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Pure clinches the suburban muse affords,
And Panton waging harmless war with words.
Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well-known,
Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne:
For ancient Dekker prophesied, long since,
That in this pile should reign a mighty prince,
Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense;
To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe;
But worlds of misers from his pen should flow;
Humorists and hypocrites it should produce;
Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.2

Now empress Fame had publish'd the renown
Of Shadwell's coronation through the town.
Rous'd by report of Fame, the nations meet,
From near Bun Hill, and distant Watling Street;
No Persian carpets spread th' imperial way,
But scatter'd limbs of mangled poets lay:
Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd,
And Herringman3 was captain of the guard.
The hoary prince in majesty appear'd,
High on a throne of his own labours rear'd.
At his right hand our young Ascanius sat,
Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state;
His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace,
And lambent dulness play'd around his face.
As Hannibal did to the altars come,
Sworn by his sire a mortal foe to Rome,
So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain,
That he, till death, true dulness would maintain;
And, in his father's right, and realm's defence,
Ne'er to have peace with Wit, nor truce with Sense.
The king himself the sacred unction made,
As king by office, and as priest by trade.
In his sinister hand, instead of ball,

He placed a mighty mug of potent ale;
'Love's Kingdom' to his right he did convey
At once his sceptre and his rule of sway;
Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young,
And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung:
His temples last with poppies were o'erspread,
That, nodding, seem'd to consecrate his head.
Just at the point of time, if fame not lie,
On his left hand twelve rev'rend owls did fly.
So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook,
Presage of sway from twice six vultures took.
Th' admiring throng loud acclamations make,
And omens of his future empire take.
The fire then shook the honours of his head,
And from his brows damps of oblivion shed
Full on the filial dulness: long he stood,
Repelling from his breast the raging god;
At length burst out in this prophetic mood:
'Heav'n bless my son, from Ireland let him reign,
To far Barbadoes on the western main;
Of his dominion may no end be known,
And greater than his father's be his throne;
Beyond Love's Kingdom let him stretch his pen !"
He paus'd; and all the people cried, Amen.
Then thus continued he: My son, advance
Still in new impudence, new ignorance.
Success let others teach; learn thou, from me,
Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry.
Let Virtuosos in five years be writ;
Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit.
Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage,
Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage;
Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling,5 charm the pit,
And, in their folly, show the writer's wit.
Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence,
And justify their author's want of sense.

1 A well-known punster.

2 Characters in Shadwell's dramas. 3 A dramatic publisher. 4 Love's Kingdom' is the name of a pastoral drama by Richard Flecknoe, Characters in Sir George Etherege's Man of Mode,' and Love in a Tub.'

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But write thy best, and top; and, in each line,
Sir Formal's oratory will be thine:

Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill,
And does thy northern dedications fill.
Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame,
By arrogating Jonson's hostile name.

Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise,
And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise.

Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part:
What share have we in nature or in art?
Where did his wit on learning fix a brand,
And rail at arts he did not understand?
Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein,
Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain?
When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin,
As thou whole Etherege dost transfuse to thine?
But so transfus'd as oil and waters flow;
His always floats above, thine sinks below.
This is thy province, this thy wondrous way,
New humours to invent for each new play:
This is that boasted bias of thy mind,
By which one way to dulness 'tis inclin'd;
Which makes thy writings lean on one side still,
And, in all changes, that way bends thy will.
Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence
Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense.
A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ;
But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit.
Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep;
Thy tragic muse gives smiles; thy comic, sleep.
With whate'er gall thou sett'st thyself to write,
Thy inoffensive satires never bite.
In thy felonious heart, though venom lies,
It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies.
Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame
In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram.

Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command
Some peaceful province in Acrostic land.
There thou may'st wings display, and altars raise,
And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.
Or, if thou wouldst thy diff'rent talents suit,
Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute.'

He said: but his last words were scarcely heard;
For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd
And down they sent the yet declaiming bard.
Sinking, he left his drugget robe behind,
Borne upwards by a subterranean wind.
The mantle fell to the young prophet's part,
With double portion of his father's art.

