by John Dryden
The Sixth Satyr
To Cæsius Bassus, a Lyrick Poet
HAS Winter caus’d thee, Friend, to change thy Seat,
And seek, in Sabine Air, a warm retreat?
Say, do’st thou yet the Roman Harp command?
Do the Strings Answer to thy Noble hand?
Great Master of the Muse, inspir’d to Sing 5
The Beauties of the first Created Spring;
The Pedigree of Nature to rehearse;
And sound the Maker’s Work, in equal Verse.
Now, sporting on thy Lyre the Loves of Youth,
Now Virtuous Age, and venerable Truth; 10
Expressing justly Sapho’s wanton Art
Of Odes, and Pindar’s more Majestick part.
For me, my warmer Constitution wants
More cold, than our Ligurian Winter grants;
And, therefore, to my Native Shores retir’d, 15
I view the Coast old Ennius once admir’d;
Where Clifts on either side their points display;
And, after, opening in an ampler way,
Afford the pleasing Prospect of the Bay.
’Tis worth your while, O Romans, to regard 20
The Port of Luna, says our Learned Bard:
Who, in a Drunken Dream, beheld his Soul
The Fifth within the Transmigrating roul;
Which first a Peacock, then Euphorbus was,
Then Homer next, and next Pythagoras; 25
And last of all the Line did into Ennius pass.
Secure and free from Business of the State;
And more secure of what the vulgar Prate,
Here I enjoy my private Thoughts; nor care
What Rots for Sheep the Southern Winds prepare: 30
Survey the Neighb’ring Fields, and not repine,
When I behold a larger Crop than mine:
To see a Beggar’s Brat in Riches flow,
Adds not a Wrinckle to my even Brow;
Nor, envious at the sight, will I forbear 35
My plentious Bowl, nor bate my bounteous Cheer:
Nor yet unseal the Dregs of Wine that stink
Of Cask; nor in a nasty Flaggon Drink;
Let others stuff their Guts with homely fare:
For Men of diff’rent Inclinations are; 40
Tho born, perhaps, beneath one common Star.
In minds and manners Twins oppos’d we see
In the same Sign, almost the same Degree:
One, Frugal, on his Birth-Day fears to dine,
Does at a Penny’s cost in Herbs repine, 45
And hardly dares to dip his Fingers in the Brine.
Prepar’d as Priest of his own Rites to stand,
He sprinkles Pepper with a sparing hand.
His Jolly Brother, opposite in sence,
Laughs at his Thrift; and, lavish of Expence, 50
Quaffs, Crams, and Guttles, in his own defence.
For me, I’le use my own; and take my share;
Yet will not Turbots for my Slaves prepare:
Nor be so nice in taste my self to know
If what I swallow be a Thrush, or no. 55
Live on thy Annual Income! Spend thy store;
And freely grind, from thy full Threshing-Floor;
Next Harvest promises as much, or more.
Thus I wou’d live: But Friendship’s holy Band,
And Offices of kindness hold my hand: 60
My Friend is Shipwreck’d on the Brutian Strand,
His Riches in th’ Ionian Main are lost;
And he himself stands shiv’ring on the Coast;
Where, destitute of help, forlorn, and bare,
He wearies the Deaf Gods with Fruitless Pray’r. 65
Their Images, the Relicks of the Wrack,
Torn from the Naked Poop, are tided back,
By the Wild Waves, and rudely thrown ashore,
Lye impotent: Nor can themselves restore.
The Vessel sticks, and shows her open’d side, 70
And on her shatter’d Mast the Mews in Triumph ride.
From thy new hope, and from thy growing store,
Now lend Assistance, and relieve the Poor.
Come; do a Noble Act of Charity;
A Pittance of thy Land will set him free. 75
Let him not bear the Badges of a Wrack
Nor beg with a blue Table on his back.
Nor tell me that thy frowning Heir will say,
’Tis mine that Wealth thou squander’st thus away:
What is’t to thee, if he neglect thy Urn, 80
Or without Spices lets thy Body burn?
If Odours to thy Ashes he refuse,
Or buys Corrupted Cassia from the Jews?
