Classic Poem

Whom sho'd I feare to write to, if I can
Stand before you, my learn'd Diocesan?
And never shew blood-guiltinesse, or feare
To see my Lines Excathedrated here.
Since none so good are, but you may condemne;
Or here so bad, but you may pardon them.
If then, (my Lord) to sanctifie my Muse
One onely Poem out of all you'l chuse;
And mark it for a Rapture nobly writ,
'Tis Good Confirm'd; for you have Bishop't it.