DRYDEN. 279 



Those gentle rays under the lids were fled, 



Which through his looks that piercing sweetness shed ; 



That port, which so majestic was and&amp;gt;3trong, 



Loose and deprived of vigour, stretched along, 



All withered, all discoloured, pale, and wan, 



How much another thing ! no more That Man ! 



human glory ! vain ! death ! wings ! 



worthless world ! transitory things ! 



Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed 



That still, though dead, greater than Death he laid, 



And, in his altered face, you something feign 



That threatens Death he yet will live again.&quot; 



Such verses might not satisfy Lindley Murray, but they 

 are of that higher mood which satisfies the heart. These 

 couplets, too, have an energy worthy of Milton s friend : 



&quot; When up the armed mountains of Duuljar 

 He marched, and through deep Severn, ending war.&quot; 



&quot; Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse 

 Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse.&quot; 



On the whole, one is glad that Dryden s panegyric on the 

 Protector was so poor. It was purely official verse-making. 

 Had there been any feeling in it, there had been baseness 

 in his address to Charles. As it is, we may fairly assume 

 that he was so far sincere in both cases as to be thankful 

 for a chance to exercise himself in rhyme, without much 

 caring whether upon a funeral or a restoration. He might 

 naturally enough expect that poetry would have a better 

 chance under Charles than under Cromwell, or any successor 

 with Commonwealth principles. Cromwell had more serious 

 matters to think about than verses, while Charles might 

 at least care as much about them as it was in his base 

 good-nature to care about anything but loose women and 

 spaniels. Dryden s sound sense, afterwards so conspicuous, 

 shows itself even in these pieces, when we can get at it 

 through the tangled thicket of tropical phrase. But the 

 authentic and unmistakable Dry den first manifests himself 

 in some verses addressed to his friend, Dr. Oharlton, in 1663. 

 We have first his common sense, which has almost the point 

 of wit, yet with a tang of prose : 



