[]

THE PROGRESS of ENVY A POEM, IN IMITATION of SPENSER.

Occaſioned by LAUDER'S Attack on the Character of MILTON.

Inſcribed to the Right Honourable THE EARL OF BATH.

Odium bonorum ſede me infauſtâ extrahit
Diros ſceleſtâ mente verſantem dolos.
GROTII Adamus Exſul.

LONDON: Printed for J. NEWBERY, at the Bible and Sun, in St. Paul's Church-yard. MDCCLI.

Price One Shilling.

[]

To the RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARL OF BATH, PATRON OF MILTON, AND HIS VINDICATORS,

The following POEM is inſcribed, By his LORDSHIP'S moſt obedient humble Servant,

THE AUTHOR.

THE PREFACE.

[v]

TO be ſtudious of bringing Merit in Obſcurity to Light, is ſo ſtrong an Inſtance of Benevolence, that it has in all Ages been conſtantly attended with the higheſt Commendations; while the Deſtroyer of a Man's Reputation (in whatſoever it conſiſted) has been accounted a more odious Criminal than even the Aſſaſſin of his Body. On this Remark is founded one of the moſt beautiful Paſſages in SHAKESPEARE:

Who ſteals my Purſe, ſteals Traſh;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been Slave to Thouſands:
But he that filches from me my good Name,
Steals from me that which not enriches him,
But makes me poor indeed.
OTHELLO.

[vi] This is ſo true an Obſervation, that few, I believe, will doubt, that MILTON was leſs offended at the low Price his ineſtimable Poem was rated at on its firſt Publication, than he would have been at the late mean Attempts to ſubvert a Fame ſo well eſtabliſhed.

To view the Character of this SON OF DARKNESS in its moſt genuine Form, let us contraſt it with another no leſs eminent for its Splendor, which is the propereſt I could chuſe for my preſent Purpoſe, as it is particularly ſo in relation to that DIVINE AUTHOR we have lately ſeen ſo well vindicated from the groundleſs Aſperſions of almoſt his only Enemy.

In the Courſe of the Spectators, Mr. ADDISON (who was perhaps the moſt candid Critick that ever wrote, without deviating from Impartiality) took a particular Pleaſure in producing latent unregarded Worth, that he might ſhow thoſe Cavillers who were daily complaining of a Deartb of good Poetry, what noble things of this Kind they neglected.

Agreeably to this End is his Criticiſm on the old Engliſh Ballad of Chevy-Chace; but his moſt glorious Works of this Kind are his Obſervations on the PARADISE LOST. There is not a ſtronger Inſtance of Prejudice, and the Force of Party, than the Reception this Poem met with in the Author's Life-time, whoſe unhappy Attachment to wrong [vii] Principles, render'd all his Attempts at Fame (while living) fruitleſs. His admirable Poem lay in Obſcurity till Mr. ADDISON removed thoſe envious Clouds which had been ſuffered to obſtruct its Splendor. With what Pleaſure does be diſcover its Excellencies, and inſtruct an ordinary Reader to judge of its Beauties! With what Regret does he ſpeak of the ſew Blemiſhes of that Divine Piece, which (ſays he) is like writing a Treatiſe upon the Spots of the Sun.

Theſe Remarks are ſo univerſally read and approved, that, I believe every body but LAUDER (and his Friends, if he has any) will concur with me in the following Obſervation: Had Mr. ADDISON never wrote a Line but his Critique upon MILTON, that would alone have been ſufficient to have eſtabliſhed his Reputation as a fine Writer and a good Man.

