Ambitious men, unbridled power seek,
How luckless, fatal wish is this not know,
Alexander, son of Philip, mighty Greek,
Did rise from dust and into dust did go.
And likewise Akbar and almighty Rome,
For fleeting moments, they, their fate belied,
With loud, defiant, warlike beats of drum,
But unfailingly in the end, they also died.
And great Ashoka’s bones now buried lie,
In the Ganges, under heaps of mortal bones,
And into dust are turning by and by,
All kings and sparkling scepters, priceless thrones.
So men, who seek unbridled power must,
In time, by Time be trampled into dust.