The Poetical Works of John Dryden Volume Ii Part 10

Anchises look'd not with so pleased a face, In numbering o'er his future Roman race, And marshalling the heroes of his name, As, in their order, next to light they came. 200 Nor Cybele, with half so kind an eye, Survey'd her sons and daughters of the sky; Proud, shall I say, of her immortal fruit?

As far as pride with heavenly minds may suit.

Her pious love excell'd to all she bore; New objects only multiplied it more.

And as the chosen found the pearly grain As much as every vessel could contain; As in the blissful vision each shall share As much of glory as his soul can bear; 210 So did she love, and so dispense her care.

Her eldest thus, by consequence, was best, As longer cultivated than the rest.

The babe had all that infant care beguiles, And early knew his mother in her smiles: But when dilated organs let in day To the young soul, and gave it room to play, At his first aptness, the maternal love Those rudiments of reason did improve: The tender age was pliant to command; 220 Like wax it yielded to the forming hand: True to the artificer, the labour'd mind With ease was pious, generous, just, and kind; Soft for impression, from the first prepared, Till virtue with long exercise grew hard: With every act confirm'd, and made at last So durable as not to be effaced, It turn'd to habit; and, from vices free, Goodness resolved into necessity.

Thus fix'd she virtue's image, that's her own, 230 Till the whole mother in the children shone; For that was their perfection: she was such, They never could express her mind too much.

So unexhausted her perfections were, That, for more children, she had more to spare; For souls unborn, whom her untimely death Deprived of bodies, and of mortal breath; And (could they take the impressions of her mind) Enough still left to sanctify her kind.

Then wonder not to see this soul extend 240 The bounds, and seek some other self, a friend: As swelling seas to gentle rivers glide, To seek repose, and empty out the tide; So this full soul, in narrow limits pent, Unable to contain her, sought a vent To issue out, and in some friendly breast Discharge her treasures, and securely rest: To unbosom all the secrets of her heart, Take good advice, but better to impart: For 'tis the bliss of friends.h.i.+p's holy state, 250 To mix their minds, and to communicate; Though bodies cannot, souls can penetrate.

Fix'd to her choice, inviolably true, And wisely choosing, for she chose but few.

Some she must have; but in no one could 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 palace far: Thus her friend's heart her country dwelling was A sweet retirement to a coa.r.s.er place; 260 Where pomp and ceremonies enter'd not, Where greatness was shut out, and business well forgot.

This is the imperfect draught; but short as far As the true height and bigness of a star Exceeds the measures of the astronomer.

She s.h.i.+nes above, we know; but in what place, How near the throne, and Heaven's imperial face, By our weak optics is but vainly guess'd; Distance and alt.i.tude conceal the rest.

Though all these rare endowments of the mind 270 Were in a narrow s.p.a.ce of life confined, The figure was with full perfection crown'd; Though not so large an orb, as truly round.

As when in glory, through the public place, The spoils of conquer'd nations were to pa.s.s, And but one day for triumph was allow'd, The consul was constrain'd his pomp to crowd; And so the swift procession hurried on, That all, though not distinctly, might be shown: So in the straiten'd bounds of life confined, 280 She gave but glimpses of her glorious mind: And mult.i.tudes of virtues pa.s.s'd along; Bach pressing foremost in the mighty throng, Ambitious to be seen, and then make room For greater mult.i.tudes that were to come.

Yet unemploy'd no minute slipp'd away; Moments were precious in so short a stay.

The haste of heaven to have her was so great, That some were single acts, though each complete; But every act stood ready to repeat. 290

Her fellow-saints with busy care will look For her bless'd name in Fate's eternal book; And, pleased to be outdone, with joy will see Numberless virtues, endless charity: But more will wonder at so short an age, To find a blank beyond the thirtieth page; And with a pious fear begin to doubt The piece imperfect, and the rest torn out.

But 'twas her Saviour's time; and, could there be A copy near the Original, 'twas she. 300

As precious gums are not for lasting fire, They but perfume the temple, and expire: So was she soon exhaled, and vanish'd hence; A short sweet odour, of a vast expense.

She vanish'd, we can scarcely say she died; For but a now did heaven and earth divide: She pa.s.s'd serenely with a single breath; This moment perfect health, the next was death: One sigh did her eternal bliss a.s.sure; So little penance needs, when souls are almost pure. 310 As gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue; Or, one dream pa.s.s'd, we slide into a new; So close they follow, such wild order keep, We think ourselves awake, and are asleep: So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

No pains she suffer'd, nor expired with noise; Her soul was whisper'd out with G.o.d's still voice; As an old friend is beckon'd to a feast, And treated like a long-familiar guest. 320 He took her as He found, but found her so, As one in hourly readiness to go: Even on that day, in all her trim prepared; As early notice she from heaven had heard, And some descending courier from above Had given her timely warning to remove; Or counsell'd her to dress the nuptial room, For on that night the Bridegroom was to come.