If the Reader would view the exact Reverſe of the above Character, let him turn his Eyes on LAUDER: A Being ſo utterly void of Candour and Benevolence, that he has thought it worth his While to commit the groſſeſt Forgeries, to diſturb, if poſſible, the Aſhes of our Poet, and has been more induſtrious to depreciate the Paradiſe Loſt than the Writers in the Beginning of this Century were to heap Encomiums upon it. The Inhumanity and amazing Impudence of theſe Proceedings have puzzled all, to deviſe a likely Reaſon for ſo [viii] ſtrange a Piece of Malice. The faint Excuſes alledged for this Behaviour in LAUDER'S Recantation, by no Means palliate his Crime, notwithſtanding the florid Dreſs he has cloathed them in. Though I am far from being admitted into his ſecret Counſels, I believe I may venture to mention one, which, out of his uſual Regard to Truth, he has purpoſely omitted. It is very poſſible the ſame thing which has often made Poets, tempted LAUDER to unmake one, viz. Poverty and the Hopes of a Subſcription.

Theſe potent Arguments once induced him to commend with ſome Warmth the very ſame Poem he has lately been at ſo much Pains to brand, as a Work of no Genius: But as Honeſty would no longer procure him a Dinner, his Conſcience did not prevent him from turning the Tables.

Rem faciam Rem, Si poſſim, rectè, ſi non, quocunque modo Rem.

But we will urge this no farther, remembering, that it is not right to ſpeak Ill of the Dead.

PREFACES are commonly intended for Diſcourſes to the Reader on the Book he is entering upon; but the Conſideration of a Being quite diveſted of Modeſty and Humanity, naturally led me into the foregoing Reflections, ariſing from the Subject of theſe Sheets.

[ix] I ſhall not trouble the Reader with an Account of the Time I was employed in writing it, or inſipidly petition the Favour of the Criticks, but commit it to the World, ‘With all its Imperfections on its Head.’

An Attempt to overthrow the bold Aſſertions of LAUDER by Poetry, till he had been foiled at his own Weapons, would hardly have ſucceeded. But when ſo invincible a Champion as Mr. DOUGLAS had taken the Field, and returned victorious, the MUSES, who were particularly intereſted in the Conteſt, ſhould adorn him with the Inſignia of a Triumph.

This Hint has already given Riſe to the Pandaemonium and the following Stanzas, in Imitation of SPENSER. The Deſign of our ſeveral Pieces are ſo very different, that it is almoſt impoſſible they ſhould claſh in point of Merit. If we both meet with Succeſs, according to our various Models, we need not be diſheartened at any accidental Rivalſhip or abſurd Compariſon an injudicious Reader may draw between us.

Mr. DRYDEN, in ſome Part of his Works, has an Obſervation hinting at Poetical Genealogy. We have amongſt us (ſays he) our Lines and Deſcents, in as regular a manner as the nobleſt Families. In deducing the beſt Engliſh Writers from their poetick Original, he obſerves, that MILTON [x] is the firſt Deſcendant from SPENSER. This Remark of ſo great a Judge as Mr. DRYDEN induced me to chuſe SPENSER for my Model, and to place him by the Side of APOLLO in my Poem, imagining there was a peculiar Propriety in ſhielding the Son under the Protection of the Father.

As I did not ſuppoſe that Imitations were bound to tranſcribe the Faults as well as Excellencies of their Original, I made no Scruple of making a ſlight Alteration in SPENSER'S Stanza, which is univerſally condemned for the Redundancy of its correſpondent Rhimes. The Difficulty I ſhould have found in the Execution had perhaps ſome Share in this voluntary Omiſſion. Allowing this to be certain, my judicious Reader will be ſo far from thinking it a Blemiſh, that I am perſuaded he will readily compound for the Loſs of ſome of my Bells, provided I can entertain him more rationally. I have, in general, rather wiſhed to fall into SPENSER'S Way of Thinking than his Manner of cloathing his Sentiments, becauſe I think his Imagery infinitely ſuperior to his Stile. I have, however, be [...]n ſo far from neglecting his Language, that except thoſe Places where I found the old Words expreſs leſs than the modern, I always gave them the Preference. Whether I have transfuſed any of the divine Spirit of SPENSER into the following Stanzas, and whether his Style is ſucceſsfully imitated, the Reader muſt judge for himſelf.

