The Dramatic Works of John Dryden Vol. I. - With a Life of the Author | Page 7

beginning of the Civil Wars
silenced the muses. The universities were perhaps to blame during this
period of usurpation; for which it may be admitted in excuse, that the
metaphysical poetry could only be practised by men whose minds were
deeply stored with learning, and who could boldly draw upon a large
fund of acquired knowledge for supplying the expenditure of
far-fetched and extravagant images, which their compositions required.
The book of Nature is before all men; but when her limits are to be

overstepped, the acquirement of adventitious knowledge becomes of
paramount necessity; and it was but natural that Cambridge and Oxford
should prize a style of poetry, to which depth of learning was
absolutely indispensable.
I have stated, that the metaphysical poetry was fashionable during the
early part of Charles the First's reign. It is true, that Milton descended
to upbraid that unfortunate prince, that the chosen companion of his
private hours was one William Shakespeare, a player; but Charles
admitted less sacred poets to share his partiality. Ben Jonson supplied
his court with masques, and his pageants with verses; and,
notwithstanding an ill-natured story, shared no inconsiderable portion
of his bounty.[8] Donne, a leader among the metaphysical poets, with
whom King James had punned and quibbled in person.[9] shared, in a
remarkable degree, the good graces of Charles I., who may therefore be
supposed no enemy to his vein of poetry, although neither his sincere
piety nor his sacred office restrained him from fantastic indulgence in
extravagant conceit, even upon the most solemn themes which can be
selected for poetry.[10] Cowley, who with the learning and acuteness
of Donne, possessed the more poetical qualities of a fertile imagination,
and frequent happiness of expression, and who claims the highest place
of all who ever plied the unprofitable trade of combining dissimilar and
repugnant ideas, was not indeed known to the king during his
prosperity; but his talents recommended him at the military court of
Oxford, and the [Transcriber's note: word missing here in the original]
ingenious poet of the metaphysical class enjoyed the applause of
Charles before he shared the exile of his consort Henrietta. Cleveland
also was honoured with the early notice of Charles;[11] one of the most
distinguished metaphysical bards, who afterwards exerted his talents of
wit and satire upon the royal side, and strained his imagination for
extravagant invective against the Scottish army, who sold their king,
and the parliament leaders, who bought him. All these, and others
unnecessary to mention, were read and respected at court; being
esteemed by their contemporaries, and doubtless believing themselves
the wonder of their own, and the pattern of succeeding ages; and
however much they [Transcriber's note: fragment of word only in
original, presume "might"] differ from each other in parts and genius,

they sought the same road to poetical fame, by starting the most
unnatural images which their imaginations could conceive, or by
hunting more common allusions through the most minute and
circumstantial particulars and ramifications.
Yet, though during the age of Charles I. the metaphysical poets enjoyed
the larger proportion of public applause, authors were not wanting who
sought other modes of distinguishing themselves. Milton, who must not
be named in the same paragraph with others, although he had not yet
meditated the sublime work which was to carry his name to
immortality, disdained, even in his lesser compositions, the
preposterous conceits and learned absurdities, by which his
contemporaries acquired distinction. Some of his slighter academic
prolusions are, indeed, tinged with the prevailing taste of his age, or,
perhaps, were written in ridicule of it; but no circumstance in his life is
more remarkable, than that "Comus," the "Monody on Lycidas," the
"Allegro and Penseroso," and the "Hymn on the Nativity," are
unpolluted by the metaphysical jargon and affected language which the
age esteemed indispensable to poetry. This refusal to bend to an evil so
prevailing, and which held out so many temptations to a youth of
learning and genius, can only be ascribed to the natural chastity of
Milton's taste, improved by an earnest and eager study of the purest
models of antiquity.
But besides Milton, who stood aloof and alone, there was a race of
lesser poets, who endeavoured to glean the refuse of the applause
reaped by Donne, Cowley, and their followers, by adopting ornaments
which the latter had neglected, perhaps because they could be attained
without much labour or abstruse learning. The metaphysical poets, in
their slip-shod pindarics, had totally despised, not only smoothness and
elegance but the common rhythm of versification. Many and long
passages may be read without perceiving the least difference between
them and barbarous jingling, ill-regulated prose; and in appearance,
though the lines be divided into unequal lengths, the eye and ear
acknowledge little difference between them and the inscription on