At once the encroaching rinds their closing lips invade. Ev’n yet, an ancient Tyanaean shows A spreading oak, that near a linden grows; The neighbourhood confirm the prodigy, Grave men, not vain of tongue, or like to lie. I saw myself the garlands on their boughs, And tablets hung for gifts of granted vows; And offering fresher up, with pious prayer, ‘The good,’ said I, ‘are God’s peculiar care, And such as honour Heaven shall heavenly honour share.’ ”