[xii] The Mention I made of the ſlight Variation from SPENSER'S Stanza, was meerly to prevent the Nibblers of the Age from imputing it to Ignorance. Theſe would-be Criticks take great Pains to pervert the Movements of the human Mind, which certainly has more Pleaſure in beſtowing Commendations than Diſpraiſe. I beg Leave to ſhow the Truth of this Aſſertion by an Inſtance drawn from myſelf as an Author. Whatever Satisfaction it may have afforded me to ſtigmatize the Malice of LAUDER'S Proceedings, nothing in the whole Courſe of this Work pleaſed me ſo much as celebrating Mr. DOUGLAS. If the following Trifle ſhould meet with the Approbation of the Publick, I hope that Gentleman will think it an acceptable Preſent to Himſelf.

THE PROGRESS OF ENVY.

[]
I.
AH me! unhappy State of mortal Wight,
Sith ENVY'S ſure Attendant upon Fame,
Ne doth ſhe reſt from rancorous Deſpight,
Until ſhe works him mickle Woe and Shame;
Unhappy he whom ENVY thus doth ſpoil,
Ne doth ſhe check her ever reſtleſs Hate,
Until ſhe doth his Reputation foil:
Ah! luckleſs Imp is he, whoſe Worth elate,
Forces him pay this heavy Tax for being great.
[2]II.
There ſtood an ancient Mount, yclept Parnaſs,
(The fair Domain of ſacred Poeſy)
Which, with freſh Odours ever-blooming, was
Beſprinkled with the Dew of Caſtaly;
Which now in ſoothing Murmurs whiſp'ring glides,
Wat'ring with genial Waves the fragrant Soil,
Now rolls adown the Mountain's ſteepy Sides,
Teaching the Vales full beauteouſly to ſmile,
Dame NATURE'S handy-work, not form'd by lab'ring Toil.
III.
The MUSES fair theſe peaceful Shades among,
With ſkilful Fingers ſweep the trembling Strings;
The Air in Silence liſtens to the Song,
And TIME forgets to ply his lazy Wings;
Pale-viſag'd CARE, with foul unhallow'd Feet,
Attempts the Summit of the Hill to gain,
Ne can the Hag arrive the bliſsful Seat;
Her unavailing Strength is ſpent in vain,
CONTENT ſits on the Top, and mocks her empty Pain.
[3]IV.
Oft PHOEBUS ſelf left his divine Abode,
And here enſhrouded in a ſhady Bow'r,
Regardleſs of his State, lay'd by the God,
And own'd ſweet Muſic's more alluring Pow'r.
On either Side was plac'd a peerleſs Wight,
Whoſe Merit long had fill'd the Trump of FAME;
This FANCY'S darling Child was SPENSER hight,
Who pip'd full pleaſing on the Banks of Tame,
That no leſs fam'd than He, and MILTON was his Name.
V.
In theſe cool Bow'rs they live ſupinely calm;
Now harmleſs talk, now emulouſly ſing;
While VIRTUE, pouring round her ſacred Balm,
Makes Happineſs eternal as the Spring.
Alternately they ſung; now SPENSER 'gan,
Of Jouſts and Tournaments, and Champions ſtrong;
Now MILTON ſung of diſobedient Man,
And Eden loſt: The Bards around them throng,
Drawn by the wond'rous Magick of their Prince's Song.
[4]VI.
Not far from theſe, Dan CHAUCER, antient Wight,
A lofty Seat on Mount Parnaſſus held,
Who long had been the MUSE'S chief Delight;
His reverend Locks were ſilver'd over with Eld;
Grave was his Viſage, and his Habit plain;
And while he ſung, fair Nature he diſplay'd,
In Verſe albeit uncouth, and ſimple Strain;
Ne mote he well be ſeen, ſo thick the Shade,
Which Elms and aged Oaks had all around him made.
VII.
Next SHAKESPEARE ſat, irregularly great,
And in his Hand a magick Rod did hold,
Which viſionary Beings did create,
And turn'd the fouleſt Droſs to pureſt Gold:
