He marches in courage, like war
In parades of valor and victory
And all that is worth fighting for
He crushes injustices and bestows liberty
Defends righteousness and what's more
He raises his battle-hardened arm to salute me.
His gilded shield and plumed helmet shine
His jeweled sword drips with the blood of fends
He sits down with Mars and Ares to dine
After serving both kings and those without means
Carrying a token of luck, that was mine
He runs into his mythical legendary battle scenes
That jagged scar that crosses his cheek
Under eyes that burn so fearlessly
Shouting a war cry that makes his enemies go weak
He treads through fire and falling arrows carelessly
Coming to the aide of all, who his help, they do seek
His heart and soul forever strong and so perilously.
'She Walks In Beauty' By Lord Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade more, one ray less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
