
	Who	crown'd	with	laurel-wreaths	in	golden	armour
	shine	?
	And	who	the	knights	in	green,	and	what	the	train
	Of	ladies	dress'd	with	daisies	on	the	plain	?
	Why	both	the	bands	in	worship	disagree,
	And	some	adorn	the	flower,	and	some	the	tree	?"
	"	Just	is	your	suit,	fair	daughter,"	said	the	dame	:
	"	Those	laurel'd	chiefs	were	men	of	mighty	fame	;
	Nine	worthies	were	they	call'd	of	different	rites,
	Three	Jews,	three	Pagans,	and	three	Christian
	knights.
	These,	as	you	see,	ride	foremost	in	the	field,
	As	they	the	foremost	rank	of	honour	held,
	And	all	in	deeds	of	chivalry	excell'd	:
	Their	temples	wreath'd	with	leaves,	that	still	renew;
	For	deathless	laurel	is	the	victor's	due	:
	Who	bear	the	bows	were	knights	in	Arthur's	reign,
	Twelve	they,	and	twelve	the	peers	of	Charlemain	;
	For	bows	the	strength	of	brawny	arms	imply,
	Emblems	of	valour	and	of	victory.
	Behold	an	order	yet	of	newer	date
	Doubling	their	number,	equal	in	their	state	;
	Our	England's	ornament,	the	crown's	defence,
	In	battle	brave,	protectors	of	their	prince	:
	Unchang'd	by	fortune,	to	their	sovereign	true,
	For	which	their	manly	legs	are	bound	with	blue.
	These,	of	the	garter	call'd,	of	faith	unstain'd,
	In	fighting	fields	the	laurel	have	obtain'd,
	And	well	repaid	the	honours	which	they	gain'd.
	The	laurel	wreaths	were	first	by	Caesar	worn,
	And	still	they	Caesar's	successors	adorn	:
	One	leaf	of	this	is	immortality,
	And	more	of	worth	than	all	the	world	can	buy."
	"	One	doubt	remains,"	said	I,	"	the	dames	in
	green,
	What	were	their	qualities,	and	who	their	queen	?"
	"	Flora	commands,"	said	she,	"	those	nymphs	and
	knights,
	Who	liv'd	in	slothful	ease	and	loose	delights	;
	Who	never	acts	of	honour	durst	pursue,
	The	men	inglorious	knights,	the	ladies	all	untrue	:
	Who,	nurs'd	in	idleness,	and	train'd	in	courts,
	Pass'd	all	their	precious	hours	in	plays	and	sports,
	Till	Death	behind	came	stalking	on,	unseen,	[green.
	And	wither'd	(like	the	storm)	the	freshness	of	their
	These,	and	their	mates,	enjoy	their	present	hour,
	And	therefore	pay	their	homage	to	the	Flower.
	But	knights	in	knightly	deeds	should	persevere,
	And	still	continue	what	at	first	they	were	;
	Continue,	and	proceed	in	honour's	fair	career.
	No	room	for	cowardice,	or	dull	delay	;
	From	good	to	better	they	should	urge	their	way.
	For	this	with	golden	spurs	the	chiefs	are	grac'd,
	With	pointed	rowels	arm'd	to	mend	their	haste	;
	For	this	with	lasting	leaves	their	brows	are	bound	;
	For	laurel	is	the	sign	of	labour	crown'd,	[ground	:'
	Which	bears	the	bitter	blast,	nor	shaken	falls	to
	From	winter	winds	it	suffers	no	decay,
	For	ever	fresh	and	fair,	and	every	month	is	May.
	Ev'n	when	the	vital	sap	retreats	below,
	Ev'n	when	the	hoary	head	is	hid	in	snow	;
	The	life	is	in	the	leaf,	and	still	between
	The	fits	of	falling	snow	appears	the	streaky	green.
	Not	so	the	flower,	which	lasts	for	little	space,
	A	short-liv'd	good,	and	an	uncertain	grace	;
	This	way	and	that	the	feeble	stem	is	driven,
	Weak	to	sustain	the	storms	and	injuries	of	Heaven.
	Propp'd	by	the	spring,	it	lifts	aloft	the	head,
	But	of	a	sickly	beauty,	soon	to	shed	:
	In	summer	living,	and	in	winter	dead.
	For	things	of	tender	kind,	for	pleasure	made,
	Shoot	up	with	swift	increase,	and	sudden	are
	decay'd."
	With	humble	words,	the	wisest	I	could	frame,
	And	proferr'd	service,	I	repaid	the	dame	;
	That,	of	her	grace,	she	gave	her	maid	to	know
	The	secret	meaning	of	this	moral	show.
	And	she,	to	prove	what	profit	I	had	made
	Of	mystic	truth,	in	fables	first	convey'd,
	Demanded,	till	the	next	returning	May,
	Whether	the	Leaf	or	Flower	I	would	obey?
	I	chose	the	leaf	;	she	smil'd	with	sober	chear,
	And	wish'd	me	fair	adventure	for	the	year,
	And	gave	me	charms	and	sigils,	for	defence
	Against	ill	tongues	that	scandal	innocence	:
	"	But	I,"	said	she,	"my	fellows	must	pursue,
	Already	past	the	plain,	and	out	of	view."
	We	parted	thus	;	I	homeward	sped	my	way,
	Bewilder'd	in	the	wood	till	dawn	of	day	:
	And	met	the	merry	crew	who	danc'd	about	the	May,
	Then,	late	refresh'd	with	sleep,	I	rose	to	write
	The	visionary	vigils	of	the	night	:


CYMON	AND	1PHIGENIA.
	203
	Blush,	as	thou	may'st,	my	Little	Book,	with	shanu-,
	Nor	hope	with	homely	verse	to	purchase	fame	;
	For	such	thy	Maker	chose	:	and	so	design'	J
	Thy	simple	style	to	suit	thy	lowly	kind.
	CYMON	AND	IPHIGENIA.
	POETA	LOQUITUR.
	OLD	as	I	am,	for	ladies'	love	unfit,
	The	power	of	beauty	I	remember	yet	[wit
	Which	once	inflam'd	my	soul,	and	still	inspires	my
	If	love	be	folly,	the	severe	divine
	Has	felt	that	folly,	though	he	censures	mine	;
	Pollutes	the	pleasures	of	a	chaste	embrace,
	Acts	what	I	write,	and	propagates	in	grace,
	With	riotous	excess,	a	priestly	race.
	Suppose	him	free,	and	that	I	forge	th'	offence,
	He	show'd	the	way,	perverting	first	my	sense	:
	In	malice	witty,	and	with	venom	fraught,
	He	makes	me	speak	the	things	I	never	thought
	Compute	the	gains	of	his	ungovern'd	zeal	;
	111	suits	his	cloth	the	praise	of	railing	well.
