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.”