Classic Poem

You happy Issue of a happy wit,
As ever yet in charming numbers writ,
Welcome into the Light , and may we be
Worthy so happy a Posterity.
Wee long have wish't for something excellent;
But ne're till now knew rightly what it meant:
For though wee have been gratifi'd 'tis true,
From Several hands with things both fine and new ,
The Wits must pardon me if I profess,
That 'till this time the over-teeming press
Ne're set out Poesy in so true a dress:
Nor is it all , to have a share of wit ,
There must be judgment too to manage it;
For Fancy's like a rough, but ready Horse ,
Whose mouth is govern'd more by skil than force;
Wherein ( my Friend ) you do a maistry own,
If not particular to you alone;
Yet such at least as to all eyes declares
Your Pegasus the best performes his Ayres .
Your Muse can humor all her subjects so,
That as we read we do both feel and know;
And the most firm impenetrable breast
With the same passion that you writ's possest.
Your lines are Rules , which who shall well observe
Shall even in their errors praise deserve:
The boyling youth, whose blood is all on fire,
Push't on by Vanity, and hot desire,
May learn such conduct here, men may approve
And not excuse , but even applaud his love .
Ovid who made an ART of what to all
Is in it selfe but too too natural ,
Had he but read your verse , might there have seen
The stile of which his Precepts should have been,
And (which it seemes he knew not) learn't from thence
To reconcile frailty with Innocence .
The Love you write, Virgins and Boyes may read
And never be debaucht but better bred ;
For without love Beauty would bear no price,
And dulness than desire's a greater vice,
Your greater subjects with such force are writ
So full of Sinewy strength, as well as wit,
That when you are Religious , our Divines
May emulate , but not reprove your lines .
And when you reason, there the learned Crew
May learn to speculate and speake from you .
You no prophane , no obscene language use
To smut your paper or defile your Muse .
Your gayest things, as well exprest , as meant,
Are equally both Queint , and Innocent .
But your Pindarick Odes indeed are such
That Pindar's Lyre from his own skillful touch
Ne're yeilded such an Harmony nor yet
Verse keep such time on so unequal feet .
So by his own generous confession
Great Tasso by Guarini was out done:
And (which in Coppying seldome does befal)
The Ectype's better than th' Original .
But whilst your Fame I labour to send forth,
By the ill doing it I cloud your worth,
In something all mankind unhappy are,
And you as mortal too must have your share;
'Tis your misfortune to have found a freind ,
Who hurts and injures where he would commend :
But let this be your comfort, that your Bayes
Shall flourish green , mauger an ill couch't Praise .