I am not one to dispute the will of God , divine will becomes our lot , but I question the right of tyrants . Charred cities after their sacking , the cries of dependent humanity , sent to feed searing flames , the weak , meek and lame , no daylight dawns again , a winding trail of chains and clubs , the gathered wounded ; conquered , these tyrants do not govern , they seize and consume their fill , then hunger rumbles again , they repeat their atrocities , till the Fates pluck them . For each tyrant reaped , by droves victims precede them , their number exceed sacrificial offerings , made to appease wrathful spirits , or custom of ceremony , of a deity worshipped .
TWELFTH MORSEL
Our moments of glory a lifetime to remember fair token of youth?s vigour
Carve now before the die sets while still new and pliable when it dries your mark stays hardened and nobly set surpassing life of wilted crowns a monument in your honour
Our moments of glory a lifetime to remember come pay heed to youth?s prayer
We won?t be here to bother having surpassed such worries earthborn to earth it goes like Assyrian ruins to those with merits deserving God and kind Fortune preserve them
Our moments of glory a lifetime to remember mementos of youth?s flower
THIRTEENTH MORSEL
A peasant who wishes for more changes his plough for arms The army has loyal farmers with absent fathers away far
Children of empire?s troops though honoured their father?s name they hardly know the man well though his name they proudly bear