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THE

LIFE OF DUKE.

BY DR. JOHNSON.

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.

3 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.

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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 dawns 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, bate,
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,
As the blest shore to shipwreck'd mariners,
Success to lovers, glory to the brave,
Health to the sick, or freedom to the slave;
Such was great Cæsar's day! the wondrous day,
That long in Fate's dark bosom hatching lay,
Heaven to absolve, and satisfaction bring,
For twenty years of misery and sin!
What shouts, what triumph, what unruly joy,
Swell'd every breast, did every tongue employ,
With rays direct, whilst on his people shone
The king triumphant from the martyr's throne!
Was ever prince like him to mortals given?
So much the joy of Earth and care of Heaven!
Under the pressure of unequal fate,
Of so erect a mind, and soul so great!
So full of meekness, and so void of pride,
When borne aloft by Fortune's highest tide!
Mercy, like Heaven, 's his chief prerogative,
His joy to save, and glory to forgive.

All storms compos'd, and tempests' rage asleep,
He, halcyon like, sat brooding o'er the deep.
He saw the royal bark securely ride,

No danger threatening from the peaceful tide;

And he who, when the winds and seas were high
Oppos'd his skill, and did their rage defy,
No diminution to his honour thought,
T' enjoy the pleasure of the calm he brought.
(Should he alone be so the people's slave,
As not to share the blessings that he gave?)
But not till, full of providential care,
He chose a pilot in his place to steer:
One in his father's councils and his own
Long exercis'd, and grey in business grown;
Whose confirm'd judgment and sagacious wit
Knew all the sands on which rash monarchs splits
Of rising winds could, ere they blew, inform,
And from which quarter to expect the storm.
Such was, or such he seem'd, whom Cæsar chose,
And did all empire's cares in him repose;
That, after all his toils and dangers past,
He might lie down and taste some ease at last.
Now stands the statesman of the helm possest,
On him alone three mighty nations rest;
'Byrsa his name, bred at the wrangling bar,
And skill'd in arms of that litigious war;
But more to Wit's peacefuller arts inclin'd,
Learning's Mæcenas, and the Muses' friend;
Him every Muse in every age had sung,
His easy flowing wit and charming tongue,
Had not the treacherous voice of Power inspir'd.
His mounting thoughts, and wild Ambition fir'd;
Disdaining less alliances to own,

He now sets up for kinsman of the throne;
And Anna, by the power her father gain'd,
Back'd with great Cæsar's absofute command,
On false pretence of former contracts made,
Is forc'd on brave Britannicus's bed.

Thus rais'd, his insolence his wit out-vy'd,
And meanest avarice maintain'd his pride:
When Cæsar, to confirm his infant state,
Drown'd in oblivion all old names of hate,
By threatening many, but excepting none
That paid the purchase of oblivion.
Byrsa his master's free-given mercy sold,
And royal grace retail'd for rebel gold:

Earl of Clarendon. * Duke of York,

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