\n  

\n The red sun rolls towards the sea

\n Its last glow tints the tower above

\n The war is done. The land is free.

\n The lion girds himself for love.

\n  

\n Helmet and armour laid aside

\n The heavy mane hangs splendidly

\n He licks the blood clots from his hide

\n The red sun rolls towards the sea.

\n  

\n Rosewater masks the battle scent

\n He dons the velvet cape and glove

\n The burning kingdom almost spent,

\n Its last glow tints the tower above.

\n  

\n His is the kingdom, his the throne

\n Dead are his loyal companions three

\n The old king's fled. He is alone.

\n The war is done. The land is free.

\n  

\n He eyes the tower stairway's bond

\n And, growling, bursts it with a shove

\n The old king's daughter waits beyond

\n The lion girds himself for love.