The Hind and Panther.

A milk-white hind, immortal and unchang'd,
Fed on the lawns, and in the forest rang'd;
Without, unspotted; innocent, within;
She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin:
Yet had she oft been chas'd with horns and hounds,
And Scythian shafts, and many winged wounds
Aim'd at her heart; was often forc'd to fly,
And doom'd to death, though fated not to die.

1 Sir Charles Sedley was understood to have assisted Shadwell in his play of 'Epsom Wells.'

2 Two of the characters in Shadwell's' Virtuoso," who play a trick on Sir Formal Trifle by means of a trap-door. The conclusion of Dryden's satire, as well as the general design of the poem, was closely copied by Pope in his Dunciad.

Panting and pensive, now she ranged alone,
And wander'd in the kingdoms once her own:
The common hunt, though from their rage restrain'd
By sovereign power, her company disdain'd,
Grinn'd as they pass'd, and with a glaring eye
Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity.

'Tis true she bounded by, and tripp'd so light,
They had not time to take a steady sight:
For truth has such a face and such a mien,
As to be lov❜d, needs only to be seen.


The Panther, sure the noblest next the Hind,
And fairest creature of the spotted kind;
Oh, could her in-born stains be wash'd away,
She were too good to be a beast of prey!
How can I praise, or blame, and not offend,
Or how divide the frailty from the friend?
Her faults and virtues lie so mix'd, that she
Nor wholly stands condemn'd nor wholly free;
Then like her injur'd lion, let me speak;
He cannot bend her, and he would not break.
Unkind already, and estrang'd in part,
The wolf begins to share her wandering heart :
Though unpolluted yet with actual ill,
She half commits who sins but in her will.
If, as our dreaming Platonists report,
There could be spirits of a middle sort,
Too black for heaven, and yet too white for hell,
Who just dropt half way down, nor lower fell;
So pois'd, so gently, she descends from high,
It seems a soft dismission from the sky.

[The Swallow.]

[From the same.]

The swallow, privileg'd above the rest
Of all the birds as man's familiar guest,
Pursues the sun in summer, brisk and bold,
But wisely shuns the persecuting cold;
Is well to chancels and to chimneys known,
Though 'tis not thought she feeds on smoke alone.
From hence she has been held of heavenly line,
Endued with particles of soul divine :
This merry chorister had long possess'd
Her summer seat, and feather'd well her nest,
Till frowning skies began to change their cheer,
And time turn'd up the wrong side of the year;
The shedding trees began the ground to strow
With yellow leaves, and bitter blasts to blow:
Such auguries of winter thence she drew,
Which by instinct or prophecy she knew;
When prudence warn'd her to remove betimes,
And seek a better heaven and warmer climes.
Her sons were summon'd on a steeple's height,
And, call'd in common council, vote a flight.
The day was nam'd, the next that should be fair;
All to the general rendezvous repair;
They try their fluttering wings, and trust themselves

in air.

Who but the swallow now triumphs alone? The canopy of heaven is all her own: Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair, And glide along in glades, and skim in air, And dip for insects in the purling springs, And stoop on rivers, to refresh their wings.

Ode to the Memory of Mrs Anne Killigrew.
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green above the rest :
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race,

Or, in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov'st with the heaven-majestic pace;

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O gracious God! how far have we Profan'd thy heav'nly gift of poesy! Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, Debas'd to each obscene and impious use, Whose harmony was first ordain'd above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love? O wretched we! why were we hurried down This lubrique and adulterate age, (Nay, added fat pollutions of our own) T' increase the steaming ordures of the stage? What can we say t'excuse our second fall? Let this thy vestal, heaven, atone for all; Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd, Unmix'd with foreign filth, and undefil'd; Her wit was more than man; her innocence a child.


