Annus Mirabilis: The year of Wonders, 1666. An Historical Poem.

Front matter

ANNUS MIRABILIS.

The YEAR of

WONDERS,

To the Metropolis of Great Britain

TO THE

METROPOLIS

OF

GREAT BRITAIN,

The most Renowned and late Flourishing

City of London,

In Its

REPRESENTATIVES

The Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen, the Sheriffs and Common Council of it.

A perhaps I am the first, who ever presented a work of this nature to the Metropolis of any Nation, so it is likewise consonant to Justice, that he who was to give the first Example of such a Dedication should begin it with that City, which has set a Pat- tem to all others of true Loyalty, invincible Courage and unshaken Constancy. Other Cities have been prais'd for the same Virtues, but I am much deceiv'd if any have so dearly purchas'd their Reputation; their Fame has been won them by cheaper trials than an expensive, though necessary, War, a consuming Pestilence, and a more consuming Fire. To submit yourselves with that humility to the Judgments of Heaven, and at the same time to raise yourselves with that vigour above all human Enemies; to be combated at once from above and from below, to be struck down and to triumph, I know not whether such Trials have been ever parallel'd in any Nation, the resolution and successes of them never can be. Never had Prince or People more mutual reason to love each other, if suffering for each other can indear affection. You have come together a pair of matchless Lovers, through many difficulties; He, through a long Exile, various traverses of Fortune, and the interposition of many Rivals, who vio- lently ravish'd and with-held You from Him: And certainly you have had your share in sufferings. But Providence has cast upon you want of Trade, that you might appear bountiful to your Country's necessities; and the rest of your Afflictions are not more the effects of God's Displeasure, (frequent examples of them having been in the Reign of the most excellent Princes,) than occasions for the manifesting of your Christian and Civil virtues. To you therefore this Year of Wonders is justly dedicated, because you have made it so. You, who are to stand a wonder to all Years and Ages; and, who have built yourselves an Immortal Monument on your own Ruins. You are now a Phœnix in her ashes, and, as far as Humanity can approach, a great Emblem of the suffering Deity. But Heaven never made so much Piety and Virtue to leave it miserable, I have heard indeed of some virtuous Persons who have ended unfortunately, but never of any virtuous Nation: Providence is engag'd too deeply, when the Cause becomes so general. And I cannot imagine it has resolv'd the Ruin of that People at home, which it has bless'd abroad with such Successes. I am therefore to conclude, that your Sufferings are at an end; and that one part of my Poem has not been more an History of your destruction, than the other a Prophecy of your restoration. The accomplishment of which happiness, as it is the wish of all true English-men, so is by none more passionately desired than by

The greatest of Your Admirers,

And most humble of Your Servants,

John Dryden.

An Account of the Ensuing Poem in a Letter to the Honourable Sir Robert Howard

AN

ACCOUNT

OF THE

Ensuing POEM,

IN

A LETTER

to the HONOURABLE

Sr. Robert Howard.