	The	world	will	think,	that	what	we	loosely	write,
	Though	now	arraign'd,	he	read	with	some	delight	;
	Because	he	seems	to	chew	the	cud	again,
	When	his	broad	comment	makes	the	text	too	plain	;
	And	teaches	more	in	one	explaining	page,
	Than	all	the	double-meanings	of	the	stage.
	What	needs	he	paraphrase	on	what	we	mean	?
	We	were	at	worst	but	wanton	;	he's	obscene.
	I	not	my	fellows	nor	myself	excuse	;
	But	love's	the	subject	of	the	comic	Muse	;
	Nor	can	we	write	without	it,	nor	would	you
	A	tale	of	only	dry	instruction	view	;
	Nor	love	is	always	of	a	vicious	kind,
	But	oft	to	virtuous	acts	inflames	the	mind,
	Awakes	the	sleepy	vigour	of	the	soul,
	And,	brushing	o'er,	adds	motion	to	the	pool.
	Love,	studious	how	to	please,	improves	our	parts
	With	polish'd	manners,	and	adorns	with	arts.
	Love	first	invented	verse,	and	form'd	the	rhyme,
	The	motion	measur'd,	harmoniz'd	the	chime	;
	To	liberal	acts	enlarg'd	the	narrow-soul'd,
	Soften'd	the	fierce,	and	made	the	coward	bold	:
	The	world,	when	waste,	he	peopled	with	increase,
	And	warring	nations	reconcil'd	in	peace.
	Ormond,	the	first,	and	all	the	fair	may	find,
	In	this	one	legend,	to	their	fame	design'd,
	When	Beauty	fires	the	blood,	how	love	exalts	the
	mind.
	Ix	that	sweet	isle	where	Venus	keeps	her	court,
	And	every	Grace,	and	all	the	Loves,	resort;
	Where	either	sex	is	form'd	of	softer	earth,
	And	takes	the	bent	of	pleasure	from	their	birth;
	There	liv'd	a	Cyprian	lord	above	the	rest
	Wise,	wealthy,	with	a	numerous	issue	bless'	d.
	But	as	no	gift	of	Fortune	is	sincere,
	Was	only	wanting	in	a	worthy	heir	;
	His	eldest	born,	a	goodly	youth	to	view,
	Excell'd	the	rest	in	shape,	and	outward	show,
	Fair,	tall,	his	limbs	with	due	proportion	join'd,
	But	of	a	heavy,	dull,	degenerate	mind.
	His	soul	bely'd	the	features	of	his	face	;
	Beauty	was	there,	but	beauty	in	disgrace.
	A	clownish	mien,	a	voice	with	rustic	sound,
	And	stupid	eyes	that	ever	lov'd	the	ground.
	He	look'd	like	Nature's	errour,	as	the	mind
	And	body	were	not	of	a	piece	design'd,
	But	made	for	two,	and	by	mistake	in	one	were	join'd.
	The	ruling	rod,	the	father's	forming	care,
	Were	exercis'd	in	vain	on	Wit's	despair	;
	The	more	inform'd,	the	less	he	understood,
	And	deeper	sunk	by	floundering	in	the	mud.
	Now	scorn'd	of	all,	and	grown	the	public	shame,
	The	people	from	Galesus	chang'd	his	name,
	And	Cymon	call'd,	which	signifies	a	brute;
	So	well	his	name	did	with	his	nature	suit
	His	father,	when	he	found	his	labour	lost,
	And	care	employ'd	that	answer'd	not	the	cost,
	Chose	an	ungrateful	object	to	remove,
	And	loath'd	to	see	what	Nature	made	him	love	;
	So	to	his	country	farm	the	fool	confin'd	;
	Rude	work	well	suited	with	a	rustic	mind.
	Thus	to	the	wilds	the	sturdy	Cymon	went,	[ment
	A	squire	among	the	swains,	and	pleas'd	with	banish-
	His	corn	and	cattle	were	his	only	care,
	And	his	supreme	delight,	a	country	fair
	It	happen'd	on	a	summer's	holiday,
	That	to	the	green-wood	shade	he	took	his	way	;
	For	Cymon	shunn'd	the	church,	and	us'd	not	much
	to	pray.
	His	quarter-staff,	which	he	could	ne'er	forsake,
	Hung	half	before,	and	half	behind	his	back.
	He	trudg'd	along,	unknowing	what	he	sought,
	And	whistled	as	he	went	for	want	of	thought
	By	Chance	conducted,	or	by	thirst	constraint,
	The	deep	recesses	of	the	grove	he	gain'd	;
	Where,	in	a	plain	defended	by	the	wood,
	Crept	through	the	matted	grass	a	crystal	flood,
	By	which	an	alabaster	fountain	stood	:
	And	on	the	margin	of	the	fount	was	laid
	(Attended	by	her	slaves)	a	sleeping	maid.
	Like	Dian	and	her	nymphs,	when,	tir'd	with	sport,
	To	rest	by	cool	Eurotas	they	resort	:
	The	dame	herself	the	goddess	well	express'	d,
	Not	more	distinguish'd	by	her	purple	vest,
	Than	by	the	charming	features	of	her	face,
	And	ev'n	in	slumber	a	superior	grace	:
	Her	comely	limbs	compos'd	with	decent	care,
	Her	body	shaded	with	a	slight	cymarr	;
	Her	bosom	to	the	view	was	only	bare	:
	Where	two	beginning	paps	were	scarcely	spy'd,
	For	yet	their	places	were	but	signify'd	:
	The	fanning	wind	upon	her	bosom	blows,
	To	meet	the	fanning	wind	the	bosom	rose	;
	The	fanning	wind,	and	purling	streams,	continue
	her	repose.
	The	fool	of	Nature	stood	with	stupid	eyes,
	And	gaping	mouth	that	testify'd	surprise,
	Fix'd	on	her	face,	nor	could	remove	his	sight,
	New	as	he	was	to	love,	and	novice	to	delight	:
	Long	mute	he	stood,	and	leaning	on	his	staff,
	His	wonder	witness'd	with	an	idiot	laugh	;
	Then	would	have	spoke,	but	by	his	glimmering	sense
	First	found	his	want	of	words,	and	fear'd	offence	:
	Doubted	for	what	he	was	he	should	be	known,
	By	his	clown	accent,	and	his	country	tone.
	Through	the	rude	chaos	thus	the	running	light
	Shot	the	first	ray	that	pierc'd	the	native	night:
	Then	day	and	darkness	in	the	mass	were	mix'd,
	Till	gather'd	in	a	globe	the	beams	were	fix'd	:
	Last	shone	die	Sun,	who,	radiant	in	his	sphere,
	Illumin'd	Heaven	and	Earth,	and	roll'd	around	the
	year.
	So	reason	in	this	brutal	soul	began,
	Love	made	him	first	suspect	h*i	was	a	man	;


204
	DRY!)	EN.
