Thou may'st with pleasure hail the dawn, <br />And greet the morning's eye; <br />Remember, king, the night comes on, <br />The fleeting day will soon be gone, <br />Not distant, loud proclaims the funeral tone, <br />Phillip, thou hast to die. <br /> <br />With thee thy dame, the queen of birds, <br />May spread her wing to fly; <br />Or smile to trace the numerous herds, <br />Thunders from the Lord of lords, <br />I hear some peal surpassing human words, <br />Philip, thou hast to die. <br /> <br />Thou mayst thy mighty host survey <br />And neighboring kings defy, <br />Whilst round thy retinues flit gay, <br />Beneath thy pomp's imperial ray, <br />Make merry on the tide of joy to day, <br />To-morrow thou shalt die. <br /> <br />I heave to hear the day's last peal, <br />A sorrow teeming sigh; <br />The morning's flutt'ring bird has flown, <br />The roses fade, so quickly blown, <br />The lofty king falls robeless from his throne, <br />Philip was born to die. <br /> <br />'Twas thus the haughty king of France <br />Strove to ascend on high; <br />Lifting his adamantine lance, <br />He bade his dauntless war-horse prance, <br />Defied the world, and rode the car of chance, <br />To rage, to fume and die. <br /> <br />Thus vile, thus obstinately vain, <br />He pours his distant brag, <br />Regardless of his millions slain, <br />Regales his pale surviving train, <br />Was but wraped in his infernal chain, <br />Dies on the ocean crag. <br /> <br />This faithful lesson read to all <br />Creation, far and nigh, <br />It is the fate, from Adam's fall, <br />The swain, the king, the low, and tall, <br />The watchman of the grave must give the call, <br />Mortal, thou hast to die.<br /><br />George Moses Horton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-king-of-macedonia/
