Sing, my Muse, of Rage, of terrible War
That wrecks lives and nations with casual ease
Mars and Ares storming with deafening roar
To smite and clash, raping cities, to seize
Their hallowed walls and destroy their boldest men.
They die, with bright steel blows smashing armour
Falling in blood and tangled limbs. So when
Greek Illium allowed equine fervour
To bring low that mighty and proud place
The Gods wept tears of impending doom.
Nay! Fear not the once dark, terrible face
Of Rage and also of War whose cruel bloom
Does remind valiant heroes who murmur
Of Wintry death, and newly soured Summer.