	Love	made	him	doubt	his	broad	barbarian	sound	;
	By	love	his	want	of	words	and	wit	he	found	;
	That	sense	of	want	prepar'd	the	future	way
	To	knowledge,	and	disclos'd	the	promise	of	a	day.
	What	not	his	father's	care,	nor	tutor's	art,
	Could	plant	with	pains	in	his	unpolish'd	heart,
	The	best	instructor,	Love,	at	once	inspir'd,
	As	barren	grounds	to	fruitfulness	are	fir'd	:
	Love	taught	him	shame	;	and	Shame,	with	Love	at
	strife,
	Soon	taught	the	sweet	civilities	of	life	;
	His	gross	material	soul	at	once	could	find
	Somewhat	in	her	excelling	all	her	kind	:
	Exciting	a	desire	till	then	unknown,
	Somewhat	unfound,	or	found	in	her	alone.
	This	made	the	first	impression	on	his	mind,
	Above,	but	just	above,	the	brutal	kind.
	For	beasts	can	like,	but	not	distinguish	too,
	Nor	their	own	liking	by	reflection	know	;
	Nor	why	they	like	or	this	or	t'other	face,
	Or	judge	of	this	or	that	peculiar	grace	;
	But	love	in	gross,	and	stupidly	admire	:
	As	flies,	allur'd	by	light,	approach	the	fire.
	Thus	our	man-beaot,	advancing	by	degrees,
	First	likes	the	whole,	then	separates	what	he	sees	;
	On	several	parts	a	several	praise	bestows,
	The	ruby	lips,	the	well-proportion'	d	nose,
	The	snowy	skin,	and	raven-glossy	hair,
	The	dimpled	cheek,	and	forehead	rising	fair,
	And,	ev'n	in	sleep	itself,	a	smiling	air.
	From	thence	his	eyes	descending	view'd	the	rest,
	Her	plump	round	arms,	white	hands,	and	heaving
	.breast.
	Long	on	the	last	he	dwelt,	though	every	part
	A	pointed	arrow	sped	to	pierce	his	heart.
	Thus	in	a	trice	a	judge	of	beauty	grown,
	(A	judge	erected	from	a	country	clown)
	He	long'd	to	see	her	eyes,	in	slumber	hid,
	And	wish'd	his	own	could	pierce	within	the	lid	:
	He	would	have	wak'd	her,	but	restrain'd	his	thought,
	And	Love,	new-born,	the	first	good-manners	taught.
	And	awful	Fear	his	ardent	wish	withstood,
	Nor	durst	disturb	the	goddess	of	the	wood.
	For	such	she	seem'd	by	her	celestial	face,
	Excelling	all	the	rest	of	human	race.
	And	things	divine,	by	common	sense	he	knew,
	Must	be	devoutly	seen,	at	distant	view	:
	So	checking	his	desire,	with	trembling	heart
	Gazing	he	stood,	nor	would	nor	could	depart	;
	Fix'd	as	a	pilgrim	wilder'd	in	his	way,
	Who	dares	not	stir	by	night,	for	fear	to	stray,
	But	stands	with	awful	eyes	to	watch	the	dawn	of
	day.
	At	length	awaking,	Iphigene	the	fair
	(So	was	the	beauty	call'd	who	caus'd	his	care)
	Unclos'd	her	eyes,	and	double	day	reveal'd,
	While	those	of	all	her	slaves	in	sleep	were	seal'd.
	The	slavering	cudden,	propp'd	upon	his	staff,
	Stood	ready	gaping	with	a	grinning	laugh,
	To	welcome	her	awake	;	nor	durst	begin
	To	speak,	but	wisely	kept	the	fool	within.
	Then	she	:	"	What	makes	you,	Cymon,	here	alone?"
	(	For	Cymon's	name	was	round	the	country	known
	Because	descended	of	a	noble	race,
	And	for	a	soul	ill	sorted	with	his	face).
	But	still	the	sot	stood	silent	with	surprise,
	With	fix'd	regard	on	her	new-open'd	eyes,
	And	in	his	breast	receiv'd	th'	envenom'd	dart,
	A	tickling	pain	that	pleas'd	amid	the	smart.
	But,	conscious	of	her	form,	with	quick,	distrust
	She	saw	liis	sparkling	eyes,	and	fear'd	his	brutal	lust:
	This	to	prevent,	she	wak'd	her	sleepy	crew,
	And,	rising	hasty,	took	a	short	adieu.
	Then	Cymon	first	his	rustic	voice	essay'd,
	With	profFer'd	service	to	the	parting	maid
	To	see	her	safe	;	his	hand	she	long	deny'd,
	But	took	at	length,	asham'd	of	such	a	guide.
	So	Cymon	led	her	home,	and	leaving	there,
	No	more	would	to	his	country	clowns	repair,
	But	sought	his	father's	house,	with	better	mind,
	Refusing	in	the	farm	to	be	confin'd.
	The	father	wonder'd	at	the	son's	return,
	And	knew	not	whether	to	rejoice	or	mourn	;
	But	doubtfully	receiv'd,	expecting	still
	To	learn	the	secret	causes	of	his	alter'd	will.
	Nor	was	he	long	delay	'd	:	the	first	request-
	He	made,	was	like	his	brothers	to	be	dress'd,
	And,	as	his	birth	requir'd,	above	the	rest.
	With	ease	his	suit	was	granted	by	his	sire,
	Distinguishing	his	heir	by	rich	attire	:
	His	body	thus	adorn'd,	he	next	design'd
	With	liberal	"arts	to	cultivate	his	mind:
	He	sought	a	tutor	of	his	own	accord,
	And	study'd	lessons	he	before	abhorr'd.
	Thus	the	man-child	advanc'd,	and	learn'd	so	fast,
	That	in	short	time	his	equals	he	surpass'd	:
	His	brutal	manners	from	his	breast	exil'd,
	His	mien	he	fashion'd,	and	his	tongue	he	fil'd	;
	In	every	exercise	of	all	admir'd,
	He	seem'd,	nor	only	seem'd,	but	was	iuspir'd	:
	Inspir'd	by	Love,	whose	business	is	to	please	;
	He	rode,	he	fenc'd,	he	mov'd	with	graceful	ease,
	More	fam'd	for	sense,	for	courtly	carriage	more,
	Than	for	his	brutal	folly	known	before.
	What	then	of	alter'd	Cymon	shall	we	say,
	But	that	the	fire	which	choak'd	in	ashes	lay,
	A	load	too	heavy	for	his	soul	to	move,	[Love.
	Was	upward	blown	below,	and	brush'd	away	by
	Love	made	an	active	progress	through	his	mind,
	The	dusky	parts	he	clear'd,	the	gross	refin'd,
	The	drowsy	wak'd	;	and	as	he	went	impress'd
	The	Maker's	image	on	the	human	breast.
