In Competition No. 3320 you were invited to submit a poem extolling Epicureanism over Stoicism or the other way round.

Stoicism is enjoying something of a revival, embraced by everyone from billionaire tech bros to self-help devotees. But Mary Beard is no fan of Marcus Aurelius and has said that she finds it ‘mystifying’ that people could be interested in ‘a philosophy that, if you looked at it really hard, was nasty, fatalistic, bordering on fascist’. The philosopher Catherine Wilson, author of How to Be an Epicurean: the Ancient Art of Living Well, doesn’t rate Stoicism either, arguing that, in the modern age, we should be looking to Epicurus and his followers for guidance on how to live a good life.

In a medium-sized entry, you were fairly evenly balanced between the two. Strong performances from Frank McDonald, D.A. Prince, Mike Morrison, Brian Allgar and Nicholas Whitehead earn them honourable mentions. The winners, printed below, are rewarded with £30 each. Leading the way is a pleasingly nuanced take from Chris O’Carroll, followed by David Silverman’s Strictly Come Dancing-inspired offering.

When we say pleasure is life’s highest good,
We understand we’ll be misunderstood.
The Stoics scowl that lust and gluttony
Are glorified in our philosophy.
Those buzzkills who shrug off both joy and pain
Strain at a truth that should be all too plain –
That temperance, not excess, lies behind
The body’s comfort and the tranquil mind.

They drone that pain and pleasure are mere grist
For virtue’s mill. But virtue’s what they’ve missed.
To choose an anodyne or a delight
With wisdom, one must learn what’s wrong and right,
Weighing and measuring one’s own desires
To emulate exemplars one admires.
Virtue knows pleasure is life’s highest good
When we live no more richly than we should.

Chris O’Carroll

O what is life if, full of pleasure,
There’s no time for worthy deed?
Begone all frolics, lazy leisure –
To be fulfilled, a heart must bleed!

Happiness is overrated;
The unexamined life is nought.
For virtue were we first created,
For stoic skopos, virtuous thought.

So yes, your rumba’s raunchy, rude
And passionate and – oh, those hips!
But where’s your tale of fortitude
In face of the apocalypse?

Your triumph over something tragic?
At least a guinea pig that died?
Your waltz was wild, your mambo, magic!
You would have nailed this, if you’d cried.

David Silverman

If you can watch men suffering in sorrow
Yet be unmoved to see their piteous plight,
If you can live as though there’s no tomorrow,
And with your friends go partying all night;
If you can snub the stoic’s self-denial
And choose the easy Epicurean life.
You’ll never have to bear the pain of trial
Nor needlessly endure the bane of strife.

If you can make a U-turn, change direction,
To save your neck when life seems too austere,
If you embrace expedience by deflection,
No matter how unwise it might appear;
If you can shun what’s right and rise above it,
Please yourself and live a life of fun,
Decide to be a hedonist and love it,
You might become Prime Minister my son!

Alan Millard

While Stoics follow nature’s way
And take whatever she gives
An Epicure will seize the day
And love each hour he lives.

The Stoic feels he can endure
The whips and scorns of time.
The Epicure is very sure
That from the trough he’ll climb.

The Stoic thinks the gods are good
Their goodness will persist.
The Epicure does what he should
And gods do not exist.

The Stoic thinks that fate and chance
Are all we need to know.
The Epicure controls the dance
Nec sorte nec fato.

Philip Roe

Rigorous, vigorous Stoic philosophers
Toughen their sinewy theories in vain;
Though they can crush any counterhypothesis,
Weak Epicureans somehow remain.

Readily, steadily, indolent sybarites
Thrive, and continue to have all the fun.
Stoics enlist all the disciplinarians;
How is their battle not easily won?

Flauntingly, vauntingly, Marcus Aurelius
Features his feats on a helical frieze;
Blithe Epicureans roundly ignore it and
Overindulgently do as they please.

Battlesome, nettlesome Stoic philosophers
Fail to prevail, but they manage to gain
One consolation: their pleasure-preoccupied
Nemeses constantly find them a pain.

Alex Steelsmith

No. 3323: Hatchet job

You are invited to submit an extract from a book review written by a well-known author (please specify) which trashes a work by another well-known author that is generally deemed to be a classic. Please email entries of up to 150 words to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 25 October.