The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume I Part 35

Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled; And sister Partlet,[134] with her hooded head, Was hooted hence, because she would not pray a-bed.

The way to win the restive world to G.o.d, Was to lay by the disciplining rod, Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer: Religion frights us with a mien severe. 1030 'Tis prudence to reform her into ease, And put her in undress to make her please; A lively faith will bear aloft the mind, And leave the luggage of good works behind.

Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught: You need not ask how wondrously they wrought: But sure the common cry was all for these, Whose life and precepts both encouraged ease.

Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail, And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail; 1040 (For vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face, Is daunted at the sight of awful grace;) An hideous figure of their foes they drew, Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true; And this grotesque design exposed to public view.

One would have thought it some Egyptian piece, With garden-G.o.ds, and barking deities, More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies.

All so perverse a draught, so far unlike, It was no libel where it meant to strike. 1050 Yet still the daubing pleased, and great and small, To view the monster, crowded Pigeon Hall.

There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees: And by him, a misshapen, ugly race; The curse of G.o.d was seen on every face: No Holland emblem could that malice mend, But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend.

The master of the farm, displeased to find So much of rancour in so mild a kind, 1060 Enquired into the cause, and came to know, The pa.s.sive Church had struck the foremost blow; With groundless fears and jealousies possess'd, As if this troublesome intruding guest Would drive the birds of Venus from their nest; A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd; But Interest will not trust, though G.o.d should plight his word.

A law,[135] the source of many future harms, Had banish'd all the poultry from the farms; With loss of life, if any should be found 1070 To crow or peck on this forbidden ground.

That b.l.o.o.d.y statute chiefly was design'd For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind; But after-malice did not long forget The lay that wore the robe and coronet.

For them, for their inferiors and allies, Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise: By which unrighteously it was decreed, That none to trust or profit should succeed, Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked weed:[136] 1080 Or that, to which old Socrates was cursed, Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst.

The patron (as in reason) thought it hard To see this inquisition in his yard, By which the Sovereign was of subjects' use debarr'd.

All gentle means he tried, which might withdraw The effects of so unnatural a law: But still the Dove-house obstinately stood Deaf to their own and to their neighbours' good; And which was worse, if any worse could be, 1090 Repented of their boasted loyalty: Now made the champions of a cruel cause.

And drunk with fumes of popular applause; For those whom G.o.d to ruin has design'd, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.

New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise, Suggested dangers, interposed delays; And emissary Pigeons had in store, Such as the Meccan prophet used of yore, To whisper counsels in their patron's ear; 1100 And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear.

The master smiled to see them work in vain, To wear him out, and make an idle reign: He saw, but suffer'd their protractive arts, And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts: But they abused that grace to make allies, And fondly closed with former enemies; For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise.

After a grave consult what course were best, One, more mature in folly than the rest, 1110 Stood up, and told them, with his head aside, That desperate cures must be to desperate ills applied: And therefore, since their main impending fear Was from the increasing race of Chanticleer, Some potent bird of prey they ought to find, A foe profess'd to him, and all his kind: Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyrie nigh, Well pounced to fasten, and well wing'd to fly; One they might trust, their common wrongs to wreak: The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak, 1120 Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest, The n.o.ble Buzzard[137] ever pleased me best; Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie, We call him but a Hawk by courtesy.

I know he hates the Pigeon-house and Farm, And more, in time of war has done us harm: But all his hate on trivial points depends; Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends.

For Pigeons' flesh he seems not much to care; Cramm'd chickens are a more delicious fare. 1130 On this high potentate, without delay, I wish you would confer the sovereign sway: Pet.i.tion him to accept the government, And let a splendid emba.s.sy be sent.

This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed, Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed.

Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard, His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepared, With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard.

He came, and crown'd with great solemnity; 1140 G.o.d save king Buzzard, was the general cry.

A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, He seem'd a son of Anak for his height: Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer: Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter: Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delight; A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte.

A theologue more by need than genial bent; By breeding sharp, by nature confident.

Interest in all his actions was discern'd; 1150 More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd: Or forced by fear, or by his profit led, Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled: But brought the virtues of his heaven along; A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue.

And yet with all his arts he could not thrive; The most unlucky parasite alive.

Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, And then himself pursued his compliment; But by reverse of fortune chased away, 1160 His gifts no longer than their author stay: He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, And leaves the stench of ordures in the place.

Oft has he flatter'd and blasphemed the same; For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name: The hero and the tyrant change their style By the same measure that they frown or smile.

When well received by hospitable foes, The kindness he returns, is to expose: For courtesies, though undeserved and great, 1170 No grat.i.tude in felon-minds beget; As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat.