	Thus	was	the	man	amended	by	desire,
	And	though	he	lov'd	perhaps	with	too	much	fire,
	His	father	all	his	faults	with	reason	scann'd,
	And	lik'd	an	errour	of	the	better	hand	;
	Excus'd	th'	excess	of	passion	in	his	mind,
	By	flames	too	fierce,	perhaps	too	much	refin'd	:
	So	Cymon,	since	his	sire	indulg'd	his	will,
	Impetuous	lov'd,	and	would	be	Cymon	still	;
	Galesus	he	disown'd,	and	chose	to	bear
	The	name	of	fool	confirm'd	and	bishop'd	by	the	fair.
	To	Cipseus	by	his	friends	his	suit	he	mov'd,
	Cipseus	the	father	of	the	fair	he	lov'd	:
	But	he	was	pre-engag'd	by	former	ties,
	While	Cymon	was	endeavouring	to	be	wise	:
	And	Iphigene,	oblig'd	by	former	vows,
	Had	given	her	faith	to	wed	a	foreign	spouse	:
	Her	sire	and	she	to	Rhodian	Pasimond,
	Though	both	repenting,	were	by	promise	bound,
	Nor	could	retract	;	and	thus,	as	Fate	decreed,
	Though	better	lov'd,	he	spoke	too	late	to	speed.
	The	doom	was	past,	the	ship,	already	sent,
	Did	all	his	tardy	diligence	prevent	:
	Sigh'd	to	herself	the	fair	unhappy	maid,
	While	stormy	Cymon	thus	in	secret	said	:
	"	The	time	is	come	for	Iphigene	to	find
	The	miracle	she	wrought	upon	my	mind	:
	Her	charms	have	made	me	man,	her	ravish'd	love
	In	rank	shall	place	me	with	the	bless'	d	above.
	For	mine	by	love,	by	force	she	sliall	be	mine,
	Or	death,	if	force	shuuld	i\u],	shall	finibh	my	design."


CYMON	AND	IPHIGENIA.
	205
	Resolv'd	he	said;	and	rigg'd	with	speedy	care
	A	vessel	strong,	;uid	well	Mjnipp'd	for	war.
	The	secret	ship	with	chosen	f'nends	he	stor'd	;
	And,	bent	to	die	or	conquer,	went	aboard.
	Ambush'd	he	lay	behind	tlie	Cyprian	shore,
	Waiting	the	sail	that	all	his	wishes	bore;
	Nor	lon<j	expected,	for	the	following	tide
	Sent	out	the	hostile	ship	and	beauteous	bride.
	To	Rhodes	the	rival	bark	directly	steer'd,
	When	Cymon	sudden	at	her	back	appear'd,
	And	stopp'd	her	flight	:	then,	standing	on	his	prow,
	In	haughty	terms	he	thus	defy'd	the	foe	:
	"	Or	strike	your	sails	at	summons,	or	prepare
	To	prove	the	last	extremities	of	war."
	Thus	warn'd,	the	Rhodians	for	the	fight	provide;
	Already	were	the	vessels	side	by	side,
	These	obstinate	to	save,	and	those	to	seize	the	bride.
	But	Cymon	soon	his	crooked	grapples	cast,
	Which	with	tenacious	hold	his	foes	embrac'd,
	And,	arm'd	with	sword	and	shield,	amid	the	press
	he	pass'd.
	Fierce	was	the	fight,	but,	hastening	to	his	prey,'
	By	force	the	furious	lover	freed	his	way	:
	Himself	alone	dispers'd	the	Rhodian	crew,
	The	weak	disdain'd,	the	valiant	overthrew	;
	Cheap	conquest	for	his	following	friends	remain'd,
	He	reap'd	the	field,	and	they	but	only	glean'd.
	His	victory	confess'd,	the	foes	retreat,
	And	cast	the	weapons	at	the	victor's	feet.	[fought
	Whom	thus	he	cheer'd	:	"	O	Rhodian	youth,	I
	For	love	alone,	nor	other	booty	sought	:
	Your	lives	are	safe	;	your	vessel	I	resign	;
	Yours	be	your	own,	restoring	what	is	mine	;
	In	Iphigene	I	claim	my	rightful	due,
	Robb'd	by	my	rival,	and	detain'd	by	you	:
	Your	Pasimond	a	lawless	bargain	drove,
	The	parent	could	not	sell	the	daughter's	love	;
	Or,	if	he	could,	my	Love	disdains	the	laws.
	And	like	a	king	by	conquest	gains	his	cause	:
	Where	anns	take	place,	all	other	pleas	are	vain,
	Love	taught	me	force,	and	Force	shall	love	maintain,
	You,	what	by	strength	you	could	not	keep,	release,
	And	at	an	easy	ransom	buy	your	peace."
	Fear	on	the	conquer'd	side	soon	sign'd	th*	accord,
	And	Iphigene	to	Cymon	was	restor'd	:
	While	to	his	arms	the	blushing	bride	he	took,
	To	seeming	sadness	she	compos'd	her	look	;
	As	if	by	force	subjected	to	his	will,
	Though	pleas'd,	dissembling,	and	a	woman	still.
	And,	for	she	wept,	he	wip'd	her	falling	tears,
	And	pray'd	her	to	dismiss	her	empty	fears;
	*'	For	yours	I	am,"	he	said,	"	and	have	deserv'd
	Your	love	much	better	whom	so	long	I	serv'd,
	Than	he	to	whom	your	formal	father	ty'd
	Your	vows,	and	sold	a	slave,	not	sent	a	bride."
	Thus	while	he	spoke,	he	seiz'd	the	willing	prey,
	As	Paris	bore	the	Spartan	spouse	away.
	Faintly	she	scream'd,	and	ev'n	her	eyes	confess'd
	She	rather	would	be	thought,	than	was	distress'd.
	Who	now	exults	but	Cymon	in	his	mind?
	Vain	hopes	and	empty	joys	of	human	kind,
	Proud	of	the	present,	to	the	future	blind	!
	Secure	of	Fate,	while	Cymon	plows	the	sea,
	And	steers	to	Candy	with	his	conquer'd	prey,
	Scarce	the	third	glass	of	measur'd	hours	was	run,
	When,	like	a	fiery	meteor,	sunk	the	Sun	;
	The	promise	of	a	storm	;	the	shifting	gales
	Forsake	by	fits,	and	fill	the	flagging	sails	;
	Hoarse	murmurs	of	the	main	from	far	were	heard,
	And	night	came	on,	not	by	degrees	prepar'd,
	i	But	all	at	once	;	at	once	the	winds	arise,
	The	thunders	roll,	the	forky	lightning	flies.
	In	vain	the	master	issues	out	commands,
	In	vain	the	trembling	sailors	ply	their	hands:
	The	tempest	unforeseen	prevents	their	care,
	And	from	the	first	they	labour	in	despair.
	The	giddy	ship	betwixt	the	winds	and	tides,
	Forc'd	back,	and	forwards,	in	a	circle	rides,
	Stunn'd	with	the	different	blows;	then	shoots	amain,
	Till,	counterbufTd,	she	stops,	and	sleeps	again.
