uperni,
Perdidit promptae modulos loquelae;
Sed reformasti gemitus peremptae
Organa vocis_.

_Ventris abstruso recubans cubili,
Senseras regem, thalamo manentem;
Hinc Parens nati meritis uterque
Abdita pandit_.

[26] [Some matter concerning Dryden and Etherege will find, perhaps,
most appropriate place in commenting on this Poem, vol. xi.--ED.]

[27] Vol. x.

[28]
"Here duly swarm prodigious wights,
And strange variety of sights,
As ladies lewd, and foppish knights,
Priests, poets, pimps, and parasites;
Which now we'll spare, and only mention
The hungry bard that writes for pension;
Old Squib (who's sometimes here, I'm told),
That oft has with his prince made bold,
Called the late king a saunt'ring cully,
To magnify the Gallic bully,
Who lately put a senseless banter
Upon the world, with Hind and Panther,
Making the beasts and birds o'the wood
Doubt, what he ne'er understood,
Deep secrets in philosophy,
And mysteries in theology,
All sung in wretched poetry;
Which rumbling piece is as much farce all,
As his true mirror, the "Rehearsal;"
For which he has been soundly banged,
But ha'n't his just reward till hanged."
_Poem on the Camp at Hounslow_.

[29] Extracts from "The Address of John Dryden, Laureat, to his Highness
the Prince of Orange:"

"In all the hosannas our whole world's applause,
Illustrious champion of our church and laws!
Accept, great Nassau! from unworthy me,
Amongst the adoring crowd, a bonded knee;
Nor scruple, sir, to hear my echoing lyre,
Strung, tuned, and joined to the universal choir;
From my suspected mouth thy glories told,
A known out-lyer from the English fold."

After renewing the old reproach about Cromwell:

"If thus all this I could unblushing write,
Fear not that pen that shall thy praise indite,
When high-born blood my adoration draws,
Exalted glory and unblemished cause;
A theme so all divine my muse shall wing,
What is't for thee, great prince, I will not sing?
No bounds shall stop my Pegasean flight,
I'll spot my Hind, and make my Panther white.
* * * * *
But if, great prince, my feeble strength shall fail,
Thy theme I'll to my successors entail;
My heirs the unfinished subject shall complete:
I have a son, and he, by all that's great,
That very son (and trust my oaths, I swore
As much to my great master James befo