To his learned friend M. Jo. Harmar, Phisitian to the Colledge of Westminster.

WHen first I find those Numbers thou do'st write;
To be most soft, terce, sweet, and perpolite:
Next, when I see Thee towring in the skie,
In an expansion no less large, then high;
Then, in that compass, sayling here and there,
And with Circumgyration every where;
Following with love and active heate thy game,
And then at last to truss the Epigram;
I must confess, distinction none I see
Between Domitians Martiall then, and Thee.
But this I know, should Jupiter agen
Descend from heaven, to re-converse with men;
The Romane Language full, and superfine,
If Iove wo'd speake, he wo'd accept of thine.