John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  And some adore the Flow’r, and some the Tree?

  Just is your Suit, fair daughter, said the Dame,

  Those lawrell’d Chiefs were Men of mighty Fame;

  Nine Worthies were they call’d of diff’rent Rites, 535

  Three Jews, three Pagans, and three Christian Knights.

  These, as you see, ride foremost in the Field,

  As they the foremost Rank of Honour held,

  And all in Deeds of Chivalry excell’d.

  Their Temples wreath’d with Leafs, that still renew; 540

  For deathless Lawrel is the Victor’s due.

  Who bear the Bows were Knights in Arthur’s Reign,

  Twelve they, and twelve the Peers of Charlemain:

  For Bows the Strength of brawny Arms imply

  Emblems of Valour, and of Victory. 545

  Behold an Order yet of newer Date

  Doubling their Number, equal in their State;

  Our England’s Ornament, the Crown’s Defence,

  In Battle brave, Protectors of their Prince

  Unchang’d by Fortune, to their Soveraign true, 550

  For which their manly Legs are bound with Blue.

  These, of the Garter call’d, of Faith unstain’d,

  In fighting Fields the Lawrel have obtain’d,

  And well repaid those Honours which they gain’d.

  The Lawrel-Wreaths were first by Cæsar worn, 555

  And still they Cæsar’s Successors adorn:

  One Leaf of this is Immortality,

  And more of Worth, than all the World can buy.

  One Doubt remains, said I, the Dames in Green,

  What were their Qualities, and who their Queen? 560

  Flora commands, said she, those Nymphs and Knights,

  Who liv’d in slothful Ease, and loose Delights:

  Who never Acts of Honour durst pursue,

  The Men inglorious Knights, the Ladies all untrue:

  Who nurs’d in Idleness, and train’d in Courts, 565

  Pass’d all their precious Hours in Plays, and Sports,

  Till Death behind came stalking on, unseen,

  And wither’d (like the Storm) the freshness of their Green.

  These, and their Mates, enjoy the present Hour,

  And therefore pay their Homage to the Flow’r. 570

  But Knights in Knightly Deeds should persevere,

  And still continue what at first they were;

  Continue, and proceed in Honour’s fair Career.

  No room for Cowardise, or dull Delay;

  From Good to Better they should urge their way. 575

  For this with golden Spurs the Chiefs are grac’d,

  With pointed Rowels arm’d to mend their haste;

  For this with lasting Leaves their Brows are bound,

  For Lawrel is the Sign of Labour crown’d;

  Which bears the bitter Blast, nor shaken falls to Ground: 580

  From Winter-Winds it suffers no decay,

  For ever fresh and fair, and ev’ry Month is May.

  Ev’n when the vital Sap retreats below,

  Ev’n when the hoary Head is hid in Snow;

  The Life is in the Leaf, and still between 585

  The Fits of falling Snows, appears the streaky Green.

  Not so the Flow’r which lasts for little space,

  A short-liv’d Good, and an uncertain Grace;

  This way and that the feeble Stem is driv’n,

  Weak to sustain the Storms, and Injuries of Heav’n. 590

  Prop’d by the Spring, it lifts aloft the Head,

  But of a sickly Beauty, soon to shed;

  In Summer living, and in Winter dead.

  For Things of tender Kind for Pleasure made

  Shoot up with swift Increase, and suddain are decay’d. 595

  With humble Words, the wisest I could frame,

  And profer’d Service I repaid the Dame:

  That of her Grace she gave her Maid to know

  The secret meaning of this moral Show.

  And she to prove what Profit I had made 600

  Of mystique Truth, in Fables first convey’d,

  Demanded, till the next returning May,

  Whether the Leaf or Flow’r I would obey?

  I chose the Leaf; she smil’d with sober Chear,

  And wish’d me fair Adventure for the Year, 605

  And gave me Charms and Sigils, for defence

  Against ill Tongues that scandal Innocence:

  But I, said she, my Fellows must pursue,

  Already past the Plain, and out of view.

  We parted thus; I homeward sped my way, 610

  Bewilder’d in the Wood till Dawn of Day:

  And met the merry Crew who danc’d about the May.

