Classic Poem

In praise of the Translator.

I F divine B ARTAS (from whose blessed Braines
Such Works of grace, or gracefull workes did stream)
Were so admir'd for Wits celestiall Strains
As made their Vertues Seat, the high'st Extream;
Then Joshuah, the Sun of thy bright praise
Shall fixed stand in Arts faire Firmament
Till Dissolution date Times Nights, and Dayes,
Sith right thy Lines are made to B ARTAS Bent.
Whose Compasse circumscribes (in spacious words)
The Universall in particulars;
And thine the same, in other tearms, affords:
So, both your Tearms agree in friendly Wars;
If Thine be onely His, and His be Thine,
They are (like God) eternall, sith Diuine.