Alexander monologue — Diminutive dramas

The galleys ride at anchor! To-morrow we’ll set sail for Italy, Nor rest until we’ve pitch’d our tent in Rome, And snatch’d the insolent jewel of the West. But yesterday the Afric oracle Bespake to me an unconfined sway, An orb and empery unparallel’d. And thence, when the barbarians of the West Are mild as leashed hounds beneath our yoke, And when each sev’ral province hath subscrib’d, To India we’ll retrace our eager steps And reach the undiscover’d sea beyond. By the lush banks of Ganges, Alexander Shall build a temple to his royal sire, Great Jupiter. Thence we’ll to Babylon, And plant there our abiding seat of rule In the fix’d centre of the universe. North, south, and east and west shall our dominion, Like the spread rays of gold Hyperion, Pierce to the distant corners of the globe. Oh look, Seleucus, look, Hephæstion, Look, the Swarth King in jewell’d burgonet, All clinquant, mounted on an elephant, Advances with his congregated host. On veterans! On, on, Bucephalus! The ford! The ford! The villains fly! Come, Ho! Clitus, awake, Roxana, O.