Whatever Spirits rove in Earth or Air,
Or bad or good, obey his dread Command;
To his Beheſts theſe willingly repair,
Thoſe aw'd by Terrors of his magick Wand,
The which not all their Pow'rs united might withſtand.
[5]VIII.
Beſide the Bard there ſtood a beauteous Maid,
Whoſe glittering Appearance dimm'd the Eyen;
Her thin-wrought Veſture various Tints diſplay'd.
FANCY her Name, yſprong of Race divine,
Her Mantle wimpled low, her ſilken Hair,
Which looſe adown her well-turn'd Shoulders ſtray'd,
'She made a Net to catch the wanton Air,'
Whoſe love-ſick Breezes all around her play'd,
And ſeem'd in Whiſpers ſoft to court the heav'nly Maid.
IX.
And ever and anon ſhe wav'd in Air
A Sceptre, fraught with all-creative Pow'r:
She wav'd it round: Eftſoons there did appear
Spirits and Witches, Forms unknown before:
Again ſhe lifts her wonder-working Wand;
Eftſoons upon the flow'ry Plain was ſeen
The gay Inhabitants of Fairie Land,
And blithe Attendants upon MAB their Queen,
In myſtick Circles danc'd along th' inchanted Green.
[6]X.
On th' other Side ſtood NATURE, Goddeſs fair;
A Matron ſeem'd ſhe, and of Manners ſtaid;
Beauteous her Form, majeſtick was her Air,
In looſe Attire of pureſt White array'd:
A potent Rod ſhe bore, whoſe Power was ſuch,
(As from her Darling's Works may well be ſhown)
That often with its ſoul-enchanting Touch,
She rais'd or Joy, or caus'd the deep-felt Groan,
And each Man's Paſſions made ſubſervient to her own.
XI.
But lo! thick Fogs from out the Earth ariſe,
And murky Miſts the buxom Air invade,
Which with Contagion dire infect the Skies,
And all around their baleful Influence ſhed;
Th' infected Sky, which whilom was ſo fair,
With thick Cimmerian Darkneſs is o'erſpread;
The Sun, which whilom ſhone without Compare,
Muffles in pitchy Veil his radiant Head,
And ſore the Time ſore-grieving, ſeeks his wat'ry Bed.
[7]XII.
ENVY, the Daughter of fell Acheron,
(The Flood of deadly Hate and gloomy Night)
Had left precipitate her Stygian Throne,
And thro' the frighted Heavens wing'd her Flight:
With careful Eye each Realm ſhe did explore,
Ne mote ſhe ought of Happineſs obſerve;
For Happineſs, alas! was now no more,
Sith ev'ry one from Virtue's Paths did ſwerve,
And trample on Religion baſe Deſigns to ſerve.
XIII.
At length, on bleſt Parnaſſus ſeated high,
Their Temples circled with a Laurel Crown,
SPENSER and MILTON met her ſcowling Eye,
And turn'd her horrid Grin unto a Frown.
Full faſt unto her Siſter did ſhe poſt,
There to unload the Venom of her Breaſt,
To tell how all her Happineſs was croſt,
Sith others were of Happineſs poſſeſt:
Did never gloomy Hell ſend forth like ugly Peſt.
[8]XIV.
Within the Covert of a gloomy Wood,
When fun'ral Cypreſs ſtar-proof Branches ſpread,
O'ergrown with tangling Briers a Cavern ſtood;
Fit Place for Melancholy Dreary-head.
Here a deformed Monſter joy'd to won,
Which on fell Rancour ever was ybent,
All from the riſing to the ſetting Sun,
Her Heart purſued Spite with black Intent,
Ne could her iron Mind at human Woes relent.
XV.
In flowing ſable Stole ſhe was yclad,
Which with her Countenance did well accord;
Forth from her Mouth, like one thro' Grief gone mad,
A frothy Sea of nauſeous Foam was pour'd;
A ghaſtly Grin and Eyes aſquint, diſplay
The Rancour which her helliſh Thoughts contain,
And how, when Man is bleſt, ſhe pines away,
