The babbling of the brook nipped ever so gently this day
Perhaps equipped with an overabundance of viands
critters of land, water and the winged came upon me with delight
Such bread and wine is not for you I remarked
Tis for those who sweat in our fields
Hearty Janeau who sharply reaps with alacrity
Not I in fine cloak but those who wear out dungarees
Such as faithful Torry and Robiere
And when all is whipped and winnowed
Our fair women bake
With backs at the those brick ovens and faces at those tiny ones
And hands at the spinning wheel
Then bread shall be had
For I had no hand in its making yet take small part in attaching viands
And a handsome basket along with my teachings
Let the men eat first you critters
Then the bookman
And finally perhaps a morsel for each of you
What of my teachings today for the Sophists of Mausien Brook
Oh this wretched copy of Utopia
That rascal courier delivered to me upon that day a stack of rain clogged books
Danilo stating that at the least it were only Utopia
I barraged him to attend to his wagon makings
A finer friend I could not ask
a finer courier I could
But I made do, and set them by ones near hearth fire
Selling them at only a discount
Business was fine and we protestants prefer square dealings
Why should Danilo, it then struck me
Be so agitated by this work of Sir Thomas More
More’s invention, Raphael Hythloday is a man of the world
Our Danilo, our Greek teacher is a man of the world
Ah it must be jealousy which inflicts mon ami
For Danilo only stamps about
from Greece, Italy, my France, and sometimes the Deutchsland
Hythloday on the other, travelled with Americus Vesputius
Three voyages each completed and published for posterity
If our courier was a man of the world
Raphael Hythloday was a man of the stars
A fine school we make here near the brook.
I the accomplished reader thus to seminate
Janeau, Torry, and Robiere our voracious students
And Danilo, our visiting Greek who gives color to the pages we read often
What then was the moral of Thomas More’s Utopia
Was the Utopian state of New Castile an imagination
Or was there truly a nation which had been built from the ethos of travelers like Raphael or Danilo
Travelers who could list the ills and virtues of each society he passed through
Who could alter these lists to combine only virtues and nullify the ills
Such a list handed to the native kings of the new world
Whole prescription given with love
Waggon and ship too given so that only love and trade flourish
What was those lines that so captured me
Pages flipped until finding his quarry
Ah here we are
There were nations, towns, and cities,
That had not only mutual commerce with their neighbors
But traded, both by sea and land
To very remote countries
A veritable Utopia
That should be then the central question of our afternoon
What is Utopia
Is this truly a fresh concept for us Humanists to figure
Did the classicals ponder such a thing
Now that Magellan has circled our orb
Do we not finally have all the descriptions necessary for the final prescription
In the next pages I then found something I had not noticed before
A passage was accompanied with a cryptograph
Added by some hand, surely that of Danilo
The passage so read
For everywhere one may hear of
Ravenous dogs and wolves, and cruel men-eaters
But it is not so easy to find states
That are well and wisely governed
Ah so our courier instructs from afar what then is Utopia
A place where the dogs, wolves, and the cruel are held at bay
But what of the cryptograph
I then shuffled through our midday basket and found my pamphlet
With key so luckily placed
Upon working out the translation I read
Dearest Maurice I do apologize about the poor state of my delivery
Though I warn against this work there was no intention of me to break faith
One day perhaps I can share the fraughts that this prescription carries
Until that day teach from it wisely, and keep Jesus always near
Ah, my ever enigmatic Danilo
Thusly I heard the approach of my friends
First by the jovial Torry complete with jests
Strong Jan leading by presence if not volume
Lastly my Robiere, meek and kind
Mon Amis, Mon Amis
Come for your day’s bread
Then we shall speak of Utopia
Share this post