Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V

John Stuart Mill · en
But swelled to larger size the more I gazed,
    Till to the roof her towering front she raised;
    With her the Temple every moment grew,
    And ampler vistas opened 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, a thousand listening ears.
    Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine
    (Her virgin handmaids) still attend the shrine:
    With eyes on Fame for ever fixed, they sing;
    For Fame they raise the voice, and tune the string:
    With Time's first birth began the heavenly lays,
    And last eternal through the length of days.
        Around these wonders, as I cast a look,
    The trumpet sounded, and the temple shook,
    And all the nations, summoned at the call,
    From diff'rent quarters, fill the crowded hall:
    Of various tongues the mingled sounds were heard;
    In various garbs promiscuous throngs appeared;
    Thick as the bees that with the spring renew
    Their flow'ry toils, and sip the fragrant dew,
    When the winged 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,
    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 crowned;
    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 pray'r:
    "Long have we sought t' instruct and please mankind,
    With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind;
    But thanked 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:
    The notes, at first, were rather sweet than loud.
    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 the sacred fane:
    "Since living virtue is with envy cursed,