Absalom and Achitophel. The Poems of John Dryden. John Dryden (1. 63. Absalom and Achitophel TO THEREADER.’Tis. Apology for my Poem: Some will think it needs no Excuse, and others will receive none. The Design, I am sure, is honest: but he who draws his Pen for one Party must expect to make Enemies of the other. For Wit and Fool are Consequents of Whig and Tory: and every man is a Knave or an Ass to the contrary side. There’s a Treasury of Merits in the Phanatick Church as well as in the Papist, and a Pennyworth to be had of Saintship, Honesty, and Poetry, for the Leud, the Factious, and the Blockheads: But the longest Chapter in Deuteronomy has not Curses enough for an Anti- Bromingham. My Comfort is, their manifest Prejudice to my Cause, will render their Judgment of less Authority against me. Yet if a Poem have a Genius, it will force its own reception in the World. For there’s a sweetness in good Verse, which Tickles even while it Hurts: And, no man can be heartily angry with him, who pleases him against his will. Dryden Absalom Achitophel Pdf MergeAbsalom and Achitophel, verse satire by English poet John Dryden published in 1681. The poem, which is written in heroic couplets, is about the Exclusion crisis, a. Absalom and Achitophel. On Absalom and wise Achitophel: Thus wicked but in Will, of Means bereft, He left not Faction, but of that was left. All For Love by John Dryden All For Love. INTRODUCTORY NOTE The age of Elizabeth. With 'Absalom and Achitophel,' a satire on the Whig leader, Shaftesbury. Absalom and Achitophel by John Dryden. On Absalom and wise Achitophel: Thus, wicked but in will. Complete summary of John Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel. Download John Dryden Absalom And Achitophel.PDF We have managed to get easy for you to find a PDF Books without any stress. Absalom and Achitophel was originally published in November 1681 (a “second part” appeared in 1682 but is not included here). The text of this on-line edition is. His Absalom and Achitophel is the greatest political satire. Dryden's Absalom and Achitophel is a Satire of great. The Commendation of Adversaries, is the greatest Triumph of a Writer; because it never comes unless Extorted. But I can be satisfied on more easy terms: If I happen to please the more Moderate sort, I shall be sure of an honest Party; and, in all probability,2of the best Judges; for the least Concern’d are commonly the least Corrupt: And, I confess, I have laid in for those, by rebating the Satyre (where Justice would allow it), from carrying too sharp an Edge. They, who can Criticize so weakly, as to imagine I have done my Worst, may be Convinc’d at their own Cost that I can write Severely, with more ease, than I can Gently. I have but laugh’d at some mens Follies, when I coud have declaim’d against their Vices; and, other mens Vertues I have commended as freely as I have tax’d their Crimes. And now, if you are a Malicious Reader, I expect you should return upon me that I affect to be thought more Impartial than I am. But if men are not to be judg’d by their Professions, God forgive you Common- wealthsmen, for professing so plausibly for the Government. Absalom and Achitophel: John Dryden - Summary and Critical Analysis Absalom and Achitophel published anonymously in November 1681, is one of the finest English. You cannot be so Unconscionable, as to charge me for not Subscribing of my Name; for that woud reflect too grosly upon your own Party, who never dare, though they have the advantage of a Jury to secure them. If you like not my Poem, the fault may possibly be in my Writing: (though ’tis hard for an Author to judge against himself; ) But, more probably, ’tis in your Morals, which cannot bear the truth of it. The Violent on both sides will condemn the Character of Absalom, as either too favourably or too hardly drawn. But they are not the Violent whom I desire to please. The fault, on the right hand, is to Extenuate, Palliate, and Indulge; and, to confess freely, I have endeavoured to commit it. Besides the respect which I owe his Birth, I have a greater for his Heroick Vertues; and, David himself, coud not be more tender of the Young- man’s Life, than I woud be of his Reputation. But, since the most excellent Natures are always the most easy and, as being such, are the soonest perverted by ill Counsels, especially when baited with Fame and Glory, ’tis no more a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than it was for Adam not to have resisted the two Devils, the Serpent and the Woman. The conclusion of the Story, I purposely forbore to prosecute; because, I could not obtain from my self to show Absalom Unfortunate. The Frame of it was cut out but for a Picture to the Waste; and if the Draught be so far true, ’tis as much as I design’d. Were I the Inventor, who am only. Historian, I shoud certainly conclude the Piece, with the Reconcilement of Absalom to David. And, who knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an Extremity where I left the Story: There seems yet to be room left for a Composure; hereafter, there may only be for Pity. I have not so much as an uncharitable Wish against Achitophel, but am content to be Accus’d of a good natur’d Errour; and to hope with Origen, that the Devil himself may, at last, be sav’d. For which reason, in this Poem, he is neither brought to set his House in order, nor to dispose of his Person afterwards, as he in wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful; and his Vicegerent is only. Infinite. The true end of Satyre is the amendment of Vices by correction. And he who writes Honestly, is no more an Enemy to the Offender than the Physician to