Classic Poem

A sessions was held the other day,
And Apollo himself was at it, they say;
The laurel that had been so long reserved
Was now to be given to him best deserved.
And
Therefore the wits of the Town came thither;
'Twas strange to see how they flocked together:
Each, strongly confident of his own way,
Thought to carry the laurel away that day.

There was Selden, and he sat hard by the chair;
Wenman not far off, which was very fair;
Sandys with Townsend, for they kept no order;
Digby and Chillingworth a little further;
And
There was Lucan's Translator, too, and he
That makes God speak so big in's poetry;
Selwin and Waller, and Berkeleys, both the brothers;
Jack Vaughan and Porter, with divers others.

The first that broke silence was good old Ben,
Prepared before with Canary wine,
And he told them plainly he deserved the bays,
For his were called Works, where others were but plays;
And
Bid them remember how he had purged the stage
Of errors that had lasted many an age;
And he hoped they did think The Silent Woman,
The Fox, and The Alchemist outdone by no man.

Apollo stopped him there and bad him not go on;
'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption
Must carry it; at which Ben turned about
And in great choler offered to go out;
But
Those that were there thought it not fit
To discontent so ancient a wit,
And therefore Apollo called him back again,
And made him mine host of his own New Inn.

Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault.
That would not well stand with a laureate:
His muse was hard bound, and th' issue of's brain
Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain;
And
All that were present there did agree,
A laureate's muse should be easy and free,
Yet sure 'twas not that; but 'twas thought that his grace
Considered he was well he had a cup-bearer's place.

Will Davenant, ashamed of a foolish mischance
That he had got lately travelling in France,
Modestly hoped the handsomness of's muse
Might any deformity about him excuse;
And
Surely the company would have been content,
If they could have found any precedent;
But in all their records, either in verse or prose,
There was not one laureate without a nose.

To Will Berkeley sure all the wits meant well,
But first they would see how his snow would sell;
Will smiled and swore in their judgements they went less
That concluded of merit upon success;
So
Sullenly taking his place again,
He gave way to Selwin, that straight stepped in;
But alas! he had been so lately a wit
That Apollo himself hardly knew him yet.

Tobie Mathew (pox on 't! how came he there?)
Was busily whispering somebody i' th' ear,
When he had the honour to be named i' the court:
But sir, you may thank my Lady Carlisle for 't;
For
Had not her Character furnished you out
With something of handsome, without all doubt
You and your sorry Lady Muse had been
In the number of those that were not to come in.

In haste two or three from the Court came in,
And they brought letters (forsooth) from the Queen;
'Twas discreetly done, too, for if they had come
Without them, they had scarce been let into the room.
This
Made a dispute, for 'twas plain to be seen
Each man had a mind to gratify the Queen;
But Apollo himself could not think it fit;
There was difference, he said, 'twixt fooling and wit.

Suckling next was called, but did not appear,
And straight one whispered Apollo in's ear,
That of all men living he cared not for 't,
He loved not the Muses so well as his sport;
And
Prized black eyes, or a lucky hit
At bowls, above all the trophies of wit;
But Apollo was angry, and publicly said
'Twere fit that a fine were set on his head.

Wat Montagu now stood forth to his trial,
And did not so much as suspect a denial;
Wise Apollo then asked him first of all
If he understood his own pastoral;
For
If he could do it, 'twould plainly appear
He understood more than any man there,
And did merit the bays above all the rest;
But the Monsieur was modest, and silence confessed.

During these troubles, in the crowd was hid
One that Apollo soon missed, little Sid;
And, having spied him, called him out of the throng,
And advised him in his ear not to write so strong.
Then
Murray was summoned, but 'twas urged that he
Was chief already of another company.

Hales, set by himself, most gravely did smile
To see them about nothing keep such a coil;
Apollo had spied him, but knowing his mind
Passed by, and called Falkland that sat just behind;
But
He was of late so gone with divinity,
That he had almost forgot his poetry,
Though to say the truth (and Apollo did know it)
He might have been both his priest and his poet.

At length, who but an alderman did appear,
At which Will Davenant began to swear;
But wiser Apollo bad him draw nigher,
And when he was mounted a little higher
He
Openly declared that 'twas the best sign
Of good store of wit to have good store of coin,
And without a syllable more or less said
He put the laurel on the alderman's head.

At this all the wits were in such a maze
That for a good while they did nothing but gaze
One upon another: not a man in the place
But had discontent writ in great in his face.
Only
The small-poets cleared up again,
Out of hope (as 'twas thought) of borrowing;
But sure they were out, for he forfeits his crown
When he lends any poet about the Town.