Classic Poem

I cannot fulminate or tonitruate words,
To puzzle intellects; my ninth lassaffords
No Lycophronian buskins, nor can strain
Garagantuan lines to gigantize thy vein;
Nor make a jusjurand, that thy great plays
Are tierra-del-fuegos or incognitas;
Thy Pegasus, in his admir'd career,
Curvets no caprioles of nonsense here.

Wonder not, friend, that I do entertain
Such language, that both think and speak so plain:
Know, I applaud thy smooth and even strains,
That will inform, and not confound, our brains.
Thy Helicon, like a smooth stream, doth flow,
While others with disturbed channels go,
And headlong, like Nile-cataracts, do fall
With a huge noise, and yet not heard at all.
When thy intelligence on the Cockpit stage
Gives it a soul from her immortal rage,
I hear the Muses' birds with full delight
Sing where the birds of Mars were wont to fight.
Nor flatter I, thou knows't I do abhor it;
Let others praise thy play, I'll love thee for it;
That he that knows my friend, shall say, he has
A friend as grateful as his servant was.