1. That prince, who is most deserving
To bear the standard of command

2. You are among horsemen the noblest knight
When the battlefield is too confined for steeds

3. The blades have dyed their ivory sheaths
With dark pommel stains and crimson gore

4. The slim spears made the thick mail drink
And pressed the cure before the hurt was sure

5. War bared her leg and hitched her skirt
And battle rent the long cloak trailing loose

6. Your flashing white sword tips above the heads
Are red anemones grown in dew