Classic Poem

As the hostile onslaught bent on destruction beats at the front ranks
of the army of his king, he alone, sword raised in his right hand,
blocks the enemy from surging on and so he is like a shore
to a great ocean, that man whose lineage, like him, has shown
preeminent generosity, the ruler of a village which other than always
feeding those who come to it singing
does not even create enough income to merit being taxed by a king!