PORTRAIT
OF ZIMRI
JOHN DRYDEN
(Augustan
poetry)
Some of their chiefs were princes of the land:
In
the first rank of these did Zimri stand:
A
man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not
one, but all Mankind's Epitome.
Stiff
in opinions, always in the wrong;
Was
everything by starts, and nothing long:
But
in the course of one revolving moon,
Was
chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon:
Then
all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking;
Besides
ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest
madman, who could every hour employ,
With
something new to wish, or to enjoy!
Railing
and praising were his usual themes;
And
both (to show his judgment) in extremes:
So
over violent, or over civil,
That
every man, with him, was god or devil.
In
squandering wealth was his peculiar art:
Nothing
went unrewarded, but desert.
Beggar'd
by fools, whom still he found too late:
He
had his jest, and they had his estate.
He
laugh'd himself from court; then sought relief
By
forming parties, but could ne'er be chief:
For,
spite of him, the weight of business fell
On
Absalom and wise Achitophel:
Thus,
wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He
left not faction, but of that was left.
