Classic Poem

Arrius says chommoda for commoda;
H insidias for insidias he must say.
Counting his language wonderful polite
He says h insidias with all his might,
Just so, I think, his mother used to do,
His uncle, grandsire and his grandam too.
At length, to Syria sent, our Arrius goes
And so our ears obtain a brief repose;
Soft, smooth once more becomes each self-same word,
When all at once the horrid tale is heard
Ionia's wave, since Arrius came must be,
No more the Ionian, but the H ionian Sea!