CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS*. SEMICHORUS. OH Tyrant Love! haft thou possest The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast? Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim, And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame. Love, foft intruder, enters here, But entring learns to be fincere. Marcus with blufhes owns he loves, And Brutus tenderly reproves. NOTES. 5 Some of Dryden's fhort lyrical odes and fongs are wonderfully harmonious; and not fufficiently noticed; particularly in King Arthur, Act III. "O fight! the mother of defire," &c. The fong alfo of the Syrens in Act IV: and the Incantations in the Third Act of Œdipus, put in the mouth of Tirefias ; "Chufe the darkest part o'th' grove, Such as ghofts at noon-day love," &c. Nor must his firft ode for St. Cecilia's Day be forgotten, in which are paffages almoft equal to any of the fecond: especially its opening, and the fecond stanza that describes Tubal and his brethren. It is, methinks, impoffible to read, without astonishment and regret, such tasteless commendations and unmerited applauses as fuch a man as Dr. Johnfon has bestowed on the ode to Mrs. Killigrew, and the ftrange preference he gives it, especially the first stanza, to any compofition in our language; which ftanza is really unintelligible, and full of abfurd bombaft, and nearly approaching the realm of nonfenfe. Why, Why, Virtue, dost thou blame defire, Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire CHORU S. Love's purer flames the Gods approve; And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes. Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light, Productive as the Sun. SEMICHORUS. Oh fource of ev'ry focial tye, United wifh, and mutual joy! What various joys on one attend, As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend? Whether his hoary fire he spies, While thousand grateful thoughts arife; NOTES. 010 15 20 25 30 VER. 9. Why, Virtue, &c.] In allufion to that famous conceit of Guarini, "Se il peccare è sì dolce," &c. W. Bayle is fond of faying that Manicheism probably arofe from a ftrong meditation on this deplorable state of man. Or Or meets his spouse's fonder eye; What tender paffions take their turns, His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns, CHORU S. Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmifes, Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine: Pureft love's unwasting treasure, NOTES. 36 49 VER. 31. Or meets] Recalling to our minds that pathetic stroke in Lucretius; " dulces occurrunt ofcula nati Præripere, & tacitâ pectus dulcedine tangunt." VER. 42.] Not to the purpofe; long leifure. a These two Chorus's are enough to fhew us his great talents for this fpecies of Poetry, and to make us lament he did not profecute his purpose in executing fome plans he had chalked out; but the Character of the Managers of Playhouses at that time, was what (he faid) foon determined him to lay afide all thoughts of that nature. Nor did his morals, less than the just sense of his own importance, deter him from having any thing to do with the Theatre. He remembered that an ancient Author hath acquainted us with this extraordinary circumftance; that, in the conftruction of Pompey's magnificent Theatre, the feats of it were fo contrived, as to ferve, at the fame time, for steps to a temple VOL. I. M temple of Venus, which he had joined to his Theatre. The moral Poet could not but be ftruck with a ftory where the Móyos and the μulos of it ran as imperceptibly into one another, as the Theatre and the Temple. W. How lamentable is it, that a writer of great talents, should mifemploy them in ftriving to discover new meanings, and analogies, in things not alike, and not founded on plain truth and reafon! Thus, the Vine in Lycidas is called gadding, because, though married to the Elm, like bad wives fhe goes abroad. Thus, in Shakespear, the flower called Love-in-idlenefs intimates that this paffion has its chief power when people are idle. Thus, in Macbeth, screams of death and prophefying, fhould be read, Aunts, prophefying, old women. And thus, in Midfummer Night's Dream, instead of Cupid all-arm'd, read Cupid alarm'd; that is, alarmed at the chastity of Lady Elizabeth, which leffened his power. CODE ON SOLITUDE. APPY the man, whose wish and care HAPPY A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find Quiet by day, Sound fleep by night; study and ease, Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. * This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old. M 2 P. Scaliger, |