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Ant. Walker Inv. Del.et Sculp.

Millions of suppliant Crouds the Shrine attend,
And all degrees before the Goddess bend;

The Poor, the Rich the Valiant, and the Sage,

And boasting Youth, and narrative Old-age.

Temple of Fame.

(51)

THE

TEMPLE

OF

FAM

I

Ε.

N that soft season, when descending show'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 sleep had charm'd my cares to rest, 5
And love itself was banish'd from my breaft,
(What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
While purer slumbers spread their golden wings)

:

NOTES.

VER. I. In that soft season, etc.] This Poem is introduced in the manner of the Provencial Poets, whose works were for the most part Visions, or pieces of imagination, and conftantly descriptive. From these, Petrarch and Chaucer frequently borrow the idea of their poems. See the Trionfi of the former, and the Dream, Flower and the Leaf, etc. of the latter. The Author of this therefore chose the same fort of Exordium, P.

A train of phantoms in wild order rose,
And join'd, this intellectual scene compose.

10

I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies;

The whole creation open to my eyes:

:

In air self-balanc'd hung the globe below,
Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;
Here naked rocks, and empty wastes were seen, 15
There tow'ry cities, and the forests green :
Here failing ships delight the wand'ring eyes;
There trees, and intermingled temples rise;
Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
The tranfient landscape now in clouds decays, 20

4

O'er the wide Prospect as I gaz'd around, Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous found, Like broken thunders that at distance roar, Or billows murm'ring on the hollow shore: Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld, Whose tow'ring summit ambient clouds conceal'd.

IMITATIONS.

25

VER.II etc.] These verses are hinted from the following of Chaucer, Book ii.

Tho' beheld I fields and plains,

Now hills, and now mountains,
Now valeis, and now foreftes,
And now unneth great bestes,
Now rivers, row citees,

Now towns, now great trees,

Now shippes fayling in the fees. P.

High on a rock of Ice the structure lay,
Steep its afcent, and flipp'ry was the way;
The wond'rous rock like Parian marble shone,
And feem'd to distant fight, of solid stone.
Inscriptions here of various Names I view'd,
The greater part by hoftile time subdu'd;
Yet wide was spread their fame in ages paft,
And Poets once had promis'd they should last.

IMITATIONS.

३०

VER. 27. High on a rock of Ice, etc.] Chaucer's third book

of Fame.

It stood upon so high a rock;

Higher standeth none in Spayne
What manner stone this rock was,
For it was like a lymed glass,
But that it shone full more clere;
But of what congel'd matere

It was, I niste redily;
But at the last espied I,
And found that it was every dele,
A rock of ife, and not of stele.

VER. 31. Infcriptions here, etc.]
Tho faw I all the hill y-grave
With famous folkes names fele,
That had been in much wele
And her fames wide y-blow;
But well unneth might I know,
Any letters for to rede
Ther names by, for out of drede
They weren almost off-thawen so,
That of the letters one or two
Were molte away of every name,
So unfamous was woxe her fame;
But men said, what may ever last. P.

40

Some fresh engrav'd appear'd of Wits renown'd;
I look'd again, nor could their trace be found. 36
Critics I faw, that other names deface,
And fix their own, with labour, in their place:
Their own, like others, foon their place resign'd,
Or disappear'd, and left the first behind.
Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,
But felt th' approaches of too warm a sun;
For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays
Not more by envy than excess of Praise.
Yet part no injuries of heav'n could feel,
Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:

IMITATIONS.

VER. 41. Nor was the work impair'd, etc.]
Tho gan I in myne harte caft,
That they were molte away for heate,
And not away with stormes beate.

VER.45. Yet part no injuries, etc.]
For on that other fide I sey
Of that hill which northward ley,
How it was written full of names
Of folke, that had afore great fames,
Of old time, and yet they were
As fresh as men had written hem there
The self day, of that houre
That I on hem gan to poure:
But well I wiste what it made;
It was conferved with the shade
(All the writing that I fye)
Of the caftle that stoode on high,
And ftood eke in so cold a place,
That heate might it not deface. P.

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