1. My two and seventy years have sapped
My strength for the toils of war,

2. And were the din of arms to sound
I'd meet it with thrust and blow.

3. Through the gloom of night my blade would gleam
Like the lightning's flash 'mid clouds that teem.

4. My peers I'd humble and lay them low
Ere my dread onrush, terror-struck they'd go.

5. Naught of me is left by the nights, save
My fortitude against woe and misfortune's wave,

6. I suffer the strokes of fate—and endure,
Whilst Destiny's shafts fly thick and sure.

7. My purpose stands nor can dismay undo,
My patience fails not, nor unrest my heart knew.