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In the Annus Mirabilis he returned to the quatrain, which from that time he totally quitted, perhaps from this experience of its inconvenience, for he complains of its difficulty. This is one of his greatest attempts. He had fubjects equal to his abilities, a great naval war, and the Fire of London. tles have always been defcribed in heroick poetry; but a fea-fight and artillery had yet fomething of novelty. New arts are long in the world before poets defcribe them; for they borrow every thing from their predeceffors, and commonly derive very little from nature or from life. Boileau was the first French writer that had ever hazarded in verfe the mention of modern war, or the effects of gunpowder. We, who are less afraid of novelty, had already poffeffion of thofe dreadful images: Waller had described a fea-fight. Milton had not yet transferred the invention of fire-arms to the rebellious angels.

This poem is written with great diligence, yet does not fully anfwer the expectation raised by fuch fubjects and fuch a writer. With the stanza of Davenant he has

fome

fometimes his vein of parenthefis, and incidental difquifition, and ftops his narrative for a wife remark.

The general fault is, that he affords more fentiment than defcription, and does not so much impress scenes upon the fancy, as deduce confequences and make comparifons.

The initial ftanzas have rather too much refemblance to the first lines of Waller's poem on the war with Spain; perhaps fuch a beginning is natural, and could not be avoided without affectation. Both Waller and Dryden might take their hint from the poem on the civil war of Rome, Orbem jam totum, &c.

Of the king collecting his navy, he says,

It seems as every fhip their fovereign knows,
His awful fummons they fo foon obey;
So hear the scaly herds when Proteus blows,
And fo to pasture follow through the fea.

It would not be hard to believe that Dryden had written the two firft lines feriously, K 3

and

and that fome wag had added the two latter in burlesque. Who would expect the lines that immediately follow, which are indeed perhaps indecently hyperbolical, but certainly in a mode totally different?

To fee this fleet upon the ocean move, Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies; And heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rife.

The description of the attempt at Bergen will afford a very compleat fpecimen of the descriptions in this poem :

And now approach'd their fleet' from India, fraught

With all the riches of the rifing fun:

And precious fand from fouthern climates brought,

The fatal regions where the war begun.

Like hunted caftors, conscious of their store, Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coast they bring:

Then first the North's cold bofom fpices bore,

And winter brooded on the eastern spring.

By

By the rich fcent we found our perfum'd prey, Which, flank'd with rocks, did clofe in co

vert lie:

And round about their murdering cannon lay, At once to threaten and invite the eye.

Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard, The English undertake th' unequal war: Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd, Befiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.

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Thefe fight like hufbands, but like lovers thofe : These fain would keep, and those more fain

enjoy :

And to fuch height their frantic paffion grows, That what both love, both hazard to destroy:

Amidft whole heaps of fpices lights a ball,
And now their odours arm'd against them
fly:
Some preciously by shatter'd porcelain fall,
And some by aromatic splinters die.

And though by tempefts of the prize bereft, In heaven's inclemency fome eafe we find : Our foes we vanquifh'd by our valour left,

And only yielded to the feas and wind.

In this manner is the fublime too often mingled with the ridiculous. The Dutch seek a shelter for a wealthy fleet: this furely needed

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needed no illustration; yet they must fly, not like all the reft of mankind on the fame occafion, but like bunted caftors; and they might with strict propriety be hunted; for we winded them by our nofes—their perfumes betrayed them. The Husband and the Lover, though of more dignity than the Caftor, are images too domeftick to mingle properly with the horrors of war. The two quatrains that follow are worthy of the author.

The account of the different fenfations with which the two fleets retired, when the night parted them, is one of the fairest flowers of English poetry.

The night comes on, we eager to purfue The combat ftill, and they afham'd to leave: 'Till the laft ftreaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moon-light did our rage deceive.

In th' English fleet each fhip refounds with joy, And loud applause of their great leader's

fame :

In firy dreams the Dutch they ftill destroy,

And, flumbering, fmile at the imagin'd flame,

Not