On the ROTUND, erected by Mervyn Pratt, Esq

Within this Dome each curious Eye may view, What ancient Greeks, and learned Romans knew: Here Columns plac'd, in stately Order stand, And proudly boast the skilful Artist's Hand; Their spiral Heads Ionick Stile displays, The Artist's Pride, but more the Master's Praise: Their Shafts a female Comeliness express, And speak the Beauties of a Grecian Dress. The fretted Roof next does the Eye engage; A lively Emblem of Augustus' Age; When Marcus did the lofty Pantheon rear For Rome's immortal Gods, and plac'd them there. A Circle here in reverend Form appears, The ancient Virtue of two thousand Years; Whose Name's as glorious as the rising Day, Their Fame still bright'ning on the moulded Clay: Hence also from their awful Busts we learn, How mighty Heroes blooming Wreaths did earn: How Scipio conquer'd, how Alcides fought; Faustina charm'd, and wise Aurelius taught. Here fated Meleager's Flame we mourn; A Mother's Furies his too early Urn: Seneca shining in the Rolls of Fame, His Precepts blast a wreched Tyrant's Name; Sublime his Morals, his Reas'ning's refin'd, Of Force to soften bloody Nero's Mind. The Sage in vain the fruitless Task did try, And gain'd at last an easier Way to die. Plato divine by heavenly Ray inspir'd, For Man's Instruction was so greatly fir'd. Through Nature's Mists, pointed to bless'd Aboads, And taught th'immortal Soul in spight of Heathen Gods: These awful Busts do grace thy curious Dome, Who've search'd the polish'd Stores of Greece and Rome. Here you've plac'd what ancient Story told, A Treasure far more precious than their Gold. O'er rugged Alps you sought the nobler Prize; And courted Dangers, to become more wise: Nor slightly curious did you thither go, To breath new Air, or make an empty Show; As many do o'er spacious Regions roam, Not bringing Art, but various Vices home· Not so thy virtuous Judgment thee inclin'd; Their Ore you chose, but left the Dross behind. Thy Skill has rear'd a Pattern in our Land, Since on thy Fort we see thy Pantheon stand. A lively Image of Agrippa's Toil, Appears triumphant in our Northern Soil. Hibernia now with joyful Pride may see, Vitruvian Taste, and Greek display'd by thee. Accept this Tribute of an humble Muse, Nor do thy Praise in feeble Strains refuse.