John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  The title page to the second edition

  John Dryden, 1698

  CONTENTS

  The Hind and the Panther. The First Part

  The Hind and the Panther. The Second Part

  The Hind and the Panther. The Third Part

  James II was the last Roman Catholic monarch to reign over the Kingdoms of England, Scotland and Ireland. His ascension to the throne sparked Dryden’s instant conversion to Catholicism.

  The Hind and the Panther. The First Part

  To the Reader.

  The nation is in too high a Ferment, for me to expect either fair War or even so much as fair Quarter from a Reader of the opposite Party. All Men are engag’d either on this side or that: and tho’ Conscience is the common Word which is given by both, yet if a Writer fall among Enemies and cannot give the Marks of Their Conscience, he is knock’d down before the Reasons of his own are heard. A Preface, therefore, which is but a bespeaking of Favour, is altogether useless. What I desire the Reader should know concerning me, he will find in the Body of the Poem, if he have but the patience to peruse it. Only this Advertisement let him take before hand, which relates to the Merits of the Cause. No general Characters of Parties (call ‘em either Sects or Churches) can be so fully and exactly drawn as to comprehend all the several Members of ‘em; at least all such as are receiv’d under that Denomination. For example; there are some of the Church by Law established who envy not Liberty of Conscience to Dissenters; as being well satisfied that, according to their own Principles, they ought not to persecute them. Yet these, by reason of their fewness, I could not distinguish from the Numbers of the rest, with whom they are Embodied in one common Name: On the other side there are many of our Sects, and more indeed than I could reasonably have hop’d, who have withdrawn themselves from the Communion of the Panther and embrac’d this Gracious Indulgence of His Majesty in point of Toleration. But neither to the one nor the other of these is this Satyr any way intended: ’tis aim’d only at the refractory and disobedient on either side. For those who are come over to the Royal Party are consequently suppos’d to be out of Gunshot. Our physicians have observ’d, that in Process of Time, some Diseases have abated of their Virulence and have in a manner worn out their Malignity, so as to be no longer Mortal: and why may not I suppose the same concerning some of those who have formerly been Enemies to Kingly Government as well as Catholick Religion? I hope they have now another Notion of both, as having found by Comfortable Experience that the doctrine of Persecution is far from being an Article of our Faith.

  ’Tis not for any Private Man to Censure the Proceedings of a Foreign Prince; but without suspicion of Flattery I may praise our own, who has taken contrary Measures, and those more suitable to the Spirit of Christianity. Some of the Dissenters, in their Addresses to His Majesty, have said that he has restor’d God to his Empire over Conscience: I Confess I dare not stretch the Figure to so great a boldness; but I may safely say, that Conscience is the Royalty and Prerogative of every Private man. He is absolute in his own Breast, and accountable to no Earthly Power for that which passes only betwixt God and Him. Those who are driven into the Fold are, generally speaking, rather made Hypocrites than Converts.

  This Indulgence being granted to all the Sects, it ought in reason to be expected that they should both receive it, and receive it thankfully. For at this time of day to refuse the Benefit and adhere to those whom they have esteemed their Persecutors, what is it else, but publickly to own that they suffer’d not before for Conscience sake, but only out of Pride and Obstinacy to separate from a Church for those Impositions which they now judge may be lawfully obey’d? After they have so long contended for their Classical Ordination (not to speak of Rites and Ceremonies) will they at length submit to an Episcopal? If they can go so far out of Complaisance to their old Enemies, methinks a little reason should perswade ‘em to take another step, and see whether that wou’d lead ‘em.

  Of the receiving this Toleration thankfully, I shall say no more, than that they ought, and I doubt not they will consider from what hands they receiv’d it. ’Tis not from a Cyrus, a Heathen Prince and a Foreigner, but from a Christian King, their Native Sovereign, who expects a Return in Specie from them; that the Kindness which He has graciously shown them, may be retaliated on those of his own perswasion.

  As for the Poem in general, I will only thus far satisfie the Reader: that it was neither impos’d on me nor so much as the Subject given me by any man. It was written during the last Winter and the beginning of this Spring; though with long interruptions of ill health and other hindrances. About a Fortnight before I had finish’d it, His Majesties Declaration for Liberty of Conscience came abroad: which if I had so soon expected, I might have spar’d myself the labour of writing many things which are contained in the third part of it. But I was always in some hope that the Church of England might have been persuaded to have taken off the Penal Lawes and the Test, which was one Design of the Poem, when I propos’d to myself the writing of it.

