Classic Poem

Charities Emblem in your Anagram,
Heroick Sir, the Muses make your name
As other men when suters come, doe pace
Running away as if they ran a race.
Like them the Muses would not have you be,
Enjoyning you to stem emblemikily,
So fitter plaints of poore distrest to heare.

So that a noble help you may appeare,
Thus reaching forth your truly noble hand,
According to your place, their helps command.
Never shall fame then cease to trumpetforth,
High honour'd Lord, the trophies of your worth.
O then stan still, reach helps and be not weary,
Pleasing that God who helps the solitary,
Ever you shall not unrewarded tarry.