 | Poems upon several occasions |  |
TO Mr. DRYDEN, On his PLAY, call'd, Troilus and Cressida; Or, Truth found too Late.
And will our Master Poet then admit
A young Beginner in the Trade of Wit,
To bring a plain and rustick Muse, to wait
On His in all her glorious Pomp and State?
Can an unknown, unheard of, private Name,
Add any Lustre to so bright a Fame?
No! sooner Planets to the Sun may give
That Light which they themselves from him derive.
Nor could my sickly Fancy entertain
A Thought so foolish, or a Pride so vain.
But as when Kings through Crowds in Triumph go,
The meanest Wretch that gazes at the show,
Though to that Pomp his Voice can add no more,
Than when we Drops into the Ocean pour,
Has leave his Tongue in Praises to employ:
(Th'accepted Language of officious Joy:)
So I, in loud Applauses may reveal
To you, great King of Verse, my Loyal Zeal,
May tell with what Majestic Grace and Miene
Your Muse displays her self in every Scene;
In what rich Robes she has fair Cressid drest,
And with what gentle Fires inflam'd her Breast.
How when those fading Eyes her Aid implor'd,
She all their sparkling Lustre has restor'd,
Added more Charms, fresh Beauties on 'em shed,
And to new Youth recall'd the lovely Maid.
How nobly she the Royal Brothers draws;
How great their Quarrel, and how great their Cause:
How justly rais'd! and by what just Degrees,
In a sweet Calm does the rough Tempest cease!
Envy not now the God-like Roman's Rage;
Hector and Troilus, Darlings of our Age,
Shall Hand in Hand with Brutus tread the Stage.
A young Beginner in the Trade of Wit,
To bring a plain and rustick Muse, to wait
On His in all her glorious Pomp and State?
421
Add any Lustre to so bright a Fame?
No! sooner Planets to the Sun may give
That Light which they themselves from him derive.
Nor could my sickly Fancy entertain
A Thought so foolish, or a Pride so vain.
But as when Kings through Crowds in Triumph go,
The meanest Wretch that gazes at the show,
Though to that Pomp his Voice can add no more,
Than when we Drops into the Ocean pour,
Has leave his Tongue in Praises to employ:
(Th'accepted Language of officious Joy:)
So I, in loud Applauses may reveal
To you, great King of Verse, my Loyal Zeal,
May tell with what Majestic Grace and Miene
Your Muse displays her self in every Scene;
In what rich Robes she has fair Cressid drest,
And with what gentle Fires inflam'd her Breast.
422
She all their sparkling Lustre has restor'd,
Added more Charms, fresh Beauties on 'em shed,
And to new Youth recall'd the lovely Maid.
How nobly she the Royal Brothers draws;
How great their Quarrel, and how great their Cause:
How justly rais'd! and by what just Degrees,
In a sweet Calm does the rough Tempest cease!
Envy not now the God-like Roman's Rage;
Hector and Troilus, Darlings of our Age,
Shall Hand in Hand with Brutus tread the Stage.
Shakespear, 'tis true, this Tale of Troy first told,
But, as with Ennius Virgil did of old,
You found it Dirt, but you have made it Gold.
A dark and undigested Heap it lay,
Like Chaos e'er the Dawn of infant Day,
But you did first the cheerful Light display.
Confus'd it was as Epicurus World
Of Atoms, by blind Chance together hurl'd,
But you have made such Order through it shine
As loudly speaks the Workmanship divine.
But, as with Ennius Virgil did of old,
You found it Dirt, but you have made it Gold.
A dark and undigested Heap it lay,
Like Chaos e'er the Dawn of infant Day,
But you did first the cheerful Light display.
423
Of Atoms, by blind Chance together hurl'd,
But you have made such Order through it shine
As loudly speaks the Workmanship divine.
Boast then, O Troy! and triumph in thy Flames,
That make thee sung by three such mighty Names.
Had Ilium stood, Homer had ne'er been read,
Nor the sweet Mantuan Swan his Wings display'd,
Nor Thou the third, but equal in Renown,
Thy matchless Skill in this great Subject shown.
Not Priam's self, nor all the Trojan State
Was worth the saving at so dear a Rate.
But they now flourish by you mighty Three
In Verse more lasting than their Walls could be.
Which never, never shall like them decay,
Being built by Hands divine as well as they;
Never, 'till our great Charles being sung by You,
Old Troy shall grow less famous than the new.
That make thee sung by three such mighty Names.
Had Ilium stood, Homer had ne'er been read,
Nor the sweet Mantuan Swan his Wings display'd,
Nor Thou the third, but equal in Renown,
Thy matchless Skill in this great Subject shown.
Not Priam's self, nor all the Trojan State
Was worth the saving at so dear a Rate.
But they now flourish by you mighty Three
In Verse more lasting than their Walls could be.
Which never, never shall like them decay,
Being built by Hands divine as well as they;
Never, 'till our great Charles being sung by You,
Old Troy shall grow less famous than the new.
| Poems upon several occasions | |