I have alas, philosophy,
history, math, and physics too,
and dare I say, theology,
with ardent labor, studied through.
And here I stand, with all my lore,
Poor fool, no richer than before.
Magister, sometimes Dean, indeed,
Sixteen, seventeen, years I lead.
Up, down, here, there I snag,
My students by the nose to drag,
Yet in the end the truth will show
That I in truth do nothing know.
At times the scholars, smart though they be
Mistake obscure for profundity.
Magister, doctor, priest, and scribe;
Are often just a dullard tribe.
Yet ignorance is only bliss
As long as stupidity should miss
The right to make any choice
Of any importance or voice.
Then have I neither place in one
And have I naught the other too
To think that most minutia want
Or see the universe beyond.
In such fashion, a dog I live
And take as Juvenal before.
Give them bread and circuses.
Bread and circuses.