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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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THE PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS TO A LAMP
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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3

THE PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS TO A LAMP

WHICH HAD BEEN GIVEN HIM BY LAIS.

Dulcis conscia lectuli lucerna. Martial., lib. xiv. epig. 39.

Oh! love the Lamp” (my Mistress said),
“The faithful Lamp that, many a night,
“Beside thy Lais' lonely bed
“Has kept its little watch of light.

4

“Full often has it seen her weep,
“And fix her eye upon its flame,
“Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep,
“Repeating her beloved's name.
“Then love the Lamp—'twill often lead
“Thy step through learning's sacred way;
“And when those studious eyes shall read,
“At midnight, by its lonely ray,
“Of things sublime, of nature's birth,
“Of all that's bright in heaven or earth,
“Oh, think that she, by whom 'twas given,
“Adores thee more than earth or heaven!”

5

Yes—dearest Lamp, by every charm
On which thy midnight beam has hung ;
The head reclin'd, the graceful arm
Across the brow of ivory flung;
The heaving bosom, partly hid,
The sever'd lip's unconscious sighs,
The fringe that from the half-shut lid
Adown the cheek of roses lies:
By these, by all that bloom untold,
And long as all shall charm my heart,
I'll love my little Lamp of gold—
My Lamp and I shall never part.
And often, as she smiling said,
In fancy's hour, thy gentle rays

6

Shall guide my visionary tread
Through poesy's enchanting maze.
Thy flame shall light the page refin'd,
Where still we catch the Chian's breath,
Where still the bard, though cold in death,
Has left his soul unquench'd behind.
Or, o'er thy humbler legend shine,
Oh man of Ascra's dreary glades.
To whom the nightly warbling Nine
A wand of inspiration gave ,
Pluck'd from the greenest tree, that shades
The crystal of Castalia's wave.
Then, turning to a purer lore,
We'll cull the sages' deep-hid store,
From Science steal her golden clue.
And every mystic path pursue,
Where Nature, far from vulgar eyes,
Through labyrinths of wonder flies.

7

'Tis thus my heart shall learn to know
How fleeting is this world below,
Where all that meets the morning light,
Is chang'd before the fall of night!
I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire,
“Swift, swift the tide of being runs,
“And Time, who bids thy flame expire,
“Will also quench yon heaven of suns.”
Oh, then if earth's united power
Can never chain one feathery hour;
If every print we leave to-day
To-morrow's wave will sweep away;
Who pauses to inquire of heaven
Why were the fleeting treasures given,
The sunny days, the shady nights,
And all their brief but dear delights,

8

Which heaven has made for man to use,
And man should think it crime to lose?
Who that has cull'd a fresh-blown rose
Will ask it why it breathes and glows,
Unmindful of the blushing ray,
In which it shines its soul away;
Unmindful of the scented sigh,
With which it dies and loves to die.
Pleasure, thou only good on earth!
One precious moment giv'n to thee—
Oh! by my Lais' lip, 'tis worth
The sage's immortality.
Then far be all the wisdom hence,
That would our joys one hour delay!
Alas, the feast of soul and sense
Love calls us to in youth's bright day,
If not soon tasted, fleets away.

9

Ne'er wert thou formed, my Lamp, to shed
Thy splendour on a lifeless page;—
Whate'er my blushing Lais said
Of thoughtful lore and studies sage,
'Twas mockery all—her glance of joy
Told me thy dearest, best employ.
And, soon as night shall close the eye
Of heaven's young wanderer in the west;
When seers are gazing on the sky,
To find their future orbs of rest;

10

Then shall I take my trembling way,
Unseen but to those worlds above,
And, led by thy mysterious ray,
Steal to the night-bower of my love.
 

It does not appear to have been very difficult to become a philosopher amongst the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and just wit enough to produce an occasional apophthegm, seem to have been all the qualifications necessary for the purpose. The principles of moral science were so very imperfectly understood that the founder of a new sect, in forming his ethical code, might consult either fancy or temperament, and adapt it to his own passions and propensities; so that Mahomet, with a little more learning, might have flourished as a philosopher in those days, and would have required but the polish of the schools to become the rival of Aristippus in morality. In the science of nature, too, though some valuable truths were discovered by them, they seemed hardly to know they were truths, or at least were as well satisfied with errors; and Xenophanes, who asserted that the stars were igneous clouds, lighted up every night and extinguished again in the morning, was thought and styled a philosopher, as generally as he who anticipated Newton in developing the arrangement of the universe.

For this opinion of Xenophanes, see Plutarch. de Placit. Philosoph. lib. ii. cap. 13. It is impossible to read this treatise of Plutarch, without alternately admiring the genius, and smiling at the absurdities of the philosophers.

The ancients had their lucernæ cubiculariæ or bedchamber lamps, which, as the Emperor Galienus said, “nil cras meminere;” and, with the same commendation of secrecy, Praxagora addresses her lamp in Aristophanes, Εκκλης. We may judge how fanciful they were, in the use and embellishment of their lamps, from the famous symbolic Lucerna, which we find in the Romanum Museum Mich. Ang. Causei, p. 127.

Hesiod, who tells us in melancholy terms of his father's flight to the wretched village of Ascra. Εργ. και Ημερ. v. 251.

Εννυχιαι στειχον, περικαλλεα οσσαν ιεισαι. Theog. v. 10.

Και μοι σκηπτρον εδον, δαφνης επιθηλεα οζον Id. v. 30.

Π(ειν τα ολα ποταμον δικην, as expressed among the dogmas of Heraclitus the Ephesian, and with the same image by Seneca, in whom we find a beautiful diffusion of the thought. “Nemo est mane, qui fuit pridie. Corpora nostra rapiuntur fluminum more; quidquid vides currit cum tempore. Nihil ex his quæ videmus manet. Ego ipse, dum loquor mutari ipsa, mutatus sum,” &c.

Aristippus considered motion as the principle of happiness, in which idea he differed from the Epicureans, who looked to a state of repose as the only true voluptuousness, and avoided even the too lively agitations of pleasure, as a violent and ungraceful derangement of the senses.

Maupertuis has been still more explicit than this philosopher, in ranking the pleasures of sense above the sublimest pursuits of wisdom. Speaking of the infant man, in his production, he calls him, “une nouvelle créature, qui pourra comprendre les choses les plus sublimes, et ce qui est bien au-dessus, qui pourra gouter les mêmes plaisirs.” See his Vénus Physique. This appears to be one of the efforts at Fontenelle's gallantry of manner, for which the learned President is so well and justly ridiculed in the Akakia of Voltaire.

Maupertuis may be thought to have borrowed from the ancient Aristippus that indiscriminate theory of pleasures which he has set forth in his Essai de Philosophe Morale, and for which he was so very justly condemned. Aristippus, according to Laertius, held μη διαφερειν τε ηδονην ηδονης, which irrational sentiment has been adopted by Maupertuis: “Tant qu on ne considère que l'état présent, tous les plaisirs sont du même genre,” &c. &c.