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Then grave Clarissa, graceful, wav'd her fan;
Silence enfu'd, and thus the nymph began:

Say, why are beauties prais'd and honor'd moft,
The wife man's paffion, and the vain man's toaft?
Why deck'd with all that land and sea afford,
Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd?
Why round our coaches crowd the white-glov'd
beaux,

Why bows the fide-box from its inmoft rows?
How vain are all these glories, all our pains,
Unless good fenfe preserve what beauty gains!
That men may fay, when we the front-box grace,
Behold the firft in virtue as in face!
Oh! if to dance all night, and drefs all day,
Charm'd the small-pox, or chac'd old age away,
Who would not fcorn what housewife's cares
produce,

Or who would learn one earthly thing of use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a faint;
Nor could it fure be fuch a fin to paint.
But fince, alas! frail beauty must decay,
Curl'd, or uncurl'd, fince locks will turn to grey;
Since painted, or not painted, all fhall fade,
And the who fcorns a man muft die a maid;
What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good-humour still whate'er we lofe?
And trust me, dear! good humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and fcold-
ing fail.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the fight, but merit wins the foul.
So fpoke the dame, but no applause enfu'd;
Belinda frown'd, Thaleftris call'd her Prude.
To arms, to arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And fwift as lightning to the combat flics.
All fide in parties, and begin th'attack: [crack;
Fans clap, filks ruftle, and tough whalebones
Heroes and Heroines fhouts confus'dly rife,
And bafs and treble voices ftrike the fkies.
No common weapon in their hands are found;
Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
So when bold Homer makes the gods engage,
And heav'nly breafts with human paffions rage;
'Gainft Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms;
Jove's thunder roars, heav'n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune ftorms, the bellowing deeps refound;
Earth shakes her nodding tow'rs,the ground gives
way,

And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Triumphant Umbriel on a fconce's height Clapp'd his glad wings, and fat to view the fight: Prop'd on their bodkin fpears, the fprites furvey The growing combat, or affift the fray.

While thro' the prefs enrag'd Thaleftris flies, And scatters death around from both her eyes, A beau and witling perifh'd in the throng; One dy'd in metaphor, and one in fong. ⚫ O cruel nymph a living death I bear,' Cry'd Dapperwit, and funk befide his chair. A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards caft, Those eyes are made fo killing'was his last. Thus on Meander's flow'ry margin lies Ta'expiring Swan, and as he fings he dies.

When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clariffa down, Chloe ftepp'd in, and kill'd him with a frown; She finil'd to fee the doughty hero flain; But, at her fimile, the beau reviv'd again.

Now Jove fufpends his golden fcales in air, Weighs the mens wits against the lady's hair; The doubtful beam long nods from fide to fide; At length the wits mount up, the hairs fubfide, See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies, With more than ufual lightning in her eyes: Nor fear'd the chief th'unequal fight to try, Who fought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly ftrength endu'd She with one finger and a thumb fubdu'd : Juft where the breath of life his noftrils drew, A charge of fnuff the wily virgin threw ; The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry atom juft, The pungent grains of titillating duft. Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'erflows, And the high dome re-echoes to his nofe.

Now meet thy fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,
And drew a deadly bodkin from her fide.
(The fame, his ancient perfonage to deck,
Her great-great-grandfire wore about his neck,
In three feal rings; which, after melted down,
Form'd a vaft buckle for his widow's gown :
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew,
The bells the jingled, and the whistle blew;
Then in a bodkin grac'd her mother's hairs,
Which long the wore, and now Belinda wears.)

Boaft not my fall (he cry'd) infulting foe!
Thou by fome other thalt be laid as low;
Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind:
All that I dread is leaving you behind!
Rather than fo, ah let me ftill furvive,
And burn in Cupid's flames-but burn alive.

