There is a great king on a hill,
I left his halls naught half a century and one past,
And I ride the fate of time still,
Thinking that he will forever last.

After a long battle with the beast, I had to rest,
And the kind king bade me a bed to stay,
And as I wondered his cloisters once more,
The same hall unchanged that I used to pray.

Only the tapestries have changed,
Not the walls, not the floors, not the masters,
Just more wrinkles and manes but the same smiles,
Smiles that is tires of the ouroboros of time.

There used to be rooms full of learning and studies,
Now empty and barred to those that dares,
Only half the scholars remain now,
Not seeing the empty spaces in the next chairs.

The brave warriors that trained each week,
Used to fill the parade square to full,
Now hardly a platoon of unwilling,
Still heckled by the Frosty drill master.

I remember the kings court being the envy of the realm,
Now old and decrepid coats,
It lasted a hundred years before my time,
But the crumbling walls have finally given to its ghosts.

I turn away with a heavy and troubled soul,
The mirror of my departure before,
For it pains me to leave this king close to death,
But the trumpets call me back to war.

So adieu kind king on the hill,
Remember me as I remember you,
A bright academy sparkling and gay,
In your annals I will forever stay, adieu.

I shall weep forever for your past glory,
