The works of John Dryden Illustrated with notes, historical, critical, and explanatory, and a life of the author, by Sir Walter Scott |
 | IX. |
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TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS EXCELLENT POEM. |
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| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV, XV. |
 | The works of John Dryden |  |
215
TO THE UNKNOWN AUTHOR OF THIS EXCELLENT POEM.
Take it as earnest of a faith renewed,
Your theme is vast, your verse divinely good:
Where, though the Nine their beauteous strokes repeat,
And the turned lines on golden anvils beat,
It looks as if they strook them at a heat.
So all serenely great, so just refined,
Like angels' love to human seed inclined,
It starts a giant, and exalts the kind.
'Tis spirit seen, whose fiery atoms roll,
So brightly fierce, each syllable's a soul.
'Tis miniature of man, but he's all heart;
'Tis what the world would be, but wants the art;
To whom even the fanatics altars raise,
Bow in their own despite, and grin your praise.
As if a Milton from the dead arose,
Filed off the rust, and the right party chose.
Nor, Sir, be shocked at what the gloomy say,
Turn not your feet too inward, nor too splay.
'Tis gracious all, and great; push on your theme,
Lean your grieved head on David's diadem.
David, that rebel Israel's envy moved,
David, by God and all good men beloved.
Your theme is vast, your verse divinely good:
Where, though the Nine their beauteous strokes repeat,
And the turned lines on golden anvils beat,
It looks as if they strook them at a heat.
So all serenely great, so just refined,
Like angels' love to human seed inclined,
It starts a giant, and exalts the kind.
'Tis spirit seen, whose fiery atoms roll,
So brightly fierce, each syllable's a soul.
'Tis miniature of man, but he's all heart;
'Tis what the world would be, but wants the art;
To whom even the fanatics altars raise,
Bow in their own despite, and grin your praise.
As if a Milton from the dead arose,
Filed off the rust, and the right party chose.
Nor, Sir, be shocked at what the gloomy say,
Turn not your feet too inward, nor too splay.
'Tis gracious all, and great; push on your theme,
Lean your grieved head on David's diadem.
David, that rebel Israel's envy moved,
David, by God and all good men beloved.
The beauties of your Absalom excel;
But more the charms of charming Annabel;
Of Annabel, than May's first morn more bright,
Cheerful as summer's noon, and chaste as winter's night.
Of Annabel the muses' dearest theme,
Of Annabel the angel of my dream.
Thus let a broken eloquence attend,
And to your master-piece these shadows send.
But more the charms of charming Annabel;
Of Annabel, than May's first morn more bright,
Cheerful as summer's noon, and chaste as winter's night.
Of Annabel the muses' dearest theme,
Of Annabel the angel of my dream.
Thus let a broken eloquence attend,
And to your master-piece these shadows send.
| The works of John Dryden | |