SIR,

I Am so many ways oblig'd to you, and so little able to return your Favours, that, like those who owe too much, I can only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not only been careful of my Fortune, which was the effect of your Nobleness, but you have been solicitous of my Reputation, which is that of your Kindness. It is not long since I gave you the trouble of perusing a Play for me, and now, instead of an Acknowledgment, I have given you a greater, in the Correction of a Poem. But since you are to bear this Persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a Martyr, you could never suffer in a nobler cause. For I have chosen the most heroick Subject which any Poet could desire: I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the beginning, progress and successes, of a most just and necessary War; in it, the care, management and prudence of our King; the conduct and valour of a Royal Admiral, and of two incomparable Generals; the invincible courage of our Captains and Seamen; and three glorious Victories, the result of all. After this, I have, in the Fire, the most deplorable, but withal the greatest Argument that can be imagin'd; the destruction being so swift, so sudden, so vast and miserable, as nothing can parallel in Story. The former part of this Poem, relating to the War, is but a due expiation for my not serving my King and Country in it. All Gentlemen are almost oblig'd to it: And I know no reason we should give that advantage to the Commonalty of England to be formost in brave actions, which the Nobless of France would never suffer in their Peasants. I should not have written this but to a Person, who has been ever forward to appear in all Employments, whither his Honour and Generosity have call'd him. The later part of my Poem, which describes the Fire, I owe first to the Piety and Fatherly Affection of our Monarch to his suffering Subjects; and, in the second place, to the Courage, Loyalty, and Magnanimity of the City; both which were so conspicuous, that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I have called my Poem Historical, not Epick, though both the Actions and Actors are as much Heroick, as any Poem can contain. But since the Action is not properly one, nor that accomplish'd in the last successes, I have judg'd it too bold a Title for a few Stanza's, which are little more in number than a single Iliad, or the longest of the Æneids. For this reason, (I mean, not of length, but broken action, ti'd too severely to the Laws of History,) I am apt to agree with those who rank Lucan, rather among Historians in Verse, than Epique Poets: In whose room, if I am not deceived, Silius Italicus, though a worse Writer, may more justly be admitted. I have chosen to write my Poem in Quatrains, or Stanza's of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever judg'd them more noble, and of greater dignity, both for the Sound and Number, than any other Verse in use amongst us; in which I am sure I have your approbation. The learned Languages have, certainly, a great advantage of us, in not being tied to the slavery of any Rhyme; and were less constrain'd in the quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with Spondæes or Dactiles, besides so many other helps of Grammatical Figures, for the lengthening or abbreviation of them, than the Modern are in the close of that one Syllable, which often confines, and more often corrupts the sense of all the rest. But in this necessity of our Rhymes, I have always found the couplet Verse most easie, (though not so proper for this occasion,) for there the work is sooner at an end, every two lines concluding the labour of the Poet; but in Quatrains he is to carry it farther on; and not only so, but to bear along in his head the trou- blesome sense of four lines together. For those who write correctly in this kind, must needs acknowledge, that the last line of the Stanza is to be consider'd in the composition of the first. Neither can we give our selves the liberty of making any part of a Verse for the sake of Rhyme, or concluding with a word which is not currant English, or using the variety of Female Rhymes, all which our Fathers practised; and for the Female Rhymes, they are still in use amongst other Nations; with the Italian in every line, with the Spaniard promiscuously, with the French alternately, as those who have read the Alarique, the Pucelle, or any of their later Poems, will agree with me. And besides this, they write in Alexandrins, or Verses of six feet, such as amongst us is the old Translation of Homer by Chapman: All which, by lengthning of their Chain, makes the sphere of their activity the larger. I have dwelt too long upon the choice of my Stanza, which you may remember is much better defended in the Preface to Gondibert; and therefore I will hasten to acquaint you with my endeavors in the writing. In general I will only say, I have never yet seen the description of any Naval Fight in the proper terms which are us'd at Sea; and if there be any such in another Language, as that of Lucan in the third of his Pharsalia, yet I could not prevail my self of it in the English; the terms of Art in every Tongue bearing more of the Idiom of it than any other words. We hear indeed, among our Poets, of the Thundering of Guns, the Smoke, the Disorder and the Slaughter; but all these are common notions. And certainly as those, who, in a Logical dispute, keep in general terms, would hide a fallacy, so those who do it in any Poetical description would vail their Ignorance.

Descriptas servare vices operumque colores, Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, Poeta salutor?

