Troy flam'd in burning gold, and o'er the throne ARMS AND THE MAN in golden cyphers shone. Four swans sustain a car of silver bright, [flight: With heads advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for 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. The figur'd games of Greece the column grace, Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race. The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run; The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone; The champions in distorted postures threat; And all appear'd irregularly great. Here happy Horace tun'd th' Ausonian lyre To sweeter sounds, and temper'd Pindar's fire: Pleas'd with Alcaus' manly rage t' infuse The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse. The polish'd pillar different 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 Myrtles and bays, hung hovering o'er his head. Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling light, Sate fix'd in thought the mighty Stagirite; His sacred head a radiant zodiac crown'd, And various animals his sides surround; His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view Superior worlds, and look all Nature through. With equal rays immortal Tully shone, The Roman rostra deck'd the consul's throne: Gathering his flowing robe, he seem'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. These massy columns in a circle rise, O'er which a pompous dome invades the skies: When on the goddess first I cast my sight, IMITATION. Ver. 259. Scarce scem'd her stature, &c.] A thousand busy tongues the goddess bears, ears. 270 Beneath, in order rang'd, the tuneful Nine Around these wonders as I cast a look, Or, settling, seize the sweets the blossoms yield, 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, With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind; IMITATIONS. Ver. 270. Beneath, in order rang'd, &c.] The goddess heard, and bade the Muses raise The golden trumpet of eternal Praise: From pole to pole the winds diffuse the sound, That fills the circuit of the world around; Ver. 276. Around these wonders, &c.} And some of them she granted sone, 276 Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud; • Next these the good and just, an awful train, 318 Thus on their knees address the sacred fane. "Since living virtue is with envy curs'd, And the best men are treated like the worst, Do thou, just goddess, call our merits forth, And give each deed th' exact intrinsic worth." "Not with bare justice shall your act be crown'd," (Said Fame)" but high above desert renown'd: Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze, And the loud clarion labour in your praise." This band dismiss'd, behold another crowd 328 Prefer'd the same request, and lowly bow'd; The constant tenour of whose well-spent days No less deserv'd a just return of praise, But straight the direful trump of Slander sounds; Through the big dome the doubling thunder bounds; Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies, IMITATIONS. Ver. 318. The good and just, &c.] "I grant," quoth she, "for now we list Of good folke What did this Eolus, but he 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 strife, We sail'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. Those 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 sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone, Your statues moulder'd, and your names unknown!" A sudden cloud straight snatch'd them from my sight, | And each majestic phantom sunk in night. Then came the smallest tribe I yet had seen; 356 Plain was their dress, and modest was their mien. "Great idol of mankind! we neither claim The praise of merit, nor aspire to Fame! But, safe in deserts from th' applause of men, Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen. 'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from sight Those acts of goodness which themselves requite O let us still the secret joys partake, To follow Virtue ev'n for Virtue's sake." "And live there men, who slight 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, Rise! Muses, rise! add all your tuneful breath; These must not sleep in darkness and in death." She said 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 farthest shores th' ambrosial spirit flies, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies. Next these a youthful train their vows express'd, With feathers crown'd, with gay embroidery dress'd: IMITATION Ver, 356. Then came the smallest, &c.] "What," quoth she, "and be ye wood And ween ye for to do good, Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays; Pleas'd with the same success, vast numbers prest Around the shrine, and made the same request : "What you," (she cry'd)"unlearn'd in arts to please, Slaves to yourselves, and ev'n fatigued with ease, Who lose a length of undeserving days, Would you usurp 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 sound, Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round, Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud, And scornful hisses run through all the croud. Last those who boast of mighty mischiefs done, Enslave their country, or usurp a throne; [406 Or who their glory's dire foundation lay'd On sovereigns ruin'd, or on friends betray'd; Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix, Of crooked counsels and dark politics; Of these a gloomy tribe surround the throne, And beg to make th' immortal treasons known, The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire, With sparks that seem'd to set the world on fire. At the dread sound, pale mortals stood aghast, And startled Nature trembled with the blast. This having heard and seen, some power unknown 418 Straight chang'd the scene, and snatch'd me from the throne, IMITATIONS, Ver. 406. Last, those who boast of mighty, &c.] Tho came another companye, That had y-done the treachery, &c. Ver. 418. This having heard and seen, &c.] The scene here changes from the Temple of Fame, to that of Rumour, which is almost entirely Chaucer's. The particulars follow, Tho saw I stonde in a valey, | Before my view appear'd a structure fair, There various news I heard of love and strife, 448 Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, and Of loss and gain, of famine and of store, [life, Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore, Above, below, without, within, around, 453 "No," quoth he, " tell me what?" And then he told him this and that, &c. Thus north and south ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ Went every tyding fro mouth to mouth. Who pass, repass, advance, and glide away; Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire, And towers and temples sink in floods of fire. When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung, Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue, Through thousand vents, impatient, forth they flow, And rush in millions on the world below, Fame sits aloft, and points them out their course, Their date determines, and prescribes their force : Some to remain, and some to perish soon; Or wane and wax alternate like the Moon. Around a thousand winged wonders fly, Borne by the trumpet's blast, and scatter'd through the sky. There, at one passage, oft you might survey 489 A lie and truth contending for the way; And long 'twas doubtful though so closely pent, Which first should issue through the narrow vent: At last agreed, together out they fly, Inseparable now the truth and lie; The strict companions are for ever join'd, And this or that unmix'd, no mortal e'er shall find. While thus I stood, intent to see and hear, One came, methought, and whisper'd in my ear: "What could thus high thy rash ambition raise? Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?" ""Tis true," said 1, 66 not void of hopes I came, For who so fond as youthful bards of Fame? But few, alas! the casual blessing boast, So hard to gain, so easy to be lost. How vain that second life in others breath, Th' estate which wits inherit after death! Fase, health, and life, for this they must resign, (Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!) The great man's curse, without the gains, endure, Be envy'd, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor; All luckless wits their enemies profest, And all successful, jealous friends at best. IMITATIONS. And that encreasing evermo, As fire is wont to quicken and go From a sparkle sprong amiss, Till all the citee brent up is. Ver. 489. There, at one passage, &c.] And sometime I saw there at once, A lesing and a sad sooth saw That goanen at adeenture draw Out of a window forth to paceAnd no man, be he ever so wrothe, Shall have one of these two, but bothe, &c. But in due time, when sixty years were o'er, He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more: Whether pure holiness inspir'd his mind, Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find; But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed, And try the pleasures of a lawful bed. This was his nightly dream, his daily care, And to the heavenly powers his constant prayer, Once ere he dy'd, to taste the blissful life Of a kind husband and a loving wife. These thoughts he fortify'd with reasons still, In bliss all night, and innocence all day: But what so pure which envious tongues will spare? A night invasion, and a mid-day devil. All other goods by Fortune's hand are given, Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve possess'd, These weighty motives, January the sage Maturely ponder'd in his riper age; And, charm'd with virtuous joys and sober life, Would try that christian comfort, call'd a wife. His friends were summon'd on a point so nice, To pass their judgment, and to give advice; But fix'd before, and well resolv'd was he; (As men that ask advice are wont to be.) 64 My friends," he cry'd, (and cast a mournful look Around the room, and sigh'd before he spoke) "Beneath the weight of threescore years I bend, And worn with cares, and hastening to my end; How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well, In worldly follies, which I blush to tell; But gracious Heaven has ope'd my eyes at last, With due regret I view my vices past, And, as the precept of the church decrees, Will take a wife, and live in holy ease. But, since by counsel all things should be done, And many heads are wiser still than one; Chus you for me, who best shall be content When my desire's approv'd by your consent. "One caution yet is needful to be told, To guide your choice; this wife must not be old: There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed. My soul abhors the tasteless, dry embrace Of a stale virgin with a winter face: In that cold season Love but treats his guest With bean-straw, and tough forage at the best. No crafty widows shall approach my bed; Those are too wise for batchelors to wed; As subtle clerks by many schools are made, Twice-marry'd dames are mistresses o' th' trade: But young and tender virgins, rul'd with case, We form like wax, and mould them as we please. "Conceive me, sirs, nor take my sense amiss; 'Tis what concerns my soul's eternal bliss: Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse, As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) knows? Then should I live in lewd adultery, And sink downright to Satan when I die. Or were i curs'd with an unfruitful bed, The righteous end were lost for which I wed; To raise up seed to bless the powers above, "And since I speak of wedlock, let me say, -(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I may) My limbs are active, still I'm sound at heart, And a new vigour springs in every part. Think not my virtue lost, though time has shed These reverend honours on my hoary head; Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms white as snow, The vital sap then rising from below: Old as I am, my lusty limbs appear Like winter greens, that flourish all the year. Now, sirs, you know to what I stand inclin'd, Let every friend with freedom speak his mind." He said; the rest in different parts divide; The knotty point was urg'd on either side: Marriage, the theme on which they all declaim'd, Some prais'd with wit, and some with reason blam'd; Till, what with proofs, objections, and replies, Fach wondrous positive, and wondrous wise, There fell between his brothers a debate, Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that. : First to the knight Placebo thus begun (Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his tone): "Such prudence, sir, in all your words appears, As plainly proves, experience dwells with years! Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice, To work by counsel when affairs are nice: So may my soul arrive at ease and rest But with the wise man's leave, I must protest, As still I hold your own advice the best. 66 Sir, I have liv'd a courtier all my days, And study'd men, their manners, and their ways; And have observ'd this useful maxim still, To let my betters always have their will. • Nay, if my lord affirm that black was white, My word was this, Your honour's in the right. Th' assuming wit, who deems himself so wise, As his mistaken patron to advise, Let him not dare to vent his dangerous thought, A noble fool was never in a fault. 187 This, sir, affects not you, whose every word Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of sense, With reverend dulness, and grave impotence." Justin, who silent sat, and heard the man, Thus, with a philosophic frown, began. "A heathen author of the first degree, (Who, though not faith, had sense as well as we) Bids us be certain our concerns to trust To those of generous principles, and just. The venture's greater, I'll presume to say, To give your person, than your goods away: And therefore, sir, as you regard your rest, First learn your lady's qualities at least: Whether she's chaste or rampant, proud or civil, Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil; Whether an easy, fond, familiar fool, Or such a wit as no man e'er can rule. |