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Name more proper for them, than that of Auditours. Or else Horace is in the wrong, when he commends Lucilius for it. But these common places I mean to treat at greater leisure. In the mean time, submitting that little I have said, to your Lordship's Approbation, or your Censure, and chusing rather to Entertain you this way, as you are a judge of writing, than to oppress your Modesty with other Commendations; which, though they are your due, yet wou'd not be equally receiv'd, in this Satirical, and Censorious Age. That which cannot without Injury be deny'd to you, is the easiness of your Conversation, far from Affectation or Pride: not denying even to Enemies their just Praises. And this, if I wou'd dwell on any Theme of this Nature, is no vulgar Commendation to your Lordship. Without Flattery, my Lord, you have 10 it in your Nature, to be a Patron and Encourager of Good Poets, but your Fortune has not yet put into your hands the opportunity of expressing it. What you will be hereafter, may be more than guessed, by what you are at present. You maintain the Character of a Nobleman, without that Haughtiness which generally attends too many of the Nobility, and when you converse with Gentlemen, you forget not that you have been of their Order. You are Marryed to the Daughter of a King, who, amongst her other high Perfections, has deriv'd from him a Charming Behaviour, a winning Goodness, and a Majestick Person. The Muses and the Graces are the Ornaments of your Family. While the Muse sings, the Grace accompanies her Voice: even the Servants of the. Muses have sometimes had the Happiness to hear her; and to receive their Inspirations 20 from her.

I will not give my self the liberty of going farther; for 'tis so sweet to wander in a pleasing way, that I shou'd never arrive at my Journeys end. To keep my self from being belated in my Letter, and tiring your Attention, I must return to the place where I was setting out. I humbly Dedicate to your Lordship, my own Labours in this Miscellany: At the same time, not arrogating to myself the Priviledge of Inscribing to you the Works of others who are join'd with me in this undertaking, over which I can pretend no right. Your lady and You have done me the favour to hear me Read my Translations of Ovid: And you both seem'd not to be displeas'd with them. Whether it be the partiality of an Old Man to his Youngest Child, I know not: But they appear to me the best of all my 30 Endeavours in this kind. Perhaps this Poet is more easie to be Translated than some others, whom I have lately attempted: Perhaps too, he was more according to my Genius. He is certainly more palatable to the Reader, than any of the Roman Wits, though some of them are more lofty, some more Instructive, and others more Correct. He had Learning enough to make him equal in the best. But as his Verse came easily, he wanted the toy! of Application to amend it. He is often luxuriant both in his Fancy and Expressions, and as it has lately been observ'd, not always Natural. If Wit be pleasantry, he has it to excess; but if it be propriety, Lucretius, Horace, and, above all, Virgil are his Superiours. I have said so much of him already, in my Preface to his Heroical Epistles, that there remains little to be added in this place: for my own part, I have endeavoured to Copy his Character 40 what I cou'd in this Translation, even, perhaps, farther than I shou'd have done; to his very faults. Mr. Chapman, in his Translation of Homer, professes to have done it somewhat paraphrastically, and that on set purpose; his Opinion being, that a good Poet is to be Translated in that manner. I remember not the Reason which he gives for it: But I suppose it is, for fear of omitting any of his Excellencies: sure I am, that if it be a Fault, 'tis much more pardonable than that of those, who run into the other extream of a litteral and close Translation, where the Poet is confin'd so streightly to his Author's Words, that he wants elbow-room to express his Elegancies. He leaves him obscure; he leaves him Prose, where he found him Verse. And no better than thus has Ovid been served by the so much admir'd Sandys. This is at least the Idea which I have remaining 50 of his Translation; for I never Read him since I was a Boy. They who take him upon

26 Priviledge of Inscribing to you] Priviledge, of Inscribing to you, 1693.

Content, from the Praises which their Fathers gave him, may inform their Judgment by Reading him again, and see (if they understand the Original) what is become of Ovid's Poetry, in his Version; whether it be not all, or the greatest part of it, evaporated: but this proceeded from the wrong Judgment of the Age in which he Liv'd. They neither knew good Verse nor lov'd it! they were Scholars, 'tis true, but they were Pedants. And for a just Reward of their Pedantick pains, all their Translations want to be Translated, into English.

