페이지 이미지



So close they follow, such wild order keep,
We think our selves awake, and are asleep ;
So softly death succeeded life in her,

She did but dream of Heaven, and she was there.

No pains she suffered, nor expired with noise ;
Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice;
As an old friend is beckoned to a feast,

And treated like a long familiar guest.
Her pre He took her as he found, but found her so,
paredness As one in hourly readiness to go;
to die.

Even on that day, in all her trim prepared,
As early notice she from Heaven had heard,
And some descending courtier* from above
Had given her timely warning to remove,

Or counselled her to dress the nuptial room,
She died For on that night the bridegroom was to come.
on Whit. He kept his hour, and found her where she lay
Clothed all in white, the livery of the day;

Scarce had she sinned in thought or word or act;
Unless omissions were to pass 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)
Looked like translation through the firmament,

Or like the fiery car on the third errand sent.t
A postrophe ( happy soul! if thou canst view from high,

340 to her soul. Where thou art all intelligence, all eye,

If looking up to God, or down to us,
Thou findst that any way be pervious,
Survey the ruins of thy house, and see
Thy widowed, 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,

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.

355 * The word courtier in this line was changed into courier by Broughton, who has been followed by all succeeding editors. In a note in the Wartons' edition courtier is treated as necessarily a misprint. Courtier is probably right. In Dryden's Prologue to the Duke of York, he speaks of “Heaven's Whitehall," and of the courtiers assembled there (p. 138). A courtier from Heaven is as probable as a courier from thence.

+ This is an obscure line. It probably refers to Elijah's ascension, on the appearance of "a chariot of fire and horses of fire," which parted him and Elisha, “and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven" (2 Kings ii. 11). In this case the two previous descents of fire from heaven at Elijah's call to consumę Ahaziah's messengers probably explain Dryden's expression, "third errand."

Epipho360 nema, or

close of the poem.


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:
Who, not by cares or wants or age deprest, *
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 thy self hadst no defence
From vice, but barely by departing hence.

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.



* This is an interesting reference to Dryden's own circumstances in the end of the year 1691, after he had lost his offices of Poet-Laureat and Historiographer Royal, and when there was no hope for him of regaining Court patronage. Lord Dorset's private munificence had probably compensated him for the loss of his salaries. There may have been some intention of defiance in this passage. He received a very handsome reward for this poem, and he was now certainly compelled to labour for profit.


MARK how the lark and linnet sing :

With rival notes
They strain their warbling throats

To welcome in the spring.

But in the close of night,
When Philomel begins her heavenly lay,

They cease their mutual spite,

Drink in her music with delight,
And listening and silent, silent and listening, listening and

silent, obey.

So ceased the rival crew, when Purcell came;
They sung no more, or only sung his fame :
Struck dumb, they all admired

The godlike man,
Alas! too soon retired,

As he too late began.
We beg not Hell our Orpheus to restore ;

Had he been there,

Their sovereign's fear

Had sent him back before.
The power of harmony too well they knew;
He long ere this had tuned their jarring sphere,

And left no Hell below.


The heavenly choir, who heard his notes from high,
Let down the scale of music from the sky;

They handed him along,
And all the way he taught, and all the way they sung.
Ye brethren of the lyre and tuneful voice,
Lament his lot; but at your own rejoice :
Now live secure, and linger out your days ;
The gods are pleased alone with Purcell's lays,

Nor know to mend their choice.


* Henry Purcell, the celebrated musician, died in 1695, at the early age of thirty-seven He had set to music several of the songs of Dryden's plays. "This funereal ode of Dryden was set to music by Dr. Blow. The text has here been corrected from the original publication with Dr. Blow's music. Line 9 has been restored ; in all modern editions it is printed,

“And listening silently obey." Line 13 has been always printed with the words "the godlike man" after "admired," the same words occurring in the next line. The words are struck out with a pen in the copy in the British Museum ; and as "admired" is clearly wanted to rhyme with "retired,” the addition was probably a printer's mistake.



Below this marble monument is laid
All that Heaven wants of this celestial maid.
Preserve, O sacred tomb, thy trust consigned,
The mould was made on purpose for the mind;
And she would lose, if at the latter day
One atom could be mixed with other clay.
Such were the features of her heavenly face;
Her limbs were formed with such harmonious grace :
So faultless was the frame, as if the whole
Had been an emanation of the soul,
Which her own inward symmetry revealed ;
And like a picture shone, in glass annealed ;
Or like the sun eclipsed, with shaded light;
Too piercing else to be sustained by sight.
Each thought was visible that rolled within,
As through a crystal case the figured hours are seen.
And Heaven did this transparent veil provide,
Because she had no guilty thoughts to hide.
All white, a virgin-saint, she sought the skies,
For marriage, though it sullies not, it dyes.
High though her wit, yet humble was her mind;
As if she could not, or she would not find
How much her worth transcended all her kind.
Yet she had learned so much of Heaven below,
That, when arrived, she scarce had more to know;
But only to refresh the former hint,
And read her Maker in a fairer print.
So pious, that she had no time to spare
For human thoughts, but seemed confined to prayer.
Yet in such charities she passed the day,
'Twas wondrous how she found an hour to pray.
A soul so calm, it knew not ebbs or flows,
Which passion could but curl, not discompose.
A female softness, with a manly mind;
A daughter duteous, and a sister kind;
In sickness patient, and in death resigned.

* This lady was Mrs. (Miss) Mary Frampton, who was buried in the Abbey Church at Bath. Dryden's lines are on her monument, with the following inscription :-" Here lies the body of Mary, third daughter of Richard Frampton, of Moreton in Dorsetshire, esquire ; and of Jane his wife, sole daughter of Sir Francis Cottington of Founthill in Wilts, who was born January 1, 1676, and died, after seven weeks' illness, on the 6th of September, 1698. This monument was erected by Catharine Frampton, her second sister and executrix, in testimony of her grief, affection, and gratitude." Some errors have crept into this poem in successive editions, which are here corrected: in line 6, with had become of; in line 18, thoughts, thought; in line 28, that, as; and in line 29, seemed, was. All the errors are to be found in Scott's edition. Mr. Holt White collated Derrick's text with the inscription at Bath. The poem is printed quite correctly in the “Annual Register" for 1761.



'Twas on a joyless and a gloomy morn,
Wet was the grass, and hung with pearls the thorn,
When Damon, who designed to pass the day
With hounds and horns, and chase the flying prey,
Rose early from his bed; but soon he found
The welkin pitched 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 ;
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 filled with gathering rain :
“ The promise of the day not only crossed,
“ But even the spring, the spring it self is lost.
“ Amyntas ”-oh! he could not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for presaging Damon guessed.
Equal with Heaven young Damon loved the boy,
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 assurance that his fears were true ;
Too well the envy of the gods 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,
“ The morning did her cheerful light diffuse,
“ But see how suddenly she changed her face,
“ And brought on clouds and rains, the day's disgrace :
“ Just such, Amyntas, was thy promised race.
“What charms adorned thy youth, where nature smiled, 35
" 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 snatched away,
“ Ere mortals all his beauties could survey,
“ Just like the flower that buds and withers in a day."

[ocr errors]

* Nothing appears to be known of the history of this poem, to whom it refers, or when it was composed. It was published after Dryden's death in the fifth volume of " Miscellany Poems," in 1704

« 이전계속 »