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The Bibelot
VOLUME X
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From The Bibelot, A Reprint of Poetry and Prose for Book Lovers, chosen in part from scarce editions and sources not generally known, Volume X, Testimonial Edition, Edited and Originally Published by Thomas B. Mosher, Portland, Maine; Wm. Wise & Co.; New York; 1904; pp. 82-4.
VISIONS, to sear with flame his worn and haunted eyes,
Throng him: and fears unknown invest the black
night hours.
His royal reason fights with undefeated Powers.
Armies of mad desires, legions of wanton lies:
His ears are full of pain, because of their fierce cries:
Nor from his tended thoughts, for all their fruits and
flowers,
Comes solace: for Philosophy within her bowers
Falls faint, and sick to death. Therefore Lucretius dies.
Dead! And his deathless death hath him, so still and
stark!
No change upon the deep, no change upon the earth,
None in the wastes of nature, the starred wilderness.
Wandering flames and thunders of the shaken dark:
Among the mountain heights, winds wild with stormy
mirth:
These were before, and these will be: no more, no less.
LUCRETIUS! King of men, that are
No more, they think, than men:
Who, past the flaming walls afar,
Find nought within their ken:
The cruel draught, that wildered thee,
And drove thee upon sleep,
Was kinder than Philosophy,
Who would not let thee weep.
Thou knowest now, that life and death
Are wondrous intervals:
The fortunes of a fitful breath,
Within the flaming walls.
Withou them, an eternal plan,
Which life and death obey:
Divinity, that fashions man,
Its high, immortal way.
Or was he right, thy past compare,
Thy one true voice of Greece?
Then, whirled about the unconscious air,
Thou hast a vehement peace.
No calms of light, no purple lands,
No sanctuaries sublime:
Like storms of snow, like quaking sands,
Thine atoms drift through time.
MIGHTIEST-MINDED of the Roman race,
Lucretius!
In thy predestined, purgatory place,
Where thou and thine Iphigenia wait:
What think’st thou of the Vision and the Fate,
Wherewith the Christ makes all thine outcries vain?
Art learning Christ through sweet and bitter pain,
Lucretius?
Heaviest-hearted of the sons of men,
Lucretius!
Well couldst thou justify severe thoughts then,
Considering thy lamentable Rome:
But thou wilt come to an imperial home,
With walls of jasper, past the walls of fire:
To God’s proud City, and thine heart’s desire,
Lucretius!