Classic Poem

“IF here I err!” IF this be so!
IF, when we sleep there come no night!—
But was it not your boast to know,—
To see,—where others have no light?
What profit that a Tully plead the cause,
If at the end comes this doubt-haunted clause?

You say a Cincinnatus' toil,
A Scipio's genius, Cato's worth,
Cheat dark oblivion of her spoil
And find unending fame on earth:
But will the jealous gods bestow new praise
And wreathe once more a mortal's rival bays?

And they of nameless plows and swords,—
The souls that travailed all in vain:
No Ciceronian page records
Their struggle. May they strive again?
Will they find favor in immortal eyes
Whom man adjudged unworthy of the prize?

And this, your dream, that Love eschew
The dread eclipse that dims Renown:
Will death yield Tullia to you,
And yet withhold a Caesar's crown?
Will the grim Three relent in after years,
Who now but mock your unavailing tears?

'Tis but your dream. And yet … and yet …
What else? … It pleases passing well,
Could but a certain proof be met!—
Stay; I have heard a poet tell
Of one (so ran the tale) some god had banned
And driven afar to seek an unknown land;

And ever when sure stars were gone
He loosed a dove, that sought the shore;
Though chart or pilot there was none,
He followed where it flew before;
Undoubting o'er the trackless main he passed
And in fair lands found anchorage at last.

To some uncharted port we go:
Whither and why? Your wisdom fails,
Your reasons fade, O Cicero!
For you, for us, what then avails?
When systems halt, and keen-eyed logic tires,
We'll trim our sails by our own hearts' desires.