Classic Poem

The Assyrian King in peace, with foul desire
And filthy lusts, that stained his regal heart
In war that should set princely hearts on fire:
Did yield, vanquished for want of martial art.
The dint of swords from kisses seemed strange:
And harder, than his lady's side, his targe:
From glutton feasts, to soldier's fare a change:
His helmet, far above a garland's charge.
Who scarce the name of manhood did retain,
Drenched in sloth, and womanish delight,
Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain:
When he had lost his honour, and his right:
Proud, time of wealth, in storms appalled with dread,
Murdered himself, to show some manful deed.