  Then late refresh’d with Sleep I rose to write

  The visionary Vigils of the Night.

  Blush, as thou may’st, my little Book for Shame, 615

  Nor hope with homely Verse to purchase Fame;

  For such thy Maker chose; and so design’d

  Thy simple Style to suit thy lowly Kind.

  The Wife of Bath her Tale

  IN Days of Old, when Arthur fill’d the Throne,

  Whose Acts and Fame to Foreign Lands were blown,

  The King of Elfs and little fairy Queen

  Gamboll’d on Heaths, and danc’d on ev’ry Green;

  And where the jolly Troop had led the Round, 5

  The Grass unbidden rose, and mark’d the Ground.

  Nor darkling did they dance, the Silver Light

  Of Phœbe serv’d to guide their Steps aright,

  And, with their Tripping pleas’d, prolong’d the Night.

  Her Beams they follow’d, where at full she plaid, 10

  Nor longer than she shed her Horns they staid,

  From thence with airy Flight to Foreign Lands convey’d.

  Above the rest our Britain held they dear,

  More solemnly they kept their Sabbaths here,

  And made more spacious Rings, and revell’d half the Year. 15

  I speak of ancient Times; for now the Swain

  Returning late may pass the Woods in vain,

  And never hope to see the nightly Train:

  In vain the Dairy now with Mints is dress’d,

  The Dairy-Maid expects no Fairy Guest, 20

  To skim the Bowls and after pay the Feast.

  She sighs, and shakes her empty Shoes in vain,

  No Silver Penny to reward her Pain:

  For Priests with Pray’rs, and other godly Geer,

  Have made the merry Goblins disappear; 25

  And where they plaid their merry Pranks before,

  Have sprinkled Holy Water on the Floor:

  And Fry’rs that through the wealthy Regions run

  Thick as the Motes, that twinkle in the Sun,

  Resort to Farmers rich, and bless their Halls 30

  And exorcise the Beds, and cross the Walls:

  This makes the Fairy Quires forsake the Place,

  When once ’tis hallow’d with the Rites of Grace:

  But in the Walks, where wicked Elves have been,

  The Learning of the Parish now is seen, 35

  The Midnight Parson posting o’er the Green

  With Gown tuck’d up to Wakes; for Sunday next

  With humming Ale encouraging his Text;

  Nor wants the holy Leer to Country-Girl betwixt.

  From Fiends and Imps he sets the Village free, 40

  There haunts not any Incubus, but He.

  The Maids and Women need no Danger fear

  To walk by Night, and Sanctity so near:

  For by some Haycock or some shady Thorn

  He bids his Beads both Even-song and Morn. 45

  It so befel in this King Arthur’s Reign,

  A lusty Knight was pricking o’er the Plain;

  A Bachelor he was, and of the courtly Train.

  It happen’d as he rode, a Damsel gay

>   In Russet-Robes to Market took her way; 50

  Soon on the Girl he cast an amorous Eye,

  So strait she walk’d, and on her Pasterns high:

  If seeing her behind he lik’d her Pace,

  Now turning short he better lik’d her Face.

  He lights in hast, and, full of Youthful Fire, 55

  By Force accomplish’d his obscene Desire

  This done away he rode, not unespy’d,

  For swarming at his Back the Country cry’d;

  And once in view they never lost the Sight,

  But seiz’d, and pinion’d brought to Court the Knight. 60

  Then Courts of Kings were held in high Renown,

  E’er made the common Brothels of the Town;

  There, Virgins honourable Vows receiv’d,

  But chast as Maids in Monasteries liv’d:

  The King himself to Nuptial Ties a Slave, 65

  No bad Example to his Poets gave;

  And they not bad, but in a vicious Age

  Had not to please the Prince debauch’d the Stage.

  Now what shou’d Arthur do? He lov’d the Knight,

  But Soveraign Monarchs are the Source of Right: 70

  Mov’d by the Damsels Tears and common Cry,

  He doom’d the brutal Ravisher to die.

