The herds returning home again
Drank where the river’s tide was gleaming.
Beside me were the wrecks of power
That had been grasped by hand of man;
Around me was that evening hour,
Reminding me how short the span
Of life which kingly pomp and pride,
Though strong on earth, yet vainly tries
To lengthen or to set aside,
When dying on his couch he lies.