John Henry Dryden Poems on Running (8 Poems)

Cymon And Iphigenia. From Boccace (John Henry Dryden Poems)

Old as I am, for lady’s love unfit,The power of beauty I remember yet,Which once inflamed my soul, and still inspires my wit.If love be folly, the severe divine;Has felt that folly, though he censures mine;Pollutes the pleasures of a … Continue reading →

The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part I. (John Henry Dryden Poems)

A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged,Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged;Without unspotted, innocent within,She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.Yet had she oft been chased with horns and hounds,And Scythian shafts; and many winged woundsAimed … Continue reading →

The Wife Of Bath Her Tale (John Henry Dryden Poems)

In days of old, when Arthur filled the throne,Whose acts and fame to foreign lands were blown,The king of elves, and little fairy queen,Gambolled on heaths, and danced on every green;And where the jolly troop had led the round,The grass … Continue reading →

Eleonora : A Panegyrical (John Henry Dryden Poems)

Dedicated to the Memory of the Late Countess of Abingdon. As when some great and gracious monarch dies,Soft whispers first and mournful riseAmong the sad attendants; then the soundSoon gathers voice and spreads the news around,Through town and country, till … Continue reading →

Britannia Rediviva: A Poem on the Birth of the Prince (John Henry Dryden Poems)

Our vows are heard betimes, and heaven takes careTo grant, before we can conclude the prayer;Preventing angels met it half the way,And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.Just on the day, when the high-mounted sunDid farthest in … Continue reading →

ASTR (John Henry Dryden Poems)

Now with a general peace the world was blest,While ours, a world divided from the rest,A dreadful quiet felt, and worser farThan arms, a sullen interval of war.Thus when black clouds draw down the lab’ring skies,Ere yet abroad the winged … Continue reading →

Prologue to Caesar Borgia (John Henry Dryden Poems)

The unhappy man, who once has trailed a pen,Lives not to please himself, but other men;Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood,Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.What praise soe’er the poetry deserve,Yet every fool can bid … Continue reading →

Life a Cheat (John Henry Dryden Poems)

When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat;Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:To-morrow’s falser than the former day;Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blessedWith some new joys, cuts off … Continue reading →