Alexander in Babylon

Alexander in Babylon

A man can lose his purpose here, his life
A string of uneventful days on earth
That thirsts for water, blood, or wine - no strife
Of hand with stone and root attends one's birth.

A man who scrabbles in a rocky soil
Engenders hardness in his heart and fist,
And proud endurance in the face of toil.
He will defeat his foe, fight where he list.

Such men as these I led through Levantine
Deserts to the fertile Nile's reedy banks.
These hardy men, these hearts adamantine,
Would die of shame before they would break ranks.

We each must have a cause for which to venture
Our lives, or deaths. Rhetorical appeal,
Accompanied by phalangeal gesture,
Batters men's hearts like horse, foot, and wheel.

The Hellespont, Tigris, Euphrates crossed
For love of country, hatred of our foes,
Such feats accomplished at what little cost
In word and deed, only Zeus Ammon knows.

What boots it that I bore upon my head
The horns of a ram god? Divinity,
When love and hate have failed and passion fled,
Can still lead men by force of mystery.

We may drive fortune by means of fiction
When men, worn down by war, grow querulous.
Exotic tales of boon or benediction
Excite our fancies, make our wills more zealous.

And so we passed to India's fertile plain.
"To the earth's end and then beyond!" I cried.
Wild words. I thundered, I cajoled, in vain,
For not one battle more would they abide.

I might have taken up a staff and gone
On by myself, disguised in pilgrim's weed,
And reached the eastern sea and watched the dawn
Arise in waves of gold to match my greed.

A man can lose his purpose here, in spite
Of fitful sleep, of visions, my dream's din.
Faint, jasmine words thrill through me in moonlight,
A message missive, if I could begin.