At last do you call yourself king,
Alabaster’d ripple of Leon’s neverfound fountain?
Fable-forgotten lies Conqueror’s tomb,
Judgement-jested the bones of empired throne.
Fear? What of it? A virgin promise, a trifling death.
So slay not sovereign glance,
Give chase to Pizarro’d myth!
An immortal crown is no crown at all.