265 And, soon restor❜d by native vigour, bear 275 True, this last blessing was a royal feast; But, where's the wedding-garment on the guest? Our manners, as religion were a dream, Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. 280 In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell, Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, 285 And vainly thought the present ark* their guard; * 1 Sam. iv. 10. Orig. ed. God to his promise, not our practice gives. By living well, let us secure his days, 300 But you, propitious queen, translated here, From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere, Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year: You, who your native climate have bereft Of all the virtues, and the vices left; Whom piety and beauty make their boast, Though beautiful is well in pious lost; So lost, as starlight is dissolv'd away, And melts into the brightness of the day; Or gold about the regal diadem, Lost to improve the lustre of the gem. What can we add to your triumphant day? Let the great gift the beauteous giver pay. For should our thanks awake the rising sun, And lengthen, as his latest shadows run, 310 315 That, though the longest day, would soon, too soon be done. * Exod. xvii. 8. Orig. ed. Let angels' voices with their harps conspire, Nor can I wish to you, great monarch, more 320 325 330 The Royal Sovereign wants an anchor yet. Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one hero's * due, 335 A prince's favours but on few can fall, But justice is a virtue shar'd by all. Some kings the name of conquerors have assum'd, Some to be great, some to be gods presum'd; 340 But boundless power, and arbitrary lust, Made tyrants still abhor the name of just; They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives, *Aristides. See his life in Plutarch. Orig. ed. 345 Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate, For few would love their God, unless they fear'd. Tempests have force unbounded to destroy, 350 355 232 MAC FLECKNOE.* ALL human things are subject to decay, And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was call'd to empire, and had govern❜d long; In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, *This is one of the best, as well as severest satires, ever produced in our language. Mr. Thomas Shadwell is the hero of the piece, and introduced, as if pitched upon, by Flecknoe, to succeed him in the throne of dulness; for Flecknoe was never poet-laureate, as has been ignorantly asserted in Cibber's Lives of the Poets. Richard Flecknoe, Esq., from whom this poem derives its name, was an Irish priest, who had, according to his own declaration, laid aside the mechanic part of the priesthood. He was well known at court; yet, out of four plays which he wrote, could get only one of them acted, and that was damned. "He has," says Langbaine, "published sundry works, as he styles them, to continue his name to posterity, though possibly an enemy has done that for him, which his own endeavours could never have perfected: for, whatever may become of his own pieces, his name will continue whilst Mr. Dryden's satire, called Mac Flecknoe, shall remain in vogue." From this poem Pope took the hint of his Dunciad. D. There is a copy of this satire in manuscript, among the manuscripts in the Archiepiscopal Library at Lambeth Palace, which presents some readings, different from the printed copies, that may probably amuse the reader, and perhaps in two or three instances induce him to prefer the written text. The MS. is numbered 711. 8. T. |