He kept His hour, and found her where she lay Clothed all in white, the livery of the day. 330 Scarce had she sinn'd in thought, or word, or act; Unless omissions were to pa.s.s for fact: That hardly death a consequence could draw, To make her liable to nature's law: And, that she died, we only have to show The mortal part of her she left below: The rest, so smooth, so suddenly she went, Look'd like translation through the firmament; Or, like the fiery car, on the third errand[37] sent.

O happy soul! if thou canst view from high, 340 Where thou art all intelligence, all eye; If, looking up to G.o.d, or down to us, Thou find'st that any way be pervious, Survey the ruins of thy house, and see Thy widow'd, and thy orphan family: Look on thy tender pledges left behind; And, if thou canst a vacant minute find From heavenly joys, that interval afford To thy sad children, and thy mourning lord.

See how they grieve, mistaken in their love, 350 And shed a beam of comfort from above; Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear, A transient view of thy full glories there; That they with moderate sorrow may sustain And mollify their losses in thy gain: Or else divide the grief; for such thou wert, That should not all relations bear a part, It were enough to break a single heart.

Let this suffice: nor thou, great saint, refuse This humble tribute of no vulgar Muse: 360 Who, not by cares, or wants, or age depress'd, Stems a wild deluge with a dauntless breast; And dares to sing thy praises in a clime Where vice triumphs, and virtue is a crime; Where even to draw the picture of thy mind, Is satire on the most of human kind: Take it, while yet 'tis praise; before my rage, Unsafely just, break loose on this bad age; So bad, that thou thyself hadst no defence From vice, but barely by departing hence. 370

Be what, and where thou art: to wish thy place, Were, in the best, presumption more than grace.

Thy relics (such thy works of mercy are) Have, in this poem, been my holy care.

As earth thy body keeps, thy soul the sky, So shall this verse preserve thy memory; For thou shalt make it live, because it sings of thee.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 37: 'Third errand:' Enoch and Elias were the first two.]

V.

ON THE DEATH OF AMYNTAS.

A PASTORAL ELEGY.

'Twas on a joyless and a gloomy morn, Wet was the gra.s.s, and hung with pearls the thorn; When Damon, who design'd to pa.s.s the day With hounds and horns, and chase the flying prey, Rose early from his bed; but soon he found The welkin pitch'd with sullen clouds around, An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.

Thus while he stood, and, sighing, did survey The fields, and cursed the ill omens of the day, He saw Menalcas come with heavy pace; 10 Wet were his eyes, and cheerless was his face: He wrung his hands, distracted with his care, And sent his voice before him from afar.

Return, he cried, return, unhappy swain!

The spungy clouds are fill'd with gathering rain: The promise of the day not only cross'd, But even the spring, the spring itself is lost.

Amyntas--oh!--he could not speak the rest, Nor needed, for presaging Damon guess'd.

Equal with heaven young Damon loved the boy, 20 The boast of nature, both his parents' joy, His graceful form revolving in his mind; So great a genius, and a soul so kind, Gave sad a.s.surance that his fears were true; Too well the envy of the G.o.ds he knew: For when their gifts too lavishly are placed, Soon they repent, and will not make them last.

For sure it was too bountiful a dole, The mother's features, and the father's soul.

Then thus he cried; the morn bespoke the news: 30 The morning did her cheerful light diffuse: But see how suddenly she changed her face, And brought on clouds and rain, the day's disgrace!

Just such, Amyntas, was thy promised race: What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature smiled, And more than man was given us in a child!

His infancy was ripe: a soul sublime In years so tender that prevented time: Heaven gave him all at once; then s.n.a.t.c.h'd away, Ere mortals all his beauties could survey: 40 Just like the flower that buds and withers in a day.

MENALCAS.

The mother, lovely, though with grief oppress'd, Reclined his dying head upon her breast.

The mournful family stood all around; One groan was heard, one universal sound: All were in floods of tears and endless sorrow drown'd.

So dire a sadness sat on every look, Even Death repented he had given the stroke.

He grieved his fatal work had been ordain'd But promised length of life to those who yet remain'd. 50 The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace, It seems, had bribed him to prolong their s.p.a.ce.

The father bore it with undaunted soul, Like one who durst his destiny control: Yet with becoming grief he bore his part, Resign'd his son, but not resign'd his heart: Patient as Job; and may he live to see, Like him, a new increasing family!

DAMON.

Such is my wish, and such my prophecy.

For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould remains; 60 Long may she exercise her fruitful pains!

But, ah! with better hap, and bring a race More lasting, and endued with equal grace!

Equal she may, but further none can go: For he was all that was exact below.

MENALCAS.

Damon! behold yon breaking purple cloud; Hear'st thou not hymns and songs divinely loud?

There mounts Amyntas; the young cherubs play About their G.o.dlike mate, and sing him on his way!

He cleaves the liquid air, behold he flies, 70 And every moment gains upon the skies!

The new-come guest admires the ethereal state, The sapphire portal, and the golden gate; And now admitted in the s.h.i.+ning throng, He shows the pa.s.sport which he brought along: His pa.s.sport is his innocence and grace, Well known to all the natives of the place.

Now sing, ye joyful angels, and admire Your brother's voice that conies to mend your quire Sing you,--while endless tears our eyes bestow: 80 For like Amyntas none is left below.

VI.