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PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER

JANUARY AND MAY: OR, THE MERCHANT’S TALE

Pope says that this ‘translation’ was done at sixteen or seventeen years of age. It was first published, with the Pastorals, in 1709, in Tonson’s sixth Miscellany. Eventually Pope grouped the Chaucer imitations with Eloisa to Abelard, the translations from Ovid and Statius and the brief Imitations of English Poets. To this collection be prefixed this Advertisement:—

‘The following Translations were selected from many others done by the Author in his youth; for the most part indeed but a sort of Exercises, while he was improving himself in the Languages, and carried by his early bent to Poetry to perform them rather in Verse than Prose. Mr. Dryden’s Fables came out about that time, which occasioned the Translations from Chaucer. They were first separately printed in Miscellanies by J. Tonson and B. Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English Authors, which are added at the end, were done as early, some of them at fourteen or fifteen years old; but having also got into Miscellanies, we have put them here together to complete this Juvenile Volume.’

THE WIFE OF BATH

HER PROLOGUE

Not published until 1714, but naturally classified with January and May, and not improbably the product of the same period.

- Behold the woes of matrimonial life,
- And hear with rev’rence an experienced wife;
- To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
- And think for once a woman tells you true.
- In all these trials I have borne a part:
- I was myself the scourge that caus’d the smart;
- For since fifteen in triumph have I led
- Five captive husbands from the church to bed.
- Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says,
- And saw but one, ’t was thought, in all his days;10
- Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice,
- No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
- But let them read, and solve me if they can,
- The words address’d to the Samaritan:
- Five times in lawful wedlock she was join’d,
- And sure the certain stint was ne’er defin’d.
- ‘Increase and multiply’ was Heav’n’s command,
- And that ’s a text I clearly understand:
- This too, ‘Let men their sires and mothers leave,19
- And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.’
- More wives than one by Solomon were tried,
- Or else the wisest of mankind’s belied.
- I’ve had myself full many a merry fit,
- And trust in Heav’n I may have many yet;
- For when my transitory spouse, unkind, }
- Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, }
- I’ll take the next good Christian I can find. }
- Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
- Declared ’t was better far to wed than burn.
- There ’s danger in assembling fire and tow;
- I grant ’em that; and what it means you know.31
- The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own’d
- No precept for virginity he found:
- ’T is but a counsel—and we women still
- Take which we like, the counsel or our will.
- I envy not their bliss, if he or she
- Think fit to live in perfect chastity:
- Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice;
- I for a few slight spots am not so nice.
- Heav’n calls us diff’rent ways; on these bestows40
- One proper gift, another grants to those;
- Not every man’s obliged to sell his store,
- And give up all his substance to the poor:
- Such as are perfect may, I can’t deny;
- But by your leaves, Divines! so am not I.
- Full many a saint, since first the world began,
- Liv’d an unspotted maid in spite of man:
- Let such (a God’s name) with fine wheat be fed,
- And let us honest wives eat barley bread.
- For me, I’ll keep the post assign’d by Heav’n,50
- And use the copious talent it has giv’n:
- Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right,
- And keep an equal reck’ning every night;
- His proper body is not his, but mine;
- For so said Paul, and Paul’s a sound divine.
- Know then, of those five husbands I have had,
- Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
- The three were old, but rich and fond beside,
- And toil’d most piteously to please their bride;
- But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine,60
- The rest without much loss I could resign:
- Sure to be lov’d, I took no pains to please,
- Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease.
- Presents flow’d in apace: with showers of gold
- They made their court, like Jupiter of old:
- If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found,
- And a new palsy seiz’d them when I frown’d.
- Ye sov’reign Wives! give ear, and understand:
- Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command;
- For never was it giv’n to mortal man70
- To lie so boldly as we women can:
- Forswear the fact, tho’ seen with both his eyes,
- And call your maids to witness how he lies.
- Hark, old Sir Paul! (’t was thus I used to say)
- Whence is our neighbour’s wife so rich and gay?
- Treated, caress’d, where’er she’s pleas’d to roam—
- I sit in tatters, and immured at home.
- Why to her house dost thou so oft repair?
- Art thou so am’rous? and is she so fair?
- If I but see a cousin or a friend,80
- Lord! how you swell and rage like any fiend!
- But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear,
- Then preach till midnight in your easy chair;
- Cry, wives are false, and every woman evil,
- And give up all that’s female to the devil.
- If poor (you say), she drains her husband’s purse;
- If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse;
- If highly born, intolerably vain,
- Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain;
- Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic,90
- Freakish when well, and fretful when she ’s sick.
- If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide,
- By pressing youth attack’d on every side;
- If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures,
- Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures,
- Or else she dances with becoming grace,
- Or shape excuses the defects of face.
- There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late
- She finds some honest gander for her mate.
- Horses (thou say’st) and asses men may try,100
- And ring suspected vessels ere they buy;
- But wives, a random choice, untried they take,
- They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake;
- Then, not till then, the veil’s remov’d away,
- And all the woman glares in open day.
- You tell me, to preserve your wife’s good grace,
- Your eyes must always languish on my face,
- Your tongue with constant flatt’ries feed my ear,
- And tag each sentence with ‘My life! my dear!’
- If by strange chance a modest blush be rais’d,110
- Be sure my fine complexion must be prais’d.
- My garments always must be new and gay,
- And feasts still kept upon my wedding day.
- Then must my nurse be pleas’d, and fav’rite maid;
- And endless treats and endless visits paid
- To a long train of kindred, friends, allies:
- All this thou say’st, and all thou say’st are lies.
- On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye:
- What! can your ’prentice raise your jealousy?
- Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair,120
- And like the burnish’d gold his curling hair.
- But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow;
- I’d scorn your ’prentice should you die tomorrow.
- Why are thy chests all lock’d? on what design?
- Are not thy worldly goods and treasure mine?
