1. O sword of the last sovereign in his realm,

    glory—all glory—lives in that realm’s legacy.

  2. If only annihilation had overtaken you, effacing

    the memory of your two faces stained with its disgrace.

  3. Fitter for the lords of blades to shatter them,

    or die with honor beneath their edges,

  4. than cast them into the enemy’s hand in an abasement

    whose very memory makes their descendants recoil.

Sol 5.6