Mac Flecknoe; or, A Satire upon the True-Blew-Protestant Poet, T.S.

To behold the swarthy visage of Mac Flecknoe,

When first he entered upon his reign, the trembling welkin

Seemed to stoop, and listen to the voice of dulness; the very muse

With folded wing and a perplexed look, retired.

The seats of wit, once crowded, were deserted; the throng

Of little wits, that wont to jostle, left the field;

And the whole herd of critics, silent, fetched a sigh.