Classic Poem

Why, Fair-one, shouldst thou wish thy Friend
Thy matchless Sweetness to offend;
Alas! thy Beauty need not use,
This Method to engage his Muse:
Since nought could keep her mute so long,
But Fear thy Loveliness to wrong.
When other Nymphs my Song require,
And bid me strike the sounding Lyre,
To gratify the vainest She,
I tell her, she resembles thee.
But not a Bard since Milton's Days,
However elegant in Praise.
Possess'd that Dignity of Thought
To draw an Angel as he ought.