JOHN DRYDEN

MAC-FLECKNOE

OR, A SATIRE ON THE TRUE BLUE PROTESTANT POET T. S.

ALL human things are subject to decay,
And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young
Was called to empire, and had governed long;
In prose and verse was owned, without dispute,
Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute.
This aged prince, now flourishing in peace,
And blest with issue of a large increase,
Worn out with business, did at length debate
To settle the succession of the state;
And, pondering which of all his sons was fit
To reign, and wage immortal war with wit,
Cried," "Tis resolved! for Nature pleads, that he
Should only rule, who most resembles me.
Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in dulness from his tender years;
Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he,
Who stands confirmed in full stupidity.

The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,

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20 But Shadwell never deviates into sense;
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through, and make a lucid interval;
But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,
His rising fogs prevail upon the day.
25 Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye,

And seems designed for thoughtless majesty;
Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain,
And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign.
Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee,
30 Thou last great prophet of tautology!

Even I, a dunce of more renown than they,
Was sent before but to prepare thy way:
And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came
To teach the nations in thy greater name.
35 My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung,
When to King John of Portugal I sung,

Was but a prelude to that glorious day,

When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, With well-timed oars, before the royal barge, 40 Swelled with the pride of thy celestial charge; And big with hymn, commander of a host, — The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost. Methinks I see the new Arion sail,

The lute still trembling underneath thy nail.

45 At thy well-sharpened thumb, from shore to shore, The trebles squeak for fear, the basses roar;