Poetical Works of John Dryden, Volume 1 — Annus Mirabilis Stanzas 1-101

* * * * * 1 In thriving arts long time had Holland grown, Crouching at home and cruel when abroad: Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;

Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2 Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow, Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost: Thither the wealth of all the world did go, And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;

In eastern quarries ripening precious dew: For them the Idumæan balm did sweat, And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4 The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;

Each waxing moon supplied her watery store, To swell those tides, which from the line did bear Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5 Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long, And swept the riches of the world from far;

Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong: And this may prove our second Punic war.

6 What peace can be, where both to one pretend?

(But they more diligent, and we more strong) Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;

For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7 Behold two nations, then, engaged so far That each seven years the fit must shake each land: Where France will side to weaken us by war, Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8 See how he feeds the Iberian with delays, To render us his timely friendship vain: And while his secret soul on Flanders preys, He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9 Such deep designs of empire does he lay O'er them, whose cause he seems to take in hand;

And prudently would make them lords at sea, To whom with ease he can give laws by land.

10 This saw our King; and long within his breast His pensive counsels balanced to and fro: He grieved the land he freed should be oppress'd, And he less for it than usurpers do.

11 His generous mind the fair ideas drew Of fame and honour, which in dangers lay;

Where wealth, like fruit on precipices, grew, Not to be gather'd but by birds of prey.

12 The loss and gain each fatally were great;

And still his subjects call'd aloud for war;

But peaceful kings, o'er martial people set, Each, other's poise and counterbalance are.

13 He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes, Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain;

Yet judged, like vapours that from limbecks rise, It would in richer showers descend again.

14 At length resolved to assert the watery ball, He in himself did whole Armadoes bring: Him aged seamen might their master call, And choose for general, were he not their king.

15 It seems as every ship their sovereign knows, His awful summons they so soon obey;

So hear the scaly herd when Proteus blows, And so to pasture follow through the sea.

16 To see this fleet upon the ocean move, Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies;

And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise.

17 Whether they unctuous exhalations are, Fired by the sun, or seeming so alone: Or each some more remote and slippery star, Which loses footing when to mortals shown.

18 Or one, that bright companion of the sun, Whose glorious aspect seal'd our new-born king;

And now a round of greater years begun, New influence from his walks of light did bring.

19 Victorious York did first with famed success, To his known valour make the Dutch give place: Thus Heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, Beginning conquest from his royal race.

20 But since it was decreed, auspicious King, In Britain's right that thou shouldst wed the main, Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, And therefore doom'd that Lawson[37] should be slain.

21 Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate, Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament;

Thus as an offering for the Grecian state, He first was kill'd who first to battle went.

22 Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expired, To which his pride presumed to give the law: The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retired, And all was Britain the wide ocean saw.

23 To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair, Where by our dreadful cannon they lay awed: So reverently men quit the open air, When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.

24 And now approach'd their fleet from India, fraught With all the riches of the rising sun: And precious sand from southern climates brought, The fatal regions where the war begun.

25 Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring: There first the north's cold bosom spices bore, And winter brooded on the eastern spring.

26 By the rich scent we found our perfumed prey, Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in covert lie;

And round about their murdering cannon lay, At once to threaten and invite the eye.

27 Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, The English undertake the unequal war: Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.

28 These fight like husbands, but like lovers those: These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy: And to such height their frantic passion grows, That what both love, both hazard to destroy.

29 Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball, And now their odours arm'd against them fly: Some preciously by shatter'd porcelain fall, And some by aromatic splinters die.

30 And though by tempests of the prize bereft, In Heaven's inclemency some ease we find: Our foes we vanquish'd by our valour left, And only yielded to the seas and wind.

31 Nor wholly lost[38] we so deserved a prey;

For storms repenting part of it restored: Which, as a tribute from the Baltic sea, The British ocean sent her mighty lord.

32 Go, mortals, now; and vex yourselves in vain For wealth, which so uncertainly must come: When what was brought so far, and with such pain, Was only kept to lose it nearer home.

