يَأبى فَوارِسُ لا تَعرى صَواهِلُها

أَن يَقبَلوا الحُسنَ مِن مَلكٍ وَإِن عَظُما

The knights whose blades are ever bare

Refuse beauty from a king though high his fame

لا وَالسُيوفُ بِأَيدينا مُجَرَّدَةً

لا كانَ مِنّا غَداةَ الرَوعِ مُنهَزِما

Nay, while swords are ready in our hands

None of us shall flee when terror is proclaimed