'Yet I forgive thee-take my last embrace'.

He wept, kind soul! and stoop'd to kiss my face:

I took him such a box as turn'd him blue, Then sigh'd and cried, Adieu, my dear, adieu !'

But after many a hearty struggle past, I condescended to be pleas'd at last. Soon as he said, 'My mistress and my wife!

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; 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.

430

As for the volume that revil'd the dames, 'T was torn to fragments, and condemn'd to flames.

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.

And seem'd, to distant sight, of solid stone. 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;

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, 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, 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, 59 The gather'd winter of a thousand years. 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
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

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,
And careful watch'd the planetary hour.
Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
Who taught that useful science,
good.

to be

But on the south, a long majestic race 109 Of Egypt's priests the gilded niches grace, 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 ; 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,

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,
For thus romantic Fame increases all.

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
The sage Historians in white garments
wait;

Graved o'er their seats the form 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. High on a throne, with trophies charged, I view'd

151

A thousand busy tongues the Goddess bears,

A thousand open eyes, and thousand list'ning ears.

269 Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine (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.

Around these wonders as I cast a look, The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,