But fwell'd to larger fize, the more I gaz'd,
Till to the roof her towering front she rais'd.
With her, the Temple every moment grew,
And ampler Vistas open'd to my view :
Upward the columns fhoot, the roofs afcend,
And arches widen, and long aifles extend.
Such was her form, as ancient bards have told,
Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet infold;
A thousand bufy tongues the Goddess bears,
And thousand open eyes, and thousand liftening ears.
Beneath, in order rang'd, the tuneful Nine
(Her virgin handmaids) ftill attend the shrine :
With eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they fing;
For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
With time's firft birth began the heavenly lays,
And laft, eternal, through the length of days.
Around these wonders as I caft a look,
The trumpet founded, and the temple shook,
Her felfe tho wonderly straight,
That with her feet the the earth right,
And with her head the touchyd heaven-
Ver. 270. Beneath in order rang'd, &c.]
I heard about her throne y-fung
That all the palays walls rung,
So fung the mighty Mufe, the
That cleped is Calliope,
And her feven fifters eke
Ver. 276. Around thefe wonders, &c.]
Í heard a noife approachen blive,
That far'd as bees done in a hive,
And all the nations, fummon'd at the call,
From different quarters fill the crouded hall:
Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard ;
In various garbs promifcuous throngs appear'd;
Thick as the bees, that with the Spring renew
Their flowery toils, and fip the fragrant dew,
When the wing'd colonies firft tempt the sky,
O'er dusky fields and shaded waters fly,
Or, fettling, feize the fweets the bloffoms yield,
And a low murmur runs along the field.
Millions of fuppliant crouds the shrine attend,
And all degrees before the Goddess bend;
The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the fage,
And boafting youth, and narrative old age.
Their pleas were different, their request the same :
For good and bad alike are fond of Fame.
Some the difgrac'd, and fome with honours crown'd;
Unlike fucceffes equal merits found.
Againft her time of out-flying,
Right fuch a manere murmuring,
For all the world it feemed me,
Tho gan I look about and fee
That there came entering into th' hall,
A right great company withal;
And that of fundry regions,
Of all kind of conditions, &c.--
Ver. 294. Some the difgrac'd, &c.]
And fome of them the granted fone,
And fome the warned well and fair,
And fome the granted the contrair-
Right as her filter dame Fortune
Is wont to ferve in commune.
Thus her blind fifter, fickle Fortune, reigns,
And undifcerning fcatters crowns and chains.
First at the fhrine the Learned world appear,
And to the Goddess thus prefer their prayer.
Long have we fought t' inftruct and please mankind,
With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind;
But thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none,
We here appeal to thy fuperior throne:
On wit and learning the just prize bestow,
For Fame is all we must expect below.
The Goddess heard, and bade the Mufes raise
The golden Trumpet of eternal Praise:
From pole to pole the winds diffuse the found,
That fills the circuit of the world around;
Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud;
The notes at firft were rather fweet than loud:
By juft degrees they every moment rise,
Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.
At every breath were balmy odours shed,
Which still grew fweeter, as they wider spread;
Lefs fragrant scents th' unfolding rofe exhales,
Or fpices breathing in Arabian gales.
Next these the good and juft, an awful train,
Thus on their knees addrefs the facred fane.
Ver. 318. The good and juft, &c.]
Tho came the third companye,
And gan up to the dees to hye,
And down on knees they fell anone,
And faiden: We been everichone
Folke that han full truely
Deferved Fame right-fully,
Since living virtue is with envy curs'd,
And the best men are treated like the worst,
Do thou, juft Goddefs, call our merits forth,
And give each deed th' exact intrinsic worth.
Not with bare justice shall your act be crown'd,
(Said Fame) but high above defert renown'd:
́Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze,
And the loud clarion labour in your praise.
This band difmifs'd, behold another croud
Prefer'd the fame request, and lowly bow'd;
The conftant tenour of whose well-fpent days
No lefs deferv'd a juft return of praise.
But ftraight the direful Trump of Slander founds; Through the big dome the doubling thunder bounds; Loud
And prayen you it might be knowe
Right as it is, and forth blowe.
I grant, quoth fhe, for now we lift
That your good works fhall be wilt.
And yet ye fhall have better loos,
Right in defpite of all your foos,
Than worthy is, and that anone.
Let now (quoth fhe) thy trump gone-
And certes all the breath that went
Out of his trump's mouth smel'd
As men a pot of baume held
Among a basket full of rofes.
Ver. 328. 338. behold another croud, &c.
From the black trumpet's rufty, &c.]
Therewithal there came anone
Another huge companye
Of good folke
What did this Eolus, but he
Loud as the burft of cannon rends the skies,
The dire report through every region flies,
In every ear inceffant rumours rung,
And gathering fcandals grew on every tongue.
From the black trumpet's rufty concave broke
Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling fmoke:
The poisonous vapour blots the purple skies,
And withers all before it as it flies.
A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore, And proud defiance in their looks they bore: For thee (they cry'd) amidst alarms and strife, We fail'd in tempefts down the stream of life; For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood, And fwam to empire through the purple flood. Thofe ills we dar'd, thy inspiration own; What virtue feem'd, was done for thee alone. Ambitious fools! (the Queen reply'd, and frown'd) Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown'd;
There fleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone,
Your ftatues moulder'd, and your names unknown!
A fudden cloud straight snatch'd them from my fight,
And each majestic phantom funk in night.
Took out his trump of brafs,
That fouler than the devil was :
And gan his trump for to blowe,
As all the world fhould overthrowe.
Throughout every regione
Went this foul trumpet's foune,
Swift as a pellet out of a gunne,
When fire is in the powder runne.
And fuch a fmoke gan out wende,
Out of the foul trumpet's ende-&c.
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