(and I amongst the rest) that their own ocular Observations would have discover'd more perfections, at least others, than have been deliver'd to them: Though I have receiv'd mine from the best hands, that is, from Persons who neither want a just Understanding of my Lady's Worth, nor a due Veneration for her Memory. Doctor Donn the greatest Wit, though not the best Poet, of our Nation, acknowledges that he had never seen Mrs. Drury, whom he has made immortal in his admirable Anniversaries; I have had the same fortune; though I have not succeeded to the same Genius. However, I have followed his footsteps in the Design of his Panegyrick, which was to raise an Emulation in the living, to Copy out the Example of the dead. And therefore it was, that I once intended to have call'd this poem, The Pattern: And though, on a second consideration, I chang'd 10 the Title into the Name of that Illustrious Person, yet the Design continues, and Eleonora is still the Pattern of Charity, Devotion, and Humility; of the best Wife, the best Mother, and the best of Friends. And now, my Lord, though I have endeavour'd to answer Your Commands, yet I cou'd not answer it to the World nor to my Conscience, if I gave not Your Lordship my Testimony of being the best Husband now living: I say my Testimony only: For the praise of it, is given You by Your self. They who despise the Rules of Virtue both in their Practice and their Morals, will think this a very trivial Commendation. But I think it the peculiar happiness of the Countess of Abingdon, to have been so truly lov'd by you, while she was living, and so gratefully honour'd, after she was dead. Few there are who have either had, or cou'd have 20 such a loss; and yet fewer who carried their Love and Constancy beyond the Grave. The exteriours of Mourning, a decent Funeral, and black Habits, are the usual stints of Common Husbands and perhaps their Wives deserve no better than to be mourn'd with Hypocrisie, and forgot with ease. But You have distinguish'd Yourself from ordinary Lovers, by a real and lasting grief for the Deceas'd, And by endeavouring to raise for her the most durable Monument, which is that of Verse. And so it wou'd have proved, if the Workman had been equal to the Work; and Your Choice of the Artificer as happy as Your Design. Yet, as Phidias, when he had made the Statue of Minerva, cou'd not forbear to ingrave his own Name, as Author of the Piece: so give me leave to hope, that, by subscribing mine to this Poem, I may live by the Goddess, and transmit my Name to Posterity by the memory of Hers. 'Tis 30 no flattery to assure Your Lordship, that she is remember'd in the present Age, by all who have had the Honour of her Conversation and Acquaintance; and that I have never been in any Company since the news of her death was first brought me, where they have not extoll'd her Virtues; and even spoken the same things of her in Prose which I have done in Verse. I therefore think myself oblig'd to thank Your Lordship for the Commission which You have given me: How I have acquitted my self of it, must be left to the Opinion of the World, in spite of any Protestation, which I can enter against the present Age, as Incompetent, or Corrupt Judges. For my Comfort, they are but Englishmen, and, as such, if they Think Ill of me to Day, they are inconstant enough to Think Well of me to Morrow. And, after all, I have not much to thank my Fortune that I was born amongst them. The Good of both 40 Sexes are so few, in England, that they stand like Exceptions against General Rules: And though one of them has deserv'd a greater Commendation, than I cou'd give her, they have taken care, that I shou'd not tire my Pen, with frequent exercise on the like Subject; that Praises, like Taxes, should be appropriated; and left almost as Individual as the Person. They say, my Talent is Satyre: if it be so, 'tis a fruitful Age; and there is an extraordinary Crop to gather. But a single hand is insufficient for such a Harvest: They have sown the Dragons Teeth themselves; and it is but just they shou'd reap each other in Lampoons. You, my Lord, who have the Character of Honour, though 'tis not my happiness to know You, may stand aside with the small Remainders of the English Nobility, truly such, and, unhurt your selves, behold the mad Combat. If I have pleas'd You and some few others, I have obtain'd my 50 nd. You see I have disabled my self, like an Elected Speaker of the House; yet, like him, 25 Deceas'd,] Deceas'd. 1692. I have undertaken the Charge, and find the Burden sufficiently recompenc'd by the Honour. Be pleas'd to accept of these my Unworthy Labours, this Paper Monument; and let her Pious Memory, which I am sure is Sacred to You, not only plead the Pardon of my many Faults, but gain me Your Protection, which is ambitiously sought by, MY LORD, Your Lordship's Most Obedient Servant, John Dryden. ELEONORA : A | PANEGYRICAL POEM. Dedicated to the | MEMORY | OF THE | Late Countess of ABINGDON. As, when some Great and Gracious Monarch | Of her Five Talents, other five she made; Heav'n, that had largely giv'n, was largely pay'd; And, in few lives, in wondrous few, we find Want passed for Merit, at her open door : All, in the compass of her Sphear, she drew : He who cou'd touch her Garment, was as sure, 42 As the first Christians of th' Apostles cure. Want and Diseases fled before her Name. For zeal like hers, her Servants were too slow; That she, her self, might fear her wanting She was the first, where need requir'd, first. to go, 50 Her self the Foundress, and Attendant too.. ELEONORA. Text from the original edition, 1692, except as noted. 27 Fortune] Fortune, 1692. chu Sure she had Guests sometimes to entertain, Guests in disguise, of her Great Master's Train : Her Lord himself might come, for ought we know; Since in a Servant's form he liv'd below; Beneath her Roof, he might be pleased to stay: Or some benighted Angel, in his way In its best work of Mercy, think it there, 60 Yet was she not profuse; but fear'd to wast, And wisely manag'd, that the stock might last; That all might be supply'd; and she not grieve of her prudent management. not to When crowds appear'd, she had relieve. Which to prevent, she still increas'd her store; Laid up, and spar'd, that she might give the more: 70 So Pharaoh, or some Greater king than he, In his Oeconomy, and bounds his gift: Of which our Earthly Dunghil is the worst. Now, as all Vertues keep the middle line, Yet somewhat more to one extreme incline, Such was her Soul; abhorring Avarice, Bounteous, but, almost bounteous to a Vice: Had she giv'n more, it had Profusion been, And turn'd the excess of Goodness, into Sin. For to be conscious of what all admire, 100 And not be vain, advances Vertue high'r : But still she found, or rather thought she, found, r Her own worth wanting, others' to abound: Ascrib'd above their due to ev'ry one, Unjust and scanty to her self alone. Of Such her Devotion was, as might give rules Speculation, to disputing of her And teach us equally the Scales to hold Business might shorten, not disturb her Heav'n had the best, if not the greater share. Her ev'ry day was Sabbath; Only free I 20 Such Sabbaths as that one she now enjoys; Ev'n that perpetual one, which she employs, (For such vicissitudes in Heav'n there are) In Praise alternate, and alternate Pray'r. 93 Cedars as far] Cedars, as far, 1692. 100 conscious] consc'ious 1692. 114 life] life, 1692. Yet not the Sun, but his Reflection there, So let us view her here, in what she was, And take her Image in this watry Glass: Yet look not ev'ry Lineament to see; 140 Some will be cast in shades ; and some will be So lamely drawn, you scarcely know, 'tis she. For where such various Vertues we recite,) 'Tis like the Milky-Way, all over bright, But sown so thick with Stars, 'tis undistinguish'd light. Her Vertue, not her Vertues let us call; For one Heroick comprehends 'em all: One, as a Constellation is but one; Though 'tis a Train of Stars, that, rolling on, Rise in their turn, and in the Zodiack run, Everin Motion; now'tis Faith ascends, 151 Now Hope, now Charity, that upward tends, And downwards with diffusive Good, descends. As in Perfumes compos'd with Art and 'Tis hard to say what Scent is uppermost ; No single Virtue we cou'd most commend, For she was all, in that supreme degree, That, as no one prevail'd, so all was she. The sev'ral parts lay hidden in the Piece; Th' Occasion but exerted that, or this. Not aw'd to Duty by superior sway; Nor was it with Ingratitude return'd; His Passion still improv'd: he lov'd so fast When he to Heav'n entirely must restore That Love, that Heart, where he went halves before. 190 As much as ev'ry Vessel could contain; Soft for Impression, from the first, prepar'd, It turned to Habit; and, from Vices free, Goodness resolv'd into Necessity. Thus fix'd she Virtue's Image, that's her 230 own, Till the whole Mother in the Children shone; For Souls unborn, whom her untimely death Enough still left to sanctifie her kind. 239 Then wonder not to see this Soul extend The bounds, and seek some other self, a Friend: As swelling Seas to gentle Rivers glide, Of her Friend ship. To seek repose, and empty out the Tyde; For 'tis the bliss of Friendship's holy state To mix their Minds, and to communicate; Though Bodies cannot, Souls can pene trate. Fixt to her choice; inviolably true; And wisely chusing, for she chose but few. Some she must have; but in no one cou'd find A Tally fitted for so large a Mind. The Souls of Friends like Kings in Progress are ; Still in their own, though from the Pallace far: Thus her Friend's Heart her Country Dwelling was, A sweet Retirement to a courser place: 260 Where Pomp and Ceremonies enter'd not; Where Greatness was shut out, and Buis'ness well forgot. This is th' imperfect draught; but short as far As the true height and bigness of a Star Exceeds the Measures of th' Astronomer. She shines above, we know, but in what place, How near the Throne, and Heav'ns Imperial Face, By our weak Opticks is but vainly ghest ; Were in a narrow space of life Reflections on the shortness of her life. |