Prologue To The Indian Queen.

As the music plays a soft air, the curtain rises slowly and discovers an Indian boy and girl sleeping under two plantain-trees; and, when the curtain is almost up, the music turns into a tune expressing an alarm, at which the boy awakes, and speaks:


    BOY. Wake, wake, Quevira! our soft rest must cease,
    And fly together with our country's peace!
    No more must we sleep under plantain shade,
    Which neither heat could pierce, nor cold invade;
    Where bounteous nature never feels decay,
    And opening buds drive falling fruits away.

    QUE. Why should men quarrel here, where all possess
    As much as they can hope for by success?--
    None can have most, where nature is so kind,
    As to exceed man's use, though not his mind.

    BOY. By ancient prophecies we have been told,
    Our world shall be subdued by one more old;--
    And, see, that world already's hither come.

    QUE. If these be they, we welcome then our doom!
    Their loots are such, that mercy flows from thence,
    More gentle than our native innocence.

    BOY. Why should we then fear these, our enemies,
    That rather seem to us like deities?

    QUE. By their protection, let us beg to live;
    They came not here to conquer, but forgive.
    If so, your goodness may your power express,
    And we shall judge both best by our success.

John Dryden

John Dryden was an influential English poet, literary critic, translator, and playwright who was made England’s first Poet Laureate in 1668. His work dominated the literary life of Restoration England and he is seen as a major figure in the literary history of the period. Dryden's notable works include the satirical poem 'Absalom and Achitophel' and the mock-heroic 'Mac Flecknoe.'

John Dryden

The Fair Stranger.[1]

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

Prologue To The Tempest.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

On The Young Statesmen.

John Dryden, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Songs In The "Indian Emperor."

I.

    Ah, fading joy! how quickly art thou past!
        Yet we thy ruin haste.
    As if the cares of human life were few,
        We seek out new:
    And follow Fate, which would too fast pursue.
    See how on every bough the birds express,
    In their sweet notes, their happiness.
    They all enjoy, and nothing spare;
    But on their mother Nature lay their care:
    Why then should man, the lord of all below,
        Such troubles choose to know,
    As none of all his subjects undergo?
    Hark, hark, the waters fall, fall, fall,
    And with a murmuring sound
    Dash, dash upon the ground,
        To gentle slumbers call.

II.

    I look'd, and saw within the book of fate,
        When many days did lour,
     ...

John Dryden

Epilogue To The Indian Queen.

    SPOKEN BY MONTEZUMA.

    You see what shifts we are enforced to try,
    To help out wit with some variety;
    Shows may be found that never yet were seen,
    'Tis hard to find such wit as ne'er has been:
    You have seen all that this old world can do,
    We therefore try the fortune of the new,
    And hope it is below your aim to hit
    At untaught nature with your practised wit:
    Our naked Indians, then, when wits appear,
    Would as soon choose to have the Spaniards here.
    'Tis true, you have marks enough, the plot, the show,
    The poet's scenes, nay, more, the painter's too;
    If all this fail, considering the cost,
    'Tis a true voyage to the Indies lost:
    But if you smile on all, then these designs,
    Like the imperfect...

John Dryden

Prologue[1] To His Royal Highness,

UPON HIS FIRST APPEARANCE AT THE DUKE'S THEATRE, AFTER HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND, 1682.


    In those cold regions which no summers cheer,
    Where brooding darkness covers half the year,
    To hollow caves the shivering natives go;
    Bears range abroad, and hunt in tracks of snow:
    But when the tedious twilight wears away,
    And stars grow paler at the approach of day,
    The longing crowds to frozen mountains run;
    Happy who first can see the glimmering sun:
    The surly savage offspring disappear,
    And curse the bright successor of the year.
    Yet, though rough bears in covert seek defence,
    White foxes stay, with seeming innocence:
    That crafty kind with daylight can dispense.
    Still we are throng'd so full with Reynard's race,<...

John Dryden

Songs In King Arthur.

Where a battle is supposed to be given behind the scenes, with drums, trumpets, and military shouts and excursions; after which, the Britons, expressing their joy for the victory, sing this song of triumph.


I.

    Come, if you dare, our trumpets sound;
    Come, if you dare, the foes rebound:
    We come, we come, we come, we come,
    Says the double, double, double beat of the thundering drum.
        Now they charge on amain,
        Now they rally again:
    The gods from above the mad labour behold,
    And pity mankind, that will perish for gold.
    The fainting Saxons quit their ground,
    Their trumpets languish in the sound:
    They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly;
    Victoria, Victoria, the bold Britons cry.
        Now the victory's wo...

John Dryden

Prologue To "The Earl Of Essex; Or, The Unhappy Favourite;" By Mr J. Banks, 1682.

SPOKEN TO THE KING AND QUEEN AT THEIR COMING TO THE HOUSE.


    When first the ark was landed on the shore,
    And Heaven had vow'd to curse the ground no more;
    When tops of hills the longing patriarch saw,
    And the new scene of earth began to draw;
    The dove was sent to view the waves' decrease,
    And first brought back to man the pledge of peace.
    'Tis needless to apply, when those appear,
    Who bring the olive, and who plant it here.
    We have before our eyes the royal dove,
    Still innocent, as harbinger of love:
    The ark is open'd to dismiss the train,
    And people with a better race the plain.
    Tell me, ye Powers! why should vain man pursue,
    With endless toil, each object that is new,
    And for the seeming substa...

John Dryden

Prologue To "The Prophetess."[1] By Beaumont And Fletcher.

SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON. 1690.


    What Nostradame, with all his art, can guess
    The fate of our approaching Prophetess?
    A play which, like a pérspective set right,
    Presents our vast expenses close to sight;
    But turn the tube, and there we sadly view
    Our distant gains; and those uncertain too:
    A sweeping tax, which on ourselves we raise,
    And all, like you, in hopes of better days;
    When will our losses warn us to be wise?
    Our wealth decreases, and our charges rise.
    Money, the sweet allurer of our hopes,
    Ebbs out in oceans, and comes in by drops;
    We raise new objects to provoke delight,
    But you grow sated ere the second sight.
    False men, e'en so you serve your mistresses:
    They rise three store...

John Dryden