 | The lion's cub |  |
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THE MORALS OF MARCUS AURELIUS.
Humanest of the Roman Race,
As thoughtful as thou wert benign,
If what thou wert be living yet,
It must be in a sacred Place.
Accept, then, with a gracious face,
Great Soul, in these poor words of mine,
A portion of the mighty debt
I owe thee, wisest of thy line:
Marcus Aurelius Antonine.
As thoughtful as thou wert benign,
If what thou wert be living yet,
It must be in a sacred Place.
Accept, then, with a gracious face,
Great Soul, in these poor words of mine,
A portion of the mighty debt
I owe thee, wisest of thy line:
Marcus Aurelius Antonine.
I.
There is one end, and only one,For all the sons of men;
All Life drifts that way, once begun,
As rivers to the ocean run.
Remember this, and when
Following the millions gone before,
Thy voyage, or long, or short, is made,
Be not disheartened, nor afraid—
For thou art come to shore.
If Life continue there to be,
And why not there as here?
Powers will be there protecting thee,
To whom good deeds are dear.
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Thou art no worse off than greater men
Than is the sage Hippocrates,
Who could not cure his own disease;
Than Pompeius, Caius Cæsar are,
Who wrapt the lands in clouds of war,
And added to their dark renown
By burning conquered cities down,
And in whose battles, won in vain,
The earth was cumbered with the slain
Of cavalry and infantry;
They like the meanest had to die.
Accept the end, then, since thou must,
And if thou nothing art but dust,
'Tis something to lay down the oar,
And feel thou shall not labor more.
II.
Who has a vehement desireFor fame when dead, considers not
That all who may remember him
Will die, like him, and be forgot;
And also they who follow them,
Till all remembrances of fame
Like torches are, that once were flame,
But now, gone out, in ashes lie.
Lighting no more the paths of men,
Who foolishly admire, and die.
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And say that fame immortal be,
When thou art, as thou will be—dust,
Pray, how will that advantage thee?
III.
Observe the little one-day fly
That spreads its summer wings:
So transient is the life of earth,
So worthless human things.
That spreads its summer wings:
So transient is the life of earth,
So worthless human things.
What yesterday was seed of man
To-day is man in turn,
To-morrow will a mummy be,
Or ashes, in an urn.
To-day is man in turn,
To-morrow will a mummy be,
Or ashes, in an urn.
Pass through this little space of time
The gods have kindly lent,
And, living naturally, end
Thy journey in content;
The gods have kindly lent,
And, living naturally, end
Thy journey in content;
Just as an olive when it falls,
Dead ripe with sun and dew,
Thanking the power that brought it forth,
And the tree whereon it grew.
Dead ripe with sun and dew,
Thanking the power that brought it forth,
And the tree whereon it grew.
IV.
The Universe is ebb and flow;All things are hurrying to and fro,
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Nothing doth permanent remain,
For even of that which now comes on
A portion is already gone.
In this ever-flowing stream
Of things which are, and things which seem,
Where there is no abiding,
No barque at anchor riding,
What is there that goes fleeting by,
Lust of the flesh, or pride of the eye,
That a man should set his heart upon?
It is just as if he should fall in love
With one of the sparrows above,
Which while he watches its flight,
Already has passed out of sight.
V.
Let all the good thou dost to man
A gift be, not a debt;
And he will more remember thee
The more thou dost forget.
A gift be, not a debt;
And he will more remember thee
The more thou dost forget.
Do it as one who knows it not,
But rather like a vine,
That year by year brings forth its grapes,
And cares not for the wine.
But rather like a vine,
That year by year brings forth its grapes,
And cares not for the wine.
A horse, when he has run his race,
A dog, when tracked the game,
A bee, when it has honey made—
Do not their deeds proclaim.
A dog, when tracked the game,
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Do not their deeds proclaim.
Be silent, then, and, like the vine,
Bring forth what is in thee;
It is thy duty to be good,
And man's to honor thee.
Bring forth what is in thee;
It is thy duty to be good,
And man's to honor thee.
VI.
If the gods have determined life for me,They have determined well; for, without forethought,
It is not easy to imagine gods.
As to their harming me—why should they harm me?
Pray what advantage would that be to them,
Or to the whole, whereof I am a part,
Which is the object of their providence?
If they have not determined life for me,
They surely have determined for the whole,
And what comes to me as a part of that,
I should accept, with pleasure and content.
But if they have determined about nothing—
Which I, for one, hold wicked to believe;
Or, if we do believe it, let us not
Make sacrifice, or pray, or swear by them,
Or do aught reverential that we do,
As if the gods were here, and lived with us:
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I can and will determine for myself;
At least, I will search into what is good;
And what is good for one is good for all.
My mind is rational, companionable,
My city and my country (ruling both)
So far as I am Antonine, is Rome;
So far as I am man, is the whole world.
| The lion's cub | |