SORCERER 3
            We’ll break our seal and thus unpen
            Two breeds of vision we may show:

SORCERER 1
            The first of these, and you might know
            Your fate, engraven by your star-
            Which fortune gods permit or bar.

SORCERER 2
            But why disturb your dreamy sleeps
            To know your death-date daily creeps?

SORCERER 3
            It finds us all, and- though you hate it-
            Since what must be, shall be, await it.

SORCERER 1
            The second brand of prophecy
            Is not what will, but what may be.

SORCERER 2
            Yet what might not? Our lord can see
            These “what-if” figments well as we:
            Might not strange soldiers from the waves
            Rise forth to claim our sires for slaves,
            As, for their footstool, bows our liege,
            Exempt from their street-sweeping siege?

SORCERER 3
            And yet, might not our lord disband
            Such aliens, overcreep our land,
            And rig mean regions to his suit,
            The mumbling Mayas render mute,
            The frostbit northern climes to claim,
            And sway the fitful gods to frame
            His portrait in a constellation?
            What fate might not recast his nation?