A Dissertation on the Philosophy of Aristotle

See Heraclitus quit his rightful throne,
To moan the various follies of mankind;
Mark how he scorns the impure multitude,
And describes sublime truths in obscure words;
Listen attentively to his favorite theme,
That all things flow like some perpetual stream,
And, ever-varying without check or stay,
Rise to new life or gradually decay.
He saw the depths of Matter's dark domain,
Stormy and whirling, like the raging main;
Yet he well knew the realms of intellect,
Where all is lovely, permanent, and true;
And, certain of the soul's immortal frame,
He told, in obscure terms, of her lapse and where she came from.
Next, view Parmenides, inspired by heaven,
And retired from the ignoble multitude;
He meditated divinely and sang alone,
In venerable verse, of the mystic One.
Indignant, he flew from the realms of sense,
As bodily forms receded from his view,
Until, leaving the regions of Matter far behind,
His piercing sight discerned the world of mind.
See great Empedocles cry out with rapture:
"Farewell, an immortal god cannot die."
In divine verse, he sang the wretched fate
Of souls imprisoned in this mortal state;
And he called man (immersed in the night of Matter)
"Heaven's exile, straying from his orb of light."
Next, mighty Socrates demands my verses,
Whose life and doctrines claim unbounded praise.
He confined all his research and his views
To the theory of the realms of mind;
And in the divine craftsman of the world
He saw the fair series of ideas shine.