Classic Poem

Goe from me now for many Daies; perchance
Ere I expect, my Quill and I may meet,
On safer Termes, with Honour to advance
Raptures of wonder, to the Royall Seat;
Goe from me far, till then: which if my Song
Erre not with Time, shall not be absent Long.
Deare Muses, wee must part; yet let me give
A verse to Time, in charge of my Desire;
Noe hand, if I am Dead, and these shall live,
Injure a Line, or word, I you require.
Enjoy with Freedome, all your owne concert,
Let mine not be infring'd, but Equall Great:
For Poets sometimes Fancies bring,
When Readers nothing can discerne;
And they perhaps, may find something
Shall sett him, in his owne to learne;
And happilie, a hidden Flame
Of Honour rests, which never came
Within the Reach of Either; yet more true
Then both, to Judgement. Neither I, nor You
Must Judge our owne.