work, and your choice of the artificer as happy as your design.  Yet, as Phidias, when he had made the statue of Minerva, could not forbear to engrave his own name, as author of the piece:  so give me leave to hope, that, by subscribing mine to this poem, I may live by the goddess, and transmit my name to posterity by the memory of hers.  It is no flattery to assure your lordship, that she is remembered, in the present age, by all who have had the honour of her conversation and acquaintance; and that I have never been in any company since the news of her death was first brought me, where they have not extolled her virtues, and even spoken the same things of her in prose, which I have done in verse.

I therefore think myself obliged to thank your lordship for the commission which you have given me:  how I have acquitted myself of it, must be left to the opinion of the world, in spite of any protestation which I can enter against the present age, as incompetent or corrupt judges.  For my comfort, they are but Englishmen, and, as such, if they think ill of me to-day, they are inconstant enough to think well of me to-morrow.  And after all, I have not much to thank my fortune that I was born amongst them.  The good of both sexes are so few, in England, that they stand like exceptions against general rules:  and though one of them has deserved a greater commendation than I could give her, they have taken care that I should not tire my pen with frequent exercise on the like subjects; that praises, like taxes, should be appropriated, and left almost as individual as the person.  They say, my talent is satire:  if it be so, it is a fruitful age, and there is an extraordinary crop to gather.  But a single hand is insufficient for such a harvest:  they have sown the dragons’ teeth themselves, and it is but just they should reap each other in lampoons.  You, my lord, who have the character of honour, though it is not my happiness to know you, may stand aside, with the small remainders of the English nobility, truly such, and, unhurt yourselves, behold the mad combat.  If I have pleased you and some few others, I have obtained my end.  You see I have disabled myself, like an elected speaker of the house:  yet like him I have undertaken the charge, and find the burden sufficiently recompensed by the honour.  Be pleased to accept of these my unworthy labours, this paper-monument; and let her pious memory, which I am sure is sacred to you, not only plead the pardon of my many faults, but gain me your protection, which is ambitiously sought by, my lord, your lordship’s most obedient servant,

JOHN DRYDEN.

* * * * *

As when some great and gracious monarch dies,
Soft whispers, first, and mournful murmurs rise
Among the sad attendants; then the sound
Soon gathers voice, and spreads the news around,
Through town and country, till the dreadful blast
Is blown to distant colonies at last;
Who then, perhaps, were offering vows in vain,
For his long life, and for his happy reign: 
So slowly, by degrees, unwilling fame
Did matchless Eleonora’s fate proclaim, 10
Till public as the loss the news became.