AUSPICIOUS Poet, wert thou not my Friend, | Thus they jog on; still tricking, never
How could I envy, what I must commend!
But since 'tis Natures Law in Love and
Wit,

[TO PETER ANTONY MOTTEUX,

ON HIS TRAGEDY, CALLED BEAUTY IN DISTRESS.]

To my Friend, the AUTHOR.

Voice

31 Has equall'd thy Performance with thy choice.

Time, Action, Place, are so preserv'd by

'Tis hard, my Friend, to write in such an Age | These hast thou chosen; and the public
As damns not only Poets, but the Stage.
That sacred art, by Heav'n itself infus'd,
Which Moses, David, Salomon have us'd,
Is now to be no more: The Muses' Foes
Wou'd sink their Maker's Praises into Prose.
Were they content to prune the lavish Vine
Of straggling Branches, and improve the
Wine,

All wou'd submit, for all but Fools will mend.
But, when to common sense they give the
Lie,

And turn distorted Words to Blasphemy,
They give the Scandal; and the Wise discern
Their Glosses teach an Age, too apt to
learn.

What I have loosly, or profanely writ,
Let them to Fires (their due desert) commit:
Nor, when accus'd by me, let them complain :
Their Faults, and not their Function, I
arraign.

Rebellion, worse than Witchcraft, they
pursu❜d:

The Pulpit preach'd the Crime, the People ru'd.

20

The Stage was silenc'd; for the Saints wou'd

see

In fields perform'd their plotted Tragedy.
But let us first reform: and then so live,
That we may teach our Teachers to forgive.
Our Desk be plac'd below their lofty Chairs,
Ours be the Practice, as the Precept theirs.
The moral Part at least we may divide,
Humility reward and punish Pride;
Ambition, Int'rest, Avarice, accuse;
These are the Province of the Tragic Muse.

TO PETER ANTONY MOTTEUX. Text from the original, prefixed to the play, 1698.

9 Faults] Many edd. wrongly give Thoughts

thee

That ev'n Corneille might with Envy see
Th' Alliance of his tripled Unity.
Thy Incidents, perhaps, too thick are sown ;
But so much Plenty is thy Fault alone:
At least but two, can that good Crime
commit,

Thou in Design, and Wycherley in Wit
Let thine own Gauls condemn thee, if they
dare;

40

Contented to be thinly regular.
Born there, but not for them, our fruitful
Soil

With more Increase rewards thy happy Toil.
Their Tongue, infeebl'd, is refin'd so much;
That like pure Gold, it bends at ev'ry Touch:
Our sturdy Teuton yet will Art obey,
More fit for manly Thought, and strengthen'd
with Allay.

But whence art thou inspir'd, and Thou
alone,

To flourish in an Idiom, not thy own?
It moves our Wonder, that a foreign Guest
Shou'd overmatch the most, and match the
best.

51

In underpraising thy Deserts, I wrong;
Here, find the first deficience of our Tongue:
Words, once my stock, are wanting to com-
mend

So Great a Poet and so Good a Friend.

JOHN DRYDEN.

44 so] Many edd. wrongly give too 45 That] Many edd. wrongly give And These false readings are all in Christie's text but not in Dr. Saintsbury's.

TO MY | HONOUR'D KINSMAN, | JOHN DRIDEN, |

OF CHESTERTON, IN THE

COUNTY OF HUNTINGDON, ESQUIRE.

Without their Cost, you terminate the Cause;
And save th' Expence of long Litigious Laws:
Where Suits are travers'd; and so little won,
That he who conquers, is but last undone :
Such are not your Decrees; but so
design'd,

The Sanction leaves a lasting Peace behind;
Like your own Soul, Serene; a Pattern of
your Mind.

Promoting Concord, and composing Strife, Lord of your self, uncumber'd with a Wife; Where, for a Year, a Month, perhaps a Night, Long Penitence succeeds a short Delight: 20 Minds are so hardly match'd, that ev'n the first,

Though pair'd by Heav'n, in Paradise, were curs'd.

For Man and Woman, though in one they grow,

Yet, first or last, return again to Two.

He to God's Image, She to His was made; So, farther from the Fount, the Stream at random stray'd.