33 The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost, Prepared to tell what he had pass'd before, Now sees in English ships the Holland coast, And parents' arms in vain stretch'd from the shore.

34 This careful husband had been long away, Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn;

Who on their fingers learn'd to tell the day On which their father promised to return.

35 Such are the proud designs of human kind, And so we suffer shipwreck every where!

Alas, what port can such a pilot find, Who in the night of fate must blindly steer!

36 The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill, Heaven, in his bosom, from our knowledge hides: And draws them in contempt of human skill, Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides.

37 Let Munster's prelate[39] ever be accurst, In whom we seek the German faith in vain: Alas, that he should teach the English first, That fraud and avarice in the Church could reign!

38 Happy, who never trust a stranger's will, Whose friendship's in his interest understood!

Since money given but tempts him to be ill, When power is too remote to make him good.

39 Till now, alone the mighty nations strove;

The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand: And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove, Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.

40 That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, Who envies us what he wants power to enjoy;

Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade, And weak assistance will his friends destroy.

41 Offended that we fought without his leave, He takes this time his secret hate to show: Which Charles does with a mind so calm receive, As one that neither seeks nor shuns his foe.

42 With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave, But when with one three nations join to fight, They silently confess that one more brave.

43 Lewis had chased the English from his shore;

But Charles the French as subjects does invite: Would Heaven for each some Solomon restore, Who, by their mercy, may decide their right!

44 Were subjects so but only by their choice, And not from birth did forced dominion take, Our prince alone would have the public voice;

And all his neighbours' realms would deserts make.

45 He without fear a dangerous war pursues, Which without rashness he began before: As honour made him first the danger choose, So still he makes it good on virtue's score.

46 The doubled charge his subjects' love supplies, Who, in that bounty, to themselves are kind: So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise, And in his plenty their abundance find.

47 With equal power he does two chiefs[40] create, Two such as each seem'd worthiest when alone;

Each able to sustain a nation's fate, Since both had found a greater in their own.

48 Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame, Yet neither envious of the other's praise;

Their duty, faith, and interest too the same, Like mighty partners equally they raise.

49 The prince long time had courted fortune's love, But once possess'd, did absolutely reign: Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove, And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain.

50 The Duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain, That Carthage, which he ruin'd, rise once more;

And shook aloft the fasces of the main, To fright those slaves with what they felt before.

51 Together to the watery camp they haste, Whom matrons passing to their children show: Infants' first vows for them to heaven are cast, And future people bless them as they go.

52 With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, To infect a navy with their gaudy fears;

To make slow fights, and victories but vain: But war severely like itself appears.

53 Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass, They make that warmth in others they expect;

Their valour works like bodies on a glass, And does its image on their men project.

54 Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a famed commander, bold: The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear, Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold.

55 The Duke, less numerous, but in courage more, On wings of all the winds to combat flies: His murdering guns a loud defiance roar, And bloody crosses on his flag-staffs rise.

56 Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight;

Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air: The Elean plains could boast no nobler sight, When struggling champions did their bodies bare.

57 Borne each by other in a distant line, The sea-built forts in dreadful order move: So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove.

58 Now pass'd, on either side they nimbly tack;

Both strive to intercept and guide the wind: And, in its eye, more closely they come back, To finish all the deaths they left behind.

59 On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride, Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go: Such port the elephant bears, and so defied By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe.

60 And as the build, so different is the fight;

Their mounting shot is on our sails design'd: Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light, And through the yielding planks a passage find.

61 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat, Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives: All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves.

62 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought;

But he who meets all danger with disdain, Even in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main.

63 At this excess of courage, all amazed, The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: With such respect in enter'd Rome they gazed, Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw.

64 And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek.

65 Meantime his busy mariners he hastes, His shatter'd sails with rigging to restore;

And willing pines ascend his broken masts, Whose lofty heads rise higher than before.

66 Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, More fierce the important quarrel to decide: Like swans, in long array his vessels show, Whose crests advancing do the waves divide.

67 They charge, recharge, and all along the sea They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet;

Berkeley[41] alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.

