Classic Poem

Thou that art farre more worthy of the bayes,
Daigne to assist my home-spunne untun'd layes
With gracious censure, for upon thy tong,
Depends the grace, and fortune of my song.
So sharpe a wit, and judgement dwell in thee,
Refin'd by such rare knowledge, that I see
Apollo's trees may grow else-where, then on
Our greene Parnassus , or our Helicon .