- Sir, I’m no fool; nor shall you, by St. John,
- Have goods and body to yourself alone.
- One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes—
- I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies.
- If you had wit, you ’d say, ‘Go where you will,130
- Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell:
- Take all the freedoms of a married life;
- I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.’
- Lord! when you have enough, what need you care
- How merrily soever others fare?
- Tho’ all the day I give and take delight,
- Doubt not sufficient will be left at night.
- ’T is but a just and rational desire
- To light a taper at a neighbour’s fire.
- There ’s danger too, you think, in rich array,140
- And none can long be modest that are gay.
- The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin,
- The chimney keeps, and sits content within:
- But once grown sleek, will from her corner run,
- Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun:
- She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad
- To show her fur, and to be catterwaw’d.
- Lo thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires
- These three right ancient venerable sires.
- I told them, Thus you say, and thus you do;150
- And told them false, but Jenkin swore ’t was true.
- I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine,
- And first complain’d whene’er the guilt was mine.
- I tax’d them oft with wenching and amours,
- When their weak legs scarce dragg’d them out of doors;
- And swore the rambles that I took by night
- Were all to spy what damsels they bedight:
- That colour brought me many hours of mirth;
- For all this wit is giv’n us from our birth.
- Heav’n gave to woman the peculiar grace
- To spin, to weep, and cully human race.161
- By this nice conduct and this prudent course,
- By murm’ring, wheedling, stratagem, and force,
- I still prevail’d, and would be in the right;
- Or curtain lectures made a restless night.
- If once my husband’s arm was o’er my side,
- ‘What! so familiar with your spouse?’ I cried:
- I levied first a tax upon his need;
- Then let him—’t was a nicety indeed!
- Let all mankind this certain maxim hold;
- Marry who will, our sex is to be sold.171
- With empty hands no tassels you can lure,
- But fulsome love for gain we can endure;
- For gold we love the impotent and old,
- And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold.
- Yet with embraces curses oft I mixt,
- Then kiss’d again, and chid, and rail’d betwixt.
- Well, I may make my will in peace, and die,
- For not one word in man’s arrears am I.
- To drop a dear dispute I was unable,180
- Ev’n though the Pope himself had sat at table;
- But when my point was gain’d, then thus I spoke:
- ‘Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look!
- Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek;
- Thou shouldst be always thus resign’d and meek!
- Of Job’s great patience since so oft you preach,
- Well should you practise who so well can teach.
- ’T is difficult to do, I must allow,
- But I, my dearest! will instruct you how.
- Great is the blessing of a prudent wife,190
- Who puts a period to domestic strife.
- One of us two must rule, and one obey; }
- And since in man right Reason bears the sway, }
- Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way. }
- The wives of all my family have ruled
- Their tender husbands, and their passions cool’d.
- Fie! ’t is unmanly thus to sigh and groan:
- What! would you have me to yourself alone?
- Why, take me, love! take all and every part!
- Here ’s your revenge! you love it at your heart.200
- Would I vouchsafe to sell what Nature gave,
- You little think what custom I could have.
- But see! I ’m all your own—nay hold—for shame!
- What means my dear?—indeed—you are to blame.’
- Thus with my first three lords I pass’d my life,
- A very woman and a very wife.
- What sums from these old spouses I could raise
- Procur’d young husbands in my riper days.
- Tho’ past my bloom, not yet decay’d was I,209
- Wanton and wild, and chatter’d like a pie.
- In country dances still I bore the bell,
- And sung as sweet as ev’ning Philomel.
- To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul,
- Full oft I drain’d the spicy nut-brown bowl;
- Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve,
- And warm the swelling veins to feats of love:
- For ’t is as sure as cold engenders hail,
- A liquorish mouth must have a lech’rous tail:
- Wine lets no lover unrewarded go,219
- As all true gamesters by experience know.
- But oh, good Gods! whene’er a thought I cast
- On all the joys of youth and beauty past,
- To find in pleasures I have had my part
- Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.
- This wicked world was once my dear delight;
- Now all my conquests, all my charms, good night!
- The flour consumed, the best that now I can
- Is ev’n to make my market of the bran.
- My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true;
- He kept, ’t was thought, a private miss or two;230
- But all that score I paid—As how? you ’ll say:
- Not with my body, in a filthy way;
- But I so dress’d, and danc’d, and drank, and din’d
- And view’d a friend with eyes so very kind,
- As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry,
- With burning rage and frantic jealousy.
- His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory,
- For here on earth I was his purgatory.
- Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung,239
- He put on careless airs, and sat and sung.
- How sore I gall’d him only Heav’n could know,
- And he that felt, and I that caus’d the woe.
- He died when last from pilgrimage I came,
- With other gossips, from Jerusalem;
- And now lies buried underneath a rood,
- Fair to be seen, and rear’d of honest wood:
- A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures graced
- Than that Mausolus’ pious widow placed,
- Or where enshrin’d the great Darius lay;
- But cost on graves is merely thrown away.
- The pit fill’d up, with turf we cover’d o’er;
- So bless the good man’s soul! I say no more.252
- Now for my fifth lov’d lord, the last and best;
- (Kind Heav’n afford him everlasting rest!)
- Full hearty was his love, and I can show
- The tokens on my ribs in black and blue;
- Yet with a knack my heart he could have won,
- While yet the smart was shooting in the bone.
- How quaint an appetite in women reigns!
- Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us pains.260
- Let men avoid us, and on them we leap;
- A glutted market makes provision cheap.
- In pure good will I took this jovial spark,
- Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk.
- He boarded with a widow in the town,
- A trusty gossip, one dame Alison;
- Full well the secrets of my soul she knew,
- Better than e’er our parish priest could do.
- To her I told whatever could befall:269
- Had but my husband piss’d against a wall,
- Or done a thing that might have cost his life,
- She—and my niece—and one more worthy wife,
- Had known it all: what most he would conceal,
- To these I made no scruple to reveal.
- Oft has he blush’d from ear to ear for shame
- That e’er he told a secret to his dame.
- It so befell, in holy time of Lent,
- That oft a day I to this gossip went;
- (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town)
- From house to house we rambled up and down,280
- This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour Alse,
- To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales.
