[1]

x / x / x / x / x /
Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships
x / x / x / x /x/
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

[2]

x / x / x / x / x /
Is it not passing brave to be a king,
x / x / x / x / x /
And ride in triumph through Persepolis?

[3]

x x / x x / x x / x x /
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
x x / x x / x x / x x /
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

[4]

Sumwhyle wyth wormés he werrés, and with wolvés als,

Sumwhyle with wodwos that wonéd in the knarrés,
Bothe wyth bullés and berés, and borés otherquyle,
And ethaynés that him analede of the heghe felle …
Ner slayn wyth the slete he slepéd in his yrnés
Mo nyghtés then innoghe in naked rokkés.

Turn over
 [5]

Sometimes with dragons he fights, and with wolves also,

Sometimes with wild men of the woods that lived in the crags,
Both with bulls and bears, and boars at other times,
And giants of the high fell that pursued him …
Nearly slain with the sleet he slept in his armour
More than enough nights amongst naked rocks.

[6]

Behold, four kings, in majesty rever’d,

With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
And four fair queens whose hands sustain a flow’r,
The expressive emblem of their softer pow’r;
Four knaves, in garb succinct, a trusty band,
Caps on their heads, and halberds in their hand;
And parti-colour’d troops, a shining train,
Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain.

[7]

I thought if I could draw my pains

Through rhymes vexations, I should them allay:
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.