If I flatter not my self, or if my Friends have not Flatter'd me, I have given my Author's Sense, for the must part truly: for to mistake sometimes is incident to all Men: And not 10 to follow the Dutch Commentatours always, may be forgiven to a Man who thinks them in the general, heavy gross-witted Fellows, fit only to gloss on their own dull Poets. But I leave a farther Satire on their Wit, till I have a better opportunity to shew how much I Love and Honour them. I have likewise attempted to restore Ovid to his Native sweetness, easiness, and smoothness; and to give my Poetry a kind of Cadence, and, as we call it, a run of Verse, as like the Original, as the English can come up to the Latin. As he seldom uses any Synalephas, so I have endeavour'd to avoid them, as often as I cou'd: I have likewise given him his own turns, both on the Words and on the Thought; which I cannot say are inimitable, because I have Copyed them; and so may others, if they use the same diligence: But certainly they are wonderfully Graceful in this Poet. Since 20 I have Nam'd the Synalepha, which is the cutting off one Vowel, immediately before another, I will give an Example of it from Chapman's Homer, which lies before me; for the benefit of those who understand not the Latine Prosodia. 'Tis in the first Line of the Argument to the First Iliad.

Apollo's Priest to th' Argive Fleet doth bring, &c.

There we see he makes it not the Argive, but th' Argive, to shun the shock of the two Vowels, immediately following each other; but in his Second Argument, in the same Page, he gives a bad example of the quite contrary kind:

Alpha the Pray'r of Chryses sings:

The Army's Plague, the Strife of Kings.

30 In these words the Armies, the ending with a Vowel, and Armies beginning with another Vowel, without cutting off the first, which by it had been th' Armies, there remains a most horrible ill-sounding gap betwixt those Words. I cannot say that I have everywhere observ'd the Rule of the Synalepha in my Translation; but wheresoever I have not, 'tis a fault in sound: The French and Italians have made it an inviolable Precept in their versification; therein following the severe example of the Latin Poets. Our Countrymen have not yet Reform'd their Poetry so far; but content themselves with following the Licentious practice of the Greeks; who, though they sometimes use Synalepha's, yet make no difficulty very often, to sound one Vowel upon another; as Homer does in the very first line of Alpha. Mĥviv äeide ☺eà, Пnλniádew 'Axıλñ. 'Tis true, indeed, that in 4o the second line in these words μυρί' Αχαιοίς, and ἄλγε ἔθηκε, the Synalepha in revenge is twice observed. But it becomes us, for the sake of Euphony, rather Musas colere severiores, with the Romans, than to give into the looseness of the Grecians.

I have tir'd my self, and have been summon'd by the Press to send away this Dedication, otherwise I had expos'd some other faults, which are daily committed by our English Poets; which, with care and observation, might be amended. For, after all, our Language is both Copious, Significant, and Majestical, and might be reduc'd into a more harmonious sound. But, for want of Publick Encouragement, in this Iron Age, we are so far from

39 Myviv] Mývev 1693. This error has been carefully preserved by the editors.

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making any progress in the improvement of our Tongue, that in few years, we shall Speak and Write as Barbarously as our Neighbours.