All these, the wiser Bestius will reply,
Are empty Pomp, and Deadmen’s Luxury: 85
We never knew this vain Expence, before
Th’ effeminated Grecians brought it o’re:
Now Toys and Trifles from their Athens come;
And Dates and Pepper have unsinnew’d Rome.
Our sweating Hinds their Sallads, now, defile, 90
Infecting homely Herbs with fragrant Oyl.
But, to thy Fortune be not thou a Slave;
For what hast thou to fear beyond the Grave?
And thou who gap’st for my Estate, draw near;
For I wou’d whisper somewhat in thy Ear. 95
Hear’st thou the News, my Friend? th’ Express is come
With Laurell’d Letters from the Camp to Rome;
Cæsar Salutes the Queen and Senate thus:
My Arms are, on the Rhine, Victorious.
From Mourning Altars sweep the Dust away: 100
Cease Fasting, and proclaim a Fat Thanks-giving Day.
The goodly Empress, Jollily inclin’d,
Is, to the welcome Bearer, wond’rous kind:
And, setting her Goodhousewifry aside,
Prepares for all the Pageantry of Pride. 105
The Captive Germans, of Gygantick size,
Are ranck’d in order, and are clad in frize:
The Spoils of Kings, and Conquer’d Camps we boast,
Their Arms in Trophies hang, on the Triumphal post.
Now, for so many Glorious Actions done 110
In Foreign parts, and mighty Battels won;
For Peace at Home, and for the publick Wealth,
I mean to Crown a Bowl to Cæsar’s Health:
Besides, in Gratitude for such high matters,
Know I have vow’d two hundred Gladiators. 115
Say, wou’dst thou hinder me from this Expence?
I Disinherit thee, if thou dar’st take Offence.
Yet more a publick Largess I design
Of Oyl and Pyes to make the People dine:
Controul me not, for fear I change my Will; 120
And yet methinks I hear thee grumbling still,
You give as if you were the Persian King;
Your Land does no such large Revenues bring.
Well; on my Terms thou wilt not be my Heir;
If thou car’st little, less shall be my care: 125
Were none of all my Father’s Sisters left
Nay, were I of my Mother’s Kin bereft;
None by an Uncle’s or a Grandam’s side
Yet I cou’d some adopted Heir provide.
I need but take my Journey half a day 130
From haughty Rome, and at Aricea stay,
Where Fortune throws poor Manius in my way.
Him will I chuse: What him, of humble Birth,
Obscure, a Foundling, and a Son of Earth?
Obscure! Why prithee what am I? I know 135
My Father, Grandsire, and great Grandsire too:
If farther I derive my Pedigree,
I can but guess beyond the fourth degree.
The rest of my forgotten Ancestors
Were Sons of Earth, like him, or Sons of Whores. 140
Yet why shou’d’st thou, old covetous Wretch
, aspire
To be my Heir, who might’st have been my Sire?
In Nature’s Race, shou’d’st thou demand of me
My Torch, when I in course run after thee?
Think I approach thee like the God of Gain, 145
With Wings on Head, and Heels, as Poets feign:
Thy mod’rate Fortune from my Gift receive;
Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave.
But take it as it is, and ask no more.
What, when thou hast embezel’d all thy store? 150
Where’s all thy Father left? ’Tis true, I grant,
Some I have mortgag’d, to supply my want:
The Legacies of Tadius too are flown:
All spent, and on the selfsame Errand gone.
How little then to my poor share will fall? 155
Little indeed; but yet that little’s all.
Nor tell me, in a dying Father’s tone,
Be careful still of the main chance, my Son;
Put out the Principal, in trusty hands:
Live of the Use; and never dip thy Lands: 160
But yet what’s left for me? What’s left, my Friend!
Ask that again, and all the rest I spend.
Is not my Fortune at my own Command?
Pour Oyl; and pour it with a plenteous hand,
Upon my Sallads, Boy: Shall I be fed 165
With sodden Nettles, and a sing’d Sow’s head?
’Tis Holyday; provide me better Cheer;
’Tis Holyday, and shall be round the Year.
Shall I my Household Gods, and Genius, cheat,
To make him rich, who grudges me my Meat, 170
That he may loll at ease; and pamper’d high,
When I am laid, may feed on Giblet Pye?
