Classic Poem

Simpler than Sabines in their golden age,
In virtue loftier than the Attic sage,
My loyal friend, may Venus grant thee this,
That, through thy lovely daughter's wedded bliss,
Thy union with a house of ancient fame
Endure for ever, so thou clear my name
That foul malevolence has dared asperse;
If any say I wrote that poisoned verse,
Do thou reply as often thou hast said,
‘None writes like that whose verse is ever read.’
My Muse speaks never ill of any man;
'Tis but their vices lie beneath her ban.