THE LIFE OF DUKE. BY DR. JOHNSON. I OF Mr. RICHARD DUKE I can find few memorials. He was bred at Westminster and Cambridge; and Jacob relates, that he was some time tutor to the duke of Richmond. He appears from his writings to have been not ill qualified for poetical compositions ; and being conscious of his powers, when he left the university, he enlisted himself among the wits. He was the familiar friend of Otway; and was engaged, among other popular names, in the translations of Ovid and Juvenal. In his Review, though unfinished, are some vigorous lines. His poems are not below mediocrity; nor have I found much in them to be praised ** With the wit he seems to have shared the dissoluteness of the times; for some of his compositions are such as he must have reviewed with detestation in his later days, when he published those sermons which Felton has commended. Perhaps, like some other foolish young men, he rather talked than lived viciously, in an age when he that would be thought a wit was afraid to say his prayers; and, whatever might have been bad in the first part of his life, was surely condemned and reformed by his better judgement. In 1683, being then master of arts, and fellow of Trinity College in Cambridge, he wrote a poem on the Marriage of the Lady Anne with George Prince of Denmark. 'He was admitted there in 1670; was elected to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1675; and took his master's degree in 1682. N. 2 They make a part of a volume published by Tonson in 8vo. 1717, containing the poems of the arl of Roscommon, and the duke of Buckingham's Essay on Poetry; but were first published in Dryden's Miscellany, as were most, if not all, of the poems in that collection. H. He then took orders; and, being made prebendary of Gloucester, became a proctor in convocation for that church, and chaplain to queen Anne. In 1710, he was presented by the bishop of Winchester to the wealthy living of Witney in Oxfordshire, which he enjoyed but a few months. On February 10, 1710-11, having returned from an entertainment, he was found dead the next morning. His death is mentioned in Swift's Journal. * He was presented to the rectory of Blaby in Leicestershire in 1687-8; and obtained a prebend at Gloucester in 1688. N. POEMS OF RICHARD DUKE. THE REVIEW. Longa est injuria, longæ Ambages; sed summa sequar fastigia rerum. HOW have we wander'd a long dismal night, Led through blind paths by each deluding light: Now plung'd in mire, now by sharp brambles torn, With tempests beat, and to the winds a scorn! Lost, weary'd, spent! but see the eastern star And glimmering light dawus kindly from afar: Bright goddess, hail! while we by thee survey The various errours of our painful way; While, guided by some clew of heavenly thread, The labyrinth perplex'd we backward tread, Through rulers' avarice, pride, ambition, hate, Perverse cabals, and winding turns of state, The senate's rage, and all the crooked lines Of incoherent plots and wild designs; Till, getting out, where first we enter'd in, A new bright race of glory we begin. As, after Winter, Spring's glad face appears, All storms compos'd, and tempests' rage asleep, No danger threatening from the peaceful tide; And he who, when the winds and seas were high, Byrsa his name, bred at the wrangling bar, He now sets up for kinsman of the throne; Thus rais'd, his insolence his wit out-vy'd, Earl of Clarendon. * Duke of York, That new state-maxim he invented first, Of that accurst and sacrilegious crew, Of this state principle the guilt and shame. [hand, Britannicus, by whose high virtues grac'd, An envious blast, that makes the billows rise: goes, We know not; but where-e'er it lists it blows. Was not of old the Jewish rabble's cry Hosanna first, and after crucify? And when he all things found were bought and sold, All calm and smooth, till from some corner flies 3 Earl of Shaftesbury. 