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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 07"


_Zeal._ Thou horny flood, for Zeal provide
A new supply; and swell thy moony tide,
That on thy buxom back the floating gold may glide.
_Tham._ Not all the gold the southern sun produces,
Or treasures of the famed Levant,
Suffice for pious uses,
To feed the sacred hunger of a saint!
_Democ._ Woe to the vanquished, woe!
Slave as thou art,
Thy wealth impart,
And me thy victor know!
_Zeal._ And me thy victor know.
Resistless arms are in my hand,
Thy bars shall burst at my command,
Thy tory head lie low.
Woe to the vanquished, woe!
_Aug._ Were I not bound by fate
For ever, ever here,
My walls I would translate
To some more happy sphere,
Removed from servile fear.
_Tham._ Removed from servile fear.
Would I could disappear,
And sink below the main;
For commonwealth's a load,
My old imperial flood
Shall never, never bear again.
A commonwealth's a load, } THAMES. _and_
Our old imperial flood, } AUG. _together._
Shall never, never, never, bear again. }
_Dem._ Pull down her gates, expose her bare;
I must enjoy the proud disdainful fair.
Haste, Archon, haste
To lay her waste[1]!
_Zeal._ I'll hold her fast
To be embraced!
_Dem._ And she shall see
A thousand tyrants are in thee,
A thousand thousand more in me!
_Archon._ to _Aug._ From the Caledonian shore
Hither am I come to save thee,
Not to force or to enslave thee,
But thy Albion to restore:
Hark! the peals the people ring,
Peace, and freedom, and a king.


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