And when his throbbing Lust extends the Vein,
Have wherewithall his Whores to entertain?
Shall I in homespun Cloath be clad, that he 175
His Paunch in triumph may before him see?
Go Miser, go; for Lucre sell thy Soul;
Truck Wares for Wares, and trudge from Pole to Pole:
That Men may say, when thou art dead and gone,
See what a vast Estate he left his Son! 180
How large a Family of Brawny Knaves,
Well fed, and fat as Capadocian Slaves!
Increase thy Wealth, and double all thy Store;
’Tis done: Now double that, and swell the score;
To ev’ry thousand add ten thousand more. 185
Then say, Chrysippus, thou who wou’dst confine
Thy Heap, where I shall put an end to mine.
The End of the Sixth Satyr.
The Poems
In 1644 Dryden was sent to Westminster School as a King’s Scholar where his headmaster was Dr Richard Busby, a charismatic teacher and severe disciplinarian.
The school today
LIST OF POEMS IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
UPON THE DEATH OF THE LORD HASTINGS
HEROICK STANZA’S: A POEM UPON THE DEATH OF HIS LATE HIGHNESS, OLIVER, LORD PROTECTOR OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND IN HEROICK STANZA’S
ASTRÆA REDUX.
TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY.
TO MY LORD CHANCELLOR, PRESENTED ON NEW-YEARS-DAY, 1662
THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS
ANNUS MIRABILIS
MAC FLECKNOE
ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL: THE FIRST PART
ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL: THE SECOND PART
THE MEDALL
RELIGIO LAICI
THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. THE FIRST PART
THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. THE SECOND PART
THE HIND AND THE PANTHER. THE THIRD PART
TO JOHN HODDESDON, ON HIS DIVINE EPIGRAMS
TO MY HONORED FRIEND SIR ROBERT HOWARD ON HIS EXCELLENT POEMS
TO MY HONOUR’D FRIEND DR. CHARLETON, ON HIS LEARNED AND USEFUL WORKS
TO THE LADY CASTLEMAINE, UPON HER INCOURAGING HIS FIRST PLAY
TO MR. LEE, ON HIS ALEXANDER
TO THE EARL OF ROSCOMON, ON HIS EXCELLENT ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE
TO MY FRIEND, MR. NORTHLEIGH, AUTHOR OF THE PARALLEL, ON HIS TRIUMPH OF THE BRITISH MONARCHY
TO MY INGENIOUS FRIEND, HENRY HIGDEN, ESQ., ON HIS TRANSLATION OF THE TENTH SATYR OF JUVENAL
A LETTER TO SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE
TO MR. SOUTHERN, ON HIS COMEDY CALLED THE WIVES EXCUSE
TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. CONGREVE, ON HIS COMEDY CALLED THE DOUBLE-DEALER
TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER, PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY
TO MR. GRANVILLE, ON HIS EXCELLENT TRAGEDY, CALLED HEROICK LOVE
TO PETER ANTONY MOTTEUX, ON HIS TRAGEDY, CALLED BEAUTY IN DISTRESS
TO MY HONOUR’D KINSMAN, JOHN DRIDEN
ON THE MONUMENT OF THE MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER
EPITAPH ON SIR PALMES FAIRBORNE’S TOMB, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM
TO THE PIOUS MEMORY OF THE ACCOMPLISHT YOUNG LADY, MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW, EXCELLENT IN THE TWO SISTER-ARTS OF POESIE AND PAINTING.
UPON THE DEATH OF THE VISCOUNT OF DUNDEE
EPITAPH ON THE LADY WHITMORE
ELEONORA: A PANEGYRICAL POEM
ON THE DEATH OF MR. PURCELL
THE MONUMENT OF A FAIR MAIDEN LADY, WHO DY’D AT BATH, AND IS THERE INTERR’D
ON THE DEATH OF AMYNTAS. A PASTORAL ELEGY
ON THE DEATH OF A VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN
UPON YOUNG MR. ROGERS, OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE
ON MRS. MARGARET PASTON, OF BARNINGHAM, IN NORFOLK
EPITAPH ON A NEPHEW IN CATWORTH CHURCH, HUNTINGDONSHIRE
THE TEARS OF AMYNTA FOR THE DEATH OF DAMON
SONG (“SYLVIA THE FAIR, IN THE BLOOM OF FIFTEEN”)
A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA’S DAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1687
THE LADY’S SONG
A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY GOING OUT OF TOWN IN THE SPRING
ALEXANDER’S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIQUE.