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All who deserve his love he makes his own,
And to be lov'd himself needs only to be known.
Just, good, and wise, contending neighbours come,
From your award, to wait their final doom,
And, foes before, return in friendship home.
Without their cost you terminate the cause,
And save th' expense of long litigious laws;
Where suits are travers'd, and so little won,
That he who conquers is but least undone.
Such are not your decrees; but, so design'd,
The sanction leaves a lasting peace behind,
Like your own soul serene, a pattern of your mind.
Promoting concord, and composing strife,
Lord of yourself, uncumber'd with a wife;
No porter guards the passage of your door,
To admit the wealthy and exclude the poor;
For God, who gave the riches, gave the heart,
To sanctify the whole by giving part.

Heaven, who foresaw the will, the means has wrought,
And to the second son a blessing brought:
The first begotten had his father's share,
But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's heir.

So may your stores and fruitful fields increase,
And ever be you bless'd who live to bless.
As Ceres sow'd where'er her chariot flew;
As heaven in deserts rain'd the bread of dew;
So free to many, to relations most,
You feed with manna your own Israel host.

With crowds attended of your ancient race,
You seek the champaign sports or sylvan chase:
With well-breath'd beagles you surround the wood,
E'en then industrious of the common good;
And often have you brought the wily fox
To suffer for the firstlings of the flocks;
Chas'd e'en amid the folds, and made to bleed,
Like felons where they did the murderous deed.
This fiery game your active youth maintain'd,
Not yet by years extinguish'd, though restrain'd;
You season still with sports your serious hours;
For age but tastes of pleasures, youth devours.
The hare in pastures or in plains is found,
Emblem of human life, who runs the round,
And, after all his wandering ways are done,
His circle fills, and ends where he begun,
Just as the setting meets the rising sun.
A patriot both the king and country serves,
Prerogative and privilege preserves;
Of each our laws the certain limit show;
One must not ebb, nor t'other overflow:
Betwixt the prince and parliament we stand,
The barriers of the state on either hand
May neither overflow, for then they drown the land.
When both are full they feed our bless'd abode,
Like those that water'd once the Paradise of God.


Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share; In peace the people; and the prince in war: Consuls of moderate power in calms were made; When the Gauls came, one sole Dictator sway'd.

Patriots in peace assert the people's right, With noble stubbornness resisting might; No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force, but in a body give. Such was your generous grandsire, free to grant, In parliaments that weigh'd their prince's want; But so tenacious of the common cause,

As not to lend the king against the laws;
And in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie,
In bonds retain'd his birthright liberty,
And sham'd oppression till it set him free.
O, true descendant of a patriot line!
Who, while thou shar'st their lustre, lend'st them


Vouchsafe this picture of thy soul to see,
'Tis so far good, as it resembles thee;
The beauties to the original I owe,
Which, when I miss my own defects, I show.

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The master saw the madness rise;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And, while he heav'n and earth defied,
Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse:

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Now strike the golden lyre again;

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark! hark! the horrid sound
Has rais'd up his head,

As awak'd from the dead,
And, amaz'd, he stares around.
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries;
See the Furies arise;

See the snakes that they rear!
How they hiss in the air,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

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The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Enlarg❜d the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown:

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

Theodore and Honoria.

Of all the cities in Romanian lands,

The chief, and most renown'd, Ravenna stands,
Adorn'd in ancient times with arms and arts,
And rich inhabitants, with generous hearts.
But Theodore the brave, above the rest,
With gifts of fortune and of nature bless'd,
The foremost place for wealth and honour held,
And all in feats of chivalry excell'd.

This noble youth to madness lov'd a dame
Of high degree, Honoria was her name;
Fair as the fairest, but of haughty mind,
And fiercer than became so soft a kind.
Proud of her birth (for equal she had none),
The rest she scorn'd, but hated him alone.
His gifts, his constant courtship, nothing gain'd;
For she, the more he lov'd, the more disdain'd.
He liv'd with all the pomp he could devise,
At tilts and tournaments obtain'd the prize,
But found no favour in his lady's eyes:
Relentless as a rock, the lofty maid
Turn'd all to poison that he did or said:
Nor prayers, nor tears, nor offer'd vows, could move;
The work went backward; and the more he strove
T' advance his suit, the farther from her love.

