 | Master and Scholar |  |
161
THE LAST WORDS OF SOCRATES.
“We owe a cock to Æsculapius.”
No scorn or doubt was thine, O martyred one,
Nor feigned compliance with accustomed rite
But faith, in that last hour, serenely bright,
Through smile half-sad, and jest half-earnest, shone.
Rich rays of glory crown the westering sun;
And thou, thy long day's journey all but o'er,
Casting one glance from that eternal shore,
Thy crown of light, thy better life had'st won.
No draught Nepenthè, quick and strong to soothe,
Vied with that hemlock in its power to save,
And dim eyes, opening on th' unveilèd Truth,
Saw the far land that lies beyond the grave;
Hushed into silence man's perpetual strife,
All healed by death the long disease of life.
June 1865.
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