Reftore the Lock! fhe cries, and all around
Reftore the Lock! the vaulted roofs rebound.
Not fierce Othello in fo loud a strain
Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his pain.
But fee how oft ambitious aims are croft,
And chiefs contend till all the prize is loft!
The Lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept with
pain,

In ev'ry place is fought, but fought in vain:
With fuch a prize no mortal must be bleft,
So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can conteft

Some thought it mounted to the lunar sphere, Since all things loft on earth are treafur'd there. There heroes wits are kept in pond'rous vases, And beaux in fnuff-boxes and tweezer-cafes; There broken vows, and death-bed alms are found, And lovers hearts with ends of ribband bound; The courtier's promifes, and fick man's pray'rs The fimiles of harlots, and the tears of heirs, Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea, Dry'd butterflies, and tomes of casuistry.

But trust the mufe, fhe faw it upward rife, Tho' mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes: (So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns with

drew,

To Proculus alone confefs'd in view)
A fudden ftar, it fhot thro' liquid air,
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.

Not

On all the line a fudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearfes fhall befiege your gates; There paflengers fhall stand, and, pointing, say (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) fur-Lo! thefe were they, whofe fouls the Furies fteel'd, [vey, And curs'd with hearts unknowning how to yield. Thus unlamented pafs the proud away, The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So perifh all whose breasts ne'er learn'd to glow For others good, or melt at others woe.

Not Berenice's Locks first rofe fo bright,
The heav'ns betpangling with difhevel'd light.
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
And pleas'd, purfue its progrefs thro' the fkies.
This the Beau-monde fhall from the Mall
And hail with mufic its propitious ray:
This the bleft lover fhall for Venus take,
And fend up vows from Rofamonda's lake.
This Partridge foon fhall view in cloudlefs fkies,
When next he looks through Galilæo's eyes;
And hence th'egregious wizard fhall foredoom
The fate of Louis, and the fate of Rome.
Then ceafe, bright nymph! to mourn thy ra-
vish'd hair,

Which adds new glory to the fhining sphere!
Not all the traces that fair head can boast,
Shall draw fuch envy as the Lock you lost.
For, after all the murders of your eye,
When, after millions flain, yourself fhall die;
When those fair funs fhall fet, as fet they muft,
And all thofe treffes fhall be laid in duft,
This Lock the Mufe fhall confecrate to fame,
And 'midft the stars infcribe Belinda's name.

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Invites my fteps, and points to yonder glade?
'Tis the but why that bleeding bofom gor'd!
Why dimly gleams the vifionary fword!
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,
Is it in heav'n a crime to love too well?
To bear too tender, or too firm a heart,
To act a lover's or a Roman's part?
Is there no bright reverfion in the fky
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
Why bade ye elfe, ye pow'rs her foul afpire
Above the vulgar flight of low defire ?
Ambition first fprung from your bleft abodes;
The glorious fault of angels and of gods:
Thence to their images on carth it flows,
And in the breafts of kings and heroes glows.
Moft fouls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age,
Dull fullen pris'ners in the body's cage:
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,
Ufelefs, unfeen, as lamps in fepulchres;
Like caftern kings, a lazy ftate they keep,
And, clofe confin'd to their own palace, fleep.
From thefe perhaps (ere Nature bade her die)
Fate fuatch'd her carly to the pitying fky.
As into air the purer fpirits flow,

And fep'rate from their kindred dregs below,
So flew the foul to its congenial place,
Nor left one virtue to redcem her race.

But thou, false guardian of a charge too good,
Thou, mean deferter of thy brother's blood!
See on thefe ruby lips the trembling breath,
Thefe checks now fading at the blast of death;
Cold is that breaft which warm'd the world before,
And thofe love-darting eyes muft roll no more.
Thus, if Eternal Juftice rules the ball,
Thus fhall your wives, and thus your children fall:

What can atone (oh ever injur’d shade!) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? No friend's complaint, no kind domeftic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghoft, or grac'd thy mournfulbier : By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By ftrangers honor'd, and by ftrangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in fable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances and the public fhow What tho' no weeping loves thy afhes grace, Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face? What tho' no facred earth allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb Yet fhall thy grave with rifing flow'rs be dreft, And the green turf lic lightly on thy breaft: There fhall the morn her earliest tears bestow; There the first roses of the year thall blow; While angels with their filver wings o'erfhade The ground, now facred by thy reliques made.

So peaceful refts, without a stone, a name; What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honor'd once, avails thee not; To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of duft alone remains of thee: 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be !

