The Temple of Fame.
17
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 Lawrel-Foliage, and with Eagles crown'd:
Of bright, transparent Beryl were the Walls,
The Freezes 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;
Grav'd 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 pursu'd Renown in Arms.
High on a Throne with Trophies charg'd, I view'd
The Youth that all things but himself subdu'd;
His
