  Despots smiling yield their breath, Knowing after their own death That their slaves but change their master, And, if anything, work faster. Ah, poor race! like horse and bull They the waggons still must pull, And their backs will soon be broken If they heed not what is spoken. David said to Solomon On his deathbed: “List, my son! “My most dreaded foe of course is “Joab, general of my forces. “This brave general many a year “I have view’d with hate and fear; “But, however I detest him, “I ne’er ventured to arrest him. “Thou, my son, of sterner stuff, “Fearing God, art strong enough; “’Tis for thee an easy matter “That said Joab’s brains to scatter.” |
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