Classic Poem

Now a fierce blow unluckily was sped,
From a stern Saxon's desolating hand,
Full it descended on this Paynim's head,
Ne can his plated helm resist the brand;
Sought can prevent what rigid fate has plann'd:
Soon as he felt the ruthless biting sword,
Before death seal'd his eyes with ebon wand,
He cast one long look tow'rds his honor'd lord,
Whom living most he lov'd, and dying now ador'd.