For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the Sea, yet I have thought it no shame to learn: and if I have made some few mistakes, 'tis only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity to correct them; the whole Poem being first written, and now sent you from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any Sea-man. Yet, though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than recompens'd by the pleasure; I found my self so warm in celebrating the Praises of Military men, two such especially as the Prince and General, that it is no wonder if they inspir'd me with thoughts above my ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that as they are incomparably the best subject I ever had, excepting only the Royal Family; so also, that this I have written of them is much better than what I have perform'd on any other. I have been forc'd to help out other Arguments, but this has been bountiful to me; they have been low and barren of praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful: But here—Omnia sponte suâ reddit justissima tellus. I have had a large, a fair and a pleasant field, so fertile, that without my cultivating, it has given me two Harvests in a Summer, and in both oppressed the Reaper. All other greatness in Subjects is only counterfeit, it will not endure the test of danger; the greatness of arms is only real: Other greatness burdens a Nation with its weight, this supports it with its strength. And as it is the happiness of the Age, so it is the peculiar goodness of the best of Kings, that we may praise his Subjects without offending him: Doubtless it proceeds from a just confidence of his own Virtue, which the lustre of no other can be so great as to darken in him; for the Good or the Valiant are never safely praised under a bad or a degenerate Prince. But to return from this digression to a farther account of my Poem, I must crave leave to tell you, that as I have endeavoured to adorn it with noble thoughts, so much more to express those thoughts with elocution. The Composition of all Poems is or ought to be of wit, and wit in the Poet, or wit writing, (if you will give me leave to use a School distinction,) is no other than the faculty of imagination in the Writer, which, like a nimble Spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of Memory, till it springs the Quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the Memory for the Species or Idea's of those things which it designs to represent. Wit written, is that which is well defin'd, the happy result of Thought, or product of Imagination. But to proceed from wit, in the general notion of it, to the proper wit of an Heroick or Historical Poem, I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imaging of Persons, Actions, Passions, or Things. 'Tis not the jerk or sting of an Epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor Antithesis, (the delight of an ill-judging Audience in a Play of Rhyme,) nor the gingle of a more poor Paronomasia; neither is it so much the morality of a grave Sentence, affected by Lucan, but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before your eyes the absent object, as perfectly and more delightfully than nature. So then, the first happiness of the Poet's imagination is properly Invention, or finding of the thought; the second is Fancy, or the Variation, deriving or moulding of that thought, as the Judgment represents it proper to the subject; the third is Elocution, or the Art of clothing and adorning that thought, so found and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words: The quickness of the Imagination is seen in the Invention, the fertility in the Fancy, and the accuracy in the Expression. For the two first of these, Ovid is famous among the Poets, for the later Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extreamly discompos'd by one: His words therefore are the least part of his care, for he pictures Nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. This is the proper wit of Dialogue or Discourse, and, consequently, of the Drama, where all that is said is to be suppos'd the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of Wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of tropes, or, in fine, any thing that shews remoteness of thought, or labour, in the Writer. On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own, he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other, to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess as well the labour as the force of his Imagination. Though he describes his Dido well and naturally, in the violence of her Passions, yet he must yield in that to the Myrrha, the Biblis, the Althæa, of Ovid; for as great an admirer of him as I am, I must acknowledge, that, if I see not more of their Souls than I see of Dido's, at least I have a greater concernment for them: And that convinces me, that Ovid has touched those tender strokes more delicately than Virgil could. But when Action or Persons are to be described, when any such Image is to be set before us, how bold, how masterly are the strokes of Virgil! We see the objects he represents us with in their native figures, in their proper motions; but so we see them, as our own Eyes could never have beheld them so beautiful in themselves. We see the Soul of the Poet, like that universal one of which he speaks, informing and moving through all his Pictures, Totamque infusa per artus Mens agitat molem, & magno se corpore miscet; we behold him embellishing his Images, as he makes Venus breathing beauty upon her son Æneas.

——lumenque juventæ Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflârat honores: Quale manus addunt ebori decus, aut ubi flavo Argentum, Pariusve lapis circundatur auro.

See his Tempest, his Funeral Sports, his Combat of Turnus and Æneas, and in his Georgicks, which I esteem the Divinest part of all his writings, the Plague, the Country, the Battel of the Bulls, the labour of the Bees, and those many other excellent Images of Nature, most of which are neither great in themselves, nor have any natural ornament to bear them up: but the words wherewith he describes them are so excellent, that it might be well appli'd to him which was said by Ovid, Materiam superabat opus: The very Sound of his Words has often somewhat that is connatural to the subject, and while we read him, we sit, as in a Play, beholding the Scenes of what he represents. To perform this, he made frequent use of Tropes, which you know change the nature of a known word, by applying it to some other signification; and this is it which Horace means in his epistle to the Pisos.