- Visits to every church we daily paid,
- And march’d in every holy masquerade;
- The stations duly and the vigils kept;
- Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept.
- At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: }
- The wasting moth ne’er spoil’d my best array; }
- The cause was this, I wore it every day. }
- ’Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields,290
- This clerk and I were walking in the fields.
- We grew so intimate, I can’t tell how,
- I pawn’d my honour, and engaged my vow,
- If e’er I laid my husband in his urn,
- That he, and only he, should serve my turn.
- We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed;
- I still have shifts against a time of need.
- The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole
- Can never be a mouse of any soul.
- I vow’d I scarce could sleep since first I knew him,300
- And durst be sworn he had bewitch’d me to him;
- If e’er I slept I dream’d of him alone, }
- And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown. }
- All this I said; but dreams, Sirs, I had none: }
- I follow’d but my crafty crony’s lore,
- Who bid me tell this lie—and twenty more.
- Thus day by day, and month by month we past;
- It pleas’d the Lord to take my spouse at last.
- I tore my gown, I soil’d my locks with dust,
- And beat my breasts, as wretched widows—must.310
- Before my face my handkerchief I spread,
- To hide the flood of tears I—did not shed.
- The good man’s coffin to the church was borne;
- Around the neighbours and my clerk too mourn.
- But as he march’d, good Gods! he show’d a pair
- Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair!
- Of twenty winters’ age he seem’d to be;
- I (to say truth) was twenty more than he;
- But vig’rous still, a lively buxom dame,319
- And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame.
- A conjurer once, that deeply could divine,
- Assur’d me Mars in Taurus was my sign.
- As the stars order’d, such my life has been:
- Alas, alas! that ever love was sin!
- Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace,
- And Mars assurance and a dauntless face.
- By virtue of this powerful constellation,
- I follow’d always my own inclination.
- But to my tale:—A month scarce pass’d away,
- With dance and song we kept the nuptial day.330
- All I possess’d I gave to his command,
- My goods and chattels, money, house, and land;
- But oft repented, and repent it still;
- He prov’d a rebel to my sov’reign will;
- Nay, once, by Heav’n! he struck me on the face:
- Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case.
- Stubborn as any lioness was I,
- And knew full well to raise my voice on high;
- As true a rambler as I was before,
- And would be so in spite of all he swore.340
- He against this right sagely would advise,
- And old examples set before my eyes;
- Tell how the Roman matrons led their life,
- Of Gracehus’ mother, and Duilius’ wife;
- And close the sermon, as beseem’d his wit,
- With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ.
- Oft would he say, ‘Who builds his house on sands,
- Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands,
- Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam,
- Deserves a fool’s-cap and long ears at home.’350
- All this avail’d not, for whoe’er he be
- That tells my faults, I hate him mortally!
- And so do numbers more, I’ll boldly say,
- Men, women, clergy, regular and lay.
- My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred)
- A certain treatise oft at evening read,
- Where divers authors (whom the devil confound
- For all their lies) were in one volume bound:
- Valerius whole, and of St. Jerome part;
- Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid’s Art,360
- Solomon’s Proverbs, Eloisa’s loves,
- And many more than sure the church approves.
- More legends were there here of wicked wives
- Than good in all the Bible and saints’ lives.
- Who drew the lion vanquish’d? ’T was a man:
- But could we women write as scholars can,
- Men should stand mark’d with far more wickedness
- Than all the sons of Adam could redress.
- Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies,
- And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise.370
- Those play the scholars who can’t play the men,
- And use that weapon which they have, their pen;
- When old, and past the relish of delight,
- Then down they sit, and in their dotage write
- That not one woman keeps her marriagevow.
- (This by the way, but to my purpose now.)
- It chanc’d my husband, on a winter’s night,
- Read in this book aloud with strange delight,
- How the first female (as the Scriptures show)
- Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe;380
- How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire
- Wrapp’d in th’ envenom’d shirt, and set on fire;
- How curs’d Eriphyle her lord betray’d,
- And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid;
- But what most pleas’d him was the Cretan dame
- And husband-bull—Oh, monstrous! fie, for shame!
- He had by heart the whole detail of woe
- Xantippe made her good man undergo;
- How oft she scolded in a day he knew,389
- How many pisspots on the sage she threw—
- Who took it patiently, and wiped his head:
- ‘Rain follows thunder,’ that was all he said.
- He read how Arius to his friend complain’d
- A fatal tree was growing in his land,
- On which three wives successively had twin’d
- A sliding noose, and waver’d in the wind.
- ‘Where grows this plant,’ replied the friend, ‘oh where?
- For better fruit did never orchard bear:
- Give me some slip of this most blissful tree,
- And in my garden planted it shall be.’400
- Then how two wives their lords’ destruction prove,
- Thro’ hatred one, and one thro’ too much love;
- That for her husband mix’d a pois’nous draught,
- And this for lust an am’rous philtre bought;
- The nimble juice soon seiz’d his giddy head,
- Frantic at night, and in the morning dead.
- How some with swords their sleeping lords have slain,
- And some have hammer’d nails into their brain,
- And some have drench’d them with a deadly potion:
- All this he read, and read with great devotion.410
- Long time I heard, and swell’d, and blush’d, and frown’d;
- But when no end of these vile tales I found,
- When still he read, and laugh’d, and read again,
- And half the night was thus consumed in vain,
- Provoked to vengeance, three large leaves I tore,
- And with one buffet fell’d him on the floor.
- With that my husband in a fury rose,
- And down he settled me with hearty blows.
- I groan’d, and lay extended on my side;
- ‘Oh! thou hast slain me for my wealth,’ I cried!420
- ‘Yet I forgive thee—take my last embrace’—
- He wept, kind soul! and stoop’d to kiss my face:
- I took him such a box as turn’d him blue,
- Then sigh’d and cried, ‘Adieu, my dear, adieu!’
- But after many a hearty struggle past,
- I condescended to be pleas’d at last.
- Soon as he said, ‘My mistress and my wife!
- Do what you list the term of all your life;’
- I took to heart the merits of the cause,
- And stood content to rule by wholesome laws;430
- Receiv’d the reins of absolute command, }
- With all the government of house and land, }
- And empire o’er his tongue and o’er his hand. }
- As for the volume that revil’d the dames,
- ’T was torn to fragments, and condemn’d to flames.
- Now Heav’n on all my husbands gone bestow
- Pleasures above for tortures felt below:
- That rest they wish’d for grant them in the grave,
- And bless those souls my conduct help’d to save!

