story of the gamester
who married the rich man's daughter, and when her father denied the
portion, christened all the children by his surname, that if, in
conclusion, they must beg, they should do so by one name, as well as by
the other. But since the reproach of my faults will light on you, it is
but reason I should do you that justice to the readers, to let them
know, that, if there be anything tolerable in this poem, they owe the
argument to your choice, the writing to your encouragement, the
correction to your judgment, and the care of it to your friendship, to
which he must ever acknowledge himself to owe all things, who is, sir,
the most obedient, and most faithful of your servants,

JOHN DRYDEN.

From Charlton in Wiltshire, _Nov_. 10, 1666.

* * * * *

1 In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2 Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3 For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4 The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5 Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.

6 What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7 Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8 See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9 Such