Notwithstanding my haste, I cannot forbear to tell your Lordship, that there are two fragments of Homer Translated in this Miscellany; one by Mr. Congreve (whom I cannot mention without the Honour which is due to his Excellent Parts, and that entire Affection which I bear him ;) and the other by my self. Both the Subjects are pathetical, and I am sure my Friend has added to the Tenderness which he found in the Original, and, without Flattery, surpass'd his Author. Yet I must needs say this in reference to Homer, that he is much more capable of exciting the Manly Passions than those of Grief and Pity. To cause Admiration, is indeed the proper and adequate design of an Epick Poem: and 10 in that he has excell'd even Virgil. Yet, without presuming to Arraign our Master, I may venture to affirm, that he is somewhat too Talkative, and more than somewhat too digressive. This is so manifest, that it cannot be deny'd, in that little parcel which I have Translated, perhaps too literally: There Andromache in the midst of her Concernment, and Fright for Hector, runs off her Biass, to tell him a Story of her Pedigree, and of the lamentable Death of her Father, her Mother, and her seven Brothers. The Devil was in Hector if he knew not all this matter, as well as she who told it him; for she had been his Bed-fellow for many Years together: and if he knew it, then it must be confess'd, that Homer in this long digression, has rather given us his own Character, than that of the Fair Lady whom he Paints. His Dear Friends the Com- 20 mentators, who never fail him at a pinch, will needs excuse him, by making the present Sorrow of Andromache, to occasion the remembrance of all the past: But others think that she had enough to do with that Grief which now oppress'd her, without running for assistance to her Family. Virgil, I am confident, wou'd have omitted such a work of supererrogation. But Virgil had the Gift of expressing much in little, and sometimes in silence For though he yielded much to Homer in Invention, he more Excell'd him in his Admirable Judgment. He drew the Passion of Dido for Eneas, in the most lively and most natural Colours imaginable. Homer was ambitious enough of moving pity; for he has attempted twice on the same subject of Hector's death: first, when Priam and Hecuba beheld his Corps, which was drag'd after the chariot of Achilles; and then in the 30 Lamentation which was made over him, when his Body was redeem d by Priam; and the same Persons again bewail his death, with a Chorus of others to help the cry. But if this last excite Compassion in you, as I doubt not but it will, you are more oblig'd to the Translator than the Poet. For Homer, as I observ'd before, can move rage better than he can pity: He stirs up the irascible appetite, as our Philosophers call it; he provokes to Murther, and the destruction of God's Images; he forms and equips those ungodly Mankillers, whom we Poets, when we flatter them, call Heroes; a race of Men who can never enjoy quiet in themselves, 'till they have taken it from all the World. This is Homer's Commendation, and such as it is, the Lovers of Peace, or at least of more moderate Heroism, will never Envy him. But let Homer and Virgil contend for the Prize of Honour, betwixt 40 themselves, I am satisfied they will never have a third Concurrent. I wish Mr. Congreve had the leisure to Translate him, and the World the good Nature and Justice to Encourage him in that Noble Design, of which he is more capable than any Man I know. The Earl of Mulgrave and Mr. Waller, two the best Judges of our Age, have assured me, that they cou'd never read over the Translation of Chapman, without incredible Pleasure and extreme Transport. This Admiration of theirs must needs proceed from the Author himself: For the Translator has thrown him down as low, as harsh Numbers, improper English, and a monstrous length of Verse cou'd carry him. What then wou'd he appear in the Harmonious Version of one of the best Writers, Living in a much better Age than was the last? I mean for versification, and the Art of Numbers: for in the Drama we 50 have not arriv'd to the pitch of Shakespear and Ben Johnson. But here, my Lord, I am 42 Justice to] Justice, to 1693.

36 Man killers] Man killers 1693.

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forc'd to break off abruptly, without endeavouring at a Compliment in the close. This Miscellany is, without dispute, one of the best of the kind, which has hitherto been extant in our Tongue. At least, as Sir Samuel Tuke has said before me, a Modest Man may praise what is not his own. My Fellows have no need of any Protection, but I humbly recommend my part of it, as much as it deserves, to your Patronage and Acceptance, and all the rest of your Forgiveness. I am,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's most Obedient Servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

THE FIRST BOOK

OF

Ovid's Metamorphoses.

