Death
On a set day, fell Death, queen of the world,—
In hell assembled all her fearful court
That ’mongst them she might choose a minister
Would render her estate more flourishing.
As candidates for the dread office came,
With measured strides, from Tartarus’ lowest depth,
Fever, and Gout, and War—a trio
To whose gifts all earth and hell bare witness—
The queen reception gave them.
Then came Plague,
And none his claims and merit might deny.
Still, when a doctor paid his visit, too,
Opinion wavered which would win the day.
Nor could Queen Death herself at once decide.
But when the Vices came her choice fell quick—
She chose Excess.
—Florian.