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His falling temples you have rear'd, The withered garlands ta'en away, His altars kept from the decay That envy wished and nature fear'd;

And on them burn so chaste a flame, With so much loyalty's expense, As love to acquit such excellence Is gone himself into your name.

And you are he, the Deity To whom all lovers are design'd That would their better objects find, Among which faithful troop am I,

Who as an offering at your shrine Have sung this hymn, and here entreat One spark of your diviner heat, To light upon a love of mine,

Which if it kindle not, but scant Appear, and that to shortest view, Yet give me leave t' adore in you What I in her am grieved to want.

Our last quotation is well known, but many, we fear, while they listen to the beautiful strain, forget that it is one of the lighter efforts of the learned Jonson.

SONG TO CLELIA.