The Temple of Fame.
29
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'd the sacred Fane.
Since living Virtue is with Envy curst,
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
