ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
, "To Poet E. W. occasion'd for his writing a Panegyric on Oliver Cromwell" 1655 ca.; Cotton, Poems (1923) 276-77.
1655 ca.: Charles Cotton
1667: Sir William Temple
1670 ca.: Lord Clarendon
1673: Richard Flecknoe
1678: Thomas Rymer
1680: Earl of Rochester
1683: John Dryden
1688: Aphra Behn
1688: Bevil Higgons
1688: Sir John Cotton
1688: Thomas Rymer
1693: J. Talbot
1694: Joseph Addison
1699: Charles Gildon
1700: Samuel Cobb
1700 ca.: John Hughes
1710 ca.: Gilbert Burnet
1712: Bezaleel Morrice
1713: Rev. Henry Felton
1720: Giles Jacob
1721: Judith Cowper Madan
1721: Mr. B.
1721: Mr. Johnson
1728: James Ralph
1728: Jane Brereton
1735: Mary Barber
1744: Dr. Mark Akenside
1746: Edmund Burke
1761: Rev. Charles Churchill
1769: Daniel Hayes
1774: Rev. Robert Potter
1776: Oliver Goldsmith
1776: John Nichols
1782: Rev. Joseph Warton
1787: Samuel Jackson Pratt
1789: Philip Neve
1789: Edmond Malone
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1800: Dr. Nathan Drake
1802: George Dyer
1803: George Dyer
1806: Dr. John Aikin
1807: Robert Southey
1812: William Henry Ireland
1818: William Hazlitt
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1826: Richard Ryan
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1842: C. H. Timperley
1851: Leigh Hunt
1880: Edmund Gosse
1882: Epes Sargent
1652: Sir William Davenant
1655 ca.: Edmund Waller
1662: Sir Aston Cokayne
1673: Rev. John Donne
1674: Thomas Flatman
From whence, vile Poet, did'st thou glean the wit,
And words for such a vicious poem fit?
Where could'st thou paper find was not too white;
Or ink, that could be black enough to write?
What servile Devil tempted thee to be
A flatterer of thine own Slavery?
To kiss thy bondage, and extol the deed,
At once that made thy Prince and Country bleed?
I wonder much thy false heart did not dread,
And shame to write, what all men blush to read;
Thus with a base ingratitude to, rear
Trophies unto thy Master's Murtherer?
Who call'd thee Coward (—) much mistook
The characters of thy pedantic look;
Thou hast at once abus'd thyself, and us;
He's stout that dares flatter a Tyrant thus.
Put up thy pen, and ink, muzzle thy Muse
Adulterate Hag fit for a common stews,
No good man's library; writ thou hast
Treason in rhyme has all thy works defac't:
Such is thy fault, that when I think to find
A punishment of the severest kind
For thy offence, my malice cannot name
A greater; than, once to commit the same.
Where was thy reason then, when thou began
To write against the sense of God, and man?
Within thy guilty breast despair took place,
Thou would'st despairing die in spite of Grace.
At once th' art judge, and Malefactor shown,
Each sentence in thy poem is thine own.
Then, what thou hast pronounc'd go execute,
Hang up thy self, and say, I bid thee do 't:
Fear not thy memory, that cannot die,
This Panegyric is thy Elegy,
Which shall be when, or wheresoever read,
A living poem to upbraid thee dead.