His praise of foes is venomously nice; So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice: "A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice."

Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, Because he knows Confession stands for one; Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd: But he, uncall'd, his patron to control, 1180 Divulged the secret whispers of his soul; Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, And offer'd to the Moloch of the times.

Prompt to a.s.sail, and careless of defence, Invulnerable in his impudence, He dares the world; and, eager of a name, He thrusts about, and jostles into fame.

Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets, And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets.

So fond of loud report, that not to miss 1190 Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) He rather would be known for what he is.

Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test, Though half his virtues are not here express'd; The modesty of fame conceals the rest.

The spleenful Pigeons never could create A prince more proper to revenge their hate: Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save; A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave: For all the grace the landlord had allow'd, 1200 But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd.

They long their fellow-subjects to enthral, Their patron's promise into question call, And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all.

False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest, As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd; Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want; For now the Pigeons too had learn'd to cant.

The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase; 1210 Nor doors nor windows can contain the press: For birds of every feather fill the abode; Even Atheists out of envy own a G.o.d: And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come, Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome.

That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute, Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute: No rigour of the laws to be released, And much the less, because it was their Lord's request: They thought it great their Sovereign to control, 1220 And named their pride, n.o.bility of soul.

'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, Were short of power, their purpose to effect: But with their quills did all the hurt they could, And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food: And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, Though naming not the patron, to infer, With all respect, he was a gross idolater.

But when the imperial owner did espy, That thus they turn'd his grace to villany, 1230 Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, He strove a temper for the extremes to find, So to be just, as he might still be kind; Then, all maturely weigh'd, p.r.o.nounced a doom Of sacred strength for every age to come.

By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, No rights infringed, but licence to oppress: Such power have they as factious lawyers long To crowns ascribed, that Kings can do no wrong.

But since his own domestic birds have tried 1240 The dire effects of their destructive pride, He deems that proof a measure to the rest, Concluding well within his kingly breast, His fowls of nature too unjustly were oppress'd.

He therefore makes all birds of every sect Free of his farm, with promise to respect Their several kinds alike, and equally protect.

His gracious edict the same franchise yields To all the wild increase of woods and fields, And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds: 1250 To Crows the like impartial grace affords, And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds: Secured with ample privilege to feed, Each has his district, and his bounds decreed; Combined in common interest with his own, But not to pa.s.s the Pigeon's Rubicon.

Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; All prophecies accomplish'd from above, From Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove.

Reduced from her imperial high abode, 1260 Like Dionysius to a private rod, The Pa.s.sive Church, that with pretended grace Did her distinctive mark in duty place, Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face.

What after happen'd is not hard to guess: The small beginnings had a large increase, And arts and wealth succeed, the secret spoils of peace.

'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late, Become the smiths of their own foolish fate: Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour; 1270 But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power: Like snows in warmth that mildly pa.s.s away, Dissolving in the silence of decay.

The Buzzard, not content with equal place, Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race; To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, And all together make a seeming goodly flight: But each have separate interests of their own; Two Czars are one too many for a throne.

Nor can the usurper long abstain from food; 1280 Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood: And may be tempted to his former fare, When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair.

Bare benting times, and moulting months may come, When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home; Or, rent in schism (for so their fate decrees), Like the tumultuous college of the bees,[138]

They fight their quarrel, by themselves oppress'd; The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast.

Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end, 1290 Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend; But, with affected yawnings at the close, Seem'd to require her natural repose: For now the streaky light began to peep; And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep.

The dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest.

Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait, With glorious visions of her future state.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 118: 'Mother Hubbard:' Mother Hubbard's tale, written by Spenser.]

[Footnote 119: 'Lion's peace:' liberty of conscience, and toleration of all religions.]

[Footnote 120: 'Exiled heir:' the Duke of York, while opposed by the favourers and abettors of the Bill of Exclusion, was obliged to retire from London.]

[Footnote 121: 'French proselytes:' the French refugees that came into England after the revocation of the edict of Nantes.]

[Footnote 122: 'Hudibras:' Butler.]

[Footnote 123: 'Atheist names:' alluding here and afterwards to Stillingfleet's attacks on Dryden.]

[Footnote 124: 'Imprimatur:' the Bishop of London and his chaplains had formerly the examination of all books, and none could be printed without their imprimatur, or licence.]

[Footnote 125: 'Swallow:' this story is supposed to refer to a meeting of Roman Catholics held in the Savoy to deliberate on King James'

measures, when Father Petre (M. Martin) induced them to join the king's side, and to remain in England.]

[Footnote 126: 'Dorp:' hamlet.]

[Footnote 127: 'The tale:' a parable of the fate of the Papists, soon fulfilled.]