Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A VISION OF SAINTS: ANTONINUS PIUS, by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A VISION OF SAINTS: ANTONINUS PIUS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: And as we left the haunted border-land
Last Line: "of a polluted world."
Subject(s): Antoninus, Saint (1389-1459); Saints


And as we left the haunted border-land
Of fantasy, for lives, which lived and died
In the long-vanished centuries, true indeed
Though broidered here and there with flowers of gold
By pious hands devouter than our own,
Yet mainly true; first of the endless line
I saw a calm and Princely Presence come,
Who, stately as the Imperial Purple, bore
His robe, a saint in mien, mild, innocent,
Perfect in manhood, with clear eye serene,
And lofty port; who from the sages took
What lessons earth could give, but trod no less
The toilsome path of Duty to the end;
And as he passed I knew the Kingly ghost
Of Antonine, who knew not Christ indeed
Yet not the less was His. I marked the calm
And thoughtful face of him who ruled himself,
And through himself the world, and 'mid the soil
And foulness of unfettered lusts kept pure
His virgin soul, and o'er the servile crowd,
Trembling, betrayed, beneath the armed heels
Of a long line of tyrants trodden in blood,
Wielding a blameless sceptre, stayed awhile
By a white life, and perfect, lived for Good
The hurrying doom and ruin of the world.

Whom when we passed, thus spake my heavenly guide:
"There are of Him, who call not on His name,
And this is of them, the best flower and fruit
Of all the Heathen world, the Sage who ruled
The race of men, for whom the fatal gift
Of power unfettered worked nor hurt nor harm,
But left his soul unchanged: for whom the gross
And sensual lusts which wrecked the hapless line
Of Caesars were as naught, the coward fears
Of tyranny unknown, the secret arts
Of the informer hateful; since he lived
The foremost citizen of Rome -- no more
Nor lower, happy, loving wife and child
And all his people as a father might
The offspring of his love. Then first indeed
Crowned, on a throne, Divine Philosophy
Swayed all the race of men, like that fair dream
Of the Athenian sage, and too great weal
Lulled them to sleep, till they forgot to prize
Their freedom lost for ever. All his soul
Was filled with love of peace, holding it more
To save a single citizen than slay
A thousand enemies. A thrifty mind
Grudging his people's toil, not less he planned
Great works and beautiful, which might enrich
The City of the world, and, loving peace,
Yet not the less the reverence for his name
Spread to earth's limits. On the distant bank
Of Phasis, to a king whom Caesar named,
The stubborn tribesmen bowed. The Parthian spared
Armenia at his nod. The Scythian hosts
On the Cimmerian shore confessed his might,
And on the wild Sarmatian plains his word
Was law, and many a barbarous chieftain came
To kneel his vassal, whom with soothing words
He would dismiss, deeming his load of rule
Sufficient without more. For that great gift
Of Rome to men, just laws and wise, his thought
Devised new gains, filled with the purest love
Of Heaven-sent equity; and that rare flower
Of tolerance which best of all adorns
The philosophic brow; which those who call
On a Diviner name learn last of all;
Which wise Aurelius knew not, nor the books
Of all the sages taught; in this pure heart
Sprang up self-sown, and bloomed in noble deeds,
From sceptic Greek and unbelieving Jew,
Shielding the faith of Christ, not carelessly,
With that contemptuous charity the fruit
Of cold and doubtful minds, but born of trust
In the old faith, and therefore generous.

Dost wonder that against so white a soul,
So pure, so innocent, so rich in love,
There burned the causeless enmity that fires
The traitor's base ambition? Two there were;
But one the Senate doomed, the other fell
By his own hand. But when they told the saint,
Seeking to unmask some deep conspiracy,
He would not. 'Sure,' he said, ''twere little gain
To learn that of the people of my love
So many hate me.' Ah, fair words and high
Of one who spotless filled the bloodstained throne
Round which for two long centuries had twined
Rank growths of vile mistrust and hate and blood!

Thus through his long and peaceful years the saint
Lived cheerful. All good things were his to hold,
And hardly clouded days, because his soul
Took willingly his lot. And yet he lost
His well-loved sons before their budding age
Had come to flower. And yet 'twas his to bear
The curse of a vile woman; but his faith,
Greater than her offence, forbade him still
To hold her false; too pure, too meek a soul
To mate with such, or haply half aware
And yet forgiving all, like Him who bade
The sinner sin no more. Still on his life
The Sun of Righteousness shone clear and lit
His way with gleams of Heaven, and all his days
Were gilded, year by year, until the end,
As his who treads the duteous paths of life
And is content.
Then, when he came to die,
Commending, with calm love, his only child
And, most of all, the Empire which he loved
To him who followed him, the sage his hand
Had trained in his own virtues, tranquilly
He laid him on his bed; and when the end
Drew near, the watchers heard the failing voice
Wander in dreams, and whisper of the State
And all his hopes for her. And when he woke,
Laying all signs of sovereignty aside,
He bade them take the golden Victory,
The solemn symbol of Imperial power,
And bear it to Aurelius. Last, when now
Life's tide was ebbing fast, he summoned to him
The tribune of the guard, and uttered clear,
As should an Emperor who led his hosts
To battle with the evil of the world,
The password of the day -- one word, no more,
Calm and Imperial -- 'AEquanimitas.'"

And something in me seemed to rise and break
In utterance, and as we passed I cried,
"This man was of Thy name, O Lord, and Thou,
Among the ranks of those who lived ere yet
Thou camest, or called not on Thee, having come,
Didst never leave Thyself, or then or since,
Wholly without a witness, but didst set
Thy light for all to see, these precious blooms
Of purity, these priceless lives unstained
And spent for Duty, 'mid the strifes, the lusts
Of a polluted world."





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