The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Works of John Dryden Volume Ten, by John Dryden with Notes by Walter Scott.

Because he knows confession stands for one;

Where sins to sacred silence are conveyed,

And not for fear, or love, to be betrayed:

But he, uncalled, his patron to controul,

Divulged the secret whispers of his soul;

Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes,

And offered to the Moloch of the times.[253]

Prompt to assail, and careless of defence,

Invulnerable in his impudence,

He dares the world; and, eager of a name,

He thrusts about, and jostles into fame.

Frontless, and satire-proof, he scowers the streets,

And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets.[254]

}

So fond of loud report, that, not to miss }

Of being known, (his last and utmost bliss,) }

He rather would be known for what he is. }

}

Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test,[255] }

Though half his virtues are not here expressed; }

The modesty of fame conceals the rest. }

The spleenful Pigeons never could create

A prince more proper to revenge their hate;

Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save;

A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave:

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For all the grace the landlord had allowed, }

But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; }

Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd. }

}

They long their fellow-subjects to inthral, }

Their patron's promise into question call,[256] }

And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all. }

False fears their leaders failed not to suggest,

As if the Doves were to be dispossessed;

Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did want,

For now the Pigeons too had learned to cant.

The house of prayer is stocked with large increase;

Nor doors, nor windows, can contain the press,

For birds of every feather fill the abode;

E'en atheists out of envy own a God,

And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come,

Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome.

That conscience, which to all their crimes was mute,

Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute:

No rigour of the laws to be released,

And much the less, because it was their Lord's request;

They thought it great their sovereign to controul,

And named their pride, nobility of soul.

'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect,

Were short of power, their purpose to effect;

But with their quills did all the hurt they could,

And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food:

}

And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, }

Though naming not the patron, to infer, }

With all respect, he was a gross idolater.[257] }

But when the imperial owner did espy,

That thus they turned his grace to villainy,

}

Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, }

He strove a temper for the extremes to find, }

So to be just, as he might still be kind; }

Then, all maturely weighed, pronounced a doom

Of sacred strength for every age to come.[258]

By this the Doves their wealth and state possess,

No rights infringed, but license to oppress:

Such power have they as factious lawyers long

To crowns ascribed, that kings can do no wrong.

But since his own domestic birds have tried

The dire effects of their destructive pride,

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He deems that proof a measure to the rest, }

Concluding well within his kingly breast, }

His fowls of nature too unjustly were opprest.[259] }

}

He therefore makes all birds of every sect }

Free of his farm, with promise to respect }

Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. }

}

His gracious edict the same franchise yields }

To all the wild increase of woods and fields, }

And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds: }

To Crows the like impartial grace affords,

And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds;

Secured with ample privilege to feed,

Each has his district, and his bounds decreed;

Combined in common interest with his own,

But not to pass the Pigeons' Rubicon.

}

Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; }

All prophecies accomplished from above, }

For Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove. }

Reduced from her imperial high abode,

Like Dionysius to a private rod,[260]

}

The passive church, that with pretended grace }

Did her distinctive mark in duty place, }

Now touched, reviles her Maker to his face. }

}

What after happened is not hard to guess; }

The small beginnings had a large increase, }

And arts and wealth succeed the secret spoils of peace. }

'Tis said, the Doves repented, though too late,

Become the smiths of their own foolish fate:[261]

Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour,

But, sunk in credit, they decreased in power;

Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away,

Dissolving in the silence of decay.[262]

The Buzzard, not content with equal place,

Invites the feathered Nimrods of his race,

To hide the thinness of their flock from sight,

And all together make a seeming goodly flight:

But each have separate interests of their own;

Two Czars are one too many for a throne.

Nor can the usurper long abstain from food;

Already he has tasted Pigeon's blood,

And may be tempted to his former fare,[263]

When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair.

Bare benting times, and moulting months may come,

When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home;

Or rent in schism, (for so their fate decrees,)

Like the tumultuous college of the bees,

They fight their quarrel, by themselves opprest,

The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast.—