  ’Tis evident that some part of it was only occasional, and not first intended. I mean that defence of my self, to which every honest man is bound, when he is injuriously attacqu’d in Print: and I refer my Self to the judgment of those who have read the Answer to the Defence of the late Kings Papers, and that of the Dutchess (in which last I was concerned) how charitably I have been represented there. I am now inform’d both of the Author and Supervisers of his Pamphlet, and will reply, when I think he can affront me: for I am of Socrate’s Opinion, that all Creatures cannot. In the mean time let him consider whether he deserv’d not a more severe reprehension then I gave him formerly; for using so little respect to the Memory of those whom he pretended to answer: and at his leisure look out for some Original Treatise of Humility, written by any Protestant in English, (I believe I may say in any other Tongue:) for the magnified Piece of Duncomb on that subject, which either he must mean, or none, and with which another of his Fellows has upbraided me, was Translated from the Spanish of Rodriguez: though with the omission of the 17th, the 24th, the 25th, and the last Chapter, which will be found in comparing of the Books.

  He would have insinuated to the world, that Her late Highness died not a Roman Catholick; he declares himself to be now satisfied to the contrary; in which he has given up the Cause: for matter of Fact was the Principal Debate betwixt us. In the mean time, he would dispute the Motives of her Change; how preposterously, let all men judge, when he seem’d to deny the Subject of the Controversy, the Change itself. And because I would not take up this ridiculous Challenge, he tells the World I cannot argue: but he may as well infer that a Catholic cannot fast because he will not take up the cudgels against Mrs. James to confute the Protestant Religion.

  I have but one word more to say concerning the Poem as such, and abstracting from the Matters, either Religious or Civil, which are handled in it. The first Part, consisting most in general Characters and Narration, I have endeavour’d to raise, and give it the Majestic Turn of Heroic Poesie. The second being Matter of Dispute, and chiefly concerning Church Authority, I was obliged to make as plain and perspicuous as possibly I cou’d: yet not wholly neglecting the Numbers, though I had not frequent occasions for the Magnificence of Verse. The third, which has more of the Nature of Domestick Conversation, is, or ought to be more free and familiar than the two former.

  There are in it two Episodes or Fables, which are interwoven with the main Design; so that they are properly parts of it, though they are also distinct Stories of themselves. In both of these I have made use of the Common Places of Satyr, whether true or false, which are urg’d by the Members of the one Church against the other. At which I hope no reader of either party will be scandaliz’d, because they are not of my invention: but as old, to my knowledge, as the Times of Boccace and Chawcer on the one side, and as those of the Reformation on the other.

  The Hind and the Panther.

  A Poem, in Three Parts

  A MILK white Hind, immortal and uncha
ng’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 5

  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 dy.

  Not so her young; for their unequal line

  Was Heroe’s make, half humane, half divine. 10

  Their earthly mold obnoxious was to fate,

  Th’ immortal part assum’d immortal state.

  Of these a slaughtered army lay in bloud,

  Extended o’er the Caledonian wood,

  Their native walk; whose vocal bloud arose 15

  And cry’d for pardon on their perjur’d foes;

  Their fate was fruitful, and the sanguin seed,

  Endu’d with souls, encreas’d the sacred breed.

  So Captive Israel multiply’d in chains,

  A numerous Exile; and enjoy’d her pains. 20

  With grief and gladness mixt, their mother view’d

  Her martyr’d offspring, and their race renew’d;

  Their corps to perish, but their kind to last,

  So much the deathless plant the dying fruit surpass’d.

  Panting and pensive now she ranged alone, 25

  And wander’d in the kingdoms once Her own.

  The common Hunt, though from their rage restrain’d

  By sov’reign power, her company disdain’d:

  Grin’d as They pass’d, and with a glaring eye

  Gave gloomy signs of secret enmity. 30

  ’Tis true, she bounded by, and trip’d so light,

  They had not time to take a steady sight,

  For truth has such a face and such a meen

  As to be lov’d needs only to be seen.

  The bloudy Bear, an Independent beast, 35

  Unlick’d to form, in groans her hate express’d.

  Among the timorous kind the Quaking Hare

  Profess’d neutrality, but would not swear.

  Next her, the Buffoon Ape, as Atheists use,

  Mimick’d all Sects and had his own to chuse: 40

  Still when the Lyon look’d, his knees he bent,

  And pay’d at Church a Courtier’s Complement.

  The bristl’d Baptist Boar, impure as He,

  (But whitn’d with the foam of sanctity)

  With fat pollutions fill’d the sacred place 45

  And mountains levell’d in his furious race,

  So first rebellion founded was in grace.

  But, since the mighty ravage which he made

  In German Forests, had his guilt betray’d,

  With broken tusks, and with a borrow’d name, 50

  He shun’d the vengeance, and concealed the shame;

  So lurk’d in Sects unseen. With greater guile

  False Reynard fed on consecrated spoil;

  The graceless beast by Athanasius first

  Was chased from Nice; then by Socinus nurs’d. 55

  His impious race their blasphemy renew’d,

  And natures King through nature’s opticks view’d.

  Revers’d they view’d him lessen’d to their eye,

  Nor in an Infant could a God descry:

  New swarming Sects to this obliquely tend 60

  Hence they began, and here they all will end.

