Not that the theme is worthy, nor the lay
Such as your heart would have, one time in three;
Yet, battling, I would chaunt of victory
All life's night through: though dubious dream of day
Scarcely suffices me to shed one ray
O'er the fierce field where you must fighting be;--
Yet you have brought a little sword to me
Of strange new metal that I would essay.
And thanks are due. So thank I you in songs,
And having sung, my turn me hence, to strive
What time strength stays with me--alert, alive,
To right some trifle of the night's dumb wrongs;
And if through minstrelsy one plea may thrive,
To you memorial gratitude belongs.