The commander of the armies prays his enemies on the right
Will not succeed in ending his springlike reign.
For they see him as Othello, arrogant and vain.
The commander of the armies will thus put on his armor
And drink deeply from a chalice of words.
His rivals will beat the ground with sticks,
Raise dust high into rebel air.
They who make of Lent a proper time to strike,
To bring down honor from its precarious pedestal,
Eye the office with a spurned lover’s zeal
Hunger to wear his well-worn shoes,
And drink wine of the higher office.
None remembers bold Marc Anthony’s words;
Who of the danger of topping a leader foretold.
