Classic Poem

I am the Strong One, and I have power
Till comes a stronger to break my will.
In deepest clefts or where mountains tower
Ye feel my breath in the blasts that chill.
The pest that harrows
And cleanses nations,
And Night's dread arrows
Do ministrations
For me; resistless their blows they deal
Through wall of copper and targe of steel.

My wings on blasts of the storm are rushing,
I roll the loud wave against the strand.
All states, all empires abide my crushing,
I wrest the bolt from the thunder's hand.
While I, pursuing,
Hunt down the ages,
The sea of doing
Beneath me rages.
Man's works are shattered before my feet
Till roaring billows no more shall beat.

Nor wit nor weapon can long oppose me,
No art, no learning withstands my might.

To thralls as freedom I may disclose me,
But armèd kings on their thrones I smite.
I call to battle,
And armies fall then,
Like slaughtered cattle
They perish all then;
No drum shall rouse them from dreams profound
Until the Trumpet of Doom shall sound.

My hand but waves, and the living legions
Are swept from earth unto chaos, where
No name is heard in the lonely regions
And not a tongue can make answer there.
As forth I wander,
All thrones are crumbled,
See Alexander,
Napoleon humbled!
The victor monarchs of yore to-day
Are but a handful of common clay.