Dixeri egregie, notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum ——

But I am sensible I have presum'd too far to entertain you with a rude discourse of that Art, which you both know so well, and put into practice with so much happiness. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my Master in this Poem: I have followed him every where, I know not with what success, but I am sure with diligence enough: My Images are many of them copied from him, and the rest are imitations of him. My Expressions also are as near as the idioms of the two Languages would admit of in translation. And this, Sir, I have done with that boldness, for which I will stand accomptable to any of our little Criticks, who, perhaps, are not better accquainted with him than I am. Upon your first perusal of this Poem, you have taken notice of some words which I have innovated (if it be too bold for me to say, refin'd,) upon his Latin; which, as I offer not to introduce into English prose, so I hope they are neither improper, nor altogether unelegant in Verse; and, in this, Horace will again defend me.

Et nova, fictaque nuper, habebunt verba fidem, si Græco fonte cadunt, parcè detorta ——

The inference is exceeding plain: for if a Roman poet might have liberty to coin a word, supposing only that it was derived from the Greek, was put into a Latin termination, and that he used this liberty but seldom, and with modesty; how much more justly may I challenge that privilege to do it with the same prerequisites, from the best and most judicious of Latin writers! In some places, where either the fancy or the words were his, or any other's, I have noted it in the margin, that I might not seem a plagiary; in others I have neglected it, to avoid as well tediousness, as the affectation of doing it too often. Such descriptions or images well-wrought, which I promise not for mine, are, as I have said, the adequate delight of heroic poesy; for they beget admiration, which is its proper object; as the images of the burlesque, which is contrary to this, by the same reason beget laughter: for the one shows nature beautified, as in the picture of a fair woman, which we all admire; the other shows her deformed, as in that of a lazar, or of a fool with distorted face and antique gestures, at which we cannot forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from nature. But though the same images serve equally for the Epic poesy, and for the historic and panegyric, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of sculpture is to be used in them. If some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, Stantes in curribus Æmiliani, heroes drawn in their triumphal chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of Virgil, Spirantia mollius æra: there is somewhat more of softness and tenderness to be shewn in them. You will soon find I write not this without concern. Some, who have seen a paper of Verses, which I wrote last year to her Highness the Dutches, have accus'd them of that only thing I could defend in them; they said I did humi serpere, that I wanted not only height of Fancy, but dignity of Words to set it off; I might well answer with that of Horace, Nunc non erat hic locus, I knew I address'd them to a Lady, and accordingly I affected the softness of expression, and the smoothness of measure, rather than the height of thought; and in what I did endeavour, it is no vanity to say, I have succeeded. I detest arrogance; but there is some difference betwixt that and a just defence. But I will not farther bribe your candor, or the Readers. I leave them to speak for me; and, if they can, to make out that character, not pretending to a greater, which I have given them.

Verses to Her Highness the Dutches on the Memorable Victory gain'd by the Duke against the Hollanders

Verses to Her Highness the Dutches on the Memorable Victory gain’d by the Duke against the Hollanders, June the d. . And on Her Journey afterwards into the North.

MADAM, WHen, for our sakes, your Heroe you resign'd To swelling Seas, and every faithless wind; When you releas'd his Courage, and set free A Valour fatal to the Enemy,

You lodg'd your Countries cares within your breast (The mansion where soft Love should only rest:) And e're our Foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home. Ah, what concerns did both your Souls divide! Your Honour gave us what your Love deni'd: And 'twas for him much easier to subdue Those Foes he fought with, than to part from you. That glorious day, which two such Navies saw, As each, unmatch'd, might to the world give Law. Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, Held to them both the Trident of the Sea: The Winds were hush'd, the Waves in ranks were cast, As awfully as when God's People past: Those, yet uncertain on whose Sails to blow, These, where the wealth of Nations ought to flow. Then with the Duke your Highness rul'd the day: >>> While all the Brave did his Command obey, The Fair and Pious under you did pray. How pow'rful are chast Vows! the Wind and Tyde You brib'd to combat on the English side. Thus to_your much lov'd Lord you-did convey. An unknown succour, sent the nearest way. New vigour to his wearied arms you brought, (So Moses was upheld while Israel fought.) While, from afar, we heard the Cannon play, Like distant Thunder on a shiny day. For absent Friends we were asham'd to fear, When we consider'd what.you ventur'd there. Ships, Men and Arms, our Country might restore,