	Not	more	agliast	the	proud	archangel	fell,
	Plung'd	from	the	height	of	Heaven	to	deepest	Hell,
	Than	stood	the	lover	of	his	love	possess'd,
	Now	curs'd	the	more,	the	more	he	had	been	bless'd	;
	More	anxious	for	her	danger	than	his	own,
	Death	he	defies	;	but	would	be	lost	alone.
	Sad	Iphigene	to	womanish	complaints
	Adds	pious	prayers,	and	wearies	all	the	saints	j
	Ev'n	if	she	could,	her	love	she	would	repent,
	But,	since	she	cannot,	dreads	the	punishment	:
	Her	forfeit	faith,	and	Pasimond	betray'd,
	Are	ever	present,	and	her	crime	upbraid.
	She	blames	herself,	nor	blames	her	lover	less,
	Augments	her	anger,	as	her	fears	increase	:
	From	her	own	back	the	burthen	would	remove,
	And	lays	the	load	on	his	ungovern'd	love,
	Which,	interposing,	durst,	in	Heaven's	despite,
	Invade,	and	violate	another's	right	:
	The	powers	incens'd	awhile	deferr'd	his	pain,
	And	made	him	master	of	his	vows	in	vain	:
	But	soon	they	punish'd	his	presumptuous	pride	;
	That	for	his	daring	enterprize	she	dy'd	;
	Who	rather	not	resisted,	than	comply'd.
	Then,	impotent	of	mind,	with	alter'd	sense,
	She	hugg'd	th'	offender,	and	forgave	th'	offence,
	Sex	to	the	last	:	meantime	with	sails	declin'd
	The	wandering	vessel	drove	before	the	wind	:
	Toss'd	and	retoss'd,	aloft,	and	then	below,
	Nor	port	they	seek,	nor	certain	course	they	know,
	But	every	moment	wait	the	coming	blow.
	Thus	blindly	driven,	by	breaking	day	they	view'd
	The	land	before	them,	and	their	fears	renew'd	;
	The	land	was	welcome,	but	the	tempest	bore
	The	threaten'd	ship	against	a	rocky	shore.
	A	winding	bay	was	near	;	to	this	they	bent,
	And	just	escap'd	;	their	force	already	spent	:
	Secure	from	storms,	and	panting	from	the	sea,
	The	land	unknown	at	leisure	they	survey	;
	And	saw	(but	soon	their	sickly	sight	withdrew)
	The	rising	towers	of	Rhodes	at	distant	view	;
	And	curs'd	the	hostile	shore	of	Pasimond,
	Sav'd	from	the	seas,	and	shipwreck'd	on	the	ground.
	The	frighted	sailors	try'd	their	strength	in	vain
	To	turn	the	stern,	and	tempt	the	stormy	main	;
	But	the	stiff	wind	withstood	the	labouring	oar,
	And	forc'd	them	forward	on	the	fatal	shore	!
	The	crooked	keel	now	bites	the	Rhodian	strand,
	And	the	ship	moor'd	constrains	the	crew	to	land	:
	Yet	still	they	might	be	safe,	because	unknown,
	But,	as	ill	fortune	seldom	comes	alone,
	The	vessel	they	dismiss'd	was	driven	before,
	Already	shelter'd	on	their	native	shore	;	[cheer	;
	Known	each,	they	know;	but	each	with	change	of
	The	vanquish'd	side	exults	;	the	victors	fear	;
	Not	them,	but	theirs,	made	prisoners	ere	they	fight,
	Despairing	conquest,	and	depriv'd	of	flight.
	The	country	rings	around	with	loud	alarms.
	And	raw	in	fields	the	rude	militia	swarms	;
	Mouths	without	hands	;	maintain'd	at	vast	expense,
	In	peace	a	charge,	in	war	u	weak	defence	:


S06
	DRYDEN.
	Stout	once	a	month	they	march,	a	blustering	band,
	And	ever,	but	in	times	of	need,	at	hand	;
	This	was	the	morn	when,	issuing	on	the	guard,
	Drawn	up	in	rank	and	file	they	stood	prepar'd
	Of	seeming	arms	to	make	a	short	essay,
	Then	hasten	to	be	drunk,	the	business	of	the	day.
	The	cowards	would	have	fled,	but	that	they	knew
	Themselves	so	many,	and	their	foes	so	few	:
	But,	crowding	on,	the	last	the	first	impel	:
	Till	overborn	with	weight	the	Cyprians	fell.
	Cymon	enslav'd,	who	first	the	war	begun,
	And	Iphigene	once	more	is	lost	and	won.
	Deep	in	a	dungeon	was	the	captive	cast,
	Depriv'd	of	day,	and	held	in	fetters	fast	:
	His	life	was	only	spar'd	at	their	request,
	Whom	taken	he	so	nobly	had	releas'd	:
	But	Iphigenia	was	the	ladies'	care,
	Each	in	their	turn	address'd	to	treat	the	fair	;
	While	Pasimond	and	his	the	nuptial	feast	prepare.
	Her	secret	soul	to	Cymon	was	inclin'd,
	But	she	must	suffer	what	her	Fates	assign'd	;
	So	passive	is	the	church	of	woman-kind.
	What	worse	to	Cymon	could	his	fortune	deal,
	Roll'd	to	the	lowest	spoke	of	all	her	wheel	?
	It	rested	to	dismiss	the	downward	weight,
	Or	raise	him	upward	to	his	former	height	;
	The	latter	pleas'd	;	and	Love	(concern'd	the	most)
	Prepar'd	th	amends,	for	what	by	love	he	lost.
	The	sire	of	Pasimond	had	left	a	son,
	Though	younger,	yet	for	courage	early	known,
	Ormisda	call'd,	to	whom,	by	promise	ty'd,
	A	Rhodian	beauty	was	the	destin'd	bride	;
	Cassandra	was	her	name,	above	the	rest
	Renown'd	for	birth,	with	fortune	amply	bless'	d.
	Lysimachus,	who	rul'd	the	Rhodian	state,
	Was	then	by	choice	their	annual	magistrate	t
	He	lov'd	Cassandra	too	with	equal	fire,
	But	Fortune	had	not	favour'd	his	desire	;
	Cross'd	by	her	friends,	by	her	not	disapprov'd,
	Nor	yet	preferr'd,	or	like	Ormisda	lov'd	:
	So	stood	th'	affair	:	some	little	hope	remain'd,
	That,	should	his	rival	chance	to	lose,	he	gain'd.
	Meantime	young	Pasimond	his	marriage	press'd,
	Ordain'd	the	nuptial	day,	prepar'd	the	feast	;
	And	frugally	resolv'd	(the	charge	to	shun,
	Which	would	be	double	should	he	wed	alone)
	To	join	his	brother's	bridal	with	his	own.
