To one who darest contend mortal fate
Woe are my grev’ous sins before the fire
The screams of my vexed soul doth not abate
Leaving me forever trapped in the mire
My forsaken state is dismal as night
Many a foe doth lust for my vile bones
How far I have fled from my loathsome plight
Still their ad'mant banshee wails ever moan
These horrors I wish not to be prolonged
For one cannot bear torment all their life
But what ear will attend unto my song?
What good can beset my ignoble strife?
I fear no longer the fires of my scourge
I praise the tune of my delightful dirge