Classic Poem

Dear Tom, I'm surprised that your verse did not jingle;
But your rhyme was not double, 'cause your sight was but single.
For, as Helsham observes, there's nothing can chime,
Or fit more exact than one eye and one rhyme.
If you had not took physic, I'd pay off your bacon,
But now I'll write short, for fear you're short taken.
Besides, Dick forbid me, and called me a fool;
For he says, short as 'tis, it will give you a stool.

In libris bellis, tu parum parcis ocellis,
Dum nimium scribis, vel talpá caecior ibis,
Aut ad vina redis, nam sic tua lumina laedis:
Sed tibi coenanti sunt collyria tanti?
Nunquid eges visu, dum comples omnia risu?

Heu! Sheridan caecus, heu eris nunc cercopithecus.
Nunc bene nasutus mittet tibi carmina tutus:
Nunc ope Burgundi, malus Helsham rider abunde,
Nec Phoebi fill versum quis mittere Ryly.

Quid tibi cure libris? relavet tua lumina Tybris
Mixtus Saturno; penso sed parcé diurno
Observes hoc tu, nec scriptis utere noctu.
Nonnulli mingunt et palpebras sibi tingunt.
Quidam purgantes, libros in stercore nantes
Linquunt; sic vinces videndo, mi bone, lynces.
Culum oculum tergis, dum scripta hoc flumine mergis;
Tunc oculi et nates, ni fallor, agent tibi grates.
Vim fuge Decani, nec sit tibi cura Delani:
Heu tibi si scribant, aut si tibi fercula libant,
Pone loco mortis, rapis fera pocula fortis.
Haec tibi pauca dedi, sed consule Betty Mi Lady,
Huic te des solae, nec egebis pharmacopolae.