Classic Poem

Despots, when their death is nigh,
Can afford to smile and die:
Though the tyrant cannot stay,
Tyranny will last for aye.

Ah, the wretched common folk,
Doomed like oxen to the yoke,
And a broken neck for guerdon,
If they kick against the burden!

David, on his dying bed,
Spake with Solomon, and said,
" A propos , there's Joab, too.
I must leave that task to you.

" Many years I have abhorred
Joab and his conquering sword,
Yet have never dared to touch
Him I loathed and feared so much.

" You, my son, are good and wise,
Strong, devout, and will devise
Some expedient that will break
And destroy him, for my sake. "