Which once achieved, he spurred his palfrey,
To get from th' enemy, and Ralph free;
Left danger, fears, and foes behind,

And beat, at least three lengths, the wind.

So ended the Second Part of "Hudibras" as published in 1664. "An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to Sidrophel," which is a short detached satire, was added to the edition of 1674. The Third Part of the poem, which did not follow until 1678, two years before Butler's death, begins with open division between Knight and Squire :

They both approach the Lady's bower,
The squire t' inform, the knight to woo her.
She treats them with a masquerade

By fairies and hobgoblins made.

The fiends broke in on the discourse between Hudibras and the Lady as it grew dark. He had

Ensconced himself as formidable As could be underneath a table, Where he lay in retirement close T' expect th' arrival of his foes.

He was ignominously dragged out and belaboured. A sturdy elf planted a cloven hoof on his neck, reproved him for his perjuries, and compelled him to a true confession that he loved the Lady only for her money, had picked her out as one with the least wit and most to lose, had not been such an ass as to scourge himself, and had set up as a hypocrite because there was no more thriving trade. More confession was got from him, in sharp satire on the Puritans, and then the fairies vanished with the light,

And left him in the dark alone

With stinks of brimstone and his own.

He then heard in the dark the voice of a doleful spirit that conversed with him, and horsed him like a sack, and, being indeed Ralpho, carried him out of the Lady's castle. The Second Canto then drops the thread of the story and is given wholly to satire upon the divisions of the saints and the conflict of parties before the Restoration. In the Third Canto the thread of narrative is taken up again and then is dropped for ever. The Argument of the closing Canto, which abounds in satire on the worse side of the law, tells how it treats of

The knight and squire's prodigious flight
To quit th' enchanted bower by night.
He plods to turn his amorous suit
T'a plea in law, and prosecute:
Repairs to counsel, to advise
'Bout managing the enterprise;
But first resolves to try by letter

And one more fair address to get her.

The book ends with the Knight's letter to the Lady, and the Lady's answer.

A.D. 1681.]

another satire called "The Medal." But we will look only at "Absalom and Achitophel." The plan of the pamphlet-poem is simple. It is first suggested that the outcry over the asserted Popish plot in 1678 bred faction and stir; thence came Shaftesbury's action. Then follows a sketch of his reasoning to draw Monmouth from his allegiance to his father, and Monmouth's answer, care being taken here and throughout the satire to avoid dealing severely with Monmouth himself. Then follow little vignette portraits of the minor associates in the rebellion. Absalom then appeals to the people. The plot ripens. What friends has David? Here follow short characters of some of the king's chief friends. What counsel do they give? Then follows David's speech, setting forth in clear popular form the king's resolve 'If," he says, they will upon a master-stroke. not have my mercy, let them have law." When David had thus explained why Charles II. had resolved to strike down opposition in the person of the Earl of Shaftesbury, the argument was complete. Heaven thundered assent to David's policy. As he would have it, so it was, and there was peace in the land for years. So, however, it was not, and peace was secured only by the exclusion of the Duke of York after he had become King James II.; the exclusion then being of all Stuart kings, with a firm resettlement of the relations between sovereign and people.

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66

The only unworthy part of Dryden's poem is its opening, in which, since he must dwell upon Monmouth's illegitimacy, he seeks to veil any suggestion of evil in the king's amours under the mantle of David, and even goes beyond to imply an assent to them that he could not honestly feel. Dryden himself lived an honourable domestic life, but he lived when profligacy was in fashion, and he bowed down After this sometimes in the house of Rimmon.

opening, which is to us readers of after-time a heavy stumble at the threshold of his poem, Dryden passes to Absalom as bravest and most beautiful of all the numerous progeny of David.

Early in foreign fields he won renown,
With kings and states allied to Israel's crown;
In peace the thoughts of war he could remove,
And seemed as he were only born for love.
Whate'er he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone 'twas natural to please;
His motions all accompanied with grace,
And Paradise was opened in his face.
With secret joy indulgent David viewed
His youthful image in his son renewed:
To all his wishes nothing he denied ;
And made the charming Annabel1 his bride.
What faults he had-for who from faults is free?—
His father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the law forbore,
Were construed youth that purged by boiling o'er;
And Amnon's murder by a specious name,

1 Anne Scott, Countess of Buccleugh in her own right, and the richest heiress in Europe. The duke after his marriage took his wife's name, having no name of his own except FitzRoy to give her. He was not faithful to her, but gave himself to Lady Harriet Wentworth.

