ΤΟ

HIS GRACE

THE

DUKE OF ORMOND.

MY LORD,-Some Estates are held in England by paying a Fine at the change of every Lord I have enjoy'd the Patronage of your Family, from the time of your excellent Grandfather to this present Day. I have dedicated the Lives of Plutarch to the first Duke; and have celebrated the Memory of your Heroick Father. Tho' I am very short of the Age of Nestor, yet I have liv'd to a third Generation of your House; and by your 10 Grace's Favour am admitted still to hold from you by the same Tenure.

I am not vain enough to boast that I have deserv'd the value of so Illustrious a Line; but my Fortune is the greater, that for three Descents they have been pleas'd to distinguish my Poems from those of other Men, and have accordingly made me their peculiar Care. May it be permitted me to say, That as your Grandfather and Father were cherish'd and adorn'd with Honours by two successive Monarchs, so I have been esteem'd and patronis'd by the Grandfather, the Father, and the Son, descended from one of the most Ancient, most Conspicuous, and most Deserving Families in Europe.

'Tis true, that by delaying the Payment of my last Fine, when it was due by your Grace's Accession to the Titles and Patrimonies of your House, I may seem in rigour of Law 20 to have made a forfeiture of my Claim; yet my Heart has always been devoted to your Service; and since you have been graciously pleas'd, by your permission of this Address, to accept the tender of my Duty, 'tis not yet too late to lay these Poems at your Feet. The World is sensible that you worthily succeed not only to the Honours of your Ancestors, but also to their Virtues. The long Chain of Magnanimity, Courage, casiness of Access, and desire of doing Good, even to the Prejudice of your Fortune, is so far from being broken in your Grace, that the precious Metal yet runs pure to the newest Link of it : which I will not call the last, because I hope and pray it may descend to late Posterity: And your flourishing Youth, and that of your excellent Dutchess, are happy Omens of my Wish.

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'Tis observ'd by Livy and by others, That some of the noblest Roman Families retain'd a resemblance of their Ancestry, not only in their Shapes and Features, but also in their Manners, their Qualities, and the distinguishing Characters of their Minds: Some Lines were noted for a stern, rigid Virtue, salvage, haughty, parcimonious, and unpopular : Others were more sweet, and affable; made of a more pliant Past, humble, courteous, and obliging; studious of doing charitable Offices, and diffusive of the Goods which they enjoy'd. The last of these is the proper and indelible Character of your Grace's Family. God Almighty has endu'd you with a Softness, a Beneficence, an attractive Behaviour winning on the Hearts of others; and so sensible of their Misery, that the Wounds of Fortune seem not inflicted on them, but on your self. You are so ready to redress, that 40 you almost prevent their Wishes, and always exceed their Expectations: As if what was yours, was not your own, and not given you to possess, but to bestow on wanting Merit. But this is a Topick which I must cast in Shades, lest I offend your Modesty, which is so far from being ostentatious of the Good you do, that it blushes even to have it known: And therefore I must leave you to the Satisfaction and Testimony of your own Conscience, which, though it be a silent Panegyrick, is yet the best.

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You are so easy of Access that Poplicola was not more, whose Doors were open'd on the Outside to save the people even the common Civility of asking entrance; where all were equally admitted; where nothing that was reasonable was deny'd, where Misfortune was a powerful Recommendation, and where (I can scarce forbear saying) that Want it self was a powerful Mediator, and was next to Merit.

The History of Peru assures us, That their Inca's, above all their Titles, esteem'd that the highest, which called them Lovers of the Poor: A Name more glorious than the Felix, Fius, and Augustus of the Roman Emperors; which were Epithets of Flattery, deserv'd by few of them; and not running in a Blood like the perpetual Gentleness and inherent Goodness of the Ormond Family.

Gold, as it is the purest, so it is the softest and most ductile of all Metals: Iron, which is the hardest, gathers Rust, corrodes its self; and is therefore subject to Corruption: It was never intended for Coins and Medals, or to bear the Faces and Inscriptions of the Great. Indeed 'tis fit for Armour, to bear off Insults, and preserve the Wearer in the Day of Battle; but the Danger once repell'd, it is laid aside by the Brave, as a Garment 10 too rough for civil Conversation; a necessary Guard in War, but too harsh and cumbersome in Peace, and which keeps off the embraces of a more human Life.