Pocts themselves muft fall, like those they fung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whofe foul now melts in mournful lays, Shall fhortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; Then from his clofing eyes thy form fhall part, And the laft pang fhall tear thee from his heart; Life's idle bus'nefs at one gafp be o'er, The mufe forgot, and thou belov'd no more!

§ 9. The Temple of Fame. POPE.

IN that foft feafon, when defcending fhow'rs Call forth the greens, and wake the rifing flow'rs | When op'ning buds falute the welcome day, And earth, relenting, feels the genial ray; As balmy fleep had charm'd my cares to reft, And love itself was banith'd from my breaft (What time the morn myfterious vifions brings While purer flumbers fpread their golden wings) A train of phantoms in wild order rofe, And join'd, this intellectual fcene compose.

I ftood, methought, betwixt earth, feas, and The whole creation open to my eyes: [fkies; In air felf-balanc'd hung the globe below, Where mountains, rife, and circling occans flow; Here naked rocks and empty waftes were feen; There tow'ry cities, and the forefts green :

Here

Here failing fhips delight the wand'ring eyes;
There trees and intermingl'd temples rife :
Now a clear fun the fhining fcene difplays,
The tranfient landscape now in clouds decays.
O'er the wide profpect as I gaz'd around,
Sudden I heard a wild promifcuous found,
Like broken thunders that at diftance roar,
Or billows murm'ring on the hollow fhore:
Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,
Whofe tow'ring fummit ambient clouds conceal'd.
High on a rock of ice the ftructure lay,
Steep its afcent, and flippery was the way;
The wond'rous rock like Parian marble thone,
And feem'd, to distant fight, of solid stone.
Infcriptions here of various names I view'd,
The greater part by hoftile time fubdu'd;
Yet wide was spread their fame in ages paft,
And poets once had promis'd they should last.
Some, fresh engrav'd, appear'd of wits renown'd;
I look'd again, nor could the trace be found.
Critics I faw that other names deface,

And fix their own, with labour, in their place:
Their own, like others, foon their place refign'd,
Or difappear'd, and left the firft behind.
Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,
But felt th'approaches of too warm a fun;
For fame, impatient of extremes, decays
Not more by envy than excefs of praife.
Yet part no injuries of heav'n could feel,
Like cryftal, faithful to the graving fteel:
The rock's high fuminit, in the temple's fhade,
Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
Their names infcrib'd unnumber'd ages paft
From time's first birth, with time itself fhall laft;
Thefe ever new, nor fubject to decays,
Spread, and grow brighter with the length of
days.

So Zembla's rocks(the beauteous work of froft)
Rife white in air, and glitter o'er the coast;
Pale funs, unfelt, at diftance roll away,
And on th'impaffive ice the lightnings play;
Eternal fnows the growing mafs fupply,
Till the bright mountains prop th'incumbent sky:
As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears
The gather'd winter of a thousand years.
On this foundation Fame's high temple ftands;
Stupendous pile! not rear'd by mortal hands.
Whate'er proud Rome or artful Greece beheld,
Or elder Babylon, its frame excell'd.
Four faces had the dome, and ev'ry face
Of various structure, but of equal grace:
Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high,
Salute the diff'rent quarters of the sky.
Here fabled chiefs, in darker ages born,
Or worthies old, whom arms or arts adorn,
Who cities rais'd, or tam'd a monstrous race,
The walls in venerable order grace:
Heroes in animated marble frown,
And legiflators feem to think in ftone.
Weftward, a fumptuous frontispiece appear'd,
On Doric pillars of white marble rear'd,
Crown'd with an architrave of antique mold,
And fculpture rifing on the roughen'd gold.
In fhaggy fpoils here Thefeus was beheld,
And Perfeus dreadful with Minerva's fhield:

There great Alcides, stooping with his toil,
Refts on his Club, and holds th'Hefperian fpoil:
Here Orpheus fings; trees moving to the found,
Start from their roots, and form a fhade around:
Amphion there the loud creating lyre
Strikes, and beholds a fudden Thebes afpire!
Cythæron's echoes answer to his call,
And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
There might you fee the length'ning fpires afcend,
The domes fwell up, the wid'ning arches bend,
The growing tow'rs, like exhalations rife,
And the huge columns heave into the skies.

