Royal Paean

Since Charles II appointed John Dryden England's first Poet Laureate in 1668, the office has been occupied by a number of distinguished men, including Wordsworth, Tennyson, John Masefield and C. Day Lewis. But the job is no plum. As an officer of the royal household, a Poet Laureate ranks just above Bargemaster and Keeper of the Swans. By today's devaluated standards, his pay is $122.50 a year, plus $47.25 in lieu of a butt of sack--once part of the traditional stipend.

Last week Britain's literate and near-literate were howling to give the present P.L., Sir John Betjeman, the sack. The reason was the verse he had written on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth's reign. It was as if the mother tongue of Shakespeare and Milton had lapsed into baby talk. Betjeman's quatrains palpitated with cliches and such treacly rhymes as people/steeple, dutiful/beautiful and blue/true. Stanza 4 particularly captured the poem's schoolboy earnestness:

Hers the grace the Church has

prayed for, Ours the joy that she is here.

Let the bells do what they're made

for!

Ring out Thanks both loud and

clear

"It's a nice Valentine's-card poem," said Poet Laurie Lee. Other critics less charitably called Betjeman's work "absolutely pathetic" and "nursery-rhyme gibberish." Member of Parliament Nicholas Fairbairn vowed to write a superior poem (he could not), and the Sunday People invited schoolchildren to submit their efforts with the appeal, "Can YOU do better than Sir John?"

At 70, Betjeman is one of Britain's bestselling poets. His light verse frequently reflects the loss of 19th century pastoral England. Last week he defended his 24-line Jubilee Hymn on grounds that it was meant to be sung, not recited. Indeed, it had been set to melody by Malcolm Williamson, Master of the Queen's Music, and drew loud applause when performed by the Trinity Boys' Choir at London's Royal Albert Hall.

England's 17th Poet Laureate was not without sympathizers. Said Poet Geoffrey Grigson: "Betjeman is not really to blame. The problem is having to get emotional about the monarchy at all." History seems to support Grigson's point. Most Laureates have found the muse reluctant to lower herself for mere royalty. At the birth of Prince Andrew in 1960, C. Day Lewis, Betjeman's predecessor, had to make do with "You princely babe, you pretty dear/ For you we bring/ The birthday honors of the quickening year." He could have done worse. When the future Edward VII lay ill at the turn of the century, Laureate Alfred Austin wrote: "Along the wires the electric message came/ He is no better, he is much the same."

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