Wearied at length, and wanting remedy,
He doubted oft, and oft resolv'd to die.
But pride stood ready to prevent the blow,
For who would die to gratify a foe?
His generous mind disdain'd so mean a fate;
That pass'd, his next endeavour was to hate.
But vainer that relief than all the rest.

The less he hop'd, with more desire possess'd;
Love stood the siege, and would not yield his breast.
Change was the next, but change deceiv'd his care;
He sought a fairer, but found none so fair.
He would have worn her out by slow degrees,
As men by fasting starve th',untam'd disease:
But present love requir'd a present ease.
Looking, he feeds alone his famish'd eyes,
Feeds lingering death, but looking not, he dies.
Yet still he chose the longest way to fate,
Wasting at once his life and his estate.

His friends beheld, and pitied him in vain,
For what advice can ease a lover's pain?
Absence, the best expedient they could find,
Might save the fortune, if not cure the mind:
This means they long propos'd, but little gain'd,
Yet, after much pursuit, at length obtain'd.

Hard you may think it was to give consent, But struggling with his own desires he went, With large expense, and with a pompous train, Provided as to visit France and Spain, But love had clipp'd his wings, and cut him short; Or for some distant voyage o'er the main. Confin'd within the purlieus of the court, Three miles he went, no farther could retreat; His travels ended at his country-seat: To Chassis' pleasing plains he took his way, There pitch'd his tents, and there resolv'd to stay.

The spring was in the prime; the neighbouring grove Supplied with birds, the choristers of love: Music unbought, that minister'd delight

To morning walks, and lull'd his cares by night: There he discharg'd his friends, but not th' expense Of frequent treats and proud magnificence.

He liv'd as kings retire, though more at large
From public business, yet with equal charge;
With house and heart still open to receive;
As well content as love would give him leave:
He would have liv'd more free; but many a guest,
Who could forsake the friend, pursu'd the feast.

It hapt one morning, as his fancy led, Before his usual hour he left his bed; To walk within a lonely lawn, that stood On every side surrounded by a wood: Alone he walk'd, to please his pensive mind, And sought the deepest solitude to find; "Twas in a grove of spreading pines he stray'd; The winds within the quivering branches play'd, And dancing trees a mournful music made. The place itself was suiting to his care, Uncouth and savage, as the cruel fair. He wander'd on, unknowing where he went, Lost in the wood, and all on love intent: The day already half his race had run, And summon'd him to due repast at noon, But love could feel no hunger but his own. Whilst listening to the murmuring leaves he stood, More than a mile immers'd within the wood, At once the wind was laid; the whispering sound Was dumb; a rising earthquake rock'd the ground; With deeper brown the grove was overspread; A sudden horror seiz'd his giddy head, And his ears tinkled, and his colour fled; Nature was in alarm; some danger nigh Seem'd threaten'd, though unseen to mortal eye. Unus'd to fear, he summon'd all his soul, And stood collected in himself, and whole; Not long for soon a whirlwind rose around, And from afar he heard a screaming sound, As of a dame distress'd, who cried for aid, And fill'd with loud laments the secret shade.


A thicket close beside the grove there stood, With briers and brambles chok'd, and dwarfish wood; From thence the noise, which now, approaching near, With more distinguish'd notes invades his ear; He rais'd his head, and saw a beauteous maid, With hair dishevell'd, issuing through the shade; Stripp'd of her clothes, and ev'n those parts reveal'd Which modest nature keeps from sight conceal'd. Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn, With passing through the brakes and prickly thorn; Two mastiffs gaunt and grim her flight pursu'd, And oft their fastened fangs in blood imbru'd: Oft they came up, and pinch'd her tender side; Mercy, O mercy, heaven! she ran, and cried; When heaven was nam'd, they loos'd their hold again,

Then sprang she forth, they follow'd her amain.
Not far behind, a knight of swarthy face,
High on a coal-black steed pursu'd the chase;
With flashing flames his ardent eyes were fill'd,
And in his hand a naked sword he held:
He cheer'd the dogs to follow her who fled,
And vow'd revenge on her devoted head.