  But fair Geneura rose in his Defence,

  And pray’d so hard for Mercy from the Prince;

  That to his Queen the King th’ Offender gave, 75

  And left it in her Pow’r to Kill or Save:

  This gracious Act the Ladies all approve,

  Who thought it much a Man shou’d die for Love;

  And with their Mistress join’d in close Debate,

  (Covering their Kindness with dissembled Hate;) 80

  If not to free him, to prolong his Fate.

  At last agreed, they call’d him by consent

  Before the Queen and Female Parliament.

  And the fair Speaker, rising from her Chair

  Did thus the Judgment of the House declare. 85

  Sir Knight, tho’ I have ask’d thy Life, yet still

  Thy Destiny depends upon my Will:

  Nor hast thou other Surety than the Grace

  Not due to thee from our offended Race.

  But as our Kind is of a softer Mold, 90

  And cannot Blood without a Sigh behold,

  I grant thee Life; reserving still the Pow’r

  To take the Forfeit when I see my Hour;

  Unless thy Answer to my next Demand

  Shall set Thee free from our avenging Hand; 95

  The Question, whose Solution I require,

  Is what the Sex of Women most desire?

  In this Dispute thy Judges are at Strife;

  Beware, for on thy Wit depends thy Life

  Yet (lest surpriz’d, unknowing what to say, 100

  Thou damn thy self) we give thee farther Day:

  A Year is thine to wander at thy Will:

  And learn from others, if thou want’st the Skill.

  But, not to hold our Proffer [as] in Scorn,

  Good Sureties will we have for thy return; 105

  That at the time prefix’d thou shalt obey,

  And at thy Pledges Peril keep thy Day.

  Woe was the Knight at this severe Command!

  But well he knew ’twas bootless to withstand:

  The Terms accepted as the Fair ordain, 110

  He put in Bail for his return again;

  And promis’d Answer at the Day assign’d,

  The best, with Heav’n’s Assistance, he could find.

  His Leave thus taken, on his Way he went

  With heavy Heart, and full of Discontent, 115

  Misdoubting much, and fearful of th’ Event.

  ’Twas hard the Truth of such a Point to find,

  As was not yet agreed among the Kind.

  Thus on he went; still anxious more and more,

  Ask’d all he met; and knock’d at ev’ry Door; 120

  Enquir’d of Men; but made his chief Request

  To learn from Women what they lov’d the best.

  They answer’d each according to her Mind,

  To please her self, not all the Female Kind.

  One was for Wealth, another was for Place: 125

  Crones old and ugly, wish’d a better Face;

  The Widow’s Wish was oftentimes to Wed;

  The wanton Maids were all for Sport a Bed.

  Some said the Sex were pleas’d with handsom Lies,

  And some gross Flatt’ry lov’d without disguise: 130

  Truth is, says one, he seldom fails to win

  Who Flatters well; for that’s our darling Sin.

  But long Attendance, and a duteous Mind,

  Will work ev’n with the wisest of the Kind.

  One thought the Sexes prime Felicity 135

  Was from the Bonds of Wedlock to be free;

  Their Pleasures, Hours, and Actions all their own,

  And uncontroll’d to give Account to none.

  Some wish a Husband-Fool; but such are curst,

  For Fools perverse, of Husbands are the worst: 140

  All Women wou’d be counted Chast and Wise,

  Nor should our Spouses see, but with our Eyes;

  For Fools will prate; and tho’ they want the Wit

  To find close Faults, yet open Blots will hit:

  Tho’ better for their Ease to hold their Tongue, 145

  For Womankind was never in the Wrong.

  So Noise ensues, and Quarrels last for Life;

  The Wife abhors the Fool, the Fool the Wife.

  And some Men say, that great Delight have we,

  To be for Truth extoll’d, and Secrecy: 150

  And constant in one Purpose still to dwell;

  And not our Husband’s Counsels to reveal.

  But that’s a Fable: for our Sex is frail,

  Inventing rather than not tell a Tale.

  Like leaky Sives no Secrets we can hold: 155

  Witness the famous Tale that Ovid told.