The Eastern front was glorious to behold,
With di'mond flaming, and Barbaric gold.
There Ninus fhone, who fpread th' Affyrian fame,
And the great founder of the Perfian name:
There, in long robes, the royal Magi ftand;
Grave Zoroafter waves the circling wand:
The fage Chaldeans, rob'd in white, appear'd,
And Brachmans, deep in defart woods rever'd.
Thefe ftopp'd the moon, and call'd th'unbody'd
fhades

To midnight banquets in the glimmering glades;
Made vifionary fabrics round them rise,
And airy fpectres fkim before their eyes;
Of Talifmans and Sigils knew the pow'r,
And careful watch'd the planetary hour.
Superior, and alone, Confucius ftood,
Who taught that useful fcience, to be good.

But on the South, a long majestic race
Of Egypt's priests the gilded niches grace,
Who meafur'd earth, defcrib'd the starry spheres,
And trac'd the long records of lunar years.
High on his car Sefoftris ftruck my view,
Whom scepter'd flaves in golden harness drew:
His hands a bow and pointed jav'lin hold;
His giant limbs are arm'd in fcales of gold.
Between the ftatues obelifks were plac'd,
And the learn'd walls with hieroglyphics grac'd.

Of Gothic structure was the northern fide, O'erwrought with ornaments of barb'rous pride. There huge Coloffus rofe, with trophies crown'd; And Runic characters were grav'd around. There fat Zamolxis with erected eyes; And Odin here in mimic trances dies. There,on rude iron columns, fmear'd with blood, The horrid forms of Scythian heroes stood, Druids and Bards (their once loud harps unftrung) And youths that dy'd to be by poets fung. Thefe, and a thoufand more of doubtful fame, To whom old fables gave a lafting name, In ranks adorn'd the Temple's outward face; The wall in luftre and effect like glass, Which o'er each object cafting various dyes, Enlarges fome, and others multiplies: Nor void of emblem was the myftic wall; For this romantic Fame increases all.

The Temple shakes, the founding gates unfold, Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold : Rais'd on a thousand pillars, wreath'd around With laurel foliage, and with eagles crown'd: Of bright tranfparent beryl were the walls, The freezes gold, and gold the capitals: As heav'n with stars, the roof with jewels glows, And ever-living lamps depend in rows. Full

Full in the paffage of each fpacious gate,
The fage Hiftorians in white garments wait:
Grav'do'er their feats the form of Time was found,
His feythe revers'd, and both his pinions bound.
Within ftood Heroes, who thro' loud alarms
In bloody fields purfu'd renown in arms.
High on a throne, with trophies charg'd, I view'd
The Youth that all things but himself fubdu'd;
His feet on fceptres and tiaras trod,

And his horn'd head bely'd the Libyan God.
There Cæfar, grac'd with both Minervas, thone;
Cæfar, the world's great mafter, and his own;
Unmov'd, fuperior still in ev'ry state,
And scarce detefted in his country's fate.
But chief were those who not for empire fought,
But with their toils their people's fafety bought.
High o'er the reft Epaminondas ftood;
Timoleon, glorious in his brother's blood;
Bold Scipio, faviour of the Roman state;
Great in his triumphs, in retirement great;
And wife Aurelius, in whofe well-taught mind
With boundless pow'r unbounded virtue join'd,
His own ftrict judge, and patron of mankind.
Much fuff'ring heroes next their honours claim;
Thofe of lets noify, and lefs guilty fame,
Fair Virtue's filent train: fupreme of these
Here ever thines the godlike Socrates :
He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
At all times juft, but when he fign'd the thell:
Here his abode the martyr'd Phocion claims
With Agis, not the laft of Spartan names :
Unconquer'd Cato fhows the wound he tore ;
And Brutus his ill genius meets no more.