For this reason, my Lord, though you have Courage in a heroical Degree, yet I ascribe it to you but as your second Attribute: Mercy, Beneficence, and Compassion, claim Precedence, as they are first in the divine Nature. An intrepid Courage, which is inherent in your Grace, is at best but a Holiday-kind of Virtue, to be seldom exercis'd, and never but in Cases of Necessity; Affability, Mildness, Tenderness, and a Word, which I would fain bring back to its original Signification of Virtue, I mean good Nature, are of daily use They are the Bread of Mankind and Staff of Life: Neither Sighs, nor Tears, nor Groans, nor Curses of the vanquish'd follow Acts of Compassion, and of Charity: But 20 a sincere Pleasure and Serenity of Mind, in him who performs an Action of Mercy, which cannot suffer the Misfortunes of another, without redress; lest they should bring a kind of Contagion along with them, and pollute the Happiness which he enjoys.

Yet since the perverse Tempers of Mankind, since Oppression on one side, and Ambition on the other, are sometimes the unavoidable Occasions of War; that Courage, that Magnanimity, and Resolution, which is born with you, cannot be too much commended: And here it grieves me that I am scanted in the pleasure of dwelling on many of your Actions: But aidéoμau Tpŵas is an Expression which Tully often uses, when he would do what he dares not, and fears the Censure of the Romans.

I have sometimes been forc'd to amplify on others; but here, where the Subject is so 30 fruitful that the Harvest overcomes the Reaper, I am shorten'd by my Chain, and can only see what is forbidden me to reach: Since it is not permitted me to commend you according to the extent of my Wishes, and much less is it in my Power to make my Commendations equal to your Merits.

Yet in this Frugality of your Praises, there are some Things which I cannot omit, without detracting from your Character. You have so form'd your own Education, as enables you to pay the Debt you owe your Country, or, more properly speaking, both your Countries: Because you were born, I may almost say in Purple at the Castle of Dublin, when your Grandfather was Lord-Lieutenant, and have since been bred in the Court of England.

If this Address had been in Verse, I might have call'd you, as Claudian calls Mercury, 40 Numen commune, Gemino faciens commercia mundo. The better to satisfy this double Obligation, you have early cultivated the Genius you have to Arms, that when the service of Britain or Ireland shall require your Courage and your Conduct, you may exert them both to the Benefit of either Country. You began in the Cabinet what you afterwards practis'd in the Camp; and thus both Lucullus and Cæsar (to omit a crowd of shining Romans) form'd them selves to the War by the Study of History, and by the examples of the greatest Captains, both of Greece and Italy, before their time. I name those two Commanders in particular, because they were better read in Chronicle than any of the Roman Leaders; and that Lucullus in particular, having only the Theory of War from Books, was thought fit, without Practice, to be sent into the Field against the most 50 formidable Enemy of Rome. Tully indeed was call'd the learn'd Consul in derision; but then, he was not born a Soldier: His Head was turn'd another way: When he read the Tactics, he was thinking on the Bar, which was his Field of Battle. The Knowledge of Warfare

is thrown away on a General who dares not make use of what he knows. I commend it only in a Man of Courage and of Resolution; in him it will direct his Martial Spirit, and teach him the way to the best Victories, which are those that are least bloody, and which, tho' atchieved by the Hand, are managed by the Head. Science distinguishes a Man of Honour from one of those Athletick Brutes whom undeservedly we call Heroes. Curs'd be the Poet, who first honour'd with that Name a meer Ajax, a Man-killing Ideot. The Ulysses of Ovid upbraids his Ignorance, that he understood not the Shield for which he pleaded: There was engraven on it, Plans of Cities, and Maps of Countries, which Ajax could not comprehend, but look'd on them as stupidly as his Fellow-Beast the Lion. But 10 on the other side, your Grace has given your self the Education of his Rival; you have studied every Spot of Ground in Flanders, which for these ten Years past has been the Scene of Battles and of Sieges. No wonder if you perform'd your part with such Applause on a Theater which you understood so well.

If I design'd this for a Poetical Encomium, it were easy to enlarge on so copious a Subject ; but confining my self to the Severity of Truth, and to what is becoming me to say, I must not only pass over many Instances of your Military Skill, but also those of your assiduous Diligence in the War, and of your personal bravery, attended with an ardent Thirst of Honour; a long train of Generosity; Profuseness of doing Good; a Soul unsatisfy'd with all it has done; and an unextinguish'd Desire of doing more. But all this is Matter

20 for your own Historians; I am, as Virgil says, Spatiis exclusus iniquis.

