Classic Poem

He plied Hephaestion's ear with royal schemes
Over the wine-cup; hollow rang his voice
From barrier-rocks of Providence, and gleams
Of fatal fever lighten'd from his eyes;
He thought to build and drain with busy power —
But could not pass beyond the appointed goal;
For the strong ward of one prophetic scroll
Had fray'd the horns of Ammon, and his hour
Drew nigh; Time sped — the bitterns throng'd the strand,
And shook the site of his imperial dream
With booming, and the dropsy of the land
Grew from the untended waters; evening's beam,
And morn's, look'd down upon a realm of fear,
With pools and mounds and marshes far and near.