Classic Poem

Never till thee the Theater possest
A Prince with equal pow'r and greatness blest:
No Government, or Laws it had,
To strengthen and establish it,
Till thy great hand the Scepter sway'd,
But groan'd under a wretched Anarchy of wit.
Unform'd and void was then it's Poesy,
Only some preexisting matter we
Perhaps could see
That might foretel what was to be:
A rude and undigested lump it lay,
Like the old Chaos ere the birth of light and day,
Till thy brave Genius like a new Creator came,
And undertook the mighty frame;
No shuffled Atoms did the well-built work compose,
It from no lucky hit of blund'ring chance arose
(As some of this great Fabrick idly dream)
But wise all-seeing judgement did contrive,
And knowing art its graces give.
No sooner did thy Soul with active force and fire
The dull and heavy mass inspire,
But strait throwout it let us see
Proportion, order, harmony,
And every part did to the whole agree,
And strait appear'd a beauteous new-made World of Poetry.