Cader in terra a lo splendor fu d'vopo,

Con gli occhi abbacinati, e senza mente.

And yet, madam, if I could find in myself the power to leave this argument of your incomparable beauty, I might turn to one which would equally oppress me with its greatness; for your conjugal virtues have deserved to be set as an example, to a less degenerate, less tainted age. They approach so near to singularity in ours, that I can scarcely make a panegyric to your royal highness, without a satire on many others. But your person is a paradise, and your soul a cherubim within, to guard it. If the excellence of the outside invite the beholders, the majesty of your mind deters them from too bold approaches, and turns their admiration into religion. Moral perfections are raised higher by you in the softer sex; as if men were of too coarse a mould for heaven to work on, and that the image of divinity could not be cast to likeness in so harsh a metal. Your person is so admirable, that it can scarce receive addition, when it shall be glorified: and your soul, which shines through it, finds it of a substance so near her own, that she will be pleased to pass an age within it, and to be confined to such a palace.

I know not how I am hurried back to my former theme; I ought and purposed to have celebrated those endowments and qualities of your mind, which were sufficient, even without the graces of your person, to render you, as you are, the ornament of the court, and the object of wonder to three kingdoms. But all my praises are but as a bull-rush cast upon a stream; if they sink not, 'tis because they are borne up by the strength of the current, which supports their lightness; but they are carried round again, and return on the eddy where they first began. I can proceed no farther than your beauty; and even on that too I have said so little, considering the greatness of the subject, that, like him who would lodge a bowl upon a precipice, either my praise falls back, by the weakness of the delivery, or stays not on the top, but rolls over, and is lost on the other side. I intended this a dedication; but how can I consider what belongs to myself, when I have been so long contemplating on you! Be pleased then, madam, to receive this poem, without entitling so much excellency as yours, to the faults and imperfections of so mean a writer; and instead of being favourable to the piece, which merits nothing, forgive the presumption of the author; who is, with all possible veneration,

Your Royal Highness's

Most obedient, most humble,

Most devoted servant,

John Dryden.

Footnote:

  1. Mary of Este, daughter of the Duke of Modena, and second wife to James Duke of York, afterwards James II. She was married to him by proxy in 1673, and came over in the year following. Notwithstanding her husband's unpopularity, and her own attachment to the Roman Catholic religion, her youth, beauty, and innocence secured her from insult and slander during all the stormy period which preceded her accession to the crown. Even Burnet, reluctantly, admits the force of her charms, and the inoffensiveness of her conduct. But her beauty produced a more lasting effect on the young and gallant, than on that austere and stubborn partizan; and its force must be allowed, since it was extolled even when Mary was dethroned and exiled. Granville, Lord Lansdowne, has praised her in "The Progress of Beauty;" and I cannot forbear transcribing some of the verses, on account of the gallant spirit of the author, who scorned to change with fortune, and continued to admire and celebrate, in adversity, the charms which he had worshipped in the meridian of prosperity.
    1. He had written verses to the Earl of Peterborough, on the Duke of York's marriage with the Princess of Modena, before he was twelve years old.
  2. And now, my muse, a nobler flight prepare,
  3. And sing so loud, that heaven and earth may hear.
  4. Behold from Italy an awful ray
  5. Of heavenly light illuminates the day;
  6. Northward she bends, majestically bright,
  7. And here she fixes her imperial light.
  8. Be bold, be bold, my muse, nor fear to raise
  9. Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise[a].
  10. What though the sullen fates refuse to shine,
  11. Or frown severe on thy audacious line;
  12. Keep thy bright theme within thy steady sight,
  13. The clouds shall fly before thy dazzling light,
  14. And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight.
  15. Thou, who hast never yet put on disguise,
  16. To flatter faction, or descend to vice,
  17. Let no vain fear thy generous ardour tame,
  18. But stand erect, and sound as loud as fame.
  19. As when our eye some prospect would pursue,
  20. Descending from a hill looks round to view,
  21. Passes o'er lawns and meadows, till it gains
  22. Some favourite spot, and fixing there remains;
  23. With equal ardour my transported muse
  24. Flies other objects, this bright theme to chuse.
  25. Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight!
  26. A monarch's pride, his glory and delight!
  27. Princess adored and loved! if verse can give
  28. A deathless name, thine shall for ever live;
  29. Invoked where'er the British lion roars,
  30. Extended as the seas that guard the British shores.
  31. The wise immortals, in their seats above,
  32. To crown their labours still appointed love;
  33. Phœbus enjoyed the goddess of the sea,
  34. Alcides had Omphale, James has thee.
  35. O happy James! content thy mighty mind,
  36. Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind;
  37. To be but at whose feet more glory brings,
  38. Than 'tis to tread on sceptres and on kings.
  39. Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,
  40. Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?
  41. Was Helen half so fair, so formed for joy,
  42. Well chose the Trojan, and well burned was Troy.
  43. But ah! what strange vicissitudes of fate,
  44. What chance attends on every worldly state!
  45. As when the skies were sacked, the conquered gods,
  46. Compelled from heaven, forsook their blessed abodes;
  47. Wandering in woods, they hid from den to den,
  48. And sought their safety in the shapes of men;
  49. As when the winds with kindling flames conspire,
  50. The blaze increases as they fan the fire;
  51. From roof to roof the burning torrent pours,
  52. Nor spares the palace nor the loftiest towers;
  53. Or as the stately pine, erecting high
  54. Her lofty branches shooting to the sky,
  55. If riven by the thunderbolt of Jove,
  56. Down falls at once the pride of all the grove;
  57. Level with lowest shrubs lies the tall head,
  58. That, reared aloft, as to the clouds was spread,
  59. So—
  60. But cease, my muse, thy colours are too faint;
  61. Shade with a veil those griefs thou can'st not paint.
  62. That sun is set!—
  63. Progress of Beauty.
  64. The beauty, which inspired the romantic and unchanging admiration of Granville, may be allowed to justify some of the flights of Dryden's panegyric. I fear enough will still remain to justify the stricture of Johnson, who observes, that Dryden's dedication is an "attempt to mingle earth and heaven, by praising human excellence in the language of religion."
  65. At the date of this address, the Duchess of York was only in her sixteenth year.
  66. Footnote: