Do what you list the term of all your life;’
I took to heart the merits of the cause,
And stood content to rule by wholesome laws; 430
Receiv’d the reins of absolute command,
With all the government of house and land,
And empire o’er his tongue and o’er his hand.
As for the volume that revil’d the dames,
‘T was torn to fragments, and condemn’d to flames. 435
Now Heav’n on all my husbands gone bestow
Pleasures above for tortures felt below:
That rest they wish’d for grant them in the grave,
And bless those souls my conduct help’d to save!
The Temple of Fame
Pope asserted that this poem was composed in 1711. Its date of publication is indicated by a letter from Pope to Martha Blount, written in 1714, in which he speaks of it as ‘just out.’ Eventually it was classed by the poet as a ‘juvenile poem’ among the earlier translations and imitations. This Advertisement was prefixed: —
The hint of the following piece was taken from Chaucer’s House of Fame. The design is in a manner entirely altered; the descriptions and most of the particular thoughts my own: yet I could not suffer it to be printed without this acknowledgment. The reader who would compare this with Chaucer, may begin with his third Book of Fame, there being nothing in the two first books that answers to their title.
IN that soft season, when descending showers
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers,
When opening buds salute 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 breast,
(What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
While purer slumbers spread their golden wings)
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-balanced hung the globe below,
Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;
Here naked rocks and empty wastes were seen, 15
There towery cities, and the forests green;
Here sailing ships delight the wand’ring eyes,
There trees and intermingled temples rise:
Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
The transient landscape now in clouds decays. 20
O’er the wide prospect as I gazed around,
Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,
Like broken thunders that at distance roar,
Or billows murm’ring on the hollow shore:
Then gazing up, a glorious Pile beheld, 25
Whose tow’ring summit ambient clouds conceal’d;
High on a rock of ice the structure lay,
Steep its ascent, and slipp’ry was the way;
The wondrous rock like Parian marble shone,
And seem’d, to distant sight, of solid stone. 30
Inscriptions here of various names I view’d,
The greater part by hostile time subdued;
Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,
And poets once had promis’d they should last.
Some fresh engraved appear’d of wits renown’d; 35
I look’d again, nor could their trace be found.
Critics I saw, that other names deface,
And fix their own with labour, in their place:
Their own, like others, soon their place resign’d,
Or disappear’d and left the first behind. 40
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, 45
Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
The rock’s high summit, in the temple’s shade,
Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
Their names inscribed unnumber’d ages past
From Time’s first birth, with Time itself shall last: 50
These ever new, nor subject to decays,
Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
So Zembla’s rocks (the beauteous work of frost)
Rise white in air, and glitter o’er the coast;
Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away, 55
And on th’ impassive ice the lightnings play;
Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
Till the bright mountains prop th’ incumbent sky:
As Atlas fix’d, each hoary pile appears,
The gather’d winter of a thousand years. 60
On this foundation Fame’s high temple stands;
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 65
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, 70
Who cities raised or tamed a monstrous race,
The walls in venerable order grace:
Heroes in animated marble frown,
And Legislators seem to think in stone.
Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece appear’d, 75
On Doric pillars of white marble rear’d,
Crown’d with an architrave of antique mould,
And sculpture rising on the roughen’d gold.
In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld,
And Perseus dreadful with Minerva’s shield: 80
There great Alcides, stooping with his toil,
Rests on his club, and holds th’ Hesperian spoil:
Here Orpheus sings; trees moving to the sound
Start from their roots, and form a shade around:
Amphion there the loud creating lyre 85
Strikes, and beholds a sudden Thebes aspire;
Cithæron’s echoes answer to his call,
And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
There might you see the length’ning spires ascend,
The domes swell up, and widening arches bend, 90
The growing towers, like exhalations, rise,
And the huge columns heave into the skies.
The eastern front was glorious to behold,
With diamond flaming, and barbaric gold.
There Ninus shone, who spread th’ Assyrian fame, 95
And the great founder of the Persian name;
There in long robes the royal Magi stand,
Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand;
The sage Chaldeans robed in white appear’d,
And Brahmans, deep in desert woods revered. 100
These stopp’d the moon, and call’ th’ unbodied shades
To midnight banquets in the glimm’ring glades;
Made visionary fabrics round them rise,
And airy spectres skim before their eyes;
Of talismans and sigils knew the power, 105
And careful watch’d the planetary hour.
Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
Who taught that useful science, — to be good.
But on the south, a long majestic race
Of Egypt’s priests the gilded niches grace, 110
Who measured earth, described the starry spheres,
And traced the long records of Lunar Years.
High on his car Sesostris struck my view,
Whom sceptred slaves in golden harness drew:
His hands a bow and pointed
jav’lin hold; 115
His giant limbs are arm’d in scales of gold.
Between the statues obelisks were placed,
And the learn’d walls with hieroglyphics graced.
Of Gothic structure was the northern side,
O’erwrought with ornaments of barb’rous pride. 120
There huge Colosses rose, with trophies crown’d,
And Runic characters were graved around;
There sat Zamolxis with erected eyes,
And Odin here in mimic trances dies.
There on rude iron columns, smear’d with blood, 125
The horrid forms of Scythian Heroes stood,
Druids and Bards (their once loud harps unstrung)
And youths that died to be by poets sung.
These and a thousand more of doubtful fame,
To whom old fables gave a lasting name, 130
In ranks adorn’d the temple’s outward face;
The wall in lustre and effect like glass,
Which o’er each object casting various dyes,
Enlarges some, and others multiplies;
Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall, 135
For thus romantic Fame increases all.
The temple shakes, the sounding 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. 140
Of bright transparent beryl were the walls,
The friezes gold, and gold the capitals;
As Heav’n with stars, the roof with jewels glows,
And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
Full in the passage of each spacious gate 145
The sage Historians in white garments wait;
Graved o’er their seats the from of Time was found,
His scythe revers’d, and both his pinions bound.
Within stood Heroes, who thro’ loud alarms
In bloody fields pursued renown in arms. 150
High on a throne, with trophies charged, I view’d
The youth that all things but himself subdued;
His feet on sceptres and tiaras trod,
And his horn’d head belied the Libyan God,
There Cæsar, graced with both Minervas, shone; 155
Cæsar, the world’s great master, and his own;
Unmov’d, superior still in ev’ry state,
And scarce detested in his country’s fate.
But chief were those who not for empire fought,
But with their toils their people’s safety bought: 160
High o’er the rest Epaminondas stood;
Timoleon, glorious in his brother’s blood;
Bold Scipio, saviour of the Roman state,
Great in his triumphs, in retirement great;
And wise Aurelius, in whose well-taught mind 165
With boundless power unbounded virtue join’d,
His own strict judge, and patron of mankind.
Much-suff’ring heroes next their honours claim.
Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame,
Fair Virtue’s silent train: supreme of these 170
Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
At all times just, but when he sign’d the shell:
Here his abode the martyr’d Phocion claims,
With Agis, not the last of Spartan names: 175
Unconquer’d Cato shows 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 shrine itself of Fame they stand, 180
Hold the chief honours and the fane command.
High on the first the mighty Homer shone;
Eternal adamant composed his throne;
Father of verse! in holy fillets drest,
His silver beard waved gently o’er his breast; 185
Tho’ blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
In years he seem’d, but not impair’d by years.
The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen;
Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;
Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus’ fall, 190
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 master’s fire:
A strong expression most he seem’d t’ affect,
And here and there disclosed a brave neglect. 195
A golden column next in rank appear’d,
On which a shrine of purest gold was rear’d;
Finish’d the whole, and labour’d ev’ry part,
With patient touches of unwearied art.
