Again the glorious temple fhall arise, And with new luftre pierce the neighbouring fkies. 855 860 865 870 Cover the mountain, and command the plain; Whom no man fully fees, and none can feel O 2 875 880 Original Original of Beings! Power Divine ! Since that I live, and that I think, is thine; - 815 Difpofe its own effect! Let thy command Reftore, Great Father! thy inftructed son ; And in my act may Thy great Will be done! 890 Engraven on Three Sides of an ANTIQUE LAMP, given by me to Lord HARLEY. Antiquam hanc Lampadem è Museo Colbertino allatam, This Lamp, which Prior to his Harley gave, Sperne dilectum Veneris facellum, Igne Camoenas. THE THE TURTLE AND SPARROW. AN ELEGIAC TALE; Occafioned by the Death of Prince GEORGE, 1708. BEHIND an unfrequented glade, Where yew and myrtle mix their shade, A widow Turtle penfive fat, And wept her murder'd Lover's fate. The Sparrow chanc'd that way to walk T. My hopes are lost, my joys are fled; 5 10 15 20 Stretch'd Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies; Columbo is no more: ye Floods, 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 stood, 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; 25 30 35 40 But what avails her kindness now? She ne'er fhall hear my fecond vow : The Loves, that round their Mother flew, Their arrows broke, their bows unftrung; And wept, with me, Columbo dead: 45 59 1 "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, "And curs'd the Fowler's cruel net: "Ah, dear Columbo! how he fell, "Whom Turturella lov'd fo well! “ I saw him bleeding on the ground, "The fight tore-up my ancient wound; "And, whilft you wept, alas! I cry'd, "Columbo and Adonis dy'd." 55 60 "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 :" 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, A moan S. Dame Turtle, this runs foft in rhyme, For dear Columbo fet the fnare, 70 75 |