But in the centre of the hallow'd choir,
Six pompous columns o'er the rest aspire;
Around the fhrine itfelf of Fame they stand,
Hold the chief honours, and the fane command;
High on the firft the mighty Homer thone;
Eternal adamant compos'd his throne;
Father of Verfe! in holy fillets dreit,
His filver beard wav'd. gently o'er his breast;
Tho' blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
In years he feem'd, but not impair'd by years.
The wars of Troy were round the pillar feen:
Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian queen;
Here Hector glorious from Patroclus' fall,
Here dragg'd in triumph round the Trojan wall:
Motion and life did ev'ry part inspire,
Bold was the work, and prov'd the mafter's fire;
A ftrong expreffion most he seem'd t’affect,
And here and there difclos'd a brave neglect.
A golden column next in rank appear'd,
On which a fhrine of pureft gold was rear'd;
Finish'd the whole, and labour'd ev'ry part,
With patient touches of unweary'd art:
The Mantuan there in fober triumph fate,
Compos'd his pofture, and his look fedate;
On Homer still he fix'd a rev'rend eye,
Great without pride, in modeft majeftv.
In living sculpture on the fides were spread
The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead;
Eliza ftretch'd upon the fun'ral pyre;
Æneas bending with his aged fire:
Troy flam'd in burning gold, and o'er the throne
Arms and the Man in golden cyphers fhone.

Four swans fuftain a car of filver bright, With heads advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for flight:

Here, like fome furious prophet, Pindar rode,
And feem'd to labour with th'infpiring God.
Across the harp a carclefs hand he flings,
And boldly finks into the founding ftrings.
The figur'd games of Greece the column grace;
Neptune and Jove furvey the rapid race.
The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run;
The fiery fteeds feem starting from the stone:
The champions, in distorted postures, threat;
And all appear'd irregularly great.

Here happy Horace tun'd th'Aufonian lyre
To fwecter founds, and temper'd Pindar's fire:
Pleas'd with Alcæus' manly rage, t'infufe
The fofter fpirit of the Sapphic Musc.
The polifh'd pillar diff'rent fculptures grace;
A work outlafting monumental brass.
Here finiling Loves and Bacchanals appear;
The Julian ftar, and great Augustus here.
The Doves that round the infant poct spread
Myrtles and bays, hang hov'ring o'er his head.

Here, in a fhrine that caft a dazzling light,
State fix'd in thought the mighty Stagirite;
His facred head a radiant Zodiac crown'd,
And various animals his fides furround;
His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
Superior worlds, and look all nature through.

With equal rays immortal Tully fhone;
The Roman roftra deck'd the conful's throne:
Gath'ring his flowing robe, he feem'd to stand
In act to speak, and graceful stretch'd his hand.
Behind, Rome's genius waits with civic crowns,
And the great Father of his country owns.

Thefe maffy columns in a circle rife, O'er which a pompous dome invades the skies? Scarce to the top I ftretch'd my aching fight, So large it fpread, and fwell'd to fuch a height. Full in the midft proud Fame's imperial feat With jewels blaz'd, magnificently great; The vivid em'ralds there revive the eye; The flaming rubies fhow their fanguine dye, Bright azure rays from lively fapphires stream, And lucid amber cafts a golden glean. With various-colour'd light the pavement fhone, And all on fire appear'd the glowing throne; The dome's high arch reflects the mingled blaze, And forms a rainbow of alternate rays. When on the Goddess first I caft my fight, Scarce feem'd her ftature of a cubit's height But fwell'd to larger fize, the more I gaz'd, Till to the roof her tow'ring front she rais'd. With her, the temple ev'ry moment grew; And ampler viftas open'd to my view: Upward the columns fhoot, the roofs afcend, And arches widen, and long isles extend. Such was her form, as ancient bards have told, Wings raife her arms, and wings her feet infold; A thousand bufy tongues the Goddess bears, And thousand open eyes, and thousand lift'ning Beneath, in order rang'd, the tuneful Nine [cars, (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the fhrine: With eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they fing; For Fame they raife the voice, and tune the string:

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With time's first birth began the heav'nly lays, And laft, eternal, thro' the length of days.

