Not always wealth, not always force,
A splendid destiny commands;
The lordly vulture gnaws the corse
That rots upon yon barren sands.
Nor want nor weakness still conspires
To bind us to a sordid state;
The fly, that with a touch expires,
Sips honey from the royal plate.
Translated by W. A. Clouston in Arabian Poetry for English Readers.
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