Not that my Verse wou'd blemish all the
Fair;

But yet, if some be Bad, 'tis Wisdom to
beware;

And better shun the Bait, than struggle in
the Snare.

Thus have you shunn'd, and shun the married
State,

Trusting as little as you can to Fate.

No porter guards the Passage of your
Door;

T' admit the Wealthy, and exclude the
Poor :

For God, who gave the Riches, gave the
Heart

To sanctifie the Whole, by giving Part:
Heav'n, who foresaw the Will, the Means has
wrought,

40

And to the Second Son, a Blessing brought :
The First-begotten had his Father's Share,
But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's Heir.

So may your Stores, and fruitful Fields

increase;

And ever be you bless'd, who live to bless.
As Ceres sow'd where e'er her Chariot flew
As Heav'n in Desarts rain'd the Bread of
Dew,

So free to Many, to Relations most,
You feed with Manna your own Israel-
Host.

With Crowds attended of your ancient

Race,

50

You seek the Champian-Sports, or Sylvan-
Chace :

With well-breath'd Beagles, you surround
the Wood,

Ev'n then, industrious of the Common Good:

How cou'd He stand, when, put to double And often have you brought the wily Fox Pain,

He must a Weaker than himself sustain ! Each might have stood perhaps; but each alone;

29 Two Wrestlers help to pull each other down.

To suffer for the Firstlings of the Flocks;
Chas'd ev'n amid the Folds; and made to

bleed,

Like Felons, where they did the murd'rous
Deed.

This fiery Game, your active Youth main-
tain'd:

TO JOHN DRIDEN. Text from the original and Not yet, by years extinguish'd, though

only contemporary edition, 1700.

8 Award] Award, 1700.

restrain'd:

Part must be left, a Fund when Foes invade;
And Part employ'd to roll the Watry Trade;
Ev'n Canaans happy Land, when worn with
Toil,

Requir'd a Sabbath-Year, to mend the
meagre Soil.

Good senators, (and such are you,) so give,

That Kings may be supply'd, the People thrive;

And He, when Want requires, is truly Wise, Who slights not Foreign Aids nor overbuys;

But, on our Native Strength, in time of

need, relies.

Ev'n Victors are by Victories undone ; Thus Hannibal, with Foreign Laurels won, To Carthage was recall'd, too late to keep his own.

While sore of Battel, while our Wounds are green,

Why shou'd we tempt the doubtful Dye
agen?

In Wars renew'd, uncertain of success,
Sure of a Share, as Umpires of the Peace: 170
A Patriot, both the King and Country
serves;

Prerogative, and Privilege preserves :

Of Each, our Laws the certain Limit show;

Munster was bought, we boast not the One must not ebb, nor t' other overflow: Betwixt the Prince and Parliament we stand;

Success;

140

Who fights for Gain, for greater, makes his
Peace.

Our Foes, compell'd by Need have Peace
embrac❜d:

The Peace both Parties want, is like to
last:

Which, if secure, securely we may trade;
Or, not secure, shou'd never have been made.
Safe in our selves, while on our selves we
stand,

The Sea is ours, and that defends the
Land.

Be, then, the Naval Stores the Nations
Care,

New Ships to build, and batter'd to repair.

Observe the War in ev'ry Annual Course; What has been done, was done with British Force.

151

When the Gauls came, one sole Dictator
sway'd.

Patriots, in Peace, assert the Peoples
Right,

With noble Stubbornness resisting Might:
No Lawless Mandates from the Court receive,
Nor lend by Force; but in a Body give.
Such was your gen'rous Grandsire; free to
grant

In Parliaments, that weigh'd their Prince's
Want :

But so tenacious of the Common Cause, 190
As not to lend the King against his Laws.
And, in a lothsom Dungeon doom'd to lie,
In Bonds retain'd his Birthright Liberty,
And shamed Oppression, till it set him free.)
O true Descendent of a Patriot Line,
Who, while thou shar'st their Lustre, lend'st
'em thine,

Vouchsafe this Picture of thy Soul to see;
Tis so far Good as it resembles thee:
The Beauties to th' Original I owe ;

199

135 are] Editors till Christie wrongly gave as Which, when I miss, my own Defects I show.