confusion.

The satirical powers of Dryden were of the highest order. He draws his
arrow to the head, and dismisses it straight upon his object of aim. In
this walk he wrought almost as great a reformation as upon versification
in general; as will plainly appear, if we consider, that the satire,
before Dryden's time, bore the same reference to "Absalom and
Achitophel," which an ode of Cowley bears to "Alexander's Feast." Butler
and his imitators had adopted a metaphysical satire, as the poets in the
earlier part of the century had created a metaphysical vein of serious
poetry.[9] Both required store of learning to supply the perpetual
expenditure of extraordinary and far-fetched illustration; the object of
both was to combine and hunt down the strangest and most fanciful
analogies; and both held the attention of the reader perpetually on the
stretch, to keep up with the meaning of the author. There can be no
doubt, that this metaphysical vein was much better fitted for the
burlesque than the sublime. Yet the perpetual scintillation of Butler's
wit is too dazzling to be delightful; and we can seldom read far in
"Hudibras" without feeling more fatigue than pleasure. His fancy is
employed with the profusion of a spendthrift, by whose eternal round of
banqueting his guests are at length rather wearied out than regaled.
Dryden was destined to correct this, among other errors of his age; to
show the difference between burlesque and satire; and to teach his
successors in that species of assault, rather to thrust than to flourish
with their weapon. For this purpose he avoided the unvaried and
unrelieved style of grotesque description and combination, which had
been fashionable since the satires of Cleveland and Butler. To render
the objects of his satire hateful and contemptible, he thought it
necessary to preserve the lighter shades of character, if not for the
purpose of softening the portrait, at least for that of preserving the
likeness. While Dryden seized, and dwelt upon, and aggravated, all the
evil features of his subject, he carefully retained just as much of its
laudable traits as preserved him from the charge of want of candour, and
fixed down the resemblance upon the party. And thus, instead of
unmeaning caricatures, he presents portraits which cannot be mistaken,
however unfavourable ideas they may convey of the originals. The
character of Shaftesbury, both as Achitophel, and as drawn in "The
Medal," bears peculia