Behold that great Plotinus swim,
Buffeted by such seas;
Bland Rhadamanthus beckons him,
But the Golden Race looks dim,
Salt blood blocks his eyes.
Scattered on the level grass
Or winding through the grove
plato there and Minos pass,
There stately Pythagoras
And all the choir of Love.

The Greeks had three Gods — Aeacus, Minos and Rhadamanthus– Whose sole job was to judge those who had died, usually deciding upon their punishment as well. According to legend, they were originally men but were related to Zeus. Zeus is said to have credited them with law and order on Earth while human, so when they died they were made demigods and allowed to preside over much of the underworld. Aeacus was supposed to be the one who judged souls who came from Europe, and Rhadamanthus judged those who came from the continent of Asia. Their fellow judge Minos had the final vote in all cases. While we know that after death they guarded Hades, there is little known about what happened during their lives on Earth.

Love's worshippers alone can know
The thousand mysteries that are his;
His blazing torch, his twanging bow,
His blooming age are mysteries.
A charming science--but the day
Were all too short to con it o'er;
So take of me this little lay,
A sample of its boundless lore.

As once, beneath the fragrant shade
Of myrtles breathing heaven's own air,
The children, Love and Folly, played--
A quarrel rose betwixt the pair.
Love said the gods should do him right--
But Folly vowed to do it then,
And struck him, o'er the orbs of sight,
So hard, he never saw again.

His lovely mother's grief was deep,
She called for vengeance on the deed;
A beauty does not vainly weep,
Nor coldly does a mother plead.

A shade came o'er the eternal bliss
That fills the dwellers of the skies;
Even stony-hearted Nemesis,
And Rhadamanthus, wiped their eyes.

"Behold," she said, "this lovely boy,"
While streamed afresh her graceful tears,
"Immortal, yet shut out from joy
And sunshine, all his future years.
The child can never take, you see,
A single step without a staff--
The harshest punishment would be
Too lenient for the crime by half."

All said that Love had suffered wrong,
And well that wrong should be repaid;
Then weighed the public interest long,
And long the party's interest weighed.
And thus decreed the court above--
"Since Love is blind from Folly's blow,
Let Folly be the guide of Love,
Where'er the boy may choose to go."

Love's worshippers alone can know
  The thousand mysteries that are his;
His blazing torch, his twanging bow,
  His blooming age are mysteries.
A charming science--but the day
  Were all too short to con it o'er;
So take of me this little lay,
  A sample of its boundless lore.

As once, beneath the fragrant shade
  Of myrtles breathing heaven's own air,
The children, Love and Folly, played--
  A quarrel rose betwixt the pair.
Love said the gods should do him right--
  But Folly vowed to do it then,
And struck him, o'er the orbs of sight,
  So hard he never saw again.

His lovely mother's grief was deep,
  She called for vengeance on the deed;
A beauty does not vainly weep,
  Nor coldly does a mother plead.
A shade came o'er the eternal bliss
  That fills the dwellers of the skies;
Even stony-hearted Nemesis,
  And Rhadamanthus, wiped their eyes.

"Behold," she said, "this lovely boy,"
  While streamed afresh her graceful tears,
"Immortal, yet shut out from joy
  And sunshine, all his future years.
The child can never take, you see,
  A single step without a staff--
The harshest punishment would be
  Too lenient for the crime by half."

All said that Love had suffered wrong,
  And well that wrong should be repaid;
Then weighed the public interest long,
  And long the party's interest weighed.
And thus decreed the court above--
  "Since Love is blind from Folly's blow,
Let Folly be the guide of Love,
  Where'er the boy may choose to go."

Quiet is your wrath, little cat. Marsupial-eyed, impassive,
You sit like Rhadamanthus on his terrible throne.
We beneath your crouching glare are
Burdened by your malice—
As you lose interest
In us and
Doze.

You, bright-smiled sun-lover
descend on feet of flesh
past the hundred-headed best,
past the high-court Rhadamanthus.

And the hollow-gazing dead
look up from hollow homes,
and voices from the deep inquire,
"Whither now, oh flesh and bones?"

All thought must be offered up as a sacrifice
The sacrifice of the human will, but after this
The judgement as it is appointed unto men
Once to die as the hue and cry of Rhadamanthus
gavel falls netherwards fore death is the epitome
Of sins penalty; the epitome of sins liability is
Therefore the holy wrath of the First Cause,
Dispensing the empyreal quiddity of eternities
Wisdom as into the fire all things are cast due
To the hardness of the featherless bi-peds nescient
Hearts on that most ancient battle field where
Free-will and Destinies depravity bewrays the
Impenitent categorical imperative that all truth
Is worshipful and the wind blows where it listeth
Since by man came the mire of death, by man also
The resurrection of the dead; and the weights
Of life and the measures of death, (the general
revelation), under the karmic laws for which All
Are to have to pay in time to come are vinadicatory
Of God, the author of all things, whose drink for
The good of all beings is always compassion thus
Serving only to render men without excuse as
Either Elysium or Sheol await, because man
Does not cease to exist in the land of silence
As the region of darkness it is not non-existence;
But it is not life when both life and death
Concern the whole man to lift up thy heart.


ELEETE J MUIR