Page:Boileau's Lutrin - a mock-heroic poem. In six canto's. Render'd into English verse. To which is prefix'd some account of Boileau's writings, and this translation. (IA boileauslutrinmo00boil).pdf/143

 Ev'n There the News of my Misfortunes flew, My Fears return'd, and old Wounds bled anew. This Day too faithfully a Voice I heard, Fraught with Disastrous News I little fear'd. That Temple; where a King of Holy Name, Devoted all his Toils, and Fruits of Fame, Whose Pompous Form, and Wealth Immense reveal The flowing Grandeur of the Founder's Zeal, Lo! now with Lux'ry fill'd, and foul Debate! Boundless their Pride, Implacable their Hate. Honour and Duty, Empty Sounds, are fled; While Tyranny Erects her Hydra-Head. And wilt thou, Sister, with indiff'rent Eyes Behold their Malice, and my Cause despise? And shall this Temple, to my Glory rais'd, Where thronging Vot'ry's Once Ador'd and Prais'd; Shall