Around these wonders as I caft a look, The trumpet founded, and the temple fhook; And all the nations, fummon'd at the call, From diff'rent quarters fill the crowded hall: Of various tongues the mingled founds were heard; In various garbs promifcuous throngs appear'd; Thick as the bees, that with the fpring renew Their flow'ry toils, and fip the fragrant dew, When the wing'd colonies firft tempt the sky, O'er dusky fields and shaded waters Aly, Or fettling, feize the fweets the blossoms yield, And a low murmur runs along the field. Millions of fuppliant crowds the shrine attend, And all degrees before the Goddess bend; The poor, the rich, the valiant and the fage, And boasting youth, and narrative old age. Their pleas were diff'rent, their requeft the fame: For good and bad alike are fond of Fame. Some the difgrac'd, and fome with honours Unlike fucceffes equal merits found. [crown'd; Thus her blind fifter, fickle Fortune, reigns, And, undifcerning, fcatters crowns and chains.

First at the fhrine the learned world appear, And to the Goddefs thus prefer their pray'r: Long have we fought t'inftruct and pleafe mankind With ftudies 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 juft prize bestow? For Fame is all we muft expect below. The Goddefs heard, and bade the Mufes raife The golden trumpet of eternal praise : From pole to pole the winds diffufe 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 ev'ry moment rife, Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the fkies. At ev'ry breath were baliny odours thed, Which ftill grew fweeter as they wider spread; Lefs fragrant fcents th'unfolding rofe exhales, Or fpices breathing in Arabian gales.

Next thefe the good and juft, an awful train, Thus on their knees addrefs the facred fane. Since living virtue is with envy curs'd,

And the best men are treated like the worft,
Do thou, just Goddefs, call our merits forth,
And give each deed th'exact intrinfic 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 praife.

This band difmifs'd, behold another crowd
Prefer the fame requcft, and lowly bow'd;
The conftant tenour of whofe well-fpent days
No lefs deferv'd a juft return of praife.
But ftraight the direful trump of flander founds;
Thro' the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
The dire report thro' ev'ry region flies;
In ev'ry ear inceffant humours rung,
And gath'ring fcandals grew on ev'ry tongue.

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A troop came next, who crowns and armour And proud defiance in their looks they bore: For thee (they cry'd) amidst alarms and strife, We fail'd in tempefts down the ftream of life; For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood, And fwam to empire thro' the purple flood. Thofe ills we dar'd, thy infpiration 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! [fight, A fudden cloud ftraight fnatch'd them from my And each majestic phantom funk in night.

Then came the fmalleft tribe I yet had feen; Plain was their drefs, and inodest was their mien. Great idol of mankind! we neither claim The praise of merit, nor afpire to fame! But fafe in defarts from th'applause of men, Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen. 'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from fight Thofe acts of goodness which themselves requite. O let us still the fecret joy partake,

To follow virtue ev'n for virtue's fake.

And live there men who flight immortal fame?
Who then with incenfe fhall adore our name?
But, mortals! know, 'tis ftill our greatest pride
Toblaze thofe virtues which the good would hide.
Rife! mufes, rife! add all your tuneful breath;
These must not fleep in darkness and in death.
She faid in air the trembling mufic floats,
And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
So foft, tho' high, fo loud, and yet so clear,
Ev'n lift'ning angels lean from heav'n to hear:
To furtheft fhores th'ambrofial spirit flics,
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
Next these, a youthful train their vows ex-
prefs'd,
[drefs'd;

With feathers crown'd, with gay embroid'ry
Hither, they cry'd, direct your eyes, and fee
The men of pleasure, drefs, and gallantry;
Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays;
Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;
Courts we frequent, where 'tis our pleafing care
To pay due vifits, and address the fair:
In fact, 'tis true, no nymph we could perfuade,
But ftill in fancy vanquifh'd ev'ry maid;
Of unknown ducheffes lewd tales we tell;
Yet, would the world believe us, all were well.
The joy let others have, and we the name;
And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.
The queen affents, the trumpet rends the skies,
And at cach blast a lady's honour dies.

[preft

Pleas'd with the ftrange fuccefs, vaft numbers Around the shrine, and made the fame request : What you (the cry'd) unlearn'd in arts to please, Slaves to yourselves, and ev'n fatigu'd with ease, Who lofe a length of undeferving days, Would you ufurp the lover's dear-bought praife?

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