THE TEMPLE OF FAME[ ]

Pope asserted that this poem was composed in 1711. Its date of publication is indicated by a letter from Pope to Martha Blount, written in 1714, in which he speaks of it as ‘just out.’ Eventually it was classed by the poet as a ‘juvenile poem’ among the earlier translations and imitations. This Advertisement was prefixed:—

The hint of the following piece was taken from Chaucer’s House of Fame. The design is in a manner entirely altered; the descriptions and most of the particular thoughts my own: yet I could not suffer it to be printed without this acknowledgment. The reader who would compare this with Chaucer, may begin with his third Book of Fame, there being nothing in the two first books that answers to their title.

- In that soft season , when descending showers
- Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers,
- When opening buds salute the welcome day,
- And earth relenting feels the genial ray;
- As balmy sleep had charm’d my cares to rest,
- And love itself was banish’d from my breast,
- (What time the morn mysterious visions brings,
- While purer slumbers spread their golden wings)
- A train of phantoms in wild order rose,9
- And join’d, this intellectual scene compose.
- I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies,
- The whole Creation open to my eyes;
- In air self-balanced hung the globe below,
- Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;
- Here naked rocks and empty wastes were seen,
- There towery cities, and the forests green;
- Here sailing ships delight the wand’ring eyes,
- There trees and intermingled temples rise:
- Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,
- The transient landscape now in clouds decays.20
- O’er the wide prospect as I gazed around,
- Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,
- Like broken thunders that at distance roar,
- Or billows murm’ring on the hollow shore:
- Then gazing up, a glorious Pile beheld,
- Whose tow’ring summit ambient clouds conceal’d;
- High on a rock of ice the structure lay,
- Steep its ascent, and slipp’ry was the way;
- The wondrous rock like Parian marble shone,29
- And seem’d, to distant sight, of solid stone.
- Inscriptions here of various names I view’d,
- The greater part by hostile time subdued;
- Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,
- And poets once had promis’d they should last.
- Some fresh engraved appear’d of wits renown’d;
- I look’d again, nor could their trace be found.
- Critics I saw, that other names deface,
- And fix their own with labour, in their place:
- Their own, like others, soon their place resign’d,
- Or disappear’d and left the first behind.40
- Nor was the work impair’d by storms alone,
- But felt th’ approaches of too warm a sun;
- For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays
- Not more by envy than excess of praise.
- Yet part no injuries of Heav’n could feel,
- Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:
- The rock’s high summit, in the temple’s shade,
- Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.
- Their names inscribed unnumber’d ages past
- From Time’s first birth, with Time itself shall last:50
- These ever new, nor subject to decays,
- Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.
- So Zembla’s rocks (the beauteous work of frost)
- Rise white in air, and glitter o’er the coast;
- Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away,
- And on th’ impassive ice the lightnings play;
- Eternal snows the growing mass supply,
- Till the bright mountains prop th’ incumbent sky:
- As Atlas fix’d, each hoary pile appears,59
- The gather’d winter of a thousand years.
- On this foundation Fame’s high temple stands;
- Stupendous pile! not rear’d by mortal hands.
- Whate’er proud Rome or artful Greece beheld,
- Or elder Babylon, its frame excell’d.
- Four faces had the dome , and ev’ry face
- Of various structure, but of equal grace:
- Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high,
- Salute the diff’rent quarters of the sky.
- Here fabled Chiefs in darker ages born,
- Or Worthies old whom Arms or Arts adorn,70
- Who cities raised or tamed a monstrous race,
- The walls in venerable order grace:
- Heroes in animated marble frown,
- And Legislators seem to think in stone.
- Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece appear’d,
- On Doric pillars of white marble rear’d,
- Crown’d with an architrave of antique mould,
- And sculpture rising on the roughen’d gold.
- In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld,
- And Perseus dreadful with Minerva’s shield:80
- There great Alcides , stooping with his toil,
- Rests on his club, and holds th’ Hesperian spoil:
- Here Orpheus sings; trees moving to the sound
- Start from their roots, and form a shade around:
- Amphion there the loud creating lyre
- Strikes, and beholds a sudden Thebes aspire;
- Cithæron’s echoes answer to his call,
- And half the mountain rolls into a wall:
- There might you see the length’ning spires ascend,
- The domes swell up, and widening arches bend,90
- The growing towers, like exhalations, rise,
- And the huge columns heave into the skies.
- The eastern front was glorious to behold,
- With diamond flaming, and barbaric gold.
- There Ninus shone, who spread th’ Assyrian fame,
- And the great founder of the Persian name ;
- There in long robes the royal Magi stand,
- Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand;
- The sage Chaldeans robed in white appear’d,
- And Brahmans, deep in desert woods revered.100
- These stopp’d the moon, and call’ th’ unbodied shades
- To midnight banquets in the glimm’ring glades;
