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Poems, and phancies

written By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, And Excellent Princess The Lady Marchioness of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Impression, much Altered and Corrected

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The Temple of Fame.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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208

The Temple of Fame.

This Temple is Divided in two parts,
Some Open lye, others are Hid as Hearts;
Some Light as Day, others are Dark as Night,
By times Obscurity worn out of Sight:
The outward Rooms are Glorious to the Eye,
In which Fames Image placed is on High,
And all the VVindows are Triangulars Cut,
Where one Face into Millions is put;
Its Form is Square, and like a Cube doth show,
Which how to Doubl', is hard for Men to know;
Echoes therein do like as Balls rebound,
From every Corner making a great Sound;
The Walls are hung with Chapters all of Gold,
In Letters Great all Actions there are Told;
The Temple Door is of Prospective Glass,
Through which a small Beam of our Eye can pass,
And this makes Truth so Difficult to know,
As a New World in the Bright Moon to show;
The Steepl' and Pillars are of Goose-quils Built,
And Plaister'd over with white Paper Gilt:
The Painting is with Ink as Black as Jet,
In several Works and Figures like a Net;
The Steepl' is High, and yet not very Light,
But as an Evening is 'twixt Day and Night.
Five Tongues, like Bells, through all the World do Ring,
And to each several Ear much News do bring;
Philosophers, their Tongue sounds Grave and Deep,
Th'Historians Tongue no better Sound doth keep;
Th'Oratours Tongue doth make great Noise; the Sound
Of Criticks harsh, as full of Flaws, is found;

209

The Poets Tongue is a small Bell, which oft
Doth change, whose Motion's quick, smooth, ev'n and soft;
The Ropes, they Hang by, one cannot well see,
For they are long small Threads of Vain-glory:
And when they Ring they make a fine Sweet Chime,
Especially when Poets Tongues do Rhime;
The Belfrey-man's a Printer by his Skil,
Who, if he pleases, may Ring when he will.
When Priests to Mattens or to Vespers go,
To the High Altar they Bow very Low;
This Altar, where they Offer unto Fame,
Is made of Arms, Brains, Hearts without a blame,
On which lies Wisdome, Wit, Strength, Courage, Love,
As Sacrifices to Great Fame above:
Virtues, Arts, Sciences, as Priests here stand;
But Fortune Prioress doth all Command;
Incense of Noble Deeds to Fame she Sends,
Nothing is Offer'd, but what she Commends;
For Fortune brings more into Fames high Court,
Than all the Virtues with their great Resort.