	Lysimachus,	oppress'd	with	mortal	grief,
	Receiv'd	the	news,	and	study'd	quick	relief:
	The	fatal	day	approach'd	;	if	force	were	us'd,
	The	magistrate	his	public	trust	abus'd	;
	To	justice	liable,	as	law	requir'd	;
	For,	when	his	office	ceas'd,	his	power	expir'd:
	While	power	remain'd	the	means	were	in	his	hand
	By	force	to	seize,	and	then	forsake	the	land	:
	Betwixt	extremes	he	knew	not	how	to	move,
	A	slave	to	fame,	but,	more	a	slave	to	love	:
	Restraining	others,	yet	himself	not	free,
	Made	impotent	by	power,	debas'd	by	dignity.
	Both	sides	he	weigh'd	:	but,	after	much	debate,
	The	man	prevail'd	above	the	magistrate.
	Love	never	fails	to	master	what	he	finds,
	But	works	a	different	way	in	different	minds,
	The	fool	enlightens,	and	the	wise	he	blinds.
	This	youth,	proposing	to	possess	and	'scape,
	Began	in	murder,	to	conclude	in	rape	:	[bless
	Unprais'd	by	me,	though	Heaven	sometimes	may
	An	impious	act	with	undeserv'd	success	:
	The	great	it	seems	are	privileg'd	alone
	To	punish	all	injustice	but	their	own.
	But	here	I	stop,	not	daring	to	proceed,
	Yet	blush	to	flatter	an	unrighteous	deed	:
	For	crimes	are	but	permitted,	not	decreed.
	Resolv'd	on	force,	his	wit	the	pretor	bent,
	To	find	the	means	that	might	secure	th'	event	:
	Nor	long	he	labour'd,	for	his	lucky	thought
	In	captive	Cymon	found	the	friend	he	sought	;
	Th'	example	pleas'd:	the	cause	and	crime	the	same	;
	An	injur'd	lover,	and	a	ravish'd	dame.
	How	much	he	durst	he	knew	by	what	he	dar'd,
	The	less	he	had	to	lose,	the	less	he	car'd
	To	manage	loathsome	life,	when	love	was	the	reward.
	This	ponder'd	well,	and	fix'd	on	his	intent,
	In	depth	of	night	he	for	the	prisoner	sent	;
	In	secret	sent,	the	public	view	to	shun,
	Then	with	a	sober	smile	he	thus	begun.
	"	The	powers	above,	who	bounteously	bestow
	Their	gifts	and	graces	on	mankind	below,
	Yet	pr-jve	our	merit	first,	nor	blindly	give
	To	such	as	are	not	worthy	to	receive.
	For	valour	and	for	virtue	they	provide
	Their	due	reward,	but	first	they	must	be	try'd	:
	These	fruitful	seeds	within	your	mind	they	sow'd	;
	'Twas	yours	t'	improve	the	talent	they	bestow	'd	:
	They	gave	you	to	be	born	of	noble	kind,
	They	gave	you	love	to	lighten	up	your	mind,
	And	purge	the	grosser	parts	;	they	gave	you	care
	To	please,	and	courage	to	deserve	the	fair.
	"	Thus	far	they	try'd	you,	and	by	proof	they
	found
	The	grain	intrusted	in	a	grateful	ground	:
	But	still	the	great	experiment	remain'd,
	They	suffer'd	you	to	lose	the	prize	you	gain'd,
	That	you	might	learn	the	gift	was	theirs	alone,
	And	when	restor'd,	to	them	the	blessing	own.
	Restor'd	it	soon	will	be	;	the	means	prepar'd.
	The	difficulty	smooth'd,	the	danger	shar'd	:
	Be	but	yourself,	the	care	to	me	resign,
	Then	Iphigene	is	yours,	Cassandra	mine.
	Your	rival	Pasimond	pursues	your	life,
	Impatient	to	revenge	his	ravish'd	wife,
	But	yet	not	his	;	to-morrow	is	behind,
	And	Love	our	fortunes	in	one	band	has	join'd	:
	Two	brothers	are	our	foes,	Ormisda	mine,
	As	much	declar'd	as	Pasimond	is	thine	:
	To-morrow	must	their	common	vows	be	ty'd	:
	With	Love	to	friend,	and	Fortune	for	our	guide,
	Let	both	resolve	to	die,	or	each	redeem	a	bride.
	"	Right	I	have	none,	nor	hast	thou	much	to	plead;
	'Tis	force,	when	done,	must	justify	the	deed	:
	Our	task	perform'd,	we	next	prepare	for	flight	:
	And	let	the	losers	talk	in	vain	of	right	:
	We	with	the	fair	will	sail	before	the	wind,
	If	they	are	griev'd,	I	leave	the	laws	behind.
	Speak	thy	resolves	:	if	now	thy	courage	droop,
	Despair	in	prison,	and	abandon	hope	:
	But	if	thou	dar'st	in	arms	thy	love	regain,
	(For	liberty	without	thy	love	were	vain,)
	Then	second	my	design	to	seize	the	prey,	[way."
	Or	lead	to	second	rape,	for	well	thou	know'st	the
	Said	Cymon	overjoy'd,	"	Do	thou	propose
	The	means	to	fight,	and	only	show	the	foes	:
	For	from	the	first,	when	love	had	fir'd	my	mind,
	Resolv'd	I	left	the	care	of	life	behind."
	To	this	the	bold	Lysimachus	reply'd,
	"	Let	Heaven	be	neuter,	and	the	sword	decide	;
	The	spousals	are	prepar'd,	already	play
	The	minstrels,	and	provoke	the	tardy	day	:
	By	this	the	brides	are	wak'd,	their	grooms	are	dress'd;
	All	Rhodes	is	summon'd	to	the	nuptial	feast,
	All	but	myself,	the	sole	unbidden	guest.


CYMON	AND	IPHIGENIA.
	207
	Unbidden	though	I	am,	I	will	be	there,
	And,	join'd	by	thee,	intend	to	joy	the	fair.
	"	Now	hear	the	rest;	when	Day	resign*	the	light,
	And	cheerful	torches	^ild	the	jolly	Night,
	Be	ready	at	my	call	;	my	chosen	few
	With	arms	administer'd	shall	aid	thy	crew.
	Then,	entering	unexpected,	will	we	seize
	Our	destin'd	prey,	from	men	dissolv'd	in	ease,
	By	wine	disabled,	unprepar'd	for	fight,
	And	hastening	to	the	seas,	suborn	our	flight	:
	The	seas	are	ours,	for	I	command	the	fort,
	A	ship	well-mann'd	expects	us	in	the	port	:
	If	they,	or	if	their	friends,	the	prize	contest,
	Death	shall	attend	the	man	who	dares	resist."
	It	pleas'd	!	the	prisoner	to	his	hold	retir'd,
	His	troop	with	equal	emulation	fir'd,
	All	fix'd	to	fight,	and	all	their	wonted	work	requir'd.
