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The warrior lay on his sweat-soaked bed.
Amid his battle scars a tiny bite
Had let a foe within – a parasite,
And none, however great, could match its might.
On canvas walls faint flickered flames of light
As burned his army’s campfires in the night.
So slowly did the world fade from his sight.
The Macedonian gave up the fight;
At thirty two the conqueror was dead.