Classic Poem

Had Lucan hid the truth to please the time,
He had beene too unworthy of thy Penne:
Who never sought, nor ever car'd to clime
By flattery, or seeking worthlesse men.
For this thou hast been bruis'd: but yet those scarres
Do beautifie no lesse, then those wounds do
Receiv'd in just, and in religious warres;
Though thou hast bled by both, and bearst them too.
Change not, to change thy fortune tis too late.
Who with a manly faith resolves to dye,
May promise to himselfe a lasting state,
Though not so great, yet free from infamy.
Such was thy Lucan , whom so to translate
Nature thy Muse (like Lucans) did create