Woe to the Conquerer
Faith and flag displayed, crimson flowed,
Vanquished, the foe is fallen, subdued
The conqueror to Regent and God dedicates
This lands, these fields, from the battle ensued,
His battle over, the conqueror
Hangs up his sword and shield
Walks proud among the admiring crowd
Bades all in his way to yield.
With drink, merriment, and sleep in time,
Bis battles over now they are
Or so he thinks that so,
For battles fires from him are far.
But woe to him, he is but a fool
Thinking the battle is over by fighting and winning,
Small battle over, the big one of for his soul:
Can he reflect, repent, refrain from sinning?