Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

The Portent - Poem by Rudyard Kipling

Horace, BK. V. Ode 20.


Oh, late withdrawn from human-kind
And following dreams we never knew!
Varus, what dream has Fate assigned
To trouble you?

Such virtue as commends of law
Of Virtue to the vulgar horde
Suffices not. You needs must draw
A righteous sword;

And, flagrant in well-doing, smite
The priests of Bacchus at their fane,
Lest any worshipper invite
The God again.

Whence public strife and naked crime
And-deadlier than the cup you shun--
A people schooled to mock, in time,
All law--not one.

Cease, then, to fashion State-made sin,
Nor give thy children cause to doubt
That Virtue springs from Iron within--
Not lead without.


Comments about The Portent by Rudyard Kipling

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: ode, fate, children, dream, people, god, time, school, spring, child



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



[Hata Bildir]