Poet John Dryden

John Dryden

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Prologue To "the Loyal Brother; Or, The Persian Prince;"[1] By Mr Southern, 1682. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBBCCDDEFGGHHIIJJK KLLMNOOPPQQLLLPROOCC PPPPPOOSSTTUUU

POETS like lawful monarchs ruled the stageA
Till critics like damn'd Whigs debauch'd our ageA
Mark how they jump critics would regulateB
Our theatres and Whigs reform our stateB
Both pretend love and both plague rot them hateB
The critic humbly seems advice to bringC
The fawning Whig petitions to the kingC
But one's advice into a satire slidesD
The other's petition a remonstrance hidesD
These will no taxes give and those no penceE
Critics would starve the poet Whigs the princeF
The critic all our troops of friends discardsG
Just so the Whig would fain pull down the guardsG
Guards are illegal that drive foes awayH
As watchful shepherds that fright beasts of preyH
Kings who disband such needless aids as theseI
Are safe as long as e'er their subjects pleaseI
And that would be till next Queen Bess's nightJ
Which thus grave penny chroniclers inditeJ
Sir Edmondbury first in woful wiseK
Leads up the show and milks their maudlin eyesK
There's not a butcher's wife but dribs her partL
And pities the poor pageant from her heartL
Who to provoke revenge rides round the fireM
And with a civil cong does retireN
But guiltless blood to ground must never fallO
There's Antichrist behind to pay for allO
The punk of Babylon in pomp appearsP
A lewd old gentleman of seventy yearsP
Whose age in vain our mercy would imploreQ
For few take pity on an old cast whoreQ
The Devil who brought him to the shame takes partL
Sits cheek by jowl in black to cheer his heartL
Like thief and parson in a Tyburn cartL
The word is given and with a loud huzzaP
The mitred puppet from his chair they drawR
On the slain corpse contending nations fallO
Alas what's one poor Pope among them allO
He burns now all true hearts your triumphs ringC
And next for fashion cry God save the kingC
A needful cry in midst of such alarmsP
When forty thousand men are up in armsP
But after he's once saved to make amendsP
In each succeeding health they damn his friendsP
So God begins but still the Devil endsP
What if some one inspired with zeal should callO
Come let's go cry God save him at WhitehallO
His best friends would not like this over careS
Or think him ere the safer for this prayerS
Five praying saints are by an act allow'dT
But not the whole church militant in crowdT
Yet should Heaven all the true petitions drainU
Of Presbyterians who would kings maintainU
Of forty thousand five would scarce remainU

John Dryden



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