Was called a just revenge for injured fame.2
Thus praised and loved, the noble youth remained,
While David undisturbed in Sion reigned.
But life can never be sincerely blest;
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews,3 a headstrong, moody, murmuring race,
As ever tried the extent and stretch of grace;
God's pampered people, whom, debauched with ease,
No king could govern, nor no God could please;
Gods they had tried of every shape and size,
That god-smiths could produce, or priests devise;
These Adam-wits, too fortunately free,
Began to dream they wanted liberty;
And when no rule, no precedent was found
Of men by laws less circumscribed and bound,
They led their wild desires to woods and caves,
And thought that all but savages were slaves.
They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow,
Made foolish Ishbosheth the crown forego;
Who banished David did from Hebron bring,
And with a general shout proclaimed him king
Those very Jews, who at their very best,
Their humour more than loyalty exprest,
Now wondered why so long they had obeyed
An idol monarch, which their hands had made;
Thought they might ruin him they could create,
Or melt him to that golden calf—a state.
But these were random bolts; no formed design,
Nor interest made the factious crowd to join:
The sober part of Israel, free from stain,
Well knew the value of a peaceful reign;
And looking backward with a wise affright,
Saw seams of wounds dishonest to the sight,
In contemplation of whose ugly scars,
They curst the memory of civil wars.
The moderate sort of men, thus qualified,
Inclined the balance to the better side;
And David's mildness managed it so well,
The bad found no occasion to rebel.

Some by their friends, more by themselves thought wise,

Opposed the power to which they could not rise.

Some had in courts been great, and thrown from thence,

Like fiends were hardened in impenitence.
Some, by their monarch's fatal mercy, grown
From pardoned rebels kinsmen to the throne,
Were raised in power and public office high;
Strong bands, if bands ungrateful men could tie.
Of these the false Achitophel1 was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfixed in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace;
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,

And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity;

Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,
He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide;

Else, why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeathered two-legged thing, a son;
Got, while his soul did huddled notions try;
And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy.
In friendship false, implacable in hate;
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state,

To compass this the triple bond he broke;
The pillars of the public safety shook;
And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;

Then, seized with fear, yet still affecting fame,
Usurped a patriot's all-atoning name.
[2So easy still it proves in factious times,
With public zeal to cancel private crimes.
How safe is treason, and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the people's will ?
Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known,
Since in another's guilt they find their own!
Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge;
The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge.
In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin
With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean,
Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress;
Swift of dispatch, and easy of access.]

Oh! had he been content to serve the crown,
With virtues only proper to the gown;
Or had the rankness of the soil been freed
From cockle, that oppressed the noble seed;
David for him his tuneful harp had strung,
And Heaven had wanted one immortal song.
But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land.
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful fame and lazy happiness,
Disdained the golden fruit to gather free,

1 Shaftesbury.

The lines between square brackets [] were added by Dryden in the second edition.

And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree.
Now, manifest of crimes contrived long since,
He stood at bold defiance with his prince;
Held up the buckler of the people's cause
Against the crown, and skulked behind the laws.
The wished occasion of the plot he takes;
Some circumstances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing emissaries, fills the ears
Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears
Of arbitrary counsels brought to light,
And proves the king himself a Jebusite.
Weak arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were strong with people easy to rebel.

Then follows Achitophel's search for a fit instrument, and his address of persuasion to Absalom. "For David," he says-in a passage where Egypt stands for France, and Pharaoh for the King of France

"What strength, can he to your designs oppose,
Naked of friends, and round beset with foes?
If Pharaoh's doubtful succour he should use,
A foreign aid would more incense the Jews;
Proud Egypt would dissembled friendship bring,
Foment the war, but not support the king:
Nor would the royal party e'er unite
With Pharaoh's arms, to assist the Jebusite;
Or, if they should, their interest soon would break,
And with such odious aid make David weak.
All sorts of men, by my successful arts,
Abhorring kings, estrange their altered hearts
From David's rule: and 'tis their general cry,
Religion, Commonwealth, and Liberty.
If you, as champion of the public good,
Add to their arms a chief of royal blood,
What may not Israel hope, and what applause
Might such a general gain by such a cause?
Not barren praise alone, that gaudy flower,
Fair only to the sight, but solid power;
And nobler is a limited command,
Given by the love of all your native land,
Than a successive title, long and dark,
Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's ark."

What cannot praise effect in mighty minds,
When flattery soothes, and when ambition blinds?
Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed,
Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed;
In God 'tis glory; and when men aspire,
'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
The ambitious youth, too covetous of fame,
Too full of angel's metal in his frame,
Unwarily was led from virtue's ways,

Made drunk with honour, and debauched with praise.

Half loth, and half consenting to the ill,

For royal blood within him struggled still,—

He thus replied: "And what pretence have I

To take up arms for public liberty?

