1. I meet the might of enemies with
A spear like blazing fire kindled,

2. Or a gallant steed whose spirit for the fray
Is roused, and mail like foam congealed,

3. A blade that never fails to reach its mark,
And, after fiercest onslaughts, threats renewed -

4. Urged by his soul when battle lifts its voice,
His feet and hands keep pace among the brave.