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THE FALL OF ALIPIUS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: When gentle gratian ruled the roman west
Last Line: In silent battle with almighty time.
Alternate Author Name(s): Houghton, 1st Baron; Houghton, Lord
Subject(s): Augustine, Saint (354-430); Gratian, Emperor Of Rome (359-383); Saints; Augustine Of Hippo


WHEN gentle Gratian ruled the Roman west,
And with unvigorous virtues thought to hold
That troubled balance in perpetual rest,
And crush with good intent the bad and bold,
The youth Alipius for the first time saw
The Mother of civility and law.

Mother in truth, but yet as one who now
By her disloyal children tended ill
Should sit apart, with hand upon her brow,
Moaning her sick desires and feeble will;
So Rome was pictured to the subtler eye,
That could through words the soul of things descry.

But no such vision of the truth had He
Who with full heart passed under the old wall
A Roman moulded by that sun and sea
Which lit and laved the infant Hannibal,
One who with Afric blood could still combine
The civic memories of a Roman line.

To him was Rome whatever she had been,
Republican, Cesarean, unforgot,
As much the single undisputed Queen,
As if the Empire of the East was not, --
Fine gold and rugged iron fused and cast
Into one image of the glorious Past:

And on a present throne to heaven up-piled,
Of arches, temples, basilics and halls,
He placed his Idol, while before her filed
Nations to gild and glut her festivals;
And of her might the utterance was so loud,
That every other living voice was cowed.

Possessed by this idea, little heed
At first he gave the thickening multitude,
That met and passed him in their noisy speed,
Like hounds intent upon the scent of blood,
For all the City was that day astir,
Tow'ard the huge Flavian Amphitheatre.

Yet soon his sole attention grew to scan
That edifice whose walls might rather seem
The masonry of Nature than of man,
In size and figure a Titanic dream,
That could whole worlds of lesser men absorb
Within the embrace of one enormous orb.

The mighty tragedies of skill and strife,
That there in earnest death must ever close,
Exciting palates which no tastes of life
Could to a sense of such delight dispose,
Swept by his fancy with an hundred names,
The pomps and pageantries of Roman games.

Why should he not pass onward with that tide
Of passionate enchantment? why not share
The seeds of pleasure Nature spread so wide,
And gave the heart of men like common air?
Why should that be to him a shame and sin,
Which thousands of his fellows joy'd to win?

But ere this thought could take perspicuous form,
His Will arose and fell'd it at a blow;
For he had felt that instinct's fever-storm
Lash his young blood to fury long ago, --
And in the Circus had consumed away
Of his best years how many' a wanton day!

Till the celestial guardian of his soul
Led him the great Augustin's voice to hear,
And soon that better influence o'er him stole,
A reverend master and companion dear,
From whom he learnt in his provincial home
Wisdom scarce utter'd in the schools of Rome:

"How wide Humanity's potential range, --
From Earth's abysses to serenest Heaven, --
From the poor child of circumstance and change,
By every wind of passion tossed and driven,
To the established philosophic mind,
The type and model of the thing designed:

"And how this work of works in each is wrought,
By no enthusiast leap to good from ill,
But by the vigorous government of thought,
The unrelaxing continence of will, --
Where little habits their invisible sway
Extend, like body's growth, from day to day."

By meditations such as these sustained
He stoutly breasted that on-coming crowd,
Then, as in stupor, at one spot remained,
For thrice he heard his name repeated loud,
And close before him there beheld in truth
Three dearest comrades of his Afric youth.

O joy! to welcome in a stranger land
Our homeliest native look and native speech,
To feel that in one pressure of the hand
There is a world of sympathy for each;
And if old friendliness be there beside,
The meeting is of bridegroom and of bride.

What questions asked that waited not reply!
What mirthful comment on apparent change!
Till the three raised one gratulating cry, --
"Arrived just then! how fortunate, -- how strange!
Arrived to see what they ne'er saw before,
The fight between the Daunian and the Moor.

"One graceful-limbed and lofty as a palm,
The other moulded like his mountain-pine;
Each with his customed arms content and calm,
In his own nation each of princely line, --
Two natures separate as the sun and snow
Battling to death to make a Roman show!" --

-- Alipius, with few words and earnest mien,
Answered, "That he long since had stood apart
From those ferocious pleasures, and would wean
Those whom he loved from them with all his heart,
Yet, as his counsel could have little power,
Where should they meet the morrow, -- at what hour?"

Their shafts of mockery from his virtuous head
Fell to the ground, -- so, using ruder might,
Amid applauding bystanders, they said,
"They would divert him in his own despite,"
And bore him forward, while in fearless tone
He cried, "my mind and sight are still mine own."