OF Bodies chang'd to various Forms I sing: Ye Gods, from whom these Miracles did spring,

Inspire my Numbers with Coelestial heat; Till I my long laborious Work compleat; And add perpetual Tenour to my Rhimes, Deduc'd from Nature's Birth, to Cæsar's Times.

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Before the Seas, and this Terrestrial Ball, And Heav'ns high Canopy, that covers all, One was the Face of Nature, if a Face; Rather a rude and indigested Mass: A lifeless Lump, unfashion'd, and unfram'd; Of jarring Seeds; and justly Chaos nam'd. No Sun was lighted up the World to view; No Moon did yet her blunted Horns renew: Nor yet was Earth suspended in the Skye; Nor, pois'd, did on her own Foundations lye: Nor Seas about the Shoars their Arms had thrown ;

But Earth and Air and Water were in one. Thus Air was void of Light, and Earth unstable,

And Waters dark Abyss unnavigable.

20

No certain Form on any was imprest;
All were confus'd, and each disturb'd the
rest.

For hot and cold were in one Body fixt,
And soft with hard, and light with heavy

mixt.

But God, or Nature, while they thus contend,

To these intestine Discords put an end. Then Earth from Air, and Seas from Earth were driv'n,

And

/grosser Air sunk from Ethereal Heav'n.

Thus disembroil'd, they take their proper) place;

The next of Kin contiguously embrace; 30
And Foes are sunder'd by a larger space.
The force of Fire ascended first on high,
And took its dwelling in the vaulted Skie :
Then Air succeeds, in lightness next to
Fire:

Whose Atoms from unactive Earth retire. Earth sinks beneath, and draws a numerous throng

Of pondrous, thick, unweildy Seeds along.
About her Coasts, unruly Waters roar,
And, rising on a Ridge, insult the Shoar.
Thus when the God, what ever God was he,
Had form'd the whole, and made the parts
agree,

41

That no unequal portions might be found,
He moulded Earth into a spacious round:
Then with a Breath, he gave the Winds to
blow;

And bad the congregated Waters flow.
He adds the running Springs, and standing
Lakes;

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, I. Text from the And bounding Banks for winding Rivers original of 1693.

makes.

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With Rocky Mountains, and extends the Plains.

And as five Zones th' Ethereal Regions bind,

Five Correspondent, are to Earth assign'd: The Sun, with Rays directly darting down, Fires all beneath, and fries the middle Zone: The two beneath the distant Poles complain Of endless Winter, and perpetual Rain. Betwixt th' extreams, two happier Climates hold

The Temper that partakes of Hot and Cold. The Feilds of liquid Air, inclosing all, 60 Surround the Compass of this Earthly Ball: The lighter parts lie next the Fires above; The grosser near the watry Surface move: Thick Clouds are spread, and Storms engender there,

And Thunders Voice, which wretched Mortals fear,

And Winds that on their Wings cold Winter bear.

Nor were those blustring Brethren left at large,

On Seas and Shoars their fury to discharge:

Bound as they are, and circumscrib'd in place,

They rend the World, resistless, where they

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The Stars, no longer overlaid with weight, Exert their Heads from underneath the Mass,

And upward shoot, and kindle as they pass And with diffusive Light, adorn their Heav'nly place.

91

Then, every void of Nature to supply,
With Forms of Gods he fills the vacant Skie :
New Herds of Beasts he sends the Plains to
share;

New Colonies of Birds, to people Air;
And to their Oozy Beds the finny Fish repair..
A Creature of a more Exalted Kind
Was wanting yet, and then was Man
design'd:

Conscious of Thought, of more capacious
Breast,

For Empire form'd, and fit to rule the rest :
Whether with particles of Heav'nly Fire 101
The God of Nature did his Soul Inspire ;
Or Earth, but new divided from the Skie,
And, pliant, still, retain'd th' Ethereal
Energy:

Which Wise Prometheus temper'd into paste,
And mixt with living Streams, the Godlike
Image cast.

Thus, while the mute Creation downward bend

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