Classic Poem

My Gracious Lord! if you indeed complain
Of the rude license of my angry tongue,
Not from my heart believe me, sprang the wrong
It honored you, and feels itself the pain:
Nor should a few rash, daring words and vain,
Weigh against praises well-matured and long
By Love and study woven into song
Which neither ire nor avarice can stain.
Why tedious suffering then for transient crime?
And brief reward for ever-during fame?
Such was not Royal guerdon in old time!
Yet my right reasoning is perhaps to blame,
Honor you gave, not borrowed from my rhyme
Which far below your merit always came!