Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FOR THE IDES OF MARCH (AVE VAESAR!), by GEORGE MEASON WHICHER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FOR THE IDES OF MARCH (AVE VAESAR!), by                    
First Line: This is time's sorry jest! You could bestride
Last Line: Where prince and pedagogue abide in equal doom.


This is Time's sorry jest! You could bestride
Colossus-like the pigmy state of Rome;
The masters of the earth would strive to hide
Their shrunken thrones beneath your sheltering dome;
Beside your foot-stool Empire made her home,
And conquerors took your name for ample wage;
Your deeds flare bright in History's brightest tome;
Fame's fullest cup slaked not your noble rage;
And dying you could leave a world for heritage.

And this your volume, -- the ensanguined roll
Of legions, cities, chieftains, captives, ships,
Sieges and slaughters, -- all the crimson toll
By courage paid to genius: -- Cicero's lips
Once praised its lucid flow; the fiery whips
Of Cato's wrath assailed the reeking tale;
It shadowed forth to Pompey that eclipse
Full soon to make his easy glories pale,
And bring on Rome war's long, immeasurable bale.

How are the mighty withered! You are now
Become your book, and that (O last of woes!)
Shrunk to a school-room bogey. Pedants plow
With salt your fields, and there no harvest grows
Save juiceless weeds of grammar; never knows
Your page the poet's heart, the soldier's eyes;
But over it still unceasing conflict flows:
Bewildered warriors join discordant cries,
Butchered to make the loathing School-girl's exercise!

Imperial Caesar dead -- the poet dreamed --
Might stop a hole to keep the wind at bay;
And, musing on your destiny, it seemed
You well might envy that not-useless clay!
Yes, we, who through the sieves of youth today
Watch, Danaid-like, your noteless stream consume,
(To find no guerdon of our toil for aye!)
Salute you, Caesar, partner in the gloom
Where Prince and Pedagogue abide in equal doom.





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