  What weight of ancient witness can prevail,

  If private reason hold the publick scale?

  But, gratious God, how well dost thou provide

  For erring judgments an unerring Guide! 65

  Thy throne is darkness in th’ abyss of light,

  A blaze of glory that forbids the sight;

  O teach me to believe Thee thus conceal’d,

  And search no farther than Thy self reveal’d;

  But her alone for my Directour take 70

  Whom Thou hast promis’d never to forsake!

  My thoughtless youth was wing’d with vain desires,

  My manhood, long misled by wandring fires,

  Follow’d false lights; and when their glimps was gone,

  My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. 75

  Such was I, such by nature still I am,

  Be Thine the glory and be mine the shame.

  Good life be now my task: my doubts are done,

  (What more could fright my faith, than Three in One?)

  Can I believe eternal God could lye 80

  Disguis’d in mortal mold and infancy?

  That the great Maker of the world could dye?

  And after that, trust my imperfect sense

  Which calls in question his omnipotence?

  Can I my reason to my faith compell, 85

  And shall my sight, and touch, and taste rebell?

  Superiour faculties are set aside,

  Shall their subservient organs be my guide?

  Then let the moon usurp the rule of day,

  And winking tapers shew the sun his way; 90

  For what my senses can themselves perceive

  I need no revelation to believe.

  Can they, who say the Host should be descry’d

  By sense, define a body glorify’d?

  Impassible, and penetrating parts? 95

  Let them declare by what mysterious arts

  He shot that body through th’ opposing might

  Of bolts and barrs impervious to the light,

  And stood before his train confess’d in open sight.

  For since thus wondrously he pass’d, ’tis plain 100

  One single place two bodies did contain,

  And sure the same Omnipotence as well

  Can make one body in more places dwell.

  Let reason then at Her own quarry fly,

  But how can finite grasp Infinity? 105

  ’Tis urg’d again, that faith did first commence

  By miracles, which are appeals to sense,

  And thence concluded that our sense must be

  The motive still of credibility.

  For latter ages must on former wait, 110

  And what began belief, must propagate.

  But winnow well this thought, and you shall find,

  ’Tis light as chaff that flies before the wind.

  Were all those wonders wrought by pow’r divine

  As means or ends of some more deep design? 115

  Most sure as means, whose end was this alone,

  To prove the god-head of th’ eternal Son.

  God thus asserted: man is to believe

  Beyond what Sense and Reason can conceive.

  And for mysterious things of faith rely 120

  On the Proponent, heaven’s authority.

  If then our faith we for our guide admit,

  Vain is the farther search of human wit,

  As when the building gains a surer stay,

  We take th’ unuseful scaffolding away: 125

  Reason by sense no more can understand,

  The game is play’d into another hand.

  Why chuse we then like Bilanders to creep

  Along the coast, and land in view to keep,

  When safely we may launch into the deep? 130

  In the same vessel which our Saviour bore

  Himself the pilot, let us leave the shoar,

  And with a better guide a better world explore.

  Could He his god-head veil with flesh and bloud

  And not veil these again to be our food? 135

  His grace in both is equal in extent;

  The first affords us life, the second nourishment.

  And if he can, why all this frantick pain

  To construe what his clearest words contain,

  And make a riddle what He made so plain? 140

  To take up half on trust, and half to try,

  Name it not faith, but bungling biggottry.

 
Both knave and fool the Merchant we may call

  To pay great summs and to compound the small.

  For who wou’d break with heav’n, and wou’d not break for all? 145

  Rest then, my soul, from endless anguish freed;

  Nor sciences thy guide, nor sense thy creed.

  Faith is the best ensurer of thy bliss;

  The Bank above must fail before the venture miss.

  But heav’n and heav’n-born faith are far from Thee, 150

  Thou first Apostate to Divinity.

  Unkennel’d range in thy Polonian Plains;

  A fiercer foe the insatiate Wolf remains.

  Too boastful Britain please thyself no more,

  That beasts of prey are banish’d from thy shoar; 155

  The Bear, the Boar, and every salvage name,

  Wild in effect, though in appearance tame,

  Lay waste thy woods, destroy thy blissfull bow’r,

  And, muzl’d though they seem, the mutes devour.

  More haughty than the rest, the wolfish race 160

  Appear with belly Gaunt and famish’d face:

  Never was so deform’d a beast of Grace.

  His ragged tail betwixt his leggs he wears

  Close clap’d for shame, but his rough crest he rears,

  And pricks up his predestinating ears. 165

  His wild disorder’d walk, his hagger’d eyes,

  Did all the bestial citizens surprize.

  Though fear’d and hated, yet he ruled a while,

  As Captain or Companion of the spoil.

  Full many a year his hatefull head had been 170

  For tribute paid, nor since in Cambria seen:

  The last of all the Litter scap’d by chance,

  And from Geneva first infested France.

  Some Authors thus his Pedigree will trace,