Classic Poem

Where myrrh and frankincense is thrown,
The altar's built to gods unknown,
O let my sov'raign never dwell,
Such damn'd perfumes are fit for hell.
Let not such scent his nostrils stain,
From smells that poyson can the brain,
Heavens still preserve him. Next I crave
Thou wilt be pleased, great God, to save
My sov'reign from a Ganymede.
Whose whorish breath hath power to lead
His excellence which way it list;
O let such lips be never kist
From a breath so far excelling;
Bless my sov'reign and his smelling.