Classic Poem

My Lord,
When Studies now are blasted, and the times
Place us in false lights, and see Arts as Crimes,
When to heape knowledge is but thought to fil
The mind with more Advantage to doe ill:
When all your honoured Brothers choyce and store
Of Learn'd Remaines with sweat and charge fetcht ore,
Are thought but uselesse Peeces: and some trust
To see our Schooles mingled with Abby dust.
That now you dare receive us, and professe
Your selfe our Patron, makes you come no lesse,
Then a new Founder; whilst wee all allow,
What was Defence before, is Building now:
And this you were reserv'd for, set a part
For times of hazard; as the Shield and Dart
Laid up in store to be extracted thence,
When serious need shall aske some try'd Defence;
And who more fit to manage the Gownes cause
Then you, whose even life may dare the Lawes,
And the Law-makers too: in whom the Great
Is twisted with the Good as Light with Heat;
What though your sadder cares doe not professe
To find the Circles squaring, or to guesse
How many sands within a grayne or two
Will fill the world, these speculations doe
Steale man from man; You'r he that can suggest
True Rules, and fashion manners to the best:
You can preserve our Charters from the wrongs
Of the untaught Towne as farre as now the tongue
Doth from their understanding, You can give
Freedome to men, and make that freedome live;
And divert hate from the now hated Arts,
These are your great endowments, these your parts,
And 'tis our honest Boast, when this wee scan,
Wee give a Title, but receive a Man.