Mars

"More, and more, and MORE!"
He cried, as on the battle raged throughout the night:
"Mars, my battle-cry is hoarse and I am dying;
Still, for you I fight!
Surrender?-I spit upon those dogs,
Thrice damned! I will not give up to HIM!
So onward, weary soldiers, storm these rusty gates!
Even now I miss the taste of bllod upo my lips...
Do not give up the fight,
Till death and all hell doth take us all!"

And up the weary soldiers stood,
One final gasp of breath before
That one, most final plunge...
A gasp so dry, devoid of air, that noone dared but heed the master's call.
"This is the final resting place?
My bones shall rot in gravel, soot, and blood?
No hope is left in sight-all, as one, shall die
And not one star for us shall sigh!"

A bugle sounded deep within the castle walls,
Behind the smoke and swelter,
Behind the gore and dead;
And up those rusty gates, and out that rider tall;
Behind, as if the voice of God above
Had blasted out the greatness of his all,
And out that rider tall.

No dream was this, dear children, hearken here-
As I sit before you, mark my words-
I, alone, the Hercules of that great day
Was left to show the scars from that damned sword;
I, alone, of all my myriad
Did live to see the bloody, burning morn;
And now I sit, a vassal to the throne;
A bloody puppet, a cursed and hated stone.