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(Den nächsten Anlaß zu seinem Temple of Fame nahm Pope von einem åhnlichen allegorischen Gedichte Chaucer's, The House of Fame, vielleicht auch von einer sehr schön geschriebenen ähnlichen Allegorie Addison's im Spectator. Auch kann man damit die Beschreibung dieses Tempels beim Ovid, Metamorph. B. XII, p. 40. ff. vergleichen, die schon Chaucer vor Augen gchabt hatte. Pope's Gedicht, wor: aus hier nur eine Stelle zur Probe geliefert werden kann, hat viele dichterische Schönheiten. Eine scharfsinnige und geschmackvolle Kritik darüber giebt Hr. Warton in seinem Versuch über Pope's Genie, Abschn. VII.)

THE TEMPLE, OF FAME.
v. 137—243·

The temple fhakes, the founding 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;
Of bright-transparent beryl were the walls,
The freezes gold, and gold the capitals:
As heav'n with ftars, the roof with jewels glows,
And ever-living lamps depend in rows.
Full in the paffage of each fpacious gate,
The fage hiftorians in white garments wait;
Grav'd o'er their feats the form of Time was found,
His fithe revers'd, and both his pinions bound.
Within ftood heroes, who through loud alarms
In bloody fields purfu'd renown in arms.
High on a throne, with trophies charg'd, I view'd
The Youth *) that all things but himself fubdu'd;
His feet on fceptres and tiara's trod,

And his horn'd head bely'd the Libyan god.
There Caefar, grac'd with both Minerva's fhone,

Caefar,

*) Alexander the Great,

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Caefar, the world's great mafter, and his own;
Unmov'd, fuperior ftill in in ev'ry ftate,
And scarce detefted in his country's fate.
But chief were thofe, who not for empire fought,
But with their toils their people's fafety bought:
High o'er the reft Epaminondas ftood;
Timoleon, glorious in his brother's blood;
Bold Scipio, faviour of the Roman ftate,
Great in his triumphs, in retirement great,
And wife Aurelius, in whofe well-taught mind
With boundless pow'r unbounded virtue join'd,
His own ftrict judge, and patron of mankind.

}

Much-fuff'ring heroes next their honours claim,
Those of lefs noify and lefs guilty fame,
Fair Virtue's filent train: fupreme of these
Here ever shines the godlike Socrates:
He whom ungrateful Athens could expel.
At all times juft, but when he fign'd the fhell.
Here his abode the martyr'd Phocion claims,
With Agis, not the last of Spartan names:
Unconquer'd Cato fhews 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 reft afpire;
Around the fhrine itself of Fame they ftand,'
Hold the chief honours, and the fane command.
High on the first, the mighty Homer fhone;
Eternal adamant compos'd his throne;
Father of verse! in holy fillets dreft,
His filver beard wav'd gently o'er his breaft;
Though blind, a boldnefs in his looks appears;
In years he feem'd, but not impair'd by years.
The wars of Troy were round the pillar feen:
Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian Queen;
Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus' fall,
Were dragg'd in triumph round the Trojan.
wall:

Motion and life did ev'ry part infpire.
Bold was the work, and prov'd the inafter's fire;

A ftrong

Pope.

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A ftrong expreffion moft he feem'd t' affect.
And here and there disclof'd a brave neglect.

A golden column next in rank appear'd
On which a fhrine of pureft gold was rear'd
Finifh'd the whole, and labour'd ev'ry part
With patient touches of unweary'd art!
The Mantuan *) there in fober triumph fat.
Compof'd his pofture, and his look fedate;
On Homer ftill he fix'd a rev'rend eye,
Great without pride, in modest majefty.
In living fculpture on the fides were spread
The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead';
Eliza ftretch'd upon the fun'ral pyre,
Aeneas bending with his aged fire:
Troy flam'd in burning gold, and o'er the throne
ARMS AND THE MAN in golden ciphers fhone.

Four fwans fuftain a car of filver bright,
With heads advanc'd, and pinions ftretch'd for
flight.

Here, like fome furious prophet, Pindar rode,
And feem'd to labour with th infpiring god.
Across the harp a careless hand he flings,
And boldly finks into the founding strings.
The figur'd games of Greece the column grace,
Neptune and Jove furvey the rapid race.
The youths hang o'er their chariots as they run;
The fiery fteeds feem ftarting from the ftone;
The champions in diftorted postures threat;
And all appear'd irregularly great.

Here happy Horace tun'd th Aufonian lyre
To fweeter founds, and temper'd Pindar's fire
Pleas'd with Alcaeus' manly rage t' infufe
The fofter fpirit of the Sapphic mufe
The polifh'd pillar diff'rent fculptures grace:
A work out lafting monumental brafs,

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