The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate, 200
Composed his posture, and his look sedate;
On Homer still he fix’d a rev’rend eye,
Great without pride, in modest majesty.
In living sculpture on the sides were spread
The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead; 205
Eliza stretch’d upon the funeral pyre;
Æneas bending with his aged sire:
Troy flamed in burning gold, and o’er the throne
‘Arms and the man’ in golden ciphers shone.
Four swans sustain a car of silver bright, 210
With heads advanced, and pinions stretch’d for flight:
Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
And seem’d to labour with th’ inspiring God.
Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
And boldly sinks into the sounding strings. 215
The figured games of Greece the column grace:
Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race;
The youths hang o’er the chariots as they run;
The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone;
The champions in distorted postures threat; 220
And all appear’d irregularly great.
Here happy Horace tuned th’ Ausonian lyre
To sweeter sounds, and temper’d Pindar’s fire:
Pleas’d with Alcæus’ manly rage t’ infuse
The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse. 225
The polish’d pillar diff’rent sculptures grace;
A work outlasting monumental brass.
Here smiling loves and bacchanals appear,
The Julian star, and great Augustus here;
The doves, that round the infant poet spread 230
Myrtles and bays, hung hov’ring o’er his head.
Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling light,
Sate fix’d in thought the mighty Stagyrite;
His sacred head a radiant Zodiac crown’d,
And various animals his sides surround: 235
His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
Superior worlds, and look all Nature thro’.
With equal rays immortal Tully shone;
The Roman rostra deck’d the consul’s throne;
Gath’ring his flowing robe, he seem’d to stand 240
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.
These massy columns in a circle rise,
O’er which a pompous dome invades the skies; 245
Scarce to the top I stretch’d my aching sight,
So large it spread, and swell’d to such a height.
Full in the midst proud Fame’s imperial seat
With jewels blazed, magnificently great;
The vivid em’ralds there revive the eye, 250
The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye,
Bright azure rays from lively sapphires stream,
And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.
With various-colour’d light
the pavement shone,
And all on fire appear’d the glowing throne; 255
The dome’s high arch reflects the mingled blaze,
And forms a rainbow of alternate rays.
When on the Goddess first I cast my sight,
Scarce seem’d her stature of a cubit’s height;
But swell’d to larger size, the more I gazed, 260
Till to the roof her tow’ring front she rais’d.
With her, the temple ev’ry moment grew,
And ampler vistas open’d to my view:
Upward the columns shoot, the roofs ascend,
And arches widen, and long aisles extend. 265
Such was her form, as ancient bards have told;
Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet infold;
A thousand busy tongues the Goddess bears,
A thousand open eyes, and thousand list’ning ears.
Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine 270
(Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine;
With eyes on Fame for ever fix’d, they sing;
For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
With Time’s first birth began the heav’nly lays,
And last, eternal, thro’ the length of days. 275
Around these wonders as I cast a look,
The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,
And all the nations summon’d at the call,
From diff’rent quarters fill the crowded hall.
Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard; 280
In various garbs promiscuous throngs appear’d:
Thick as the bees, that with the spring renew
Their flowery toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
When the wing’d colonies first tempt the sky,
O’er dusky fields and shaded waters fly, 285
Or, settling, seize the sweets the blossoms yield,
And a low murmur runs along the field.
Millions of suppliant crowds the shrine attend,
And all degrees before the Goddess bend;
The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the sage, 290
And boasting youth, and narrative old age.
Their pleas were diff’rent, their request the same;
For good and bad alike are fond of Fame.
Some she disgraced and some with honours crown’d;
Unlike successes equal merits found. 295
Thus her blind sister, fickle Fortune, reigns,
And, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.
First at the shrine the learned world appear,
And to the Goddess thus prefer their prayer:
‘Long have we sought t’ instruct and please mankind, 300
With studies pale, with midnight-vigils blind;
But thank’d by few, rewarded yet by none,
We here appeal to thy superior throne:
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 9
