That all my younger years were for my country spent:
While battle raged, at mast I stood, be as it may,
And with the ship I drowned when vanquished down she went.
But he — that may reflect upon the detriment
Of my poor fatherland — will say, if well-intended,
That my mind’s mantle was no drab for beggars meant,
But with the splendor of my ancient fathers splendid.
Oh that my friends at night together gathered be,
And this sad heart of mine in leaves of aloe burn!
And give it then to her who’s given it to me.