1. He passed by, and with his lofty palace soaring,
To war he marched, his heart for battle yearning,

2. With weapons glittering, their light radiating,
He rode amidst the paths like lightning burning,

3. A steed unbroken, frothing at the bit,
Trampling the ground while urgently spurring,

4. Galloping through the desert sands so vast,
To where the land with flooding streams was stirring,

5. There to pursue what he was wont to do,
Impatient till the battle drums were stirring,

6. Prancing in pride with graceful beauty blessed,
Flying while forelock strands were wildly swirling,

7. His steps led by his soul’s own urging will
To crowds of warriors in each tent converging,

8. Thus was Paris when hastening ahead
In sunlight gleaming, standards gaily stirring,

9. He met a warrior from his clan now far,
Whose steps were urged by battle’s urgent stirring,

10. He said “My brother, I confess I lag,
My will outweighed while yours is overriding.”

11. He said “Nay Paris, none could justly say
You fall short of the meed you are deserving,

12. For you're the arm of might in danger’s hour,
Though love may make your heart from war diverting,

13. My heart would grieve if you in battle fell,
You, midst the fray, our greatest pride and glory.”

14. “No time for talk, unless the slaughter calls,
We’ll speak again if bloodshed ends our story,

15. And if triumphant we return someday,
Vanquishing foes in many a field so gory,

16. Then cups of joy and peace will be upraised,
And victims for the tribes prepared as offerings.”