Not clad in silken vest and shirt,
Like princes in a fairy tale;
With iron be these old limbs girt—
My vest of steel, my shirt of mail.
“Close let my sheaf of arrows stand;
My mighty battle-axe now bring;
My ashen spear place in my hand;
Around my neck my buckler sling.
Let my white locks once more be pressed
By the old cap of Milan steel;