Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor’d, and unsung.
SIR GALAHAD
By Alfred Tennyson
My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,