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LL human things are subject to
decay, And, when Fate summons, Mo
narchs must obey: This Fleckuoc found, who, like Jtuguftus, young 1 Was call'd to . Empire, and had govern'd long: In Prose and Verse, was own'd, without dispute, Through all the Realms of Non-fe-„se, absolute. This aged Prince no* flourishing in Peace, And blest with Iffiie of a large increase; Worn out with business, did at length debate To settle the Succession of the State: And pond'ring which of all his .Sons was fir To Reign, and wage immortal War wirh Wit: Cry'd, 'tis refolv'd; for Nature pleads that He Skoutd only rule, who most resembles me:
"' alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in duiness from his tender years.
Sh alone, of all my Sons, is he,
Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity.
The rest to some faint meaning "make pretence,
Jut Sh never deviates into Sense.
Some Beams of Wit on other Souls may fall.
Strike through, and make a lucid interval;
But Sh—'s genuine night admits no ray,
His tiling Fogs prevail upon the Day:
Voi. 1. B
Besides, his goodly Fabrick sills the eye,
And seems design'd for thoughrless Majesty:
Thoughrless as Monarch Oaks, that shade the plain,
And, spread in solemn stare, supinely reign.
Heywood and Shirley were but Types of thee,
Thou last great Prophet of Tautology:
Even I, a dunce of more renown than they,
Was sent before but to prepare thy way:
And courfly clad in Norwuh Drugget came
To reach the Narions in thy grearer name.
My warbling Lure, the Lure I whilom strung,
When to King John of Portugal I fung,
Was but the prelude to that glorious day,
When thou on silver Thames did'st cut thy way,
With well-rim'd Oars before the Royal Barge,
Swell'd with the Pride of thy Celestial charge;
And big with Hymn, Commander of an Host,
The like was ne'er in Epsom Blankets tost.
Methinks 1 fee the new ^irion Sail,
The Lure still trembling underneath thy nail.
At thy well sharpened thumb from Shore to Shore
The Treble squeaks for feat, the Bases roar:
Ecchoes from Piss,ng-^tlly, Sh— call,
And Sh they resound from piston-Hall.
About thy Boat the lirtle Fishes throng,
As at the morning Toast, that Floats along.
Somerimes as Prince of thy Harmonious band
Thou weild'st thy Papets in thy threshing hand.
St. ^Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal rime,
Not ev'n the feet of thy own Psyche's Rhime:
Though they in number as in fense excel;
So just, so like Tautology they fell,
That, pale with envy, Singleton forswore
The Lure and Sword which he in Triumph bore,
And vow'd he ne'er wou'd act Villerim more.
Here stopt the good old Sire; and wept for joy
In silent raptures of the hopeful Boy.
All Arguments, but most his Plays, perswade,
That sot anoinred dullness he was made.
Close to the Walls which fair ^Augusta bind,
(The fair ^Augusta much to fears inclin'd)
An ancient fabrick, rais'd r' inform the sight,
There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight:
A watch Tower once; but now, so Fare ordains,
Of all the File an empty name remains.
From its old Ruins Brothel-houses rife,
Scenes of lewd loves, and of pollured joys, [keep,
Where their vast Courts the Mother-Strumpets
And, undisturb'd by Watch, in silence steep.
Near these a Nursery erects its head,
Where Queens are form'd, and future Hero's bred;
Where unfledg'd Actors learn to laugh and cry, -*
Where infant Punks their render Voices try, f
And lirtle Maximrns the Gods desie. ^
Great Fletcher never treads in Buskins here,
Nor grearer Johnson dares in Socks appear.
But genrle Stmkjn just receprion sinds
Amidst this Monument of vanisht minds:
Pure Clinches, the suburbian Muse affords;
And Panton waging harmless War with words.
Here Fleckpoe, as a place to Fame well known,
Ambiriously design'd his Sh 's Throne.
For ancient Decker prophesi'd long since, •>
That in this File should reign a mighty Prince, $•
Born for a scourge of Wit, and flayl of Sense: *
To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe,
But Worlds of Mifers from his pen should flow;
Humorists and Hypocrires it should produce,
Whole Raymond Families, and Tribes of Bruce.
Now Empress Fame had publislvt the renown
Of Sh 's Coronarion through the Town.
Rows'd by report of Fame, the Narions meet, From near Bm,-hill, and distant Warling-street.
No Persian Carpets spread th' Imperial way,
But scatrer'd Limbs of mangled Poets lay:
From dusty shops neglected Authors come,
Martyrs of Pies, and Reliques of the Bum.
Much Heywood, Shirty, OgUby there lay,
But loads of Sh almost choakt the way.
Bilk't Starioners for Yeomen stood prepar'd,
And H—.--n was Captain of the Guard.
The Hoary Prince in Majesty appear'd,
High on a Throne of his own Labours rear'd.
At his right hand our young ^Ascanius fare,
"Home's other hope, and Pillar of the Stare.
His Brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace,
And lambent dulnefs plaid around his face.
As Hannibal did to the Altars come,
Swore by his Sire a mortal Foe to Home;
So Sh swore, nor should his Vow be vain,
That he rill Death true dulness would maintain;
And in his father's Right, and Realms defence,
Ne'er to have Peace with Wit, nor truce with Sense.
The King himself the sacred Unction made,
As King by Ossice, and as Priest by Trade:
In his sinister hand, instead of Ball,
He plac'd a mighty Mug of porent Ale;
Love's Kingdom to his right he did convey,
At once his Sceptre and his rule 'bf Sway;
Whose righreous Lore the Prince had practis'd
And from whose Loyns recorded Psyche sprung.
His Temples last with Poppies were o'erfpread,
That nodding seem'd to consecrare his head:
Just at the point of rime, if Fame not lye,
On his lest hand twelve reverend Owls did fly.
So Homt,lm, 'ris fung, by Tyicr's Brook,
Presage of Sway from twice six Vultures took.
Th' admiring throng loud acclamarions make,
And Omens of his future Empire take.