From the black Trumpet's fufty concave broke
Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling fmoke:
The pois'nous vapour blots the purple skies,
And withers all before it as it flies.

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 ftrife, We fail'd in tempefts down the stream of life; For thee whole nations fill'd with flames and blood, And fwam to empire through the purple flood. Thofe ills we dar'd, thy infpiration own; What virtue feem'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 fleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone, Your itatues moulder'd, and your names unknown! A fudden cloud ftraight fnatch'd them from my

fight,

And each majestic phantom funk in night.

Then came the smallest tribe I yet had seen ; 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 fafe in deferts from th'applaufe of men, Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unfeen. "Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from fight Thofe acts of goodness, which themselves requite. O let us still the fecret joy partake,

To follow Virtue e'en for Virtue's fake.

And

And live there men who flight immortal Fame? Who then with incenfe fhall adore our name ? But, mortals! know, 'tis ftill our greateft pride To blaze those virtues which the good would hide. Rife! Mufes, rife! add all your tuneful breath; These must not fleep in darkness and in death. She faid in air the trembling mufic floats, And on the winds triumphant fwell the notes ; So foft, though high, fo loud, and yet fo clear, E'en lift'ning Angels lean from Heav'n to hear. To furtheft fhores th'ambrofial spirit flies, Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.

Next thefe a youthful train their vows exprefs'd, With feathers crown'd, with gay embroid❜ry drefs'd:

Hither, they cry'd, direct your eyes, and fee
The men of pleasure, drefs, and gallantry;
Our's is the place at banquets, balls, and plays,
Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days.
Courts we frequent, where 'tis our pleafing care
To pay due vifits, and addrefs the fair :
In fact, 'tis true, no nymph we could perfuade,
But ftill in fancy vanquish'd ev'ry maid:
Of unknown ducheffes lewd tales we tell;
Yet, would the world believe us, all were well.
The joy let others have, and we the name,
And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.

The Queen affents, the trumpet rends the skies, And at each blaft a Lady's honour dies. H 2

Pleas'd

Pleas'd with the ftrange fuccefs, vast numbers

preft

Around the fhrine, and made the fame request.
What, you! (fhe cry'd) unlearn'd in arts to please,
Slaves to yourselves, and e'en fatigu'd with ease,
Who lose a length of undeferving days,

Would you ufurp the lover's dear-bought praise ?
To juft contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,
The people's fable, and the fcorn of all.
Straight the black clarion fends a horrid found,
Loud laughs burst out, and bitter fcoffs fly round,
Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
And scornful hiffes run through all the croud.

Laft, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
Enflave their country, or ufurp a throne;
Or who their glory's dire foundation laid
On fov'reigns ruin'd, or on friends betray'd:
Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix,
Of crooked counfels, 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 fparks that feem'd to fet the world on fire,
At the dread found pale mortals stood aghaft,
And ftartled Nature trembled with the blast.

TEMPLE OF FAME, V. I. p. 189.

JANU

JANUARY.

THERE liv'd in Lombardy, as authors write, In days of old, a wife and worthy Knight,

Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,

Bleft with much fenfe, much riches, and fome grace;

Yet, led aftray by Venus' foft delights,

He scarce could rule fome idle appetites:
For long ago, let Priests say what they could,
Weak, finful Laymen were but flesh and blood.

But in due time, when fixty 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 pleafures of a lawful bed.

This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
And to the heav'nly pow'rs his constant pray'r,
Once ere he dy'd to tafte the blissful life
Of a kind husband and a loving wife.

Thefe thoughts he fortify'd with reasons still, (For none want reasons to confirm their will.) Grave authors fay, and witty poets fing, That honeft wedlock is a glorious thing: But depth of judgment moft in him appears, Who wifely weds in his maturer years.

H 3

Then

Then let him chufe a damfel young and fair,

To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir;

To foothe his cares, and, free from noise and ftrife,
Conduct him gently to the verge of life.
Let finful batchelors their woes deplore;
Full well they merit all they feel, and more:
Unaw'd by precepts human or divine,
Like birds and beafts promifcuously they join ;
Nor know to make the present bleffing laft,
To hope the future, or esteem the past;
But vainly boaft the joys they never try'd,
And find divulg'd the fecrets they would hide.
The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and heav'n to please;
And pafs his inoffenfive hours away,

In bliss all night, and innocence all day:
Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.

JANUARY AND MAY, V. I. p. 209.

JANUARY'S CIRCUMSPECTION. MY friends, he cry'd, (and caft a mournful look Around the room, and figh'd before he spoke :) Beneath the weight of threefcore years I bend, And worn with cares, and haft'ning to my end; How I have liv'd, alas! you know too well, In worldly follies, which I blush to tell: But gracious heav'n 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 cafe.

But