Classic Poem

Nor is a Scaliger fit the Scales to bear,
Weighing nor times, nor thee with equal care,
The Prince, and Father of all pagan wit,
Who thee despise, high treason act 'gainst it:
In thee his honour'd Maro did dispraise,
Whose sprig was onely gather'd at thy bayes.
Surely he ne're did mean what he did write,
Not Hypercritick here but hypocrite.