- Made visionary fabrics round them rise,
- And airy spectres skim before their eyes;
- Of talismans and sigils knew the power,
- And careful watch’d the planetary hour.
- Superior, and alone, Confucius stood,
- Who taught that useful science,—to be good.
- But on the south, a long majestic race109
- Of Egypt’s priests the gilded niches grace,
- Who measured earth, described the starry spheres,
- And traced the long records of Lunar Years.
- High on his car Sesostris struck my view,
- Whom sceptred slaves in golden harness drew:
- His hands a bow and pointed jav’lin hold;
- His giant limbs are arm’d in scales of gold.
- Between the statues obelisks were placed,
- And the learn’d walls with hieroglyphics graced.
- Of Gothic structure was the northern side,
- O’erwrought with ornaments of barb’rous pride.120
- There huge Colosses rose, with trophies crown’d,
- And Runic characters were graved around;
- There sat Zamolxis with erected eyes,
- And Odin here in mimic trances dies.
- There on rude iron columns, smear’d with blood,
- The horrid forms of Scythian Heroes stood,
- Druids and Bards (their once loud harps unstrung)
- And youths that died to be by poets sung.
- These and a thousand more of doubtful fame,
- To whom old fables gave a lasting name,130
- In ranks adorn’d the temple’s outward face;
- The wall in lustre and effect like glass,
- Which o’er each object casting various dyes,
- Enlarges some, and others multiplies;
- Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall,
- For thus romantic Fame increases all.
- 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 laurel foliage, and with eagles crown’d.140
- Of bright transparent beryl were the walls,
- The friezes gold, and gold the capitals;
- As Heav’n 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 revers’d, and both his pinions bound.
- Within stood Heroes, who thro’ loud alarms
- In bloody fields pursued renown in arms.
- High on a throne, with trophies charged, I view’d151
- The youth that all things but himself subdued;
- His feet on sceptres and tiaras trod,
- And his horn’d head belied the Libyan God,
- There Cæsar, graced with both Minervas, shone;
- Cæsar, the world’s great master, and his own;
- Unmov’d, superior still in ev’ry 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:160
- 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 join’d, }
- His own strict judge, and patron of mankind. }
- Much-suff’ring heroes next their honours claim.
- Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame,
- Fair Virtue’s silent train: supreme of these170
- Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
- He whom ungrateful Athens could expel,
- At all times just, but when he sign’d the shell:
- Here his abode the martyr’d Phocion claims,
- With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:
- Unconquer’d Cato shows the wound he tore,
- And Brutus his ill genius meets no more.
- But in the centre of the hallow’d choir
- Six pompous columns o’er the rest aspire:
- Around the shrine itself of Fame they stand,180
- 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;
- Tho’ blind, a boldness in his looks appears;
- In years he seem’d, but not impair’d by years.
- The wars of Troy were round the pillar seen;
- Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;189
- Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus’ fall,
- Here, dragg’d in triumph round the Trojan wall.
- Motion and life did ev’ry part inspire,
- Bold was the work, and prov’d the master’s fire:
- A strong expression most he seem’d t’ affect,
- And here and there disclosed a brave neglect.
- A golden column next in rank appear’d,
- On which a shrine of purest gold was rear’d;
- Finish’d the whole, and labour’d ev’ry part,
- With patient touches of unwearied art.199
- The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate,
- Composed his posture, and his look sedate;
- On Homer still he fix’d a rev’rend eye,
- Great without pride, in modest majesty.
- In living sculpture on the sides were spread
- The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead;
- Eliza stretch’d upon the funeral pyre;
- Æneas 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,210
- With heads advanced, and pinions stretch’d for flight:
- Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar rode,
- And seem’d to labour with th’ 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 the chariots as they run;
- The fiery steeds seem starting from the stone;
- The champions in distorted postures threat;220
- And all appear’d irregularly great.
- Here happy Horace tuned th’ Ausonian lyre
- To sweeter sounds, and temper’d Pindar’s fire:
- Pleas’d with Alcæus’ manly rage t’ infuse
- The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse.
- The polish’d pillar diff’rent 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 spread230
- Myrtles and bays, hung hov’ring o’er his head.
- Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling light,
- Sate fix’d in thought the mighty Stagyrite;
- His sacred head a radiant Zodiac crown’d,
- And various animals his sides surround:
- His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view
- Superior worlds, and look all Nature thro’.
- With equal rays immortal Tully shone;
- The Roman rostra deck’d the consul’s throne;
- Gath’ring his flowing robe, he seem’d to stand240
- In act to speak, and graceful stretch’d 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 stretch’d my aching sight,
- So large it spread, and swell’d to such a height.
- Full in the midst proud Fame’s imperial seat
- With jewels blazed, magnificently great;
- The vivid em’ralds there revive the eye,250