  Midas the King, as in his Book appears,

  By Phœbus was endow’d with Asses Ears,

  Which under his long Locks, he well conceal’d

  (As Monarch’s Vices must not be reveal’d), 160

  For fear the People have ‘em in the Wind,

  Who long ago were neither Dumb nor Blind;

  Nor apt to think from Heav’n their Title springs,

  Since Jove and Mars left off begetting Kings.

  This Midas knew; and durst communicate 165

  To none but to his Wife, his Ears of State;

  One must be trusted, and he thought her fit,

  As passing prudent; and a parlous Wit.

  To this sagacious Confessor he went,

  And told her what a Gift the Gods had sent; 170

  But told it under Matrimonial Seal,

  With strict Injunction never to reveal.

  The Secret heard she plighted him her Troth,

  (And sacred sure is every Woman’s Oath)

  The royal Malady should rest unknown 175

  Both for her Husband’s Honour and her own:

  But ne’ertheless she pin’d with Discontent;

  The Counsel rumbled till it found a vent.

  The Thing she knew she was oblig’d to hide;

  By Int’rest and by Oath the Wife was ty’d; 180

  But if she told it not, the Woman dy’d.

  Loath to betray a Husband and a Prince,

  But she must burst, or blab; and no pretence

  Of Honour ty’d her Tongue from Self-defence.

  A marshy Ground commodiously was near, 185

  Thither she ran, and held her Breath for fear,

  Lest if a Word she spoke of any Thing,

  That Word might be the Secret of the King.

  Thus full of Counsel to the Fen she went,

  Grip’d all the way, and longing for a vent: 190

  Arriv’d,
by pure Necessity compell’d,

  On her majestick mary-bones she kneel’d:

  Then to the Waters-brink she laid her Head,

  And, as a Bittour bumps within a Reed,

  To thee alone, O Lake, she said, I tell 195

  (And as thy Queen command thee to conceal)

  Beneath his Locks the King my Husband wears

  A goodly Royal pair of Asses Ears:

  Now I have eas’d my Bosom of the Pain

  Till the next longing Fit return again! 200

  Thus through a Woman was the Secret known;

  Tell us, and in effect you tell the Town:

  But to my Tale: The knight with heavy Cheer,

  Wandring in vain, had now consum’d the Year:

  One Day was only left to solve the Doubt, 205

  Yet knew no more than when he first set out.

  But home he must: And as th’ Award had been,

  Yield up his Body Captive to the Queen.

  In this despairing State he hap’d to ride,

  As Fortune led him, by a Forest-side: 210

  Lonely the Vale, and full of Horror stood,

  Brown with the shade of a religious Wood:

  When full before him at the Noon of night,

  (The Moon was up, and shot a gleamy Light)

  He saw a Quire of Ladies in a round, 215

  That featly footing seem’d to skim the Ground:

  Thus dancing Hand in Hand, so light they were,

  He knew not where they trod, on Earth or Air.

  At speed he drove, and came a suddain Guest,

  In hope where many Women were, at least, 220

  Some one by chance might answer his Request.

  But faster than his Horse the Ladies flew,

  And in a trice were vanish’d out of view.

  One only Hag remain’d: But fowler far

  Than Grandame Apes in Indian Forests are: 225

  Against a wither’d Oak she lean’d her weight,

  Prop’d on her trusty Staff, not half upright,

  And drop’d an awkard Court’sy to the Knight.

  Then said, What make you, Sir, so late abroad

  Without a Guide, and this no beaten Road? 230

  Or want you aught that here you hope to find,

  Or travel for some Trouble in your Mind?

  The last I guess; and, if I read aright,

  Those of our Sex are bound to serve a Knight:

  Perhaps good Counsel may your Grief asswage, 235

  Then tell your pain: For Wisdom is in Age.

  To this the Knight: Good Mother, wou’d you know

  The secret Cause and Spring of all my Woe?

  My Life must with to Morrow’s Light expire,

  Unless I tell, what Women most desire: 240

  Now cou’d you help me at this hard Essay,

  Or for your inborn Goodness, or for Pay:

  Yours is my Life, redeem’d by your Advice,