Classic Poem

Present thy work unto the wiser few,
That can discern and judge; 'tis good, 'tis new.
Thy style is modest, scenes high, and thy verse
So smooth, so sweet, Apollo might rehearse
To his own lute: be therefore boldly wise,
And scorn malicious censurers; like flies
They tickle but not wound; thy well got fame
Cannot be soil'd, nor canst thou merit blame
Because thou dost not swell with mighty rhymes,
Audacious metaphors; like verse, like times.
Let others bark; keep thou poetic laws,
Deserve their envy, and command applause.