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The conftant tenour of whose well-spent days
No less deserv'd a just return of praife.
But ftraight the direful Trump of Slander founds;
Through the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
The dire report through every region flies,
In every ear incessant rumours rung,
And gathering scandals grew on every tongue.
From the black trumpet's rusty concave broke
Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling smoke:
The poisonous vapour blots the purple skies,
And withers all before it as it flies.

330

335

340

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 ftrife,

We fail'd in tempests down the stream of life;
For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood,

And swam to empire through the purple flood.

R 3

345

Thofe

IMITATION.

Took out his trump of brass,
That fouler than the devil was:
And gan his trump for to blowe,
As all the world should 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.

Thofe ills we dar'd, thy inspiration own;
What virtue seem'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 statues moulder'd, and your names unknown!
A fudden cloud straight snatch'd them from my fight,
And each majestic phantom funk in night.

Then came the smallest tribe I yet had feen;
Plain was their dress, and modest was their mien.

355

Great

IMITATION.

Ver. 356. Then came the smallest, &c.]

I faw anone the fifth route,
That to this lady gan loute,
And downe on knees anone to fall,
And to her they befoughten all,
To hiden their good works eke.
And faid, they yeve not a leke
For no fame ne such renowne;
For they for contemplacyoune,
And Goddes love had it wrought,
Ne of fame would they ought.

What, quoth the, and be ye wood?
And ween ye for to do good,
And for to have it of no fame?
Have ye despite to have my name?
Nay ye shail lien everichone:
Blow thy trump, and that anone
(Quoth she) thou Eolus, I hote,
And ring these folks works by rote,
That all the world may of it heare;
And he gan blow their loos so cleare,

In

Great idol of mankind! we neither claim
The praife of merit, nor aspire to fame!
But, fafe in deferts from th' applaufe of men,
Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen.
'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from fight
Those acts of goodness which themselves requite.

O let us still the secret joy partake,

360

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

365

And live there men, who flight immortal fame?
Who then with incense shall adore our name?
But, mortals! know, 'tis still our greatest pride,
To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
Rife! Muses, rife! add all your tuneful breath;
These must not sleep in darkness and in death.

370

She faid: in air the trembling music floats,
And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
So soft, though high, so loud, and yet so clear,
Ev'n listening Angels lean from heaven to hear:
To fartheft shores th' Ambrofial spirit flies,
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.

375

380

Next these a youthful train their vows express'd, With feathers crown'd, with gay embroidery dress'd: Hither, they cry'd, direct your eyes, and fee The men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry; Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays; Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;

R4

IMITATION.

In his golden clarioune,
Through the world went the fonne,
All fo kindly, and eke fo foft,

That ther fame was blown aloft.

Courts

Courts we frequent, where 'tis our pleasing care
To pay due visits, and address the fair:
In fact, 'tis true, no nymph we could perfuade,
But ftill in fancy vanquish'd every maid;

385

Of unknown Duchesses 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.

390

The Queen affents, the trumpet rends the skies, And at each blast a Lady's honour dies.

Pleas'd with the strange success, vast numbers prest

Around the shrine, and made the fame request:
What you (fhe cry'd), unlearn'd in arts to please,
Slaves to yourselves, and ev'n fatigued with ease,
Who lose a length of undeferving days,
Would you ufurp the lover's dear-bought praise?
To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,
The people's fable, and the scorn of all.
Straight the black clarion sends a horrid found,'
Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round,
Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
And scornful hisses run through all the croud.

Laft, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
Enslave their country, or ufurp a throne;
Or who their glory's dire foundation lay'd
On fovereigns ruin'd, or on friends betray'd;

395

400

405

Calm,

IMITATION.

Ver. 406. Laft, those who boast of mighty, &c.]
Tho came another companye,
That had y-done the treachery, &c.

Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, 410
Of crooked counsels and dark politics;
Of these a gloomy tribe furround the throne,
And beg to make th' immortal treasons known.
The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire,
With sparks that seem'd to fet the world on fire.

415

At the dread found, pale mortals stood aghaft,
And startled nature trembled with the blaft.

This having heard and feen, fome power unknown Straight chang'd the scene, and snatch'd me from the

throne.

Before

IMITATION.

Ver. 418. This having heard and feen, &c.] The Scene here changes from the Temple of Fame, to that of Rumour, which is almost entirely Chaucer's. The particulars follow.

Tho faw I stonde in a valey,
Under the castle fast by
A house, that Domus Dedali
That Labyrinthus cleped is,
Nas made so wonderly I wis,
Ne half so queintly y-wrought;
And evermo as swift as thought,
This queint house about went,
That never more it still stent-
And eke this house hath of entrees,
As many as leaves are on trees
In Summer, when they ben grene;
And in the roof yet men may fene
A thousand hoels and well mo
To letten the foune out-go;
And by day in every tide,
Ben all the doors open wide,

And

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