68 The night comes on, we eager to pursue The combat still, and they ashamed to leave: Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moonlight did our rage deceive.

69 In the English fleet each ship resounds with joy, And loud applause of their great leader's fame: In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy, And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame.

70 Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretch'd on their decks like weary oxen lie;

Faint sweats all down their mighty members run;

Vast bulks which little souls but ill supply.

71 In dreams they fearful precipices tread: Or, shipwreck'd, labour to some distant shore: Or in dark churches walk among the dead;

They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more.

72 The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, Till from their main-top joyful news they hear Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies, And in their colours Belgian lions bear.

73 Our watchful general had discern'd from far This mighty succour, which made glad the foe: He sigh'd, but, like a father of the war, His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow.

74 His wounded men he first sends off to shore, Never till now unwilling to obey: They, not their wounds, but want of strength deplore, And think them happy who with him can stay.

75 Then to the rest, Rejoice, said he, to-day;

In you the fortune of Great Britain lies: Among so brave a people, you are they Whom Heaven has chose to fight for such a prize.

76 If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shunn'd, not met, our foes, Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell: Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows.

77 He said, nor needed more to say: with haste To their known stations cheerfully they go;

And all at once, disdaining to be last, Solicit every gale to meet the foe.

78 Nor did the encouraged Belgians long delay, But bold in others, not themselves, they stood: So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way, But seem'd to wander in a moving wood.

79 Our little fleet was now engaged so far, That, like the sword-fish in the whale, they fought: The combat only seem'd a civil war, Till through their bowels we our passage wrought.

80 Never had valour, no not ours, before Done aught like this upon the land or main, Where not to be o'ercome was to do more Than all the conquests former kings did gain.

81 The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose, And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes, To see this fleet among unequal foes, By which fate promised them their Charles should rise.

82 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear, And raking chase-guns through our sterns they send: Close by their fire ships, like jackals appear Who on their lions for the prey attend.

83 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on: Such vapours once did fiery Cacus[42] hide: In these the height of pleased revenge is shown, Who burn contented by another's side.

84 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend, Two grappling Ætnas on the ocean meet, And English fires with Belgian flames contend.

85 Now at each tack our little fleet grows less;

And like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main: Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, While they lose cheaper than the English gain.

86 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, And, with her eagerness the quarry miss'd, Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind.

87 The dastard crow that to the wood made wing, And sees the groves no shelter can afford, With her loud caws her craven kind does bring, Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird.

88 Among the Dutch thus Albemarle[43] did fare: He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly;

Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care, Like falling Cæsar, decently to die.

89 Yet pity did his manly spirit move, To see those perish who so well had fought;

And generously with his despair he strove, Resolved to live till he their safety wrought.

90 Let other muses write his prosperous fate, Of conquer'd nations tell, and kings restored;

But mine shall sing of his eclipsed estate, Which, like the sun's, more wonders does afford.

91 He drew his mighty frigates all before, On which the foe his fruitless force employs: His weak ones deep into his rear he bore Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise.

92 His fiery cannon did their passage guide, And following smoke obscured them from the foe: Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride, By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go.

93 Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat, But here our courages did theirs subdue: So Xenophon once led that famed retreat, Which first the Asian empire overthrew.

94 The foe approach'd; and one for his bold sin Was sunk; as he that touch'd the ark was slain: The wild waves master'd him and suck'd him in, And smiling eddies dimpled on the main.

95 This seen, the rest at awful distance stood: As if they had been there as servants set To stay, or to go on, as he thought good, And not pursue, but wait on his retreat.

96 So Lybian huntsmen, on some sandy plain, From shady coverts roused, the lion chase: The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain, And slowly moves, unknowing to give place.

97 But if some one approach to dare his force, He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round;

With one paw seizes on his trembling horse, And with the other tears him to the ground.

98 Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night;

Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore;

And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight, Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore: 99 The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, Upon the deck our careful general stood, And deeply mused on the succeeding day.

100 That happy sun, said he, will rise again, Who twice victorious did our navy see: And I alone must view him rise in vain, Without one ray of all his star for me.