Trismegistus by Richard Wilbur January 5, 2009 O Egypt, Egypt�so the great lament Of thrice-great Hermes went� Nothing of thy religion shall remain Save fables, which thy children shall disdain. His grieving eye foresaw The world's bright fabric overthrown Which married star to stone And charged all things with awe. And what, in that dismantled world, could be More fabulous than he? Had he existed? Was he but a name Tacked on to forgeries which pressed the claim Of every ancient quack� That one could from a smoky cell By talisman or spell Coerce the Zodiac? Still, still we summon him at midnight hour To Milton's pensive tower, And hear him tell again how, then and now, Creation is a house of mirrors, how Each herb that sips the dew Dazzles the eye with many small Reflections of the All� Which, after all, is true.