uring their flight.
Some singular inventions occur. Every word spoken on earth, is carried up
by natural reverberation to the House of Fame; but, there arrived, puts on
the likeness of the wight, in his habit as he lives, that has uttered it.
The palace itself stands upon a rock of ice, inscribed with names. Those
on the southern face are nearly melted away by the heat of the sun; those
on the northern stand sharp and clear. Some of the minstrels--Orpheus of
old, and the later Breton Glaskirion, he hears playing yet. The great
Epopeists are less agreeably occupied. 'Omer,' and aiding him, 'Dares,'
'Titus,' 'Lolius,' 'Guido' the Colempnis, that is, of Colonna, and English
Galfrida, standing high upon a pillar of iron, 'are busie to bear up Troy'
upon their shoulders. Virgil, upon a pillar 'of tinned iron clere,'
supports 'the fame of pius AEneas.' Near, upon a pillar of iron, 'wrought
full sternly,' the 'grete poete, Dan Lucan' bears upon his shoulders the
'fame of Julius and Pompee.' An innumerable company kneel before the
goddess herself, beseeching her for renown. She deals out her favours
capriciously--to one company of well-deservers, utter silence and
oblivion--to another, like meritorious, loud slanders and infamy--to
another assembly, with similar claims, golden, immortal praises. A fourth
and a fifth company have done good for the pure sake of goodness, and
request of her to hide their deeds and their name. To the one set she
readily grants their asking. To the other not--but bids her trumpet
"Eolus" ring out their works so that all the world may hear, which happens
accordingly. Another throng have been sheer idlers on the earth, doers of
neither good nor ill. They desire to pass for worthy, wise, good, rich,
and in particular for having been favourably regarded by the brightest
eyes. The whole of this undeserved reputation is instantaneously granted
them. Another troop follow with like desert and with like request. Eolus
takes up as bidden his "black clarioun," and blazons their dishonour. A
troop of evil-doers ask for good fame. The goddess is not in the humour,
and takes no notice of them. The last comers of all are delighters in
wickedness for its own sake, and request their due ill fame. Amongst them
is "that ilke shrewe that brente the temple of Isidis in Athenes." This
is, no doubt, the gentleman who burned the Temple of Diana at Ephesus for
that laudable purpose. The goddess is complaisant, and grants them