Classic Poem

Those glorious Heights which Art of old did raise,
Liv'd uncommended in their own first Days .
While yet their Pinnacles did newly rise,
And they possest a new place in the Skies ;
The gazing Eyes of all they on them drew,
Admiring slowly what as slowly grew .
Their Fame they spread by being longer known,
And growing older, doubled their Renown :
This goodly Pile, born in the present Age ,
The Pens of after-Poets shall ingage,
Making their Verse immortal with its Praise ,
The Argument their Crown , and Theme their Bayes .

The silent Muses , conscious of their shame,
Urge their Amazement to excuse the blame.
They in astonishment and wonder lost,
No more the glory of their Numbers boast.
For what above the height of Verse does rise ,
And with best Poets Lines for lasting vies,
Requires no Muse to celebrate its Name
It self does best to all it self proclaim.
Its Eloquence their Silence does excuse,
Poet it self, and to it self a Muse .
A various Fate commuting each Extreme ,
Theaters, speak , while Poets Statues seem.

Greatness, as its due, this Respect may claim,
Due to the Fabrick 's and the Founder 's Fame;
That this Age should not hastily presume
To write , what Story is of all to come .
But when the Interval of Wonder 's past,
And the Amusement does no longer last;
This Theater that makes our Age admire,
Succeeding ones shall in it's Praise inspire.

But had the beauteous Frame been rear'd of old,
What Divine Tales the Wits had of it told!
Then had we heard, how some Amphion plaid,
And toucht those Strings which the Foundations laid.
While dancing Stones which did in Measures close,
To various Sounds , in various Figures rose;
Advancing still in comely Ranks , till all
Did into Order and Proportion fall.
Their Fairy Seats they had from this deriv'd,
And all their Scenes of Bliss like this contriv'd.
This then had been, though with another name,
The Palace of the Sun and House of Fame .
Ovid had built, and shining Pillars plac't,
Where Virgil 's Hand had rich plain Figures cast.
Th' Egyptian Kings that with Embalmings kept,
Long uncorrupted in their Marbles slept,
Their Royal Bodies in their Tombs inthron'd
With greater Pomp, than others have been Crown'd :
Though Living , they less nobly dwelt than Dead ;
Had here, their crowned Heads more richly laid.
This had been number'd with the blest Abodes
Of Oracles , and Dwellings of the Gods .
This with their Shrines and Monuments had vy'd:
Gods here had liv'd , and Princes here had dy'd .

This to the Work . But what should all erect
In honour of so wife an Architect ?
Who th' Image yet unborn did entertain,
And hous'd the Theater within his Brain .
There once it stood , so great, so strong, so fair,
And so adorn'd; as now it does appear.
Each Part its measure, use and place possest,
Without the least encroachment on the rest .
Distinct, as Platonists those Beauties feign'd,
Which in Idea 's their First Mind contein'd.
The Intellectual Theater appear'd,
As in the Fancy by a Builder rear'd.
And labour'd with less noise , but not less Art
Than that, to which it Pattern did impart.

What is the Founder 's due? whose brave Soul gives
As largely as the Artists hand contrives.
A Soul , like his Skill, vast , like his Work, great ;
Capacious though that be, of more Receit .
If that for hugest Crowds does place provide,
This more receives , and opens yet more wide .
So full of Room , and of so free Access ,
As neither Straitness knows, nor Emptiness .
Many such Theaters lodge in that Breast ,
Where this at largest, a small space possest.

Such as of old their Courage did employ
To root out Monsters , or their Foes destroy;
Who sav'd their Countrey from the Lions Den ,
Or from such Wolves , as Men were then to Men :
But Heroes were, and triumph'd in the Field.
They were their Gods , that taught them how to Build .
Who new Worlds discover'd, Fame less renowns,
Than who the old World vary'd with new Towns .
If Bacchus for one India found, had praise,
A Pair of Gods the Walls of Troy did raise.
Who Empires Bounds with Conquests did enlarge,
Or with Plantations farther off, orecharge,
Did add, to what already was too vast,
Who Built , adorn'd and beautify'd the Wast .
Thus Nature one World, Art another made,
Or else the Old World with a New inlaid,
Art with her People too, her World did grace,
With carv'd Colonies , and a Marble Race .
The num'rous Off-springs of a fertile Line
In long Successions did of Statues shine.
And to the younger Ages then were shown
Their dead Forefathers living shapes in Stone.

A Pillar or Coloss , preserv'd their Fame,
Their Images did half their Honours claim.
Nor did alas! Inscriptions always speak
The noble Roman , or the gallant Greek .
How many Stones , whose Titles now defac'd,
( Time carving new Marks to supply the rased .)
Attend this Fabrick , and at distance wait,
Expecting yet with it, a braver Fate?
Others but from their Monuments derive
That Name , which SHELDON to his Pile shall give.
Maintain'd by that , as by the Builders hand ,
It long as Time , firm as Himself shall stand;
And Structures yet unborn as much out-last,
As it in Height transcends all Buildings past .