As Theodore was born of noble kind,
The brutal action rous'd his manly mind;
Mov'd with unworthy usage of the maid,
He, though unarm'd, resolv'd to give her aid.
A sapling pine he wrench'd from out the ground,
The readiest weapon that his fury found.
Thus furnish'd for offence, he cross'd the way
Betwixt the graceless villain and his prey.

The knight came thundering on, but, from afar, Thus in imperious tone forbade the war: Cease, Theodore, to proffer vain relief, Nor stop the vengeance of so just a grief; But give me leave to seize my destin'd prey, And let eternal justice take the way:

I but revenge my fate, disdain'd, betray'd, And suffering death for this ungrateful maid.

He said, at once dismounting from the steed; For now the hell-hounds with superior speed Had reach'd the dame, and, fastening on her side, The ground with issuing streams of purple dyed; Stood Theodore surpris'd in deadly fright, With chattering teeth, and bristling hair upright; Yet arm'd with inborn worth, Whate'er, said he, Thou art, who know'st me better than I thee; Or prove thy rightful cause, or be defied; The spectre, fiercely staring, thus replied:

Know, Theodore, thy ancestry I claim,
And Guido Cavalcanti was my name.
One common sire our fathers did beget;
My name and story some remember yet:
Thee, then a boy, within my arms I laid,
When for my sins I lov'd this haughty maid;
Not less ador'd in life, nor serv'd by me,
Than proud Honoria now is lov'd by thee.
What did I not her stubborn heart to gain?
But all my vows were answer'd with disdain :
She scorn'd my sorrows, and despis'd my pain.
Long time I dragg'd my days in fruitless care;
Then, loathing life, and plung'd in deep despair,
To finish my unhappy life, I fell

On this sharp sword, and now am damn'd in hell.
Short was her joy; for soon the insulting maid
By heaven's decree in this cold grave was laid.
And as in unrepented sin she died,

Doom'd to the same bad place is punish'd for her pride;

Because she deem'd I well deserv'd to die,

And made a merit of her cruelty.

There, then, we met; both tried, and both were cast,
And this irrevocable sentence pass'd:

That she, whom I so long pursued in vain,
Should suffer from my hands a lingering pain:
Renew'd to life, that she might daily die,
I daily doom'd to follow, she to fly;
No more a lover, but a mortal foe,
I seek her life (for love is none below):
As often as my dogs with better speed
Arrest her flight, is she to death decreed:
Then with this fatal sword, on which I died,
I pierce her open back or tender side,
And tear that harden'd heart from out her breast,
Which, with her entrails, makes my hungry hounds

Nor lies she long, but, as her fates ordain,
Springs up to life, and fresh to second pain,
Is sav'd to-day, to-morrow to be slain.

This, vers'd in death, th' infernal knight relates,
And then for proof fulfill'd the common fates;
Her heart and bowels through her back he drew,
And fed the hounds that help'd him to pursue;
Stern look'd the fiend, as frustrate of his will,
Not half suffic'd, and greedy yet to kill.
And now the soul, expiring through the wound,
Had left the body breathless on the ground,
When thus the grisly spectre spoke again:
Behold the fruit of ill-rewarded pain:
As many months as I sustain'd her hate,
So many years is she condemn'd by fate
To daily death; and every several place,
Conscious of her disdain and my disgrace,
Must witness her just punishment, and be
A scene of triumph and revenge to me!
As in this grove I took my last farewell,
As on this very spot of earth I fell,
As Friday saw me die, so she my prey
Becomes even here, on this revolving day.

Thus, while he spoke, the virgin from the ground Upstarted fresh, already clos'd the wound, And unconcern'd for all she felt before, Precipitates her flight along the shore: The hell-hounds, as ungorg'd with flesh and blood, Pursue their prey, and seek their wonted food:

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