The Temple of Fame.

In that soft season, when descending showers Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers; When opening buds salute the welcome day, And earth relenting feels the genial ray; As balmy sleep had charm'd my cares to rest, And love itself was banish'd from my breast, (What time the morn mysterious visions brings, While purer slumbers spread their golden wings), A train of phantoms in wild order rose, And, join'd, this intellectual scene compose.…