Are no brothers of my blood; Eyes of gods! ye must have seen, The general debility; Of genius the sterility; Mighty projects countermanded; Rash ambition, brokenhanded; Of vital force the wasted rill, Or tumble all again in heap Say, Seigniors, are the old Niles dry, Which fed the veins of earth and sky, That mortals miss the loyal heats, Which drove them erst to social feats; Now, to a savage selfness grown, Think nature barely serves for one; With science poorly mask their hurt, Masters, I am in pain with you; I, a king, for kings can feel. And solve and oft resolve the whole. And, for I'm styled Alphonse the Wise, Ye shall not fail for sound advice. Before ye want a drop of rain, Hear the sentiment of Spain. You have tried famine: no more try it; Ply us now with a full diet; Teach your pupils now with plenty; For one sun supply us twenty. I have thought it thoroughly over,— We must have society, We cannot spare variety. Hear you, then, celestial fellows! Steads not to work on the clean jump, Men and gods are too extense; Your rank overgrowths reduce Till your kinds abound with juice? My counsel is, kill nine in ten, And bestow the shares of all On the remnant decimal. Add their nine lives to this cat; Stuff their nine brains in his hat; Make his frame and forces square He may, by warrant of his age, So shall ye have a man of the sphere, MITHRIDATES. I CANNOT spare water or wine, Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; From the earth-poles to the line, All between that works or grows, Every thing is kin of mine. Give me agates for my meat; Give me cantharids to eat; From air and ocean bring me foods, From all zones and altitudes; From all natures, sharp and slimy, Salt and basalt, wild and tame : Tree and lichen, ape, sea-lion, Bird, and reptile, be my game. |