But such a Leader could supply no more. With generous thoughts of Conquest he did burn, Yet fought not more to vanquish than return. Fortune and Victory he did persue, To bring them, as his Slaves, to wait on you. Thus Beauty ravish'd the rewards of Fame, And the Fair triumph'd when the Brave o'recame. Then, as you meant to spread another way By Land your Conquests far as his by Sea, Leaving our Southern Clime, you march'd along The stubborn North, ten-thousand Cupids strong. Like Commons the Nobility resort, In crowding heaps, to fill your moving Court: To welcome your approach the Vulgar run, Like some new Envoy from the distant Sun. And Country Beauties by their Lovers go, Blessing themselves, and wondring at the show. So when the New-born Phœnix first is seen, Her feather'd Subjects all adore their Queen. And, while She makes her Progress through the East, From every Grove her numerous Train's increast: Each Poet of the air her Glory sings, And round him the pleas'd Audience clap their Wings.

Dedication

And now, Sir, 'tis time I should relieve you from the tedious length of this account. You have better and more profitable employment for your hours, and I wrong the Publick to detain you longer. In conclusion, I must leave my Poem to you with all its faults, which I hope to find fewer in the Printing by your emendations. I know you are not of the

number of those, of whom the younger Pliny speaks, Nec sunt parum multi, qui carpere amicos suos judicium vocant; I am rather too secure of you on that side. Your candor in pardoning my Errors may make you more remiss in correcting them; if you will not withal consider that they come into the world with your approbation, and through your hands. I beg from you the greatest favour you can confer upon an absent person, since I repose upon your management what is dearest to me, my Fame and Reputation; and therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my Poem fairer by many of your blots; If not, you know the story of the Gamster who married the rich Man's Daughter, and when her Father denied the Portion, Christened all the Children by his Sirname, that if, in conclusion, they must beg, they should do so by one Name, as well as by the other. But since the reproach of my Faults will light on you, 'tis but reason I should do you that justice to the Readers, to let them know, that if there be any thing tolerable in this Poem; they owe the Argument to your choice, the Writing to your encouragement, the Correction to your judgment, and the Care of it to your friendship, to which he must ever acknowledge himself to owe all things, who is,

Sir,

Annus Mirabilis

Annus Mirabilis,

The YEAR of

WONDERS,

MDCLXVI.

<>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 aw'd.

<>2. Trade, which, like Blood should circularly flow, Stopp'd in their Chanels, found its freedom lost: Thither the Wealth of all the World did go, And seem'd but Shipwrack'd on so base a Coast.

<>3. <<< For them alone the Heav'ns had kindly heat, (a) In Eastern Quarries ripening precious Dew: For them the Idumæan Balm did sweat, And in hot Ceilon Spicy Forrests grew.

<>4. The Sun but seem'd the Lab'rer of the Year; (b) Each waxing Moon suppli'd her watry store, <<< To swell those Tides, which from the Line did bear Their brim-full Vessels, to the Bel'gan 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 Punick 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 pow'erful, were it long.

<>7. Behold two Nations then, ingag'd 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 th' (c) 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're 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 ballanc'd too and fro; He griev'd the Land he freed should be oppress'd, And he less for it than Usurpers do.

<>11. His gen'rous Mind the fair Ideas drew Of Fame and Honor, 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're martial people set, Each others poize and counter-ballance are.

<>13. He, first, surveyed the Charge with careful eyes, Which none but mighty Monarchs could maintain; Yet judg'd, like vapours that from Limbecks rise, It would in richer showers descend again.

<>14. At length resolv'd t'assert the watry Ball, He in himself did whole Armado's bring: Him, aged Sea-men 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 skaly Herd when (d) 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 Heav'n, as if there wanted Lights above, For Tapers made two glaring Comets rise.

<>17. Whether they unctuous Exhalations are, Fir'd by the Sun, or seeming so alone; Or each some more remote and slippery Star, Which loses footing when to Mortals shewn.

<>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 fam'd success, To his known valour, make the Dutch give place: Thus Heav'n our Monarch's fortune did confess, Beginning conquest from his Royal Race.

<>20. But since it was decreed, auspicious King, In Britains right that thou should'st wed the Main, Heav'n, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, And therefore doom'd that Lawson should be slain.

<>21. Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate, Whom Sea-green Syrens from the Rocks lament Thus as an off'ring for the Grecian State, He first was kill'd who first to Battel went.