To my Honour'd Friend Dr. Charleton, on his learned
and useful Works; and more particularly this of
Stone-heng, by him Restored to the true Founders.

The longest Tyranny that ever sway'd
Was that wherein our Ancestors betray'd
Their free-born Reason to the Stagirite,
And made his Torch their universal Light.
So Truth, while onely one suppli'd the State,
Grew scarce,
and dear, and yet sophisticate;
Until 'twas bought, like Emp'rique Wares,
or Charms,

Hard words seal'd up with Aristotle's Armes.
Columbus was the first that shook his Throne;
And found a Temp'rate in a Torrid Zone, 10
The fevrish aire fann'd by a cooling breez,
The fruitful Vales set round with shady
Trees;

And guiltless Men, who danc'd away their
time,

Fresh as their Groves and Happy as their
Clime.

Had we still paid that homage to a Name,
Which only God and Nature justly claim,
The Western Seas had been our utmost bound,
Where Poets still might dream the Sun was
drown'd:

And all the Starrs, that shine in Southern |
Skies,

19

Had been admir'd by none but Salvage Eyes.
Among th' Assertors of free Reason's claim,
Th' English are not the least in Worth, or
Fame.

The World to Bacon does not onely owe
Its present Knowledge, but its future too.
Gilbert shall live, till Lode-stones cease to draw
Or British Fleets the boundless Ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not less in Nature seen,
Than his great Brother read in States and Men.
The Circling streams, once thought but pools,
of blood

(Whether Life's fewel or the Bodie's food)

TO DR. CHARLETON. Text from the original prefixt to Charleton's Chorea Gigantum, 1663. 6 sophisticate;] sophisticate. 1663.

7 Until 'twas] Derrick and others nonsensi cally give Still it was

22 Th' English are] Tonson in 1704 printed Our Nation's

28 Brother] Christie, Saintsbury, and others print a comma after this word and so give another and wholly false sense.

From dark Oblivion Harvey's name shall

save;

While Ent keeps all the honour that he gave. Nor are You, Learned Friend, the least renown'd;

Whose Fame, not circumscrib'd with English
ground,

Flies like the nimble journeys of the Light;
And is, like that, unspent too in its flight.
Whatever Truths have been, by Art,or Chance,
Redeem'd from Error, or from Ignorance,
Thin in their Authors, (like rich veins of Ore)
Your Works unite, and still discover more.
Such is the healing virtue of Your Pen, 41
To perfect Cures on Books, as well as Men.
Nor is This Work the least: You well may
give

To Men new vigour, who make Stones to live.
Through You the DANES (their short Do-
minion lost)

A longer Conquest than the Saxons boast. STONE-HENG, once thought a Temple, You have found

A Throne where Kings, our Earthly Gods, were Crown'd.

Where by their wondring Subjects They

TO THE LADY CASTLEMAINE, |
upon Her incouraging his first Play.

As Seamen, Shipwrack'd on some happy | Like them are good, but from a Nobler Cause,
Shore,
From your
own Knowledge, not from
Discover Wealth in Lands unknown before, Nature's Laws.
And, what their Art had labour'd long in vain
By their Misfortunes happily obtain,

So my much envy'd Muse, by storms long tost,

Your Pow'r you never use but for Defence,
To guard your own, or others' Innocence:
Your Foes are such as they, not you, have
made,
31

And Vertue may repel, tho' not invade.
Such Courage did the Ancient heroes show,
Who, when they might prevent, wou'd wait
the blow;

Is thrown upon your hospitable Coast, And finds more favour by her ill success, Than she cou'd hope for by her Happiness. Once Cato's Vertue did the Gods oppose, While they the Victor, He the Vanquish'd With such assurance as they meant to say, chose : 10 We will o' recome, but scorn the safest way. But you have done what Cato cou'd not do, What further fear of danger can there be ? To chuse the Vanquish'd, and restore him Beauty, which captives all things, sets me free.

too.

Let others still Triumph, and gain their
Cause

By their Deserts or by the World's Applause;
Let Merit Crowns, and Justice Lawrels give,
But let me happy by your Pity live.
True Poets empty Fame and Praise despise;
Fame is the Trumpet, but your Smile the
Prize:

You sit above, and see vain Men below
Contend, for what you only can bestow; 20
But those great actions others do by chance,
Are, like your Beauty, your Inheritance:
So great a Soul, such sweetness join'd in one,
Cou'd only spring from Noble Grandison:
You, like the Stars, not by Reflection bright,
Are born to your own Heav'n, and your own
light;

To Mr. Lee, on

THE Blast of common Censure cou'd I fear, Before your Play my Name shou'd not appear;

For 'twill be thought, and with some colour too,

I pay the Bribe I first receiv'd from You: That mutual Vouchers for our Fame we stand,

To play the Game into each other's Hand;

TO THE LADY CASTLEMAINE. Miscellanies of 1693.

DR.

To MR. LEE. Text from the original prefixt to Text from the Lee's tragedy of The Rival Queens, 1677, republished in 1694.

G

And yet my silence had not scap'd their Where Nature Triumphs over wretched Art;

spight,

Then envy had not suffer'd me to write,
For, since I cou'd not Ignorance pretend,
Such worth I must or envy or commend.
So many Candidates there stand for Wit,
A place in Court is scarce so hard to get;
In vain they crowd each other at the Door;
For ev'n Reversions are all beg'd before: 20
Desert, how known so e're, is long delay'd;
And, then too, Fools and Knaves are better
payd.

