Archaic truths oft lapse and slip
Where treason bends the golden gates!
What stood its ground may lose its grip
To find its end and what it fates.

The raging seas will foam and cry:
Ah! Broken, breached, ye rusty hedge!
What never lived should never die
Replies the land, and sighs its pledge.

As memories must turn an age
And light ignite a dormant king
Awakens, then, the fool—the sage;
Retrieved, at last, the missing ring!

It takes a moment to redeem
A dragon’s breath, the holy ire!
If shattered swords should glint and gleam
Unsheathe hearts and raise them higher.