Burning to turn his Happineſs to Pain;
MALICE the Monſter's Name, a Foe to God and Man.
[9]XVI.
Along the Floor black loathſome Toads do crawl,
Their Gullets ſwell'd with Poiſon's mortal Bane,
Which ever and anon they ſpit at all
Whom hapleſs Fortune leads too near her Den;
Around her Waſte, in Place of ſilken Zone,
A life-devouring Viper rear'd his Head,
Who no Diſtinction made 'twixt Friend and Foen,
But Death on ey'ry Side fierce, brandiſhed,
Fly, reckleſs Mortals fly, in vain is Hardy-head.
XVII.
Impatient ENVY, thro' the aetherial Waſte,
With inward Venom fraught, and deadly Spite,
Unto this Cavern ſteer'd her panting Haſte,
Enſhrouded in a darkſome Veil of Night.
Her inmoſt Heart burnt with impetuous Ire,
And fell Deſtruction ſparkled in her Look,
Her ferret Eyes flaſh'd with revengeful Fire,
A while contending Paſſions Utt'rance choke,
At length the Fiend in furious Tone her Silence broke.
[10]XVIII.
Siſter, ariſe: See how our Pow'r decays,
No more our Empire thou and I can boaſt,
Sith mortal Man now gains immortal Praiſe,
Sith Man is bleſt, and thou and I are loſt:
See in what State Parnaſſus' Hill appears;
See PHOEBUS' ſelf two happy Bards atween;
See how the God their Song attentive hears;
This SPENSER hight, that MILTON, well I ween,
Who can behold unmov'd ſike heart-tormenting Scene?
XIX.
Siſter, ariſe; ne let our Courage droop,
Perforce we will compel theſe Mortals own,
That mortal Force unto our Force ſhall ſtoop;
ENVY and MALICE then ſhall reign alone:
Thou beſt has known to file thy Tongue with Lies,
And to deceive Mankind with ſpecious Bait;
Like TRUTH accoutred, ſpreadeſt Forgeries,
The Fountain of Contention and of Hate:
Ariſe, unite with me, and be as whilom great.
[11]XX.
The Fiend obey'd, and with impatient Voice—
Tremble, ye Bards, within that bliſsful Seat;
MALICE and ENVY ſhall o'erthrow your Joys,
Nor PHOEBUS ſelf ſhall out Deſigns defeat.
Shall we, who under Friendſhip's feigned Veil,
Prompted the bold Archangel to rebel;
Shall we, who under Show of ſacred Zeal,
Plung'd half the Pow'rs of Heav'n in loweſt Hell—
Such vile Diſgrace of us no mortal Man ſhall tell.
XXI.
And now, more hideous render'd to the Sight,
By reaſon of her raging Cruelty,
She burnt to go, equipt in dreadful Plight,
And find fit Engine for her Forgery.
Her Eyes inflam'd did caſt their Rays aſkance,
While helliſh Imps prepare the Monſter's Car,
In which ſhe might cut thro' the wide Expanſe,
And find out Nations that extended far,
When all was pitchy dark, ne twinkled one bright Star.
[12]XXII.
Black was her Chariot, drawn by Dragons dire,
And each fell Serpent had a double Tongue,
Which ever and anon ſpit flaming Fire,
The Regions of the tainted Air emong;
A lofty Seat the Siſter-monſters bore,
In deadly Machinations cloſe combin'd,
Dull FOLLY drove with terrible Uproar,
And cruel DISCORD follow'd faſt behind;
God help the Man 'gainſt whom ſuch Caitiff Foesare join'd.
XXIII.
Aloft in Air the rattling Chariot flies,
While Thunder harſhly grates upon its Wheels;
Black pointed Spires of Smoke around them riſe,
The Air depreſs'd unuſual Burthen feels;
Deteſted Sight! In terrible Array,
They ſpur their fiery Dragons on amain,
Ne mote their Anger ſuffer cold Delay,
Until the wiſh'd-for Region they obtain,
And land their dingy Car on Caledonian Plain.
[13]XXIV.
