The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume Ii Part 7

Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, When on wild nature we ingraft our skill; But not creating beauties at our will. 110

But poets are confined in narrower s.p.a.ce, To speak the language of their native place: The painter widely stretches his command; Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land.

From hence, my friend, all climates are your own, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.

All nations all immunities will give To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; And not seven cities, but the world would strive.

Sure some propitious planet, then, did smile, 120 When first you were conducted to this isle: Our genius brought you here to enlarge our fame; For your good stars are everywhere the same.

Thy matchless hand, of every region free, Adopts our climate, not our climate thee.

Great Rome and Venice early did impart To thee the examples of their wondrous art.

Those masters then, but seen, not understood, With generous emulation fired thy blood: For what in nature's dawn the child admired, 130 The youth endeavour'd, and the man acquired.

If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree, 'Tis only wanting to this age, not thee.

Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine, Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design A more exalted work, and more divine.

For what a song, or senseless opera Is to the living labour of a play; Or what a play to Virgil's work would be, Such is a single piece to history. 140

But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live: Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give; And they who pay the taxes, bear the rule: Thus thou, sometimes, art forced to draw a fool: But so his follies in thy posture sink, The senseless idiot seems at last to think.

Good heaven! that sots and knaves should be so vain, To wish their vile resemblance may remain!

And stand recorded, at their own request, To future days, a libel or a jest! 150

Else should we see your n.o.ble pencil trace Our unities of action, time, and place: A whole composed of parts, and those the best, With every various character express'd; Heroes at large, and at a nearer view, Less, and at distance, an ign.o.bler crew.

While all the figures in one action join, As tending to complete the main design.

More cannot be by mortal art express'd; But venerable age shall add the rest: 160 For time shall with his ready pencil stand; Retouch your fingers with his ripening hand; Mellow your colours, and embrown the tint; Add every grace, which time alone can grant; To future ages shall your fame convey, And give more beauties than he takes away.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 32: Supposed to be an acknowledgment of a copy of the Chandos portrait of Shakspeare given to Dryden by Kneller.]

EPISTLE XV.

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR, JOHN HODDESDON, ON HIS DIVINE EPIGRAMS.

Thou hast inspired me with thy soul, and I Who ne'er before could ken of poetry, Am grown so good proficient, I can lend A line in commendation of my friend.

Yet 'tis but of the second hand; if ought There be in this, 'tis from thy fancy brought.

Good thief, who dar'st, Prometheus-like, aspire, And fill thy poems with celestial fire: Enliven'd by these sparks divine, their rays Add a bright l.u.s.tre to thy crown of bays. 10 Young eaglet, who thy nest thus soon forsook, So lofty and divine a course hast took As all admire, before the down begin To peep, as yet, upon thy smoother chin; And, making heaven thy aim, hast had the grace To look the Sun of righteousness i' the face.

What may we hope, if thou go'st on thus fast, Scriptures at first; enthusiasms at last!

Thou hast commenced, betimes, a saint; go on, Mingling diviner streams with Helicon; 20 That they who view what epigrams here be, May learn to make like, in just praise of thee.

Reader, I've done, nor longer will withhold Thy greedy eyes; looking on this pure gold Thou'lt know adulterate copper, which, like this, Will only serve to be a foil to his.

EPISTLE XVI.

TO MY FRIEND MR J. NORTHLEIGH, AUTHOR OF "THE PARALLEL," ON HIS "TRIUMPH OF THE BRITISH MONARCHY."

So Joseph, yet a youth, expounded well The boding dream, and did the event foretell; Judged by the past, and drew the Parallel.

Thus early Solomon the truth explored, The right awarded, and the babe restored.

Thus Daniel, ere to prophecy he grew, The perjured Presbyters did first subdue, And freed Susanna from the canting crew.

Well may our monarchy triumphant stand, While warlike James protects both sea and land; 10 And, under covert of his sevenfold shield, Thou send'st thy shafts to scour the distant field.

By law thy powerful pen has set us free; Thou studiest that, and that may study thee.

ELEGIES AND EPITAPHS.

I.

TO THE MEMORY OF MR OLDHAM.[33]

Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think, and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine!

One common note on either lyre did strike, And knaves and fools we both abhorr'd alike.

To the same goal did both our studies drive; The last set out, the soonest did arrive.

Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place, Whilst his young friend performed, and won the race. 10 O early ripe! to thy abundant store What could advancing age have added more?

It might (what nature never gives the young) Have taught the smoothness of thy native tongue.

But satire needs not those, and wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.

A n.o.ble error, and but seldom made, When poets are by too much force betray'd.

Thy generous fruits, though gather'd ere their prime, Still show'd a quickness; and maturing time 20 But mellows what we write, to the dull sweets of rhyme.

Once more, hail! and farewell, farewell, thou young, But, ah! too short, Marcellus of our tongue!

Thy brows with ivy, and with laurels bound; But fate and gloomy night encompa.s.s thee around.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 33: 'Mr Oldham:' John Oldham, the satirist, died of the small-pox in his 30th year, 1683.]

II.