MOTECUHZOMA
            I tried to bear up to necessity,
            To steel self-conquest through my fears, and thus, 
            In stoic resolution, greet my fate.
            But then this temperance, to the common eye, 
            Seemed but a fatalistic resignation,
            A shrug, a sigh that what shall be shall be,
            In abdication to a fancied doom.
            So then I heap my irons in the fire
            To undertake all means I can devise,
            And now that versatile defense is seen
            As paranoia, and hysteria,
            The fickle indecision of a fool,
            Who- like a pup between two bowls of food- 
            Would waver till the flyblown point grew stale. 
            And they are right, these forward serfs are right:
            I am a knock-knee, and a juggler!
            Who could foresee the vortex of my mind
            Should be the whirlpool that would drain the sea?