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The Temple of Fame.
Calm, thinking Villains, whom no Faith can fix,
Of crooked Counsels and dark Politicks;
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 Pow'r unknown
Strait chang'd the Scene, and snatch'd me from the Throne.
Before my View appear'd a Structure fair,
Its Site uncertain, if in Earth or Air;
With
