John Dryden

[John Henry Dryden] (1631 - 1700 / England)

John Dryden
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JJohn Dryden was an influential English poet, literary critic, translator, and playwright who dominated the literary life of Restoration England to such a point that the period came to be known in literary circles as the Age of Dryden. Walter Scott called him "Glorious John." He was made Poet Laureate in 1668.

Early Life

Dryden was born in the village rectory of Aldwincle near Thrapston in Northamptonshire, where his maternal grandfather was Rector of All Saints. He was the eldest of fourteen children born to Erasmus Dryden and wife Mary Pickering, paternal grandson of Sir Erasmus Dryden, 1st Baronet (1553–1632) and wife Frances Wilkes, Puritan landowning ... more »

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Comments about John Dryden

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  • Georgie (6/22/2019 4:28:00 PM)

    Hello anyone who is reading! I was looking at my family tree recently, and discovered I was related to Dryden. I am now discovering his work. From Dryden's descendant let's hope the legacy lives on!

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  • The real boi (11/5/2018 11:31:00 AM)

    These poems are down to earth and make me wet

    4 person liked.
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  • sexy monster (11/5/2018 11:31:00 AM)

    this poem is really really cute

    4 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • Rajkumari (10/5/2018 10:35:00 AM)

    Beautiful

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  • Shaheeda (5/27/2018 7:41:00 PM)

    Listen the poem

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  • Rajkumar (3/7/2018 10:05:00 AM)

    Very useful

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  • JoyCe Earl (1/21/2018 9:25:00 PM)

    BeAUtIfUl *********************************************************************************************************************

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  • Alem Hailu G/kristos Alem Hailu G/kristos (8/9/2016 9:36:00 AM)

    My ravish'd eyes behold such charms about her,
    I can die with her, but not live without her:
    One tender Sigh of hers to see me languish,

    what lines!

    6 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
Read all 8 comments »
Best Poem of John Dryden

Dreams

Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes;
When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes:
Compounds a medley of disjointed things,
A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings:
Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad;
Both are the reasonable soul run mad;
And many monstrous forms in sleep we see,
That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be.
Sometimes forgotten things long cast behind
Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
The nurse's legends are for truths received,
And the man dreams but what the boy believed.
Sometimes we but rehearse a former ...

Read the full of Dreams
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