Classic Poem

Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud,
Sure signs he neither choleric was nor proud.
His long chin prov'd his wit; his saintlike grace
A church vermilion, and a Moses' face.
His memory, miraculously great,
Could plots exceeding man's belief repeat;
Which therefore cannot be accounted lies,
For human wit could never such devise.
Some future truths are mingl'd in his book;
But, where the witness fail'd, the prophet spoke.
Some things like visionary flights appear;
The spirit caught him up, the Lord knows where,
And gave him his Rabbinical degree
Unknown to foreign university.
His judgement yet his mem'ry did excel;
Which piec'd his wondrous evidence so well,
And suited to the temper of the times,
Then groaning under Jebusitic crimes.