That Argive choir in eastern exile sad,
That Doric garland on base Persia's brow,
We came not here to crush them, but exalt;
This hand shall lift them to their first estate,
And lodge them mid the skyey heights of Greece.”
Such is his plan; and whatever crosses him must break before or bend to that. Kings, empires, mighty cities, religion, customs and traditions, commerce, all must yield before his indomitable will. Nothing is sacred to Alexander, save what is sacred to Alexander's plan. All things were fashioned to his purpose, and existed only to be made subservient to him. He gazes from the sea-shore on Tyre of the ships, with its wealth, its energies, its possibilities, and the little it has done with them, and bursts forth:
“Wings without body! such—no more—is commerce
Which rests not upon empire! Commerce, ruling,
Disperses man's chief energies, but, ruled
By spirit heroic, increase yields of thoughts