My father governs with unquestioned right,
The faith's defender, and mankind's delight;
Good, gracious, just, observant of the laws;
And Heaven by wonders has espoused his cause.
Whom has he wronged in all his peaceful reign?
Who sues for justice to his throne in vain?
What millions has he pardoned of his foes,
Whom just revenge did to his wrath expose?
Mild, easy, humble, studious of our good,

Inclined to mercy, and averse from blood.
If mildness ill with stubborn Israel suit,
His crime is God's belovéd attribute.
What could he gain his people to betray,
Or change his right for arbitrary sway?
Let haughty Pharaoh curse with such a reign
His fruitful Nile, and yoke a servile train.
If David's rule Jerusalem displease,

The dog-star heats their brains to this disease.
Why then should I, encouraging the bad,
Turn rebel, and run popularly mad?
Were he a tyrant, who by lawless might
Oppressed the Jews, and raised the Jebusite,
Well might I mourn; but nature's holy bands
Would curb my spirits and restrain my hands;
The people might assert their liberty;

But what was right in them were crime in me.
His favour leaves me nothing to require,
Prevents my wishes, and out-runs desire;
What more can I expect while David lives?
All but his kingly diadem he gives:

And that”—But here he paused; then sighing, said— "Is justly destined for a worthier head,

For when my father from his toils shall rest,
And late augment the number of the blest,
His lawful issue shall the throne ascend,
Or the collateral line, where that shall end.
His brother, though oppressed with vulgar spite,
Yet dauntless, and secure of native right,
Of every royal virtue stands possest;
Still dear to all the bravest and the best.
His courage foes, his friends his truth proclaim;
His loyalty the king, the world his fame.
His mercy even the offending crowd will find;
For sure he comes of a forgiving kind.
Why should I then repine at Heaven's decree,
Which gives me no pretence to royalty?
Yet, oh that fate, propitiously inclined,
Had raised my birth, or had debased my mind;
To my large soul not all her treasure lent,
And then betrayed it to a mean descent!
I find, I find my mounting spirits bold,
And David's part disdains my mother's mould.
Why am I scanted by a niggard birth?
My soul disclaims the kindred of her earth,
And made for empire, whispers me within,
Desire of greatness is a godlike sin."

Him staggering so, when hell's dire agent found, While fainting virtue scarce maintained her ground, He pours fresh forces in.

Then follow, always with keen satire in the turn that is given to them, the further arguments by which Absalom is persuaded. Then the throngs of the discontented are gathered into force, most numerous among them all being

-the herd of such

Who think too little and who talk too much.

Next comes the little sketch of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, as Zimri.

Such were the tools; but a whole Hydra more Remains of sprouting heads too long to score. Some of their chiefs were princes of the land;

In the first rank of these did Zimri stand,
A man so various, that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome:
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
But, in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon;
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thous and freaks that died in thinking
Blest madman, who could every hour employ,
With something new to wish, or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual themes;
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes:
So over violent, or over civil,

That every man with him was God or Devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggared by fools, whom still he found too late,
He had his jest, and they had his estate.
He laughed himself from court; then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief:
For spite of him, the weight of business fell
On Absalom, and wise Achitophel;
Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He left no faction, but of that was left.

The following sketches include a vigorous one of Titus Oates. The poem then proceeds to set forth the growth of the influence of Monmouth.

Surrounded thus, with friends of every sort,
Deluded Absalom forsakes the court;
Impatient of high hopes, urged with renown,
And fired with near possession of a crown.
The admiring crowd are dazzled with surprise,
And on his goodly person feed their eyes.
His joy concealed, he sets himself to show;
On each side bowing popularly low:
His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames,
And with familiar ease repeats their names.
Thus formed by nature, furnished out with arts,
He glides unfelt into their secret hearts.
Then with a kind compassionating look,
And sighs, bespeaking pity ere he spoke,
Few words he said; but easy those and fit,
More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet.
"I mourn, my countrymen, your lost estate;
Though far unable to prevent your fate:
Behold a banished man, for your dear cause
Exposed a prey to arbitrary laws!

Yet oh! that I alone could be undone,
Cut off from empire, and no more a son!
Now all your liberties a spoil are made;
Egypt and Tyrus intercept your trade,
And Jebusites your sacred rites invade.
My father, whom with reverence yet I name, -
Charmed into ease, is careless of his fame;
And bribed with petty sums of foreign gold,
Is grown in Bathsheba's embraces old;
Exalts his enemies, his friends destroys,
And all his power against himself employs.
He gives-and let him give-my right away;-
But why should he his own and yours betray?
He, only he, can make the nation bleed,

And he alone from my revenge is freed.

Take then my tears"-with that he wiped his eyes,