The Works of John Dryden, Volume 4 | Page 4

fate, or the wishes, of Almahide, Lyndaraxa, and Benzayda,
are all that interest the Moorish warriors around them, as if the
Christian was not thundering at their gates, to exterminate at once their
nation and religion. Indeed, so essentially necessary are the
encouragements of beauty to military achievement, that we find queen
Isabella ordering to the field of battle a corps de reserve of her maids of
honour to animate the fighting warriors with their smiles, and
counteract the powerful charms of the Moorish damsels. Nor is it an
inferior fault, that, although the characters are called Moors, there is
scarce any expression, or allusion, which can fix the reader's attention
upon their locality, except an occasional interjection to Alha, or
Mahomet.
If, however, the reader can abstract his mind from the qualities now
deemed essential to a play, and consider the Conquest of Granada as a
piece of romantic poetry, there are few compositions in the English
language, which convey a more lively and favourable display of the

magnificence of fable, of language, and of action, proper to that style of
composition. Amid the splendid ornaments of the structure we lose
sight of occasional disproportion and incongruity; and, at an early age
particularly, there are few poems which make a more deep impression
upon the imagination, than the Conquest of Granada.
The two parts of this drama were brought out in the same season,
probably in winter, 1669, or spring, 1670. They were received with
such applause, that Langbaine conceives their success to have been the
occasion of Dryden's undervaluing his predecessors in dramatic writing.
The Conquest of Granada was not printed till 1672.
Footnote: 1. There is something ludicrous in the idea of a beauty, or a
gallant, of that gay and licentious court poring over a work of five or
six folio volumes by way of amusement; but such was the taste of the
age, that Fynes Morison, in his precepts to travellers, can "think no
book better for his pupils' discourse than Amadis of Gaule; for the
knights errant and the ladies of court do therein exchange courtly
speeches."

TO
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS
THE
DUKE[1].
SIR,
Heroic poesy has always been sacred to princes, and to heroes. Thus
Virgil inscribed his Æneids to Augustus Cæsar; and of latter ages,
Tasso and Ariosto dedicated their poems to the house of Este. It is
indeed but justice, that the most excellent and most profitable kind of
writing should be addressed by poets to such persons, whose characters
have, for the most part, been the guides and patterns of their imitation;
and poets, while they imitate, instruct. The feigned hero inflames the

true; and the dead virtue animates the living. Since, therefore, the world
is governed by precept and example, and both these can only have
influence from those persons who are above us; that kind of poesy,
which excites to virtue the greatest men, is of the greatest use to human
kind.
It is from this consideration, that I have presumed to dedicate to your
royal highness these faint representations of your own worth and valour
in heroick poetry: Or, to speak more properly, not to dedicate, but to
restore to you those ideas, which in the more perfect part of my
characters I have taken from you. Heroes may lawfully be delighted
with their own praises, both as they are farther incitements to their
virtue, and as they are the highest returns which mankind can make
them for it.
And certainly, if ever nation were obliged, either by the conduct, the
personal[2] valour, or the good fortune of a leader, the English are
acknowledging, in all of them, to your royal highness. Your whole life
has been a continued series of heroick actions; which you began so
early, that you were no sooner named in the world, but it was with
praise and admiration. Even the first blossoms of your youth paid us all
that could be expected from a ripening manhood. While you practised
but the rudiments of war, you out-went all other captains; and have
since found none to surpass, but yourself alone. The opening of your
glory was like that of light: You shone to us from afar; and disclosed
your first beams on distant nations: Yet so, that the lustre of them was
spread abroad, and reflected brightly on your native country. You were
then an honour to it, when it was a reproach to itself. When the
fortunate usurper sent his arms to Flanders, many of the adverse party
were vanquished by your fame, ere they tried your valour.[3] The
report of it drew over to your ensigns whole troops and companies of
converted rebels, and made them forsake successful wickedness, to
follow an oppressed and exiled virtue. Your reputation waged war with