Classic Poem

By theis choice lessons of theise Musique Masters;
Ancient, and heightn'd with the Arts full Bowles,
Let all our moderne, mere Phantastique Tasters,
(Whose Art but forreigne Noueltie extolls)
Rule and confine theyr fancies; and prefer
The constant right, & depthe Art should produce;
To all lite flashes, by whose light they err;
This wittie Age, hath wisedome least in use;
The World, ould growing, Ould, with it, grow Men;
Theyr skylls decaying, like theyr bodies strengthe;
Yonge Men, to oulde are now but Childeren:
First Rules of Art, encrease still with theyr lengthe.
Which see in this new worcke, yet neuer seene:
Art, the more oulde, growes euer the more greene.