Chuckle they not to hear men say:
“The King is dead: Long live the King?”
The fame he wooed my name shall wed,
A world shall bend beneath my sway,
For every crimson drop he shed
Full flood will I, from out this day
When first in battle-stained array
I heard my blooded sea-dogs sing,
Standing above him where he lay:
“The King is dead: Long live the King!”