- The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye,
- Bright azure rays from lively sapphires stream,
- And lucid amber casts a golden gleam.
- With various-colour’d light the pavement shone,
- And all on fire appear’d 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 seem’d her stature of a cubit’s height;259
- But swell’d to larger size, the more I gazed,
- Till to the roof her tow’ring front she rais’d.
- With her, the temple ev’ry moment grew,
- And ampler vistas open’d 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, and thousand list’ning ears.269
- Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine
- (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine;
- With eyes on Fame for ever fix’d, they sing;
- For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string;
- With Time’s first birth began the heav’nly lays,
- And last, eternal, thro’ the length of days.
- Around these wonders as I cast a look,
- The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,
- And all the nations summon’d at the call,
- From diff’rent quarters fill the crowded hall.
- Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard;280
- In various garbs promiscuous throngs appear’d:
- Thick as the bees, that with the spring renew
- Their flowery toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
- When the wing’d 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,288
- 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 crown’d;
- 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 prayer:
- ‘Long have we sought t’ instruct and please mankind,300
- With studies pale, with midnight-vigils blind;
- But thank’d 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,310
- The notes at first were rather sweet than loud;
- By just degrees they every moment rise,
- Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies.
- At every 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:319
- ‘Since living virtue is with envy curs’d,
- 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 fuller notes th’ applauding world amaze,
- And the loud clarion labour in your praise.’
- This band dismiss’d, behold another crowd
- Preferr’d the same request, and lowly bow’d;
- The constant tenor of whose well-spent days330
- No less deserv’d a just return of praise.
- But straight the direful trump of Slander sounds;
- Thro’ the big dome the doubling thunder bounds;
- Loud as the burst of cannon rends the skies,
- The dire report thro’ every region flies,
- In every ear incessant rumours rung,
- And gath’ring scandals grew on every tongue.
- From the black trumpet’s rusty concave broke
- Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling smoke:
- The pois’nous vapour blots the purple skies,340
- 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 cried) amidst alarms and strife,
- We sail’d in tempests down the stream of life;
- For thee whole nations fill’d with flames and blood,
- And swam to Empire thro’ the purple flood:
- Those ills we dared, thy inspiration own;
- What virtue seem’d, was done for thee alone.’
- ‘Ambitious fools!’ (the Queen replied, and frown’d)350
- ‘Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown’d;
- There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone,
- Your statues moulder’d, and your names unknown!’
- A sudden cloud straight snatch’d them from my sight,
- And each majestic phantom sunk 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 safe in deserts from th’ applause of men,360
- Would die unheard of, as we liv’d unseen;
- ’T is all we beg thee, to conceal from sight
- Those acts of goodness which themselves requite.
- O let us still the secret joy partake,
- To follow Virtue ev’n for Virtue’s sake.’
- ‘And live there men who slight immortal fame?
- Who then with incense shall adore our name?
- But, mortals! know, ’t is still our greatest pride
- To blaze those virtues which the good would hide.
- Rise! Muses, rise! add all your tuneful breath;370
- These must not sleep in darkness and in death.’
- She said: in air the trembling music floats,
- And on the winds triumphant swell the notes;
- So soft, tho’ high, so loud, and yet so clear,
- Ev’n list’ning angels lean’d from Heav’n to hear:
- To farthest shores th’ ambrosial spirit flies,
- Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies.
- Next these a youthful train their vows express’d,
- With feathers crown’d, with gay embroid’ry dress’d:
- ‘Hither’ they cried ‘direct your eyes, and see380
- The men of pleasure, dress, and gallantry.
- Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and plays,
- Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days;
- Courts we frequent, where ’t is our pleasing care
- To pay due visits, and address the Fair;
- In fact, ’t is true, no nymph we could persuade,
- But still in fancy vanquish’d ev’ry maid;
- Of unknown Duchesses lewd tales we tell,
- Yet, would the world believe us, all were well;389
- The joy let others have, and we the name,
- And what we want in pleasure, grant in fame.’
- The Queen assents: the trumpet rends the skies,
- And at each blast a lady’s honour dies.
- Pleas’d with the strange success, vast numbers prest
- Around the shrine, and made the same request:
- ‘What you’ she cried, ‘unlearn’d in arts to please,
- Slaves to yourselves, and ev’n fatigued with ease,
- Who lose a length of undeserving days,
- Would you usurp the lover’s dear-bought praise?
- To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall,
- The people’s fable, and the scorn of all.’401
- Straight the black clarion sends a horrid sound,
- Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly round;
- Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling loud,
- And scornful hisses run thro’ all the crowd.
- Last, those who boast of mighty mischiefs done,
- Enslave their country, or usurp a throne;
- Or who their glory’s dire foundation laid
- On sov’reigns ruin’d, or on friends betray’d;
- Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could fix,410
- Of crooked counsels 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 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 Power unknown
- Straight changed the scene, and snatch’d me from the throne.
- Before my view appear’d a structure fair,420
- Its site uncertain, if in earth or air;
- With rapid motion turn’d the mansion round;
- With ceaseless noise the ringing walls resound:
- Not less in number were the spacious doors
- Than leaves on trees, or sands upon the shores;
- Which still unfolded stand, by night, by day,
- Previous to winds, and open every way.
- As flames by nature to the skies ascend,
- As weighty bodies to the centre tend,
- As to the sea returning rivers roll,430
- And the touch’d needle trembles to the pole,
- Hither, as to their proper place, arise
- All various sounds from earth, and seas, and skies,
- Or spoke aloud, or whisper’d in the ear;
- Nor ever silence, rest, or peace is here.
- As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes
- The sinking stone at first a circle makes;
- The trembling surface by the motion stirr’d,
- Spreads in a second circle, then a third;
- Wide, and more wide, the floating rings advance,440
- Fill all the wat’ry plain, and to the margin dance:
- Thus every voice and sound, when first they break,
- On neighb’ring air a soft impression make;
- Another ambient circle then they move;
- That in its turn, impels the next above;
- Thro’ undulating air the sounds are sent,
- And spread o’er all the fluid element.
- There various news I heard of love and strife,
- Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, and life,449
- Of loss and gain, of famine, and of store,
- Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore,
- Of prodigies, and portents seen in air,
- Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing hair,
- Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,
- The fall of fav’rites, projects of the great,
- Of old mismanagements, taxations new;
- All neither wholly false, nor wholly true.
- Above, below, without, within, around,
- Confused, unnumber’d multitudes are found,
- Who pass, repass, advance, and glide away,460
- Hosts rais’d by fear, and phantoms of a day:
- Astrologers, that future fates foreshew,
- Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few;
- And priests, and party zealots, numerous bands,
- With home-born lies or tales from foreign lands;
- Each talk’d aloud, or in some secret place,
- And wild impatience stared in ev’ry face.
- The flying rumours gather’d as they roll’d,
- Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
- And all who told it added something new, }
- And all who heard it made enlargements too;471 }
- In ev’ry ear it spread, on ev’ry tongue it grew. }
- Thus flying east and west, and north and south,
- News travel’d with increase from mouth to mouth.
- So from a spark that, kindled first by chance,
- With gath’ring force the quick’ning flames advance;
- Till to the clouds their curling heads aspire,
- And towers and temples sink in floods of fire.
- When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,
- Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue,480
- Thro’ thousand vents, impatient, forth they flow,
- And rush in millions on the world below.
- Fame sits aloft, and points them out their course,
- Their date determines, and prescribes their force;
- Some to remain, and some to perish soon,
- Or wane and wax alternate like the moon.
- Around, a thousand winged wonders fly,
- Borne by the trumpet’s blast, and scatter’d thro’ the sky.
- There, at one passage, oft you might survey
- A lie and truth contending for the way;490
- And long ’t was doubtful, both so closely pent,
- Which first should issue thro’ the narrow vent:
- At last agreed, together out they fly,
- Inseparable now the truth and lie;
- The strict companions are for ever join’d,
- And this or that unmix’d, no mortal e’er shall find,
- While thus I stood, intent to see and hear,
- One came, methought, and whisper’d in my ear:
- ‘What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
- Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?’500
- ‘’T is true,’ said I, ‘not void of hopes I came,
- For who so fond as youthful bards of Fame?
- But few, alas! the casual blessing boast,
- So hard to gain, so easy to be lost.
- How vain that second life in others’ breath,
- Th’ estate which wits inherit after death!
- Ease, health, and life for this they must resign,
- (Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!)
- The great man’s curse, without the gains, endure,
- Be envied, wretched; and be flatter’d, poor;
- All luckless wits their enemies profest,511
- And all successful, jealous friends at best.
- Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
- She comes unlook’d for, if she comes at all.
- But if the purchase costs so dear a price
- As soothing Folly, or exalting Vice;
- Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway,
- And follow still where Fortune leads the way;
- Or if no basis bear my rising name,
- But the fall’n ruins of another’s fame;520
- Then teach me, Heav’n! to scorn the guilty bays;
- Drive from my breast that wretched lust of praise;
- Unblemish’d let me live or die unknown;
- Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me none!’