the Patient, when he prescribes harsh Remedies to an inveterate Disease: for those, are only in order to prevent the Chyrurgeon’s work of an Ense rescindendum, which I wish not to my very Enemies. To conclude all, If the Body Politique have any Analogy to the Natural, in my weak judgment, an Act of Oblivion were as necessary in a Hot, Distempered State, as an Opiate woud be in a Raging Fever. ABSALOMANDACHITOPHEL. A POEM. IN pious times, e’r Priest- craft did begin,Before Polygamy was made a Sin; When Man on many multipli’d his kind,E’r one to one was cursedly confin’d,When Nature prompted and no Law deni’d. Promiscuous Use of Concubine and Bride; Then Israel’s Monarch, after Heavens own heart,His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart. To Wives and Slaves: And, wide as his Command,Scatter’d his Maker’s Image through the Land. Michal, of Royal Blood, the Crown did wear,A soil ungrateful to the Tiller’s care: Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore. To God- like David several sons before. But since like Slaves his Bed they did ascend,No True Succession could their Seed attend. Of all this Numerous Progeny was none. So Beautiful so Brave as Absalon: Whether, inspird by. Lust,His father got him with a greater Gust,Or that his Conscious Destiny made way. By manly Beauty to Imperial Sway. Early in Foreign Fields he won Renown. With Kings and States allied to Israel’s Crown: In Peace the thoughts of War he coud remove. And seem’d as he were onely born for Love. What e’r he did was done with so much ease,In him alone, ’twas Natural to please; His motions all accompanied with grace; And Paradise was open’d in his face. With secret Joy, indulgent David view’d. His Youthful Image in his Son renew’d; To all his wishes Nothing he deni’d. And made the Charming Annabel his Bride. What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)His father coud not or he woud not see. Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,Were constru’d Youth that purg’d by boiling o’r: And Amnon’s Murther, by a specious Name,Was call’d a Just Revenge for injur’d Fame. Thus Prais’d and Lov’d, the Noble Youth remain’d,While David, undisturb’d, in Sion reign’d. But Life can never be sincerely blest: Heav’n punishes the bad, and proves the best. The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murm’ring race. As ever tri’d th’ extent and stretch of grace; God’s pamper’d People, whom, debauch’d with ease,No King could govern nor no God could please; (Gods they had tri’d of every shape and size. That God- smiths could produce or Priests devise: )These Adam- wits, too fortunately free,Began to dream they wanted liberty; And when no rule, no president was found. Of men, by Laws less circumscrib’d and bound; They led their wild desires to Woods and Caves; And thought that all but Savages were Slaves. They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow. Made foolish Ishbosheth the Crown forgo; Who banisht David did from Hebron bring,And, with a General shout, proclaim’d him King: Those very Jews who at their very best. Their Humour more than Loyalty exprest,Now wondred why so long they had obey’d. An Idol- Monarch which their hands had made; Thought they might ruine him they could create. Or melt him to that Golden Calf, a State. But these were random Bolts: No form’d Design. Nor Interest made the Factious Croud to join: The sober part of Israel, free from stain,Well knew the value of a peaceful reign; And, looking backward with a wise afright,Saw Seams of wounds, dishonest to the sight: In contemplation of whose ugly Scars,They curst the memory of Civil Wars. The moderate sort of Men, thus qualifi’d,Inclin’d the Ballance to the better side; And David’s mildness manag’d it so well,The bad found no occasion to Rebel. But, when to Sin our byast Nature leans,The careful Devil is still at hand with means; And providently Pimps for ill desires: The Good Old Cause, reviv’d, a Plot requires,Plots, true or false, are necessary things,To raise up Common- wealths and ruin Kings. Can People give away. Both for themselves and Sons their Native sway? Then they are left Defenceless, to the Sword. Of each unbounded, Arbitrary Lord: And Laws are vain, by which we Right enjoy,If Kings unquestion’d can those Laws destroy. Yet if the Croud be Judge of Fit and Just,And Kings are onely Officers in Trust,Then this resuming Cov’nant was declar’d. When Kings were made, or is for ever bar’d: If those who gave the Scepter, coud not tie. By their own Deed their own Posterity,How then coud Adam bind his future Race? How coud his Forfeit on Mankind take place? Or how coud heavenly Justice damn us all. Who ne’r consented to our Fathers Fall? Then Kings are Slaves to those whom they command,And Tenants to their Peoples pleasure stand. Add that the Pow’r,2. Property allow’d,Is mischievously seated in the Croud; For who can be secure of private Right,If Sovereign Sway may be dissolv’d by Might? Nor is the Peoples Judgment always true: The Most may err as grosly as the Few. And faultless Kings run down, by Common Cry,For Vice, Oppression, and for Tyranny. What Standard is there in a fickle rout,Which, flowing to the Mark, runs faster out? Nor onely crouds, but Sanhedrins may be. Infected with this publick Lunacy: And Share the madness of Rebellious Times,To Murther Monarchs for Imagin’d crimes. If they may Give and Take when e’r they please,Not Kings alone, (the Godheads Images,)But Government it self at length must fall. To Natures state, where all have Right to all. Yet, grant our Lords the People, Kings can make,What prudent men a setled Throne woud shake?
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