A SONG (“GO TELL AMYNTA, GENTLE SWAIN”)
RONDELAY
THE FAIR STRANGER
A SONG (“FAIR, SWEET AND YOUNG, RECEIVE A PRIZE”)
A SONG (“HIGH STATE AND HONOURS TO OTHERS IMPART”)
THE SECULAR MASQUE
SONG OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS
FABLES ANCIENT AND MODERN: PREFACE
TO HER GRACE THE DUTCHESS OF ORMOND
PALAMON AND ARCITE: OR THE KNIGHT’S TALE. BOOK I
PALAMON AND ARCITE: OR THE KNIGHT’S TALE. BOOK II
PALAMON AND ARCITE: OR THE KNIGHT’S TALE. BOOK III
THE COCK AND THE FOX, OR THE TALE OF THE NUN’S PRIEST
THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF; OR, THE LADY IN THE ARBOUR
THE WIFE OF BATH HER TALE
THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON
SIGISMONDA AND GUISCARDO
THEODORE AND HONORIA
CYMON AND IPHIGENIA
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE WILD GALLANT
PROLOGUE TO THE RIVAL LADIES
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE INDIAN EMPEROR
PROLOGUE TO SECRET LOVE, OR THE MAIDEN QUEEN
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE WILD GALLANT, REVIVED
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO SIR MARTIN MAR-ALL, OR THE FEIGNED INNOCENCE
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE TEMPEST
PROLOGUE TO ALBUMAZAR
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO AN EVENING’S LOVE, OR THE MOCK ASTROLOGER
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO TYRANNICK LOVE, OR THE ROYAL MARTYR
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA BY THE SPANIARDS
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE SECOND PART OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA BY THE SPANIARDS
PROLOGUE SPOKEN ON THE FIRST DAY OF THE KINGS HOUSE ACTING AFTER THE FIRE
PROLOGUE TO ARVIRAGUS AND PHILICIA, REVIVED
PROLOGUE, FOR THE WOMEN, WHEN THEY ACTED AT THE OLD THEATRE IN LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE MAIDEN QUEEN, OR SECRET LOVE, WHEN ACTED BY THE WOMEN ONLY
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO MARRIA
GE-À-LA-MODE
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE ASSIGNATION, OR LOVE IN A NUNNERY
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO AMBOYNA, OR THE CRUELTIES OF THE DUTCH TO THE ENGLISH MERCHANTS
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE. SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE, MARCH 26, 1674
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO AURENG-ZEBE
EPILOGUE TO CALISTO, OR THE CHASTE NYMPH
EPILOGUE TO THE MAN OF MODE, OR SIR FOPLING FLUTTER
PROLOGUE TO CIRCE
EARLIER VERSION OF PROLOGUE TO CIRCE
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO ALL FOR LOVE, OR THE WORLD WELL LOST
EPILOGUE TO MITHRIDATES, KING OF PONTUS
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE KIND KEEPER, OR MR. LIMBERHAM
PROLOGUE TO THE TRUE WIDOW
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO ŒDIPUS
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, OR TRUTH FOUND TOO LATE
PROLOGUE TO CÆSAR BORGIA, SON OF POPE ALEXANDER THE SIXTH
THE PROLOGUE AT OXFORD, 1680
PROLOGUE TO THE LOYAL GENERAL
PROLOGUE TO THE SPANISH FRYAR, OR THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY
EPILOGUE TO TAMERLANE THE GREAT
A PROLOGUE (“GALLANTS, A BASHFUL POET BIDS ME SAY”)
PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE TO THE PRINCESS OF CLEVES
FIRST PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
SECOND PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
THIRD PROLOGUE TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
PROLOGUE TO THE UNHAPPY FAVOURITE