4 French king. Now Byrsa with full orb illustrious shone, With beams reflected from his glorious son; All power his own, but what was given to those That counsellors by him from rebels rose; But, rais'd so far, each now disdains a first, The taste of power does but inflame the thirst. With envious eyes they Byrsa's glorics see, Nor think they can be great, while less than he. Envy their cunning sharpen'd, and their wit, Enough before for treacherous councils fit: T'accuse him openly not yet they dare, But subtly by degrees his fall prepare: They knew by long-experienc'd desert How near he grew rooted to Cæsar's heart; To move him hence, requir'd no common skill, But what is hard to a resolved will? They found his public actions all conspire, Wisely apply'd, to favour their desire: But one they want their venom to suggest, And make it gently slide to Cæsar's breast: Who titter than 5 Villerius for this part? And him to gain requir'd but little art, For mischief was the darling of his heart. A compound of such parts as never yet In any one of al: God's creatures met: Not sick men's dreams so various or so wild, Or of such disagreeing shapes compil'd; Yet, through all changes of his shifting scene, Still constant to buffoon and harlequin, As if he 'ad made a prayer, than his of old More foolish, that turn'd all he touch'd to gold. God granted him to play th' cternal fool, And all he handled turn to ridicule. Thus a new Midas truly he appears, And shows, through all disguise, his asses ears. Did he the weightiest business of the state At council or in senate-house debate, King, country, all, he for a jest would quit, To catch some little flash of paltry wit: How full of gravity soe'er he struts, The ape in robes will scramble for his nuts: Did he all laws of Heaven or Earth defy, Blaspheme his god, or give his king the lie; Adultery, murders, or ev'n worse, commit, Still 'twas a jest, and nothing but sheer wit: At last this edg'd-tool, wit, his darling sport, Wounded himself, and banish'd him the court: Like common jugglers, or like common whores, All his tricks shown, he was kick'd out of doors. Not chang'd in humour by his change of place, He still found company to suit his grace; Mountebanks, quakers, chymists, trading varlets, Pimps, players, city sheriffs, and suburb harlots; War his aversion, once he heard it roar, But, "Damn him if he ever hear it more!" And there you may believe him, though he swore. But with play-houses, wars, immortal wars, He wag'd, and ten years rage produc'd a 6 farce. As many rolling years he did employ, And hands almost as many, to destroy Heroic rhyme, as Greece to ruin Troy. "Once more," says Fame, "for battle he prepares, And threatens rhymers with a second farce: But, if as long for this as that we stay, He'll finish Clevedon sooner than his play." This precious tool did the new statesmen use In Cæsar's breath their whispers to infuse: Suspicion's bred by gravity, beard, and gown; But who suspects the madman and buffoon? Drolling Villerius this advantage had, And all his jests sober impressions made: Besides, he knew to choose the softest hour, When Cæsar for a while forgot his power, And, coming tir'd from empire's grand affairs, In the free joys of wine relax'd his cares. 'Twas then he play'd the sly successful fool, And serious mischief did in ridicule. Then he with jealous thoughts his prince could fill, And gild with mirth and glittering wit the pill. 5 Duke of Buckingham. 6 The Rehearsal. With a grave mien, discourse, and decent state, The greatest jest of all, "he'd needs be wise" [Here the writer left off.] "TWAS OVID, BOOK I. ELEGY V. [air. noon, when I, scorch'd with the double fire Of the hot Sun and my more hot desire, Stretch'd on my downy couch at ease was laid, Big with expectance of the lovely maid. The curtains but half drawn, a light let in, Such as in shades of thickest groves is seen; Such as remains when the Sun flies away, Or when night's gone, and yet it is not day. This light to modest maids must be allow'd, Where Shame may hope its guilty head to shrowd. And now my love, Corinna, did appear, Loose on her neck fell her divided air; Loose as her flowing gown that wanton'd in the In such a garb, with such a grace and mien, To her rich bed approach'd th' Assyrian queen. So Laïs look'd, when all the youth of Greece With adoration did her charms confess. Her envious gown to pull away I try'd, But she resisted still, and still deny'd; But so resisted, that she seem'd to be Unwilling to obtain the victory. So I at last an easy conquest had, Whilst my fair combatant herself betray'd: But, when she naked stood before my eyes, Gods! with what charms did she my soul surprise! What snowy arms did I both see and feel! With what rich globes did her soft bosom swell! Plump as ripe clusters, rose each glowing breast, Courting the hand, and sueing to be prest! In every limb what various charms were spread, Where thousand little Loves and Graces play'd! One beauty did through her whole body shine. I saw, admir'd, and press'd it close to mine. The rest, who knows not? Thus entranc'd we lay, Till in each other's arms we dy'd away; O give me such a noon (ye gods) to every day. HORACE, BOOK II. ODE IV.' See another imitation of this ode in Yalden's Poems. |