Yet not to be wholly silent of all your Charities, I must stay a little on one Action, which preferr'd the Relief of Others, to the Consideration of your Self. When, in the Battle of Landen, your Heat of Courage (a Fault only pardonable to your Youth) had transported you so far before your Friends, that they were unable to follow, much less to succour you; when you were not only dangerously, but in all appearance mortally wounded; when in that desperate Condition you were made Prisoner, and carried to Namur, at that time in Possession of the French; then it was, my Lord, that you took a considerable l'art of what was remitted to you of your own Revenues, and as a memorable Instance of your Heroick Charity, put it into the Hands of Count Guiscard, who was Governor of the 30 Place, to be distributed among your Fellow-Prisoners. The French Commander, charm'd with the greatness of your Soul, accordingly consign'd it to the Use for which it was intended by the Donor: By which means the Lives of so many miserable Men were sav'd, and a comfortable Provision made for their Subsistance, who had otherwise perish'd, had not you been the Companion of their Misfortune: or rather sent by Providence, like another Joseph, to keep out Famine from invading those, whom in Humility you called your Brethren. How happy was it for those poor Creatures that your Grace was made their Fellow-Sufferer? And how glorious for You, that you chose to want, rather than not relieve the Wants of others? The Heathen Poet, in commending the charity of Dido to the Trojans, spoke like a Christian: Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco. All 40 men, even those of a different Interest, and contrary Principles, must praise this Action, as the most eminent for Piety, not only in this degenerate Age, but almost in any of the former; when Men were made de meliore luto; when Examples of Charity were frequent, and when there were in being, Teucri, pulcherrima proles, Magnanimi heroes, nati melioribus annis. No Envy can detract from this: it will shine in History; and like Swans, grow whiter the longer it endures: and the Name of ORMOND will be more celebrated in his Captivity than in his greatest Triumphs.

But all Actions of your Grace are of a piece; as Waters keep the Tenour of their Fountains: your Compassion is general, and has the same Effect as well on Enemies as Friends. 'Tis so much in your Nature to do Good, that your Life is but one continued Act of placing 50 Benefits on many, as the Sun is always carrying his Light to some Part or other of the World: And were it not that your Reason guides you where to give, I might almost say that you could not help bestowing more, than is consisting with the Fortune of a private Man, or with the Will of any but an Alexander.

What Wonder is it then, that being born for a Blessing to Mankind, your suppos'd Death in that Engagement, was so generally lamented through the Nation? The Concernment for it was as universal as the Loss: And though the Gratitude might be counterfeit in some; yet the Tears of all were real: Where every man deplor'd his private Part in that Calamity, and even those who had not tasted of your Favours, yet built so much on the Fame of your Beneficence, that they bemoan'd the Loss of their Expectations. This brought the untimely Death of your Great Father into fresh remembrance; as if the same Decree had pass'd on two short successive Generations of the Virtuous; and I repeated to my self the same Verses, which I had formerly apply'd to him: Ostendunt terris hunc tantum fata, nec ultra Esse sinunt.

But to the Joy not only of all good Men, but of Mankind in general, the unhappy Omen took not place. You are still living to enjoy the Blessings and Applause of all the Good you have perform'd, the Prayers of Multitudes whom you have oblig'd, for your long Prosperity, and that your Power of doing generous and charitable Actions may be as extended as your Will; which is by none more zealously desir'd than by

Your Grace's most humble,

most oblig'd, and most
obedient servant,

10

JOHN DRYDEN.

PREFACE.

'Tis with a Poet as with a Man who designs to build, and is very exact, as he supposes, in casting up the Cost beforehand: But, generally speaking, he is mistaken in his Account, and reckons short of the Expense he first intended: He alters his Mind as the Work proceeds, and will have this or that Convenience more, of which he had not thought when he began. So has it hapned to me; I have built a House, where I intended but a Lodge: Yet with better Success than a certain Nobleman, who, beginning with a Dog-kennil never liv'd to finish the Palace he had contriv'd.

From translating the First of Homer's Iliads (which I intended as an Essay to the whole Work) I proceeded to the Translation of the Twelfth Book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, because it contains, among other Things, the Causes, the Beginning, and Ending of the Trojan 30 War: Here I ought in reason to have stopp'd; but the speeches of Ajax and Ulysses lying next in my way, I could not balk 'em. When I had compass'd them, I was so taken with the former Part of the Fifteenth Book (which is the Master-piece of the whole Metamorphoses) that I enjoyn'd myself the pleasing Task of rendring it into English. And now I found by the Number of my Verses, that they began to swell into a little Volume; which gave me an Occasion of looking backward on some Beauties of my Author, in his former Books: There occur'd to me the Hunting of the Boar, Cinyras and Myrrha, the good-natured story of Baucis and Philemon, with the rest, which I hope I have translated closely enough, and given them the same Turn of Verse which they had in the Original; and this, I may say without vanity, is not the Talent of every Poet: Ile who has arriv'd 40 the nearest to it is the Ingenious and Learned Sandys, the best Versifier of the former Age; if I may properly call it by that Name, which was the former Part of this concluding Century. For Spenser and Fairfax both flourished in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; Great Masters in our Language; and who saw much farther into the Beautics of our Numbers, than those who immediately followed them. Millon was the Poetical son of Spencer, and Mr. Waller of Fairfax; for we have our Lineal Descents and Clans, as well as other Families Spencer more than once insinuates, that the Soul of Chaucer was transfus'd

