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My Lord, wise council I wish to impart;
Though this advice you may not wish to hear.
It issues from my head – but too, my heart.
These pearls I seek to whisper in your ear.

Appeasion, your counsel I don’t seek,
For in the past you were true to your name,
But since you’re here, come close, your wisdom speak;
We’ll see if you are changed – or still the same.

Thank you, my Lord, my argument is this:
You plan invasion of the Great King’s land.
Instead, send delegations there to kiss
His feet – make peace – I’m sure he’ll understand.

Appeasion, you never seem to learn:
The Great King and his Persians, I don’t trust.
For with resentment and revenge they burn;
We must strike now – his armies, turn to dust.

The call to battle, surely Lord, can wait.
There is a time for war, a time for peace.
I feel it best that we negotiate
To strike a deal whereby their threats must cease.

A promise signed, and gold and silver paid
To the Great King, removes the threat of war.
Conditions set by us – by him obeyed.
Please tell me Alexander – where’s the flaw?

Appeasion, you’ve softness in your head.
Though true, your good intentions I know well.
Consult the mouldering armies of the dead,
For good intentions pave the road to Hell.

The Great King mourns defeats at Marathon,
Plataea and at Salamis – at sea.
Those Greeks who spurned King Xerxes, long are gone;
Darius dreams of his Thermopylae.

We value freedom – Persia would enslave;
Their oriental ways, we Greeks eschew.
Appeasion, your words of wisdom save,
For later rulers, who’ll be weak – like you.

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