Sire Edward said, "since in the end he conquers, and of the lips that
gibed at him remains but a little dust. Rather should I, who already
stand beneath a lifted sword, make for my destined and inescapable
conqueror a Sirvente, which is the Song of Service."

Sang Sire Edward:[3]

"I sing of Death, that comes unto the king,
And lightly plucks him from the cushioned throne;
And drowns his glory and his warfaring
In unrecorded dim oblivion;
And girds another with the sword thereof;
And sets another in his stead to reign;
And ousts the remnant, nakedly to gain
Styx' formless shore and nakedly complain
Midst twittering ghosts lamenting life and love.

"For Death is merciless: a crack-brained king
He raises in the place of Prester John,
Smites Priam, and mid-course in conquering
Bids Caesar pause; the wit of Salomon,
The wealth of Nero and the pride thereof,
And battle-prowess--or of Tamburlaine
Darius, Jeshua, or Charlemaigne,--
Wheedle and bribe and surfeit Death in vain,
And get no grace of him nor any love.

"Incuriously he smites the armored king
And tricks his counsellors--"