His body a mere dead-weight in their hands,
His angry eyes in proud endurance closed,
They placed him where spectators from all lands
In eager expectation sat disposed,
While in the distance still, before, behind,
The people gathering were as rushing wind:

Which ever rising grew into a storm
Of acclamations, when, at either end,
The combatant displayed his perfect form,
Brandished his arms, rejoicing to expend
His life in fight at least, -- at least reclaim
A warrior's privilege from a captive's shame.

As rose before Amphion's notes serene
The fated City of heroic guilt,
Alipius thus his soul and sense between
Imagination's strong defence up-built,
With soft memorial music, dreamy strains
Of youthful happinesses, loves, and pains.

His stony seat seems on the Libyan coast, --
Augustin on one side, and on the other
Monica, for herself beloved, yet most
By him regarded as Augustin's mother;
And from far off resounds the populous roar
As but the billows booming on the shore.

Never can he desert the truth he drew
From those all-honoured lips, -- never can yield
To savage appetite, and fresh imbrue
That soul in filth to which had been revealed
The eternal purities that round it lie,
The Godhead of its birth and destiny.

-- Now trumpets clanging forth the last command
Gave place to one tremendous pause of sound,
Silence like that of some rich-flowering land
With lava-torrents raging underground,
Scarce for one moment safe from such outbreak
As shall all nature to its centre shake.

And soon in truth it came; -- the first sharp blows
Fell at long intervals as aimed with skill,
Then grew expressive of the passion-throes
That followed calm resolve and prudent will, --
Till wild ejaculations took their part
In the death-strife of hand and eye and heart.

"Habet, -- Hoc habet, -- Habet!" What a cry!
As if the Circus were one mighty mouth
Invading the deep vale of quiet sky
With avalanche melted in the summer-drouth, --
Articulate tumult from old earth upborne,
Delight and ire and ecstasy and scorn!

Sat then Alipius silent there alone,
With fast shut eyes and spirit far away?
Remained he there as stone upon the stone,
While the flushed conqueror asked the sign to slay
The stricken victim, who despairing dumb
Waited the sentence of the downward thumb?

The shock was too much for him -- too, too strong
For that poor Reason and self-resting Pride;
And every evil fury that had long
Lain crouching in his breast leaped up and cried
"Yield, yield at once, and do as others do,
We are the Lords of all of them and you."

The Love of contest and the Lust of blood
Dwell in the depths of man's original heart,
And at mere shows and names of wise and good
Will not from their barbaric homes depart,
But half-sleep await their time, and then
Bound forth, like tigers from their jungle-den.

And all the curious wicker-work of thought,
Of logical result and learned skill,
Of precepts with examples inter-wrought,
Of high ideals, and determinate will, --
The careful fabric of ten thousand hours,
Is crushed beneath the moment's brutal powers.

Thus fell Alipius! He, so grave and mild,
Added the bloody sanction of his hand
To the swift slaughter of that brother-child
Of his own distant Mauritanian land,
Seeming content his very life to merge
In the confusion of that foaming surge.

The rage subsided; the deep sandy floor
Sucked the hot blood; the hook, like some vile prey,
Dragged off the noble body of the Moor;
The Victor, doomed to die some other day,
Enjoyed the plaudits purposelessly earned, --
And back Alipius to himself returned.

There is a fearful waking unto woes,
When sleep arrests her charitable course,
Yet far more terrible the line that flows
From ebrious passion to supine remorse;
Then welcome death, -- but that the sufferers feel
Wounds such as theirs no death is sure to heal!

But the demoniac power that well can use
Self-trust and Pride as instruments of ill,
Can such prostration to its ends abuse,
And poison from Humility distil:
"Why struggle more? Why strive, when strife is vain,
-- An infant's muscles with a giant's chain?"

So in his own esteem debased, and glad
To take distraction whencesoe'er it came,
Though in his heart of hearts entirely sad,
Alipius lived to pleasure and to fame:
Sometimes remindful of his youth's high vow,
Of hopes and aspirations, fables now.

When came to Rome his sire of moral lore,
That Master, whom his love could ne'er forget,
He too a proud Philosopher no more,
He too his past reviewing with regret,
But preaching One, who can on man bestow
Truth to be wise and strength to keep him so.

The secret of that strength the Christian sage
To his regained disciple there unsealed,
Giving his stagnant soul a war to wage
With weapons that at once were sword and shield;
And thenceforth ever down Tradition glide
Augustin and Alipius side by side.

And in this strength years afterward arose
That aged priest Telemachus, who cast
His life among those brutalising shows,
And died a willing victim and the last,
Leaving that temple of colossal crime
In silent battle with almighty Time.





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