I.
THE DEMON OF SOCRATES.
“The reason of this is what you have often heard me speak
of, the God or spirit,—a certain voice which has come to me
from a child.”
Apolog. Soc,
From age to age descends the honied store
Of that old man who dwelt Hymettus nigh
,
Himself the rock of sweet philosophy,
Though nothing he hath left of letter'd lore.
I ask not what that unseen monitor
Which check'd him when of evil aught was by,
Yet left him free to suffer and to die;—
Whether some phrase mysterious, and no more
Than Heaven's protection and its peace serene,
Or allegoric parable,—or nought
But conscience thus embodied in his thought,—
Or haply some good angel-friend unseen,
Or more:—but I would ask not, for to thee
It speaks, my soul, a dread reality.
