“Good life be now my task; my doubts
are done;
What more could fright my faith than three
in one?
Can I believe Eternal God could lie
Disguised in mortal mould, and infancy?
That the great Maker of the world could
die?
And after that trust my imperfect sense,
Which calls in question his omnipotence?”
From these lines it may be safely inferred, that Dryden’s sincere acquiescence in the more abstruse points of Christianity did not long precede his adoption of the Roman faith. In some preceding verses it appears, how eagerly he received the conviction of the Church’s infallibility as affording that guide, the want of whom he had in some degree lamented in the “Religio Laici:”
“What weight of ancient witness
can prevail,
If private reason hold the public scale?
But, gracious God, how well dost thou
provide
For erring judgments an unerring guide!
Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of
light,
A blaze of glory that forbids the sight.
O teach me to believe thee, thus concealed,
And search no farther than thyself revealed;
But her alone for my director take,
Whom thou hast promised never to forsake!”
We find, therefore, that Dryden’s conversion was not of that sordid kind which is the consequence of a strong temporal interest; for he had expressed intelligibly the imagined desiderata which the Church of Rome alone pretends to supply, long before that temporal interest had an existence. Neither have we to reproach him, that, grounded and rooted in a pure Protestant creed, he was foolish enough to abandon it for the more corrupted doctrines of Rome. He did not unloose from the secure haven to moor in the perilous road; but, being tossed on the billows of uncertainty, he dropped his anchor in the first moorings to which the winds, waves, and