Chapter 3 of 42
II.
II.
As I gird on for fighting My sword upon my thigh, I think on old ill fortunes Of better men than I. Think I, the round world over, What golden lads are low With hurts not mine to mourn for And shames I shall not know. What evil luck soever For me remains in store, 'Tis sure much finer fellows Have fared much worse before. So here are things to think on That ought to make me brave, As I strap on for fighting My sword that will not save.