Here elder Son of MALICE long had dwelt,
A Wretch of all the Joys of Life forlorn;
His Fame on double Falſities was built:
(Ah! worthleſs Son, of worthleſs Parent born!)
Under the Shew of Semblance fair he veil'd
The black Intentions of his helliſh Breaſt;
And by theſe guileful Means he more prevail'd
Than had he open Enmity profeſt:
The Wolf more ſafely wounds when in Sheep's Cloathing dreſt.
XXV.
Him then themſelves atween they joyful place,
(Sure Signs of Woe when ſuch are pleas'd, alas!)
Then meaſure back the Air with ſwifter Pace,
Until they reach the Foot of Mount Parnaſs.
Hither in evil Hour the Monſters came,
And with their new Companion did alight,
Who long had loſt all Senſe of virtuous Shame,
Beholding worth with poiſonous Deſpight;
On his Succeſs depends their impious Delight.
[14]XXVI.
Long burnt he ſore the Summit to obtain,
And ſpread his Venom o'er the bliſsful Seat;
Long burnt he ſore, but ſtill he burnt in vain;
Mote none come then, who come with impious Feet.
At length, at unawares he out doth ſpit
That Spite, which elſe had to himſelf been Bane;
The Venom on the Breaſt of Milton lit,
And ſpread benumbing Death thro' every Vein;
The Bard, of Life bereft, fell ſenſeleſs on the Plain.
XXVII.
As at the Banquet of Thyeſtes old,
The Sun is ſaid t'have ſhut his radiant Eye,
So did he now thro' Grief his Beams with-hold,
And Darkneſs to be felt o'erwhelm'd the Sky;
Forth iſſued from their diſmal dirk Abodes
The Birds attendant upon hideous Night,
Shriek-owls and Ravens, whoſe fell croaking bodes
Approaching Death to miſerable Wight:
Did never Mind of Man behold ſike dreadful Sight?
[15]XXVIII.
APOLLO wails his Darling, done to die
By foul Attempt of ENVY'S fatal Bane;
The MUSES ſprinkle him with Dew of Caſtaly,
And crown his Death with many a living Strain;
Hoary PARNASSUS beats his aged Breaſt,
Aged, yet ne'er before did Sorrow know;
The Flowers drooping their Deſpair atteſt,
Th' aggrieved Rivers querulouſly flow;
All Nature ſudden groan'd with ſympathetick Woe.
XXIX.
But, lo! the Sky a gayer Livery wears,
The melting Clouds begin to fade apace,
And now the Cloak of Darkneſs diſappears,
(May Darkneſs ever thus to Light give Place!)
Erſt griev'd APOLLO jocund Looks reſumes,
The Nine renew their whilom chearful Song,
No Grief PARNASSUS' aged Breaſt conſumes,
Forth from the teeming Earth new Flowers ſprong,
The plenteous Rivers flow'd full peacefully along.
[16]XXX.
The ſtricken Bard freſh vital Heat renews,
Whoſe Blood, erſt ſtagnate, ruſhes thro' his Veins;
Life thro' each Pore her Spirit doth infuſe,
And FAME, by MALICE inexpulſive, reigns:
And ſee, a female Form, all heav'nly bright,
Upheld by one of mortal Progeny,
A female Form, yclad in ſnowy White,
Ne half ſo fair at Diſtance ſeems as nigh;
DOUGLAS and TRUTH appear, ENVY and LAUDER die.
FINIS.
Notes
Wimpled. A Word uſed by Spenſer for h [...]ng down. The Line incloſed within Comma's is one of Fairfax's in his Tranſlation of Taſſo.
Dreary head. Gloomineſs.
Hardy-head. Courage.
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Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3645 The progress of envy a poem in imitation of Spenser Occasioned by Lauder s attack on the character of Milton Inscribed to the Right Honourable the Earl of Bath. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-591F-F