Poetry Day

In honour of Michael Gove, some John Dryden:

For ancient Decker Prophecy'd long since,
That in this Isle should Reign a mighty Prince,
Born for a Scourge of Wit, and Flaile of Sence;
To whom true Dulness should some Psyche's owe,
But Worlds of Misers from his Pen should flow:
Humorists and Hypocrite's his Pen should produce
Whole Raymond Families and Tribes of Bruce;
Now Empress Fame had Publish'd the Renown
Of Shad---s Coronation through the Town;
Rous'd by report of Pomp, the Nations meet
From near Bunhill, to distant Watling street;
No Persian Carpet spread th'Imperial way,
But scattered Limbs of Mangled Poets lay;
From Dusty Shops neglected Authors come,
Martyrs of Pies, and Reliques of the Bum;
Much Heywood, Shirly, Ogilby, there lay,
But Loads of Shad--- almost Choak'd the way;
Bilk'd Stationers for Yeomen stood prepar'd,
And Herringman was Captain of the Guard;
The Hoary Prince in Majesty appear'd
High on a State of his own Labors rear'd;
At his Right-Hand our young Ascanius Sate,
Romes other Hope, and Pillar of the State;
His Brows thick Fogs, instead of Glories-Grace,
And Lambent Dulness plaid about his Face.