[Page 52.]The Temple of Fame.

[Line 1.]In that soft season, etc. This poem is introduced in the manner of the Provençal poets, whose works were for the most part visions, or pieces of imagination, and constantly descriptive. From these, Petrarch and Chaucer frequently borrowed the idea of their poems. See the Trionfi of the former, and Dream, Flower and the Leaf, etc., of the latter. The author of this, therefore, chose the same sort of exordium. (Pope.)

[Line 66.]Four faces had the dome, etc. The Temple is described to be square, the four fronts with open gates facing the different quarters of the world, as an intimation that all nations of the earth may alike be received into it. The western front is of Grecian architecture; the Doric order was peculiarly sacred to Heroes and Worthies. Those whose statues are after mentioned were the first names of old Greece in arms and arts. (Pope.)

[Line 81.]There great Alcides, etc. This figure of Hercules is drawn with an eye to the position of the famous statue of Farnese. (Pope.)

[Line 96.]And the great founder of the Persian name. Cyrus was the beginning of the Persian, as Minas was of the Assyrian monarchy. The Magi and Chaldæans (the chief of whom was Zoroaster) employed their studies upon magic and astrology, which was in a manner almost the learning of the ancient Asian people. We have scarce any account of a moral philosopher except Confucius, the great law-giver of the Chinese, who lived about two thousand years ago. (Pope.)

[Line 152.]The youth that all things, etc. Alexander the Great. The tiara was the crown peculiar to the Asian princes. His desire to be thought the son of Jupiter Ammon caused him to wear the horns of that God, and to represent the same upon his coins, which was continued by several of his successors. (Pope.)

[Line 162.]Timoleon, glorious in his brother’s blood. Timoleon had saved the life of his brother Timophanes in the battle between the Argives and the Corinthians; but afterwards killed him when he affected the tyranny, preferring his duty to his country to all obligations of blood. (Pope.)

[Line 172.]He whom ungrateful Athens, etc. Aristides, who for his great integrity was distinguished by the appellation of The Just. When his countrymen would have banished him by the ostracism, where it was the custom for every man to sign the name of the person he voted to exile in an oyster-shell, a peasant, who could not write, came to Aristides to do it for him, who readily signed his own name. (Pope.)

[Line 206.]Eliza. Elissa (Dido).

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