PREFACE TO THe Fables and Dedication to the Dutchess of ORMOND. Text from the original and only contemporary edition, 1700.

into his Body; and that he was begotten by him Two hundred years after his Decease. Milton has acknowledg'd to me, that Spencer was his Original; and many besides my self have heard our famous Waller own, that he deriv'd the Harmony of his Numbers from the Godfrey of Bulloign, which was turned into English by Mr. Fairfax. But to return: Having done with Ovid for this time, it came into my mind, that our old English poet, Chaucer, in many Things resembled him, and that with no disadvantage on the Side of the Modern Author, as I shall endeavour to prove when I compare them: And as I am, and always have been, studious to promote the Honour of my Native Country, so I soon resolved to put their Merits to the Trial, by turning some of the Canterbury Tales into our 10 Language, as it is now refin'd: For by this means, both the Poets being set in the same light, and dress'd in the same English Habit, Story to be compared with Story, a certain Judgment may be made betwixt them by the Reader, without obtruding my Opinion on him: Or if I seem partial to my Country-man and Predecessor in the Laurel, the Friends of Antiquity are not few: And besides many of the Learn'd, Ovid has almost all the Beaux, and the whole Fair Sex, his declar'd Patrons. Perhaps I have assum'd somewhat more to my self than they allow me; because I have adventur'd to sum up the Evidence: But the Readers are the Jury; and their Privilege remains entire to decide according to the Merits of the Cause: Or, if they please to bring it to another Hearing before some other Court. In the mean time, to follow the Thrid of my Discourse (as Thoughts, according 20 to Mr. Hobbs, have always some Connexion), so from Chaucer I was led to think on Boccace, who was not only his Contemporary, but also pursu'd the same Studies; wrote Novels in Prose, and many Works in Verse; particularly is said to have invented the Octave Rhyme, or Stanza of Eight Lines, which ever since has been maintain'd by the Practice of all Italian Writers, who are, or at least assume the Title of, Heroick Poets: He and Chaucer, among other Things, had this in common, that they refin'd their Mother-Tongues; but with this difference, that Dante had begun to file their Language, at least in Verse, before the time of Boccace, who likewise receiv'd no little Help from his Master Petrarch: But the Reformation of their Prose was wholly owing to Boccace himself, who is yet the Standard of Purity in the Italian Tongue; though many of his Phrases are become obsolete, as in 30 process of Time it must needs happen. Chaucer (as you have formerly been told by our learn'd Mr. Rhymer) first adorn'd and amplified our barren Tongue from the Provencall, which was then the most polish'd of all the Modern Languages: But this Subject has been copiously treated by that great Critick, who deserves no little Commendation from us his Countrymen. For these Reasons of Time and Resemblance of Genius in Chaucer and Boccace, I resolv'd to join them in my present Work; to which I have added some Original Papers of my own, which whether they are equal or inferiour to my other Poems, an Author is the most improper Judge; and therefore I leave them wholly to the Mercy of the Reader: I will hope the best, that they will not be condemn'd; but if they should, I have the Excuse of an old Gentleman, who mounting on Horseback before some Ladies, 40 when I was present, got up somewhat heavily, but desir'd of the Fair Spectators that they would count Fourscore and eight before they judg'd him. By the Mercy of God, I am already come within Twenty Years of his Number, a Cripple in my Limbs; but what Decays are in my Mind, the Reader must determine. I think my self as vigorous as ever in the Faculties of my Soul, excepting only my Memory, which is not impair'd to any great degree; and if I lose not more of it, I have no great reason to complain. What Judgment I had increases rather than diminishes; and Thoughts, such as they are, come crowding in so fast upon me, that my only Difficulty is to chuse or to reject; to run them into Verse or to give them the other harmony of Prose, I have so long studied and practis'd both, that they are grown into a Habit, and become familiar to me. In short, though 50 I may lawfully plead some part of the old Gentleman's Excuse, yet I will reserve it till I think I have greater need, and ask no Grains of Allowance for the Faults of this my present Work, but those which are given of course to Humane Frailty. I will not trouble my Reader with the shortness of Time in which I writ it, or the several Intervals of Sickness: