Rich armor from the vanquished won,
Bright jewels glancing in the sun;
A captive monarch’s golden throne,
And heaps of countless treasure shone;
But prouder, nobler spoils and high,
Adorned that mighty pageantry.
Reluctantly, with lofty form,
Like strong oaks blasted by the storm
But not bowed down, the captives came,
Their dark brows flushed with grief and shame;