valuable efforts of genius have often sunk into unmerited obscurity.  Such, in short, were his exertions in favour of Dryden, that, though we cannot believe he was indebted to Howard, for those necessaries of life which he had the means to procure for himself, the poet found ground to acknowledge, that his patron had not only been “carefull of his fortune, which was the effect of his nobleness, but solicitous of his reputation, which was that of his kindness.”

Thus patronised, our author seems to have advanced in reputation, as he became more generally known to the learned and ingenious of his time.  Yet we have but few traces of the labour, by which he doubtless attained, and secured, his place in society.  A short satire on the Dutch, written to animate the people of England against them, appeared in 1662.[46] It is somewhat in the hard style of invective, which Cleveland applied to the Scottish nation; yet Dryden thought it worth while to weave the same verses into the prologue and epilogue of the tragedy of “Amboyna,” a piece written in 1673, with the same kind intentions towards the states-general.

Science, as well as poetry, began to revive after the iron dominion of military fanaticism was ended; and Dryden, who through life was attached to experimental philosophy, speedily associated himself with those who took interest in its progress.  He was chosen a member of the newly instituted Royal Society, 26th November 1662; an honour which cemented his connection with the most learned men of the time, and is an evidence of the respect in which he was already held.  Most of these, and the discoveries by which they had distinguished themselves, Dryden took occasion to celebrate in his “Epistle to Dr. Walter Charleton,” a learned physician, upon his treatise of Stonehenge.  Gilbert, Boyle, Harvey, and Ent, are mentioned with enthusiastic applause as treading in the path pointed out by Bacon, who first broke the fetters of Aristotle, and taught the world to derive knowledge from experiment.  In these elegant verses, the author divests himself of all the flippant extravagance of point and quibble, in which, complying with his age, he had hitherto indulged, though of late in a limited degree.

While thus united in friendly communion with men of kindred and congenial spirits, Dryden seems to have been sensible of the necessity of applying his literary talents to some line, in which he might derive a steadier and more certain recompence, than by writing occasional verses to the great, or doing literary drudgery for the bookseller.  His own genius would probably have directed him to the ambitious labours of an epic poem; but for this the age afforded little encouragement.  “Gondibert,” the style of which, Dryden certainly both admired and copied, became a martyr to the raillery of the critics; and to fill up the measure of shame, the “Paradise Lost” fell still-born from the press.  This last instance of bad taste had not, it is true, yet taken place;