The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 15

In Short

This volume serves as a comprehensive collection of critical essays and verse translations, anchoring the reader in the intellectual life of a master craftsman. It presents the Æneïs—the epic journey of a displaced hero—alongside the author’s own rigorous notes and prefaces. By pairing these translations with robust defenses of English playwrights like Shakespeare and Jonson against contemporary detractors, the work maps the transition of literature from classical tradition to a distinctively modern, national voice. It remains vital for its articulation of how language, rhyme, and structure shape human emotion.

The Story

The narrative arc centers on the arduous destiny of Æneas, the Trojan survivor seeking a new home in Italy. Having landed on the Latian coast, he finds himself caught between divine mandate and the fierce resistance of Turnus, a local hero who views the Trojan arrival as an existential threat. The conflict escalates from minor skirmishes into a full-scale war, as Turnus rallies the Italian tribes and appeals to foreign allies. Æneas, meanwhile, is forced to abandon his fleet and seek military aid from the Tuscan king Evander, a journey that necessitates the loss of the young, noble Pallas—a death that becomes a defining burden for the Trojan leader.

As the war reaches a fever pitch, the narrative explores the toll of such violence. The poet depicts the transformation of Trojan ships into sea-nymphs and the intervention of gods, but the heart of the story remains in the tragic human cost. The episode of Nisus and Euryalus, two friends whose devotion leads them into a fatal reconnaissance mission, serves as a poignant testament to the friendship and sacrifice demanded by the conflict. By the final books, the atmosphere turns toward the inevitable confrontation between the two primary antagonists.

Turnus, feeling the weight of mounting losses and the "vulgar hate" of his own people, challenges Æneas to a single combat to settle the fate of the war. Despite a broken truce and an injury to Æneas that nearly shifts the balance of power, the hero is restored by divine influence and forces the decisive duel. The epic concludes not with a triumphant celebration, but with the death of Turnus, an act that underscores the somber reality of establishing a new empire upon the ruins of the old. Interspersed throughout this arc are the author’s own critical reflections, which act as a secondary, intellectual journey. He guides the reader through his choices as a translator, justifying his use of "innovative" vocabulary and explaining his decision to prioritize the rhythm and spirit of the English language over a rigid, word-for-word adherence to the Latin original. The collection closes with broader arguments on the nature of satire, the evolution of drama, and the necessity of maintaining high standards for the stage, revealing a writer who viewed his creative work and his critical analysis as two sides of the same coin.

How It Unfolds

The gathering storm Turnus assembles his forces and prepares for war, while Æneas, troubled by the weight of his task, seeks divine counsel along the banks of the Tiber.

The alliance of tragedy Æneas secures the support of King Evander and begins to form a broader coalition, though the promise of victory is shadowed by the impending loss of the young Pallas.

The siege and the sacrifice Taking advantage of the hero’s absence, Turnus attacks the Trojan camp, sparking a desperate defense and leading to the heroic, doomed efforts of the friends Nisus and Euryalus.

The confrontation of leaders After the death of the warrior Camilla and the mounting toll of the war, Turnus finally demands a duel, leading to a broken truce and a final, fatal clash between him and Æneas.

The critic’s defense Beyond the epic, the author engages in a spirited debate with contemporary critics like Mr. Rymer, defending the emotional resonance of English drama and the technical necessity of rhyme.

The People

Æneas is the central pillar of the epic—a "pious chief" defined by his devotion to duty and his grief for the soldiers and friends lost in his service. He is not a static figure but one who must constantly reconcile his personal desires with the mandates of fate and the gods. Turnus, his adversary, is fueled by pride, ancestral claims, and a "haughty soul" that refuses to yield, even as his cause begins to falter. He is the mirror to Æneas, representing the resistance of an established order against inevitable change. King Evander offers a sense of historical continuity and paternal wisdom, his tragic loss of his son Pallas serving as the emotional anchor for the war's true cost. Drances acts as the internal provocateur among the Latins, providing a voice of dissent that exacerbates the tensions between the king and his champion. Finally, the author himself emerges as a primary character in the prefaces and notes—an opinionated, learned, and occasionally prickly intellectual who insists on his right to innovate within the language and challenges the reader to appreciate the complex, often messy, art of literary translation.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the psychological burden of the hero as he prepares for war, the author writes:

"The Trojan, floating in a flood of care, } Beholds the tempest which his foes prepare."

In a note explaining his decision to introduce the word "falsified" to describe a shield pierced by spears, he cites his need for a more precise English term:

"I use the word falsify in this place, to mean, that the shield of Turnus was not of proof against the spears and javelins of the Trojans."

Reflecting on the decline of standards in his own day, he laments the ease with which bad poets can now publish:

"'Tis true, they write with ease, and well they may; } Fly-blows are gotten every summer's day; } The poet does but buz, and there's a play."

What It's Really About

The volume is preoccupied with the tension between the weight of historical precedent and the necessity of contemporary innovation. The author grapples with the "moral" of the Æneïs, not merely as an adventure, but as a meditation on the cost of empire and the burden of leadership. There is a persistent inquiry into the nature of language—specifically, whether a living, changing tongue like English can capture the "majestic" quality of the ancients. Beneath the plot lies a deep-seated argument about the role of the poet: to move the passions of the audience, to defend the integrity of the stage against short-sighted critics, and to reconcile the "horrid truths" of human conflict with the demands of artistic beauty.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the intersection of classical scholarship and sharp, witty polemics will find this volume deeply rewarding. It is not a light read; it requires a willingness to navigate the dense, elevated structures of seventeenth-century verse and the scholarly, sometimes pedantic, footnotes that reflect the author's intense engagement with his sources. However, for those interested in the history of the English language, the text provides a fascinating window into how a master poet attempted to graft the grandeur of Virgil onto a modern, evolving vernacular.

What stays with you is the author’s voice—unapologetic, intellectual, and intensely proud of his craft. He does not shy away from the contradictions of his time, whether he is defending his own linguistic inventions or critiquing the moral failings of his contemporaries. The book feels like a conversation with a brilliant, if occasionally grumpy, mentor. It is a reminder that the act of translation is never neutral; it is a creative, assertive, and deeply human endeavor to make the wisdom of the past speak clearly to the anxieties and aspirations of the present. Whether you come for the epic combat or the cutting literary commentary, you will leave with a greater appreciation for the power of words to bridge the gap between antiquity and the modern world.