Yet, as some Actions bear so great a Name
That Courts themselves are just, for fear of
Shame :

So has the mighty Merit of your Play
Extorted praise, and forc'd it self a Way.
'Tis here, as 'tis at Sea; who farthest goes,
Or dares the most, makes all the rest his
Foes;

Yet when some Virtue much out-grows the
rest,

It shoots too fast, and high, to be opprest;
As his Heroic worth struck Envy dumb, 31
Who took the Dutchman, and who cut the
Boom:

Such praise is yours, while you the Passions

move,

That 'tis no longer feign'd; 'tis real Love:

We only warm the Head, but you the Heart,
Alwayes you warm! and if the rising Year,
As in hot Regions, bring the Sun too near,
'Tis but to make your Fragrant Spices blow,
Which in our colder Climates will not
grow.
40

They only think you animate your Theme
With too much Fire, who are themselves all
Phle'me:

Prizes wou'd be for Lags of slowest pace,
Were Cripples made the Judges of the
Race.

Despise those Drones, who praise while they

accuse

The too much vigour of your youthful Muse: That humble Stile which they their Virtue make

Is in your pow'r; you need but stoop and
take.

Your beauteous Images must be allow'd
By all, but some vile Poets of the Crowd. 50
But how shou'd any Sign-post-dawber know
The worth of Titian, or of Angelo?
Hard Features every Bungler can command;
To draw true Beauty shews a Masters Hand.

JOHN DRYDEN.

To the | Earl of Roscomon, on his Excellent Essay
on Translated Verse.

Whether the fruitful Nile, or Tyrian Shore
The seeds of Arts and Infant Science bore,
'Tis sure the noble Plant translated, first
Advanced its head in Grecian Gardens nurst.
The Grecians added Verse, their tuneful
Tongue

Made Nature first and Nature's God their
song.

Nor stopt Translation here: For conquering
Rome

With Grecian Spoils brought Grecian Num-
bers home;

TO MR. LEE.

30 opprest] exprest 1694: supprest Scott.

Enrich'd by those Athenian Muses more Than all the vanquish'd World cou'd yield before.

ΙΟ

Till barb'rous Nations and more barb'rous
Times

Debas'd the majesty of Verse to Rhymes;
Those rude at first: a kind of hobbling Prose:
That limp'd along and tinckl'd in the close:
But Italy, reviving from the trance
Of Vandal, Goth, and Monkish ignorance,

TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMON. Text from the original prefixt to Roscomon's Essay on Translated Verse, 1684.

3 Plant translated, first] Plant, translated first; 1684.

With pauses, cadence, and well-vowell'd A nobler quarrel for his Native earth, Than what divided Greece for Homer's birth.

TO MY FRIEND MR. NORTHLEIGH,

AUTHOR OF THE PARALLEL,

ON HIS TRIUMPH OF THE BRITISH MONARCHY.

So Joseph, yet a Youth, expounded well
The boding Dream, and did th' Event fore-
tell,

Judg'd by the past, and drew the Parallel.
Thus early Solomon the truth explored,
The Right awarded, and the Babe restor❜d.
Thus Daniel, ere to Prophecy he grew,
The perjur'd 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 sev❜nfold Shield,
Thou sendst thy Shafts to scour the distant
Field.

By law thy pow'rful Pen has set us free;
Thou studiest that, and that may study
thee.

To my Ingenious Friend | Henry Higden, Esq.; | on his
translation of the Tenth SATYR | of | JUVENAL.

THE Grecian Wits, who Satyr first began,
Were Pleasant Pasquins on the Life of

Man;

At Mighty Villains, who the State opprest,
They durst not Rail perhaps; they
Laugh'd at least,

And turn'd 'em out of Office with a Jest.
No Fool could peep abroad, but ready
stand

The Drolls to clap a Bauble in his hand :
Wise Legislators never yet could draw
A Fop, within the Reach of Common-Law;
For Posture, Dress, Grimace, and Affectation,
Tho' Foes to Sence, are Harmless to the
Nation.
11

Our last Redress is Dint of Verse to try,
And Satyr is our Court of Chancery.
This Way took Horace to reform an Age,
Not Bad enough to need an Author's
Rage:

*

But Yours,* who liv'd in more Juvenal.
degen'rate Times,

Was forc'd to fasten Deep, and worry
Crimes:

Yet You, my Friend, have temper'd him so
well,

You make him Smile in spight of all his
Zeal:

An Art peculiar to your Self alone,
To joyn the Vertues of Two stiles in One.

20

TO MR. NORTHLEIGH. Text from the original, prefixt to John Northleigh's The Triumph of Our Monarchy, 1685. (Ï depend for the collation on another hand.)

Oh! were your Author's Principle receiv'd,

Half of the lab'ring World wou'd be
reliev'd;

For not to Wish, is not to be deceiv'd!
Revenge wou'd into Charity be chang'd,
Because it costs too Dear to be Reveng'd:
It costs our Quiet and Content of Mind;
And when 'tis compass'd leaves a Sting
behind.

Suppose I had the better End o' th' Staff,
Why should I help th' ill-natur'd World to
laugh?
30

'Tis all alike to them who gets the Day;
They Love the Spight and Mischief of the
Fray.

No; I have Cur'd my Self of that Disease,
Nor will I be provok'd, but when I please:
But let me half that Cure to You restore;
You gave the Salve, I laid it to the Sore.

Our kind Relief against a Rainy Day,
Beyond a Tavern, or a tedious Play;
We take your Book, and laugh our Spleen

away,

If all your Tribe, (too studious of Debate) 40
Wou'd cease false Hopes and Titles to create,
Led by the Rare Example you begun,
Clyents wou'd fail and Lawyers be undone.
JOHN DRYDEN.
TO HENRY HIGDEN. Text from the original,
prefixt to Higden's Translation of Juvenal's Tenthi
Satire, 1687.

4 Rail perhaps ;] Rail; perhaps, 1687.
Laugh'd] Many editors wrongly give lash'd