THE Statue, which the Rhodians say,
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The Sun Descends on every Day;
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Is also here in ENGLAND set
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Within this Royal Cabinet;
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To whose Eternal Hallowed-Urn,
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Pilgrims from Far, shall come and Mourn:
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Their Snowy-Heads shall Prostrate here,
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And Drop a Pearly-Aged Tear.
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TIME, that does make of All his Game,
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And over all our Hours does Reign;
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With this Great Treasure now Possest,
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May set Him down in Peace, and Rest;
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While We (through Sorrows-Vale) go on,
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As CAESAR past Great-Rubicon.
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Thy Actions cannot be Inrol'd,
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Nor can upon the Brass be told,
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Nor can be set in Amell'd-Gold,
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Like Wonders that the Poets tell
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Of HERO'S that in Marble Dwell;
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Which like to Rocks that Tempests Scorn,
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And oft are Angry with the Storm;
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Must Bow, and yield at TIMES Great Call,
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And into Flinty-pieces fall:
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While thy Blest Name shall still Out-live
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(All the Decay that Age can give)
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More sweet then those Hydaspes Lends,
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And the Fam'd-Phoenix e're she Ends:
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Thy Spirit did (like Elijah) Fall
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To Bless us at thy FUNERAL.
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