289 They have not lost their loyalty by fire;

Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,
That from his wars they poorly would retire,
Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe.

290 Not with more constancy the Jews of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent, Their royal city did in dust behold,

Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.

291 The utmost malice of their stars is past,

And two dire comets, which have scourged the town, In their own plague and fire have breathed the last, Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.

292 Now frequent trines the happier lights among,

And high-raised Jove, from his dark prison freed, Those weights took off that on his planet hung,

Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed.

293 Methinks already from this chemic flame,
I see a city of more precious mould:
Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,
With silver paved, and all divine with gold.

294 Already labouring with a mighty fate,

She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, Which Heaven will to the death of time allow.

295 More great than human now, and more august,
Now deified she from her fires does rise:
Her widening streets on new foundations trust,
And opening into larger parts she flies.

!

296 Before, she like some shepherdess did show,
Who sat to bathe her by a river's side;
Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,
Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride.

297 Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold,

From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom.

298 The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train; And often wind, as of his mistress proud,

With longing eyes to meet her face again.

299 The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, The glory of their towns no more shall boast; And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers join, Shall find her lustre stain'd, and traffic lost.

300 The venturous merchant who design'd more far, And touches on our hospitable shore,

Charm'd with the splendour of this northern star,
Shall here unlade him, and depart no more.

301 Our powerful navy shall no longer meet,

The wealth of France or Holland to invade ; The beauty of this town without a fleet,

From all the world shall vindicate her trade.

302 And while this famed emporium we prepare, The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those, who now disdain our trade to share, Shall rob like pirates on our wealthy coast.

303 Already we have conquer'd half the war,

And the less dangerous part is left behind:
Our trouble now is but to make them dare,

And not so great to vanquish as to find.

304 Thus to the Eastern wealth through storms we go,
But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more;
A constant trade-wind will securely blow,
And gently lay us on the spicy shore.

AN ESSAY UPON SATIRE.

BY MR DRYDEN AND THE EARL OF MULGRAVE,1 1679.

How dull, and how insensible a beast

Is man, who yet would lord it o'er the rest!
Philosophers and poets vainly strove

In every age the lumpish mass to move:

But those were pedants, when compared with these,
Who know not only to instruct, but please.
Poets alone found the delightful way,
Mysterious morals gently to convey

In charming numbers; so that as men grew
Pleased with their poems, they grew wiser too.
Satire has always shone among the rest,

And is the boldest way, if not the best,

To tell men freely of their foulest faults;

To laugh at their vain deeds, and vainer thoughts.

10

''Mulgrave:' Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. It was for this satire, the joint composition of Dryden and Sheffield, that Rochester hired bravoes to cudgel Dryden.

In satire too the wise took different ways,
To each deserving its peculiar praise.
Some did all folly with just sharpness blame,

Whilst others laugh'd and scorn'd them into shame.
But of these two, the last succeeded best,

As men aim rightest when they shoot in jest.
Yet, if we may presume to blame our guides,
And censure those who censure all besides,
In other things they justly are preferr❜d.
In this alone methinks the ancients err'd,-
Against the grossest follies they declaim;
Hard they pursue, but hunt ignoble game.
Nothing is easier than such blots to hit,
And 'tis the talent of each vulgar wit:
Besides, 'tis labour lost; for who would preach
Morals to Armstrong,1 or dull Aston teach?
'Tis being devout at play, wise at a ball,
Or bringing wit and friendship to Whitehall.
But with sharp eyes those nicer faults to find,
Which lie obscurely in the wisest mind;
That little speck which all the rest does spoil,
To wash off that would be a noble toil;

Beyond the loose writ libels of this age,
Or the forced scenes of our declining stage;
Above all censure too, each little wit
Will be so glad to see the greater hit ;

Who, judging better, though concern'd the most,
Of such correction, will have cause to boast.
In such a satire all would seek a share,
And every fool will fancy he is there.
Old story-tellers too must pine and die,
To see their antiquated wit laid by;

''Armstrong:' Sir Thomas Armstrong, a notorious character of the time -hanged at Tyburn.

Like her, who miss'd her name in a lampoon,
And grieved to find herself decay'd so soon.
No common coxcomb must be mentioned here:
Not the dull train of dancing sparks appear;
Nor fluttering officers who never fight ;

Of such a wretched rabble who would write?
Much less half wits: that's more against our rules ;
For they are fops, the other are but fools.
Who would not be as silly as Dunbar?

As dull as Monmouth, rather than Sir Carr ? 1
The cunning courtier should be slighted too,
Who with dull knavery makes so much ado;
Till the shrewd fool, by thriving too, too fast,
Like Esop's fox becomes a prey at last.
Nor shall the royal mistresses be named,
Too ugly, or too easy to be blamed,

With whom each rhyming fool keeps such a pother,
They are as common that way as the other:
Yet sauntering Charles, between his beastly brace,2
Meets with dissembling still in either place,
Affected humour, or a painted face.

In loyal libels we have often told him,
How one has jilted him, the other sold him:
How that affects to laugh, how this to weep;
But who can rail so long as he can sleep?
Was ever prince by two at once misled,
False, foolish, old, ill-natured, and ill-bred?
Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that race
Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place;
At council set as foils on Danby's 5 score,

To make that great false jewel shine the more;

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60

70

''Carr:' Sir Carr Scrope, a wit of the time.- 2 Beastly brace:' Duchess of Portsmouth and Nell Gwynn.—3 · Earnely:' Sir John Earnely, one of the lords of the treasury. -Aylesbury:' Robert, the first Earl of Aylesbury.— Danby:' Thomas, Earl of Danby, lord high-treasurer of England.