All that I gave shall be repaid.
So shall I fight, so shall I tread,
In this long war beneath the stars;
So shall a glory wreathe my head,
So shall I faint and show the scars,
Until this case, this clogging mould,
Be smithied all to kingly gold.
WHEN BONY DEATH
When bony Death has chilled her gentle blood,
And dimmed the brightness of her wistful eyes,