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Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies;
Pale are his cheeks, and clos'd his eyes;
Those cheeks, where Beauty fmiling lay;
Those eyes, where Love was us'd to play.
Ah! cruel Fare, alas! how foon
That beauty and those joys are flown!
Columbo is no more: ye Floods,
Bear the fad found to diftant Woods;
The found let Echo's voice reftore,

And fay, Columbo is no more.

"Ye Floods, ye Woods, ye Echoes, moan
"My dear Columbo, dead and gone."

The Dryads all forfook the wood,
And mournful Naiads round me ftood,
The tripping Fawns and Fairies came,
All confcious of our mutual flame,
"To figh for him, with me to moan
My dear Columbo, dead and gone."
Venus difdain'd not to appear,
To lend my grief a friendly ear;
But what avails her kindness now?

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She ne'er fhall hear my fecond vow:

The Loves, that round their Mother flew,
Did in her face her forrows view;

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"Tis ours to weep," great Venus faid;

'Tis Jove's alone to be obey'd:

Nor birds nor goddeffes can move "The juft behefts of fatal Jove: "I faw thy mate with fad regret,

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"And curs'd the Fowler's cruel net: "Ah, dear Columbo! how he fell,

Whom Turturella lov'd fo well! "I faw him bleeding on the ground, “The fight tore-up my ancient wound; “ And, whilst you wept, alas! I cry'd, "Columbo and Adonis dy'd."

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Weep, all ye ftreams; ye mountains, groan; 65 "I mourn Columbo, dead and gone;

"Still let my tender grief complain,

"Nor day nor night that grief restrain :"

I faid; and Venus ftill reply'd,
Columbo and Adonis dy'd."

S. Poor Turturella, hard thy cafe,

And just thy tears, alas, alas!

T. And haft thou lov'd; and canft thou hear

With piteous heart a lover's care?

Come then, with me thy forrows join,

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And ease my woes by telling thine :

"For thou, poor bird, perhaps may'st moan
"Some Pafferella dead and gone."

S. Dame Turtle, this runs foft in rhyme,
But neither fuits the place nor time;
The Fowler's hand, whofe cruel care
For dear Columbo fet the fnare,

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Two birds may perish in one net :
Thou fhould'ft avoid this cruel field,
And forrow fhould to prudence yield.
"Tis fad to die!

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'Tis fadder yet, to live in woe.

S. When widows use this canting strain, They feem refolv'd to wed again.

T. When widowers would this truth difprove, They never tafted real love.

S. Love is foft joy and gentle ftrife,
His efforts all depend on life :
When he has thrown two golden darts,
And ftruck the lovers' mutual hearts;
Of his black fhafts let Death fend one,
Alas! the pleafing game is done;
Ill is the poor furvivor sped,
A corpfe feels mighty cold in bed.
Venus faid right
"Nor plaints revoke the will of Jove."

66 nor tears can move,.

All must obey the general doom,
Down from Alcides to Tom Thumb..
Grim Pluto will not be withstood
By force or craft. Tall Robinhood,
As well as Little John, is dead
(You fee how deeply I am read);
With Fate's lean tipftaff none can dodge,
He'll find you out where'er you lodge.

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Ajax, to fhun his general power,
In vain abfconded in a flower;
An idle fcene Tythonus acted,
When to a grafshopper contracted ;
Death ftruck them in those shapes again,
As once he did when they were men.

For reptiles perish, plants decay ;
Flesh is but grafs, grafs turns to hay;
And hay to dung, and dung to clay.

Thus heads extremely nice difcover, That folks may die fome ten times over; But oft', by too refin'd a touch,

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To prove things plain, they prove too much.
Whate'er Pythagoras may fay

(For each, you know, will have his way),
With great fubmiffion I pronounce,

That people die no more than once:
But once is fure; and death is common
To Bird and Man, including Woman;
From the Spread Eagle to the Wren,
Alas! no mortal fowl knows when;
All that wear feathers first or laft
Must one day perch on Charon's mast;
Must lie beneath the cypress shade,
Where Strada's Nightingale was laid
Those fowl who feem alive to fit,
Affembled by Dan Chaucer's wit,
In profe have flept three hundred years,
Exempt from worldly hopes and fears,,

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And, laid in state upon their hearfe,
Are truly but embalm'd in verse ;
As fure as Lefbia's Sparrow I,
Thou fure as Prior's Dove, muft die,
And ne'er again from Lethe's ftreams
Return to Adige, or to Thames.

T. I therefore weep Columbo dead,
My hopes bereav'd, my pleasures fled;
"I therefore must for ever moan
"My dear Columbo dead and gone.”
S. Columbo never fees your tears,
Your cries Columbo never hears;
A wall of brafs, and one of lead,
Divide the living from the dead.
Repell'd by this, the gather'd rain

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Of tears beats back to earth again;

In t' other the collected found

Of groans, when once receiv'd, is drown'd.

"Tis therefore vain one hour to grieve,

What Time itself can ne'er retrieve.

By nature foft, I know a Dove

Can never live without her Love;

Then quit this flame, and light another;
Dame, I advife you like a brother.

T. What, I to make a fecond choice!

In other nuptials to rejoice!

S. Why not, my bird?

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T. No, Sparrow, no!

Let me indulge my pleafing woe:

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Thus

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