XII.
“Ibant obscuri solâ sub nocte per umbras
Perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna.
Quale per incertam Lunam sub luce malignâ
Est iter in sylvis; ubi cœlum condidit umbrâ
Jupiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem.”
Æn. vi.
They seem to walk 'mid the surrounding mass
In light of goodness, virtue's benison,
Gazing upon all nature as a glass
Of things in Heaven; but unto us, alas!
In nightly groves obscure they wander on;
Good Socrates, sweet Plato, Xenophon,
And Plato's other sire, Pythagoras
,
With virtue-loving sage, Stagira's son.
In their imagin'd realms beyond the tomb
They see but shadows mingling with the gloom,
Which meteor lights may fitfully illume,
Serene yet all uncertain, fair but cold,
Nothing distinct, all vague and manifold;
Yet still they strove the better part to hold.
