Xerxes Poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell

When the proud monarch, from the hill-top, saw
The plains beneath him covered with his troops,
And, on the sea beyond, his gallant ships,
His heart swelled big with vanity and pride.


'I, Xerxes, am, beyond all kings, the Great!
The hills I level, and through mountains carve
A goodly pathway for my stately fleet,
And millions come and go at my behest.'


But, in the midst of this vain-glorious boast,
One thought humiliated all his pride:
'Where, in a hundred years, shall all this pomp,
These fleets and armies, and their master, be?


'Of this proud host not one shall be alive!'
And at this thought the monarch bowed his head,
While from his eyes fell unavailing tears
That he must meet a greater conqueror!