Philosophies. Sir Ronald Ross
The reeling empire, lost in license, sink;
And chattering pigmies of a later age.
1881–2.
Science
Science
I would rejoice in iron arms with those
Who, nobly in the scorn of recompense,
Have dared to follow Truth alone, and thence
To teach the truth—nor fear’d the rage that rose.
No high-piled monuments are theirs who chose
Her great inglorious toil—no flaming death;
To them was sweet the poetry of prose,
But wisdom gave a fragrance to their breath.
Alas! we sleep and snore beyond the night,
Tho’ these great men the dreamless daylight show;
But they endure—the Sons of simple Light—
And, with no lying lanthorne’s antic glow,
Reveal the open way that we must go.
1881–2.
Power
Power
Caligula, pacing thro’ his pillar’d hall,
Ere yet the last dull glimmer of his mind
Had faded in the banquet, where reclined
He spent all day in drunken festival,
Made impious pretence that Jove with him,
Unseen, walk’d, talk’d and jested; for he spoke
To nothing by his side; or frown’d; or broke
In answering smiles; or shook a playful rim
Of raiment coyly. ‘Earth,’ he said, ‘is mine—
No vapour. Yet Caligula, brother Jove,
Will love thee if he find thee worthy love;
If not, his solid powers shall war with thine
And break them, God of Cloud.’ The courtiers round,
As in the presence of two deities, bent
In servile scorn: when, like a warning sent,
An utterance of earthquake shook the ground,
Awful, but which no human meaning bore.
With glaring eyeballs narrowing in dismay,
The huddled creature fallen foaming lay,
Glass’d in the liquid marbles of the floor.
1881–2.
Dogma
Dogma
To a poor martyr perisht in the flame
Lo suddenly the cool and calm of Heaven,
And One who gently touch’d and tended, came.
‘For thee, O Lord,’ he cried, ‘my life was given.’
When thus the Pitiful One: ‘O suffering man,
I taught thee not to die, but how to live;
But ye have wrongly read the simple plan,
And turn to strife the Heav’nly gift I give.
I taught the faith of works, the prayer of deeds,
The sacrament of love. I gave, not awe,
But praise; no church but God’s; no form, no creeds;
No priest but conscience and no lord but law.
Behold, my brother, by my side in Heaven
Judas abhor’d by men and Nero next.
How then, if such as these may be forgiven,
Shall one be damn’d who stumbles at a text?’
1881–2.
Froth
Froth
This bubbling gossip here of fops and fools,
Who have no care beyond the coming chance,
Rough-rubs the angry soul to arrogance
And puts puff’d wisdom out of her own rules.
True, knowledge comes on all winds, without schools,
And every folly has her saw: perchance
Some costly gem from silliest spodomance
May be unash’d; and mind has many tools.
But still, love here rains not her heav’nly dew,
Nor friendship soothes the folly-fretted sense;
But pride and ignorance, the empty two,
Strut arm-in-arm to air their consequence,
And toil bleeds tears of gold for idle opulence.
1881–2.
Liberty
Liberty
When Cassius fell and Brutus died,
Resentful Liberty arose,
Where from aloft the mountain snows
She watch’d the battle’s breaking tide;
And as she rent her azure robe
Darkness descended o’er the globe.
‘Break never, Night,’ she cried, ‘nor bring
Before I come again the morn
With all her heav’nly light, for scorn
Of this base world so slumbering;
Where men for thrice five hundred years
Their sin shall mourn, and me, in tears.’
1882.
The Three Angels
The Three Angels
Heav’n vex’d in heaven heard the World
And all