Читать книгу Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V - Unknown - Страница 34

    The Temple shakes, the sounding gates unfold,

    Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted gold,

    Raised on a thousand pillars wreathed around

    With laurel-foliage and with eagles crowned;

    Of bright transparent beryl were the walls,

    The friezes gold, and gold the capitals:

    As heaven 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 reversed, and both his pinions bound.

    Within stood heroes, who through loud alarms

    In bloody fields pursued renown in arms.

    High on a throne, with trophies charged, I viewed

    The youth that all things but himself subdued;

    His feet on sceptres and tiaras trode,

    And his horned head belied the Libyan god.

    There Caesar, graced with both Minervas, shone;

    Caesar, the world's great master, and his own;

    Unmoved, superior still in every 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:

    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

    With boundless power unbounded virtue joined,

    His own strict judge, and patron of mankind.

        Much-suffering heroes next their honours claim,

    Those of less noisy and less guilty fame,

    Fair Virtue's silent train: supreme of these

    Here ever shines the godlike Socrates;

    He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,

    At all times just but when he signed the shell:

    Here his abode the martyred Phocion claims,

    With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:

    Unconquered Cato shows the wound he tore,

    And Brutus his ill Genius meets no more.

        But in the centre of the hallowed choir,

    Six pompous columns o'er the rest aspire;

    Around the shrine itself of Fame they stand,

    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:

    Though blind, a boldness in his looks appears;

    In years he seemed, but not impaired by years.

    The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen:

    Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;

    Here Hector glorious from Patroclus' fall,

    Here dragged in triumph round the Trojan wall.

    Motion and life did every part inspire,

    Bold was the work, and proved the master's fire.

    A strong expression most he seemed t' affect,

    And here and there disclosed a brave neglect.

        A golden column next in rank appeared,

    On which a shrine of purest gold was reared;

    Finished the whole, and laboured every part,

    With patient touches of unwearied art;

    The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,

    Composed his posture, and his look sedate:

    On Homer still he fixed a reverent eye,

    Great without pride, in modest majesty,

    In living sculpture on the sides were spread

    The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead:

    Eliza stretched upon the funeral pyre,

    Aeneas 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,

    With heads advanced, and pinions stretched for flight,

    Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,

    And seemed to labour with the inspiring God.

    Across the harp a careless hand he flings,

    And boldly sinks into the sounding strings.

    The figured 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 appeared irregularly great.

        Here happy Horace tuned th' Ausonian lyre

    To sweeter sounds, and tempered Pindar's fire;

    Pleased with Alcaeus' manly rage t' infuse

    The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse.

    The polished 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, hang hov'ring o'er his head.

        Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling light,

    Sate, fixed in thought, the mighty Stagyrite:

    His sacred head a radiant zodiac crowned,

    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 decked the Consul's throne:

    Gathering his flowing robe, he seemed to stand

    In act to speak, and graceful stretched 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:

    Scarce to the top I stretched my aching sight,

    So large it spread, and swelled to such a height.

    Full in the midst proud Fame's imperial seat

    With jewels blazed magnificently great:

    The vivid emeralds there revive the eye,

    The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye,

    Bright azure rays from lively sapphires stream,

    And lucid amber casts a golden gleam,

    With various coloured light the pavement shone,

    And all on fire appeared the glowing throne;

    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 seemed her stature of a cubit's height;

    But swelled to larger size the more I gazed,

    Till to the roof her towering front she raised;

    With her the Temple every moment grew,

    And ampler vistas opened to my view:

    Upward the columns shoot, the roofs ascend,

    And arches widen, and long aisles extend,

    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, a thousand listening ears.

    Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine

    (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine:

    With eyes on Fame for ever fixed, they sing;

    For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string:

    With Time's first birth began the heavenly lays,

    And last eternal through the length of days.

        Around these wonders, as I cast a look,

    The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,

    And all the nations, summoned at the call,

    From diff'rent quarters, fill the crowded hall:

    Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard;

    In various garbs promiscuous throngs appeared;

    Thick as the bees that with the spring renew

    Their flow'ry toils, and sip the fragrant dew,

    When the winged colonies first tempt the sky,

    O'er dusky fields and shaded waters fly;

    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,

    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 crowned;

    Unlike successes equal merits found.

    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 pray'r:

    "Long have we sought t' instruct and please mankind,

    With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind;

    But thanked by few, rewarded yet by none.

    We here appeal to thy superior throne:

    On wit and learning the just prize bestow,

    For fame is all we must expect below."

        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.

    Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud:

    The notes, at first, were rather sweet than loud.

    By just degrees they ev'ry moment rise,

    Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.

    At ev'ry breath were balmy odours shed,

    Which still grew sweeter as they wider spread;

    Less fragrant scents th' unfolding rose exhales,

    Or spices breathing in Arabian gales.

        Next these, the good and just, an awful train,

    Thus, on their knees, address the sacred fane:

    "Since living virtue is with envy cursed,

    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 crowned,"

    (Said Fame,) "but high above desert renowned:

    Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze,

    And the loud clarion labour in your praise."

        This band dismissed, behold another crowd

    Preferred the same request, and lowly bowed;

    The constant tenour of whose well-spent days

    No less deserved 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,