	The	Sun	arose	;	the	streets	were	throng'd	around,
	The	palace	open'd,	and	the	posts	were	crown'd.
	The	double	bridegroom	at	the	door	attends
	Th'	expected	spouse,	and	entertains	the	friends	:
	They	meet,	they	lead	to	church,	the	priests	invoke
	The	powers,	and	feed	the	flames	with	fragrant	smoke.
	This	done,	they	feast,	and	at	the	close	of	night
	By	kindled	torches	vary	their	delight,
	These	lead	the	lively	dance,	and	those	the	brimming
	bowls	invite.
	Now	at	th'	appointed	place	and	hour	assign'd,
	With	souls	resolv'd	the	ravishers	were	join'd	:
	Three	bands	are	form'd	;	the	first	is	sent	before
	To	favour	the	retreat,	and	guard	the	shore	;
	The	second	at	the	palace	gate	is	plac'd,
	And	up	the	lofty	stairs	ascend	the	last	:
	A	peaceful	troop	they	seem	with	shining	vests,
	But	coats	of	mail	beneath	secure	their	breasts.
	Dauntless	they	enter,	Cymon	at	their	head,
	And	find	the	feast	renew'd,	the	table	spread	:
	Sweet	voices,	inix'd	with	instrumental	sounds,
	Ascend	the	vaulted	roof,	the	vaulted	roof	rebounds.
	When	like	the	harpies	rushing	through	the	hall
	The	sudden	troop	appears,	the	tables	fall,
	Their	smoaking	load	is	on	the	pavement	thrown	;
	Each	ravisher	prepares	to	seize	his	own	;
	The	brides,	invaded	with	a	rude	embrace,
	Shriek	out	for	aid,	confusion	fills	the	place.
	Quick	to	redeem	the	prey	their	plighted	lords
	Advance,	the	palace	gleams	with	shining	swords.
	But	late	is	all	defence,	and	succour	vain	;
	The	rape	is	made,	the	ravishers	remain	:
	Two	sturdy	slaves	were	only	sent	before
	To	bear	the	purchas'd	prize	in	safety	to	the	shore.
	The	troop	retires,	the	lovers	close	the	rear,
	With	forward	faces	not	confessing	fear	:
	Backward	they	move,	but	scorn	their	pace	to	mend,
	Then	seek	the	stairs,	and	with	slow	haste	descend.
	Fierce	Pasimond,	their	passage	to	prevent,
	Thrust	full	on	Cymon's	back	in	his	descent	;
	The	blade	return'd	unbath'd,	and	to	the	handle	bent.
	Stout	Cymon	soon	remounts,	and	cleft	in	two
	His	rival's	head	with	one	descending	blow	:
	And	as	the	next	in	rank	Ormisda	stood,
	He	turn'd	the	point	;	the	sword,	inur'd	to	blood,
	Bor'd	his	unguarded	breast,	which	pour'd	a	purple
	.	flood.
	With	vow'd	revenge	the	gathering	crowd	pursues,
	The	ravishers	turn	head,	the	fight	renews;
	The	hall	is	heap'd	with	corps	;	the	sprinkled	gore
	Besmears	the	walls,	and	floats	the	marble	floor.
	Dispers'd	at	length	the	drunken,	squadron	flies,
	The	victors	to	their	vessel	bear	the	prize	;
	And	hear	behind	loud	groans,	and	lamentable	cries.
	The	crew	with	merry	shouts	their	anchors	weigh,
	Then	ply	their	oars,	and	brush	the	buxom	sea,
	While	troops	of	gather'd	Rhodians-	crowd	the	key
	What	should	the	people	do	when	left	alone	?
	The	governor	and	government	are	gone.
	The	public	wealth	to	foreign	parts	convey'd	;
	Some	troops	disbanded,	and	the	rest	unpaid.
	Rhodes	is	the	sovereign	of	the	sea	no	more	;
	Their	ships	unrigg'd,	and	spent	their	naval	store,
	They	neither	could	defend,	nor	can	pursue,
	But	grinn'd	their	teeth,	and	cast	a	helpless	view	;
	In	vain	with	darts	a	distant	war	they	try,
	Short,	and	more	short,	the	missive	weapons	fly.
	Meanwhile	the	ravishers	their	crimes	enjoy,
	And	flying	sails	and	sweeping	oars	employ	:
	The	cliffs	of	Rhodes	in	little	space	are	lost,
	Jove's	isle	they	seek	;	nor	Jove	denies	his	coast.
	In	safety	landed	on	the	Candian	shore,
	With	generous	wines	their	spirits	they	restore	:
	There	Cymon	with	his	Rhodian	friend	resides,
	Both	court,	and	wed	at	once	the	willing	brides.
	A	war	ensues,	the	Cretans	own	their	cause,
	Stiff	to	defend	their	hospitable	laws	:
	Both	parties	lose	by	turns	;	and	neither	wins,
	Till	peace	propounded	by	a	truce	begins.
	The	kindred	of	the	slain	forgive	the	deed,
	But	a	short	exile	must	for	show	precede	:
	The	term	expir'd,	from	Candia	they	remove	;
	And	liappy	each,	at	home,	enjoys	his	love.


THE	TEMPLE	OF	FAME.
	Here	his	abode	the	martyr'd	Pliocian	claims,
	"With	Agis,	not	the	last	of	Spartan	names	:
	Unconquer'd	Cato	shows	tin-	wound	he	tore,
	And	Brutus	his	ill	genius	meets	no	more.
	But	in	the	centre	of	the	hallow'd	choir,
	Six	pompous	columns	o'er	the	rest	aspire	;
	Around	the	shrine	itself	of	Fame	they	stand,
	Hold	the	chief	honours,	and	the	fane	command.
	High	on	the	first,	the	mighty	Homer	shone	;
	Eternal	adamant	compos'd	his	throne	;
	Father	of	verse	!	in	holy	fillets	drest,
	His	silver	beard	wav'd	gently	o'er	his	breast	;
	Though	blind,	a	boldness	in	his	looks	appears	;
	In	years	he	seem'd,	but	not	impair'd	by	years.
	The	wars	of	Troy	were	round	the	pillar	seen	:
	Here	fierce	Tydides	wounds	the	Cyprian	queen	;
	Here	Hector	glorious	from	Patroclus'	fall,
	Here	dragg'd	in	triumph	round	the	Trojan	wall.
	Motion	and	life	did	every	part	inspire,
	Bold	was	the	work,	and	prov'd	the	master's	fire	;
	A	strong	expression	most	he	seem'd	t'	affect,
	And	here	and	there	disclos'd	a	brave	neglect.
	A	golden	column	next	in	rank	appear'd,
	On	which	a	shrine	of	purest	gold	was	rear'd	;
	Finish'd	the	whole,	and	labour'd	every	part,
	With	patient	touches	of	unwearied	Art	:
	The	Mantuan	there	in	sober	triumph	sate,
	Compos'd	his	posture,	and	his	look	sedate	;
	On	Homer	still	he	fix'd	a	reverent	eye,
	Great	without	pride,	in	modest	majesty.
	In	living	sculpture	on	the	sides	were	spread
	The	Latian	wars,	and	haughty	Turnus	dead	;
	Eliza	stretch'd	upon	the	funeral	pyre,
	/Kneas	bending	with	his	aged	sire	:
	Troy	flam'd	in	burning	gold,	and	o'er	the	throne
	ARMS	AND	THE	MAN	in	golden	cyphers	shone.
	Four	swans	sustain	a	car	of	silver	bright,
	With	heads	advanc'd,	and	pinions	stretch'd	for	flight	:
	Here,	like	some	furious	prophet,	PindaY	rode,
	And	seem'd	to	labour	with	th*	inspiring	god.
	Across	the	harp	a	careless	hand	he	flings,
	And	boldly	sinks	into	the	sounding	strings.
	The	figur'd	games	of	Greece	the	column	grace,
	Neptune	and	Jove	survey	the	rapid	race.
	The	youths	hang	o'er	their	chariots	as	they	run	;
	The	fiery	steeds	seem	starting	from	the	stone	;
	The	champions	in	distorted	postures	threat	;
	And	all	appear'd	irregularly	great
	Here	happy	Horace	tun'd	th'	Ausonian	lyre
	To	sweeter	sounds,	and	temper'd	Pindar's	fire	:
	Pleas'd	with	A	learns'	manly	rage	t'	infuse
	The	softer	spirit	of	the	Sapphic	Muse.
	The	polish	'd	pillar	different	sculptures	grace	;
	A	work	outlasting	monumental	brass.
	Here	smiling	Loves	and	Bacchanals	appear,
	The	Julian	star	and	great	Augustus	here.
	The	doves	that	round	the	infant	poet	spread
	Myrtles	and	bays,	hung	hovering	o'er	his	head.
	Here,	in	a	shrine	that	cast	a	dazzling	light,
	Sate	fix'd	in	thought	the	mighty	Stagirite;
	His	sacred	head	a	radiant	zodiac	crown'd,
	And	various	animals	his	sides	surround	;
	His	piercing	eyes,	erect,	appear	to	view
	Superior	worlds,	and	look	all	Nature	through.
	With	equal	rays	immortal	Tully	shone,
	The	Roman	rostra	deck'd	the	consul's	throne	:
	Gathering	his	flowing	robe,	he	seem'd	to	stand
	In	act	to	speak,	and	graceful	stretch'd	his	hand.
	Behrnd,	Rome's	genius	waits	with	chic	cro-.vn-,
	And	the	great	father	of	his	country	owns.
	These	massy	columns	in	a	circle	rise,
	O'er	which	a	pompous	dome	invades	the	skies	:
	Scarce	to	the	top	I	stretch'd	my	aching	sight,
	So	large	it	spread,	and	swell'd	to	such	a	height.
	Full	in	the	midst	proud	Fame's	imperial	scat
	With	jewels	blaz'd,	magnificently	great	;
	The,	vivid	emeralds	there	revive	the	eye,
	The	flaming	rubies	show	their	sanguine	dye,
	Bright	azure	rays	from	lively	sapphires	stream,
	And	lucid	amber	casts	a	golden	gleam.
	With	various-colour'd	light	the	pavement	shone,
	And	all	on	fire	appear'd	the	glowing	throne	;
	The	dome's	high	arch	reflects	the	mingled	blaze,
	And	forms	a	rainbow	of	alternate	rays.
	When	on	the	goddess	first	I	cast	my	sight,
	Scarce	seem'd	her	stature	of	a	cubit's	height	;
	But	swell'd	to	larger	size,	the	more	I	gaz'd,
	Till	to	the	roof	her	towering	front	she	rais'd.
	With	her,	the	temple	every	moment	grew,
	And	ampler	vistas	open'd	to	my	view	:
	Upward	the	columns	shoot,	the	roofs	ascend,
	And	arches	widen,	and	long	aisles	extend.
	Such	was	her	form,	as	ancient	bards	have	told,
	Wings	.raise	her	arms,	and	wings	her	feet	infold	;
	A	thousand	busy	tongues	the	goddess	bears,
	And	thousand	open	eyes,	and	thousand	listening	ears.
	Beneath,	in	order	rang'd,	the	tuneful	Nine
	(Her	virgin	handmaids)	still	attend	the	shrine	:
	With	eyes	on	Fame	for	ever	fix'd,	they	sing	;
	For	Fame	they	raise	their	voice,	and	tune	the	string	;
	With	Time's	first	birth	began	the	heavenly	lays,
	And	last,	eternal,	through	the	length	of	days.
	Around	these	wonders	as	I	cast	a	look,
	The	trumpet	sounded,	and	the	temple	shook,
	And	all	the	nations,	summon'd	at	the	call,
	From	different	quarters	fill	the	crowded	hall	:
	Of	various	tongues	the	mingled	sounds	were	heard	;
	In	various	garbs	promiscuous	throngs	appear'd	;
	Thick	as	the	bees,	that	with	the	spring	renew
	Their	flowery	toils,	and	sip	the	fragrant	dew,
	When	the	wing'd	colonies	first	tempt	the	sky,
	O'er	dusky	fields	and	shaded	waters	fly,
	Or,	settling,	seize	the	sweets	the	blossoms	yield,
	And	a	low	murmur	runs	along	the	field.
	Millions	of	suppliant	crowds	the	shrine	attend,
	And	all	degrees	before	the	goddess	bend	;
	The	poor,	the	rich,	the	valiant,	and	the	sage,
	And	boasting	youth,	and	narrative	old-age.
	Their	pleas	were	different,	their	request	the	same	;
	For	good	and	bad	alike	are	fond	of	Fame.
	Some	she	disgrac'd,	and	some	with	honours	crown'd;
	UnUke	successes	equal	merits	found.
	Thus	her	blind	sister,	fickle	Fortune,	reigns,
	And	undiscerning	scatters	crowns	and	chains.
	First	at	the	shrine	the	learned	world	appear,
	And	to	the	goddess	thus	prefer	their	prayer.
	"	Long	have	we	sought	t'	instruct	and	please
	mankind,
	With	studies	pale,	with	midnight	vigils	blind	;
	But	thank'd	by	few,	rewarded	yet	by	none,
	We	here	appeal	to	thy	superior	throne	:
	On	wit	and	learning	the	just	prize	bestow,
	For	Fame	is	all	we	must	expect	below."
	The	goddess	heard,	and	bade	the	Muses	rai-e
	The	golden	trumpet	of	eternal	Praise	:
	From	pole	to	pole	the	winds	diffuse	the	sound,
	That	fills	the	circuit	of	the	world	around	;
	Not	all	at	once,	as	thunder	breaks	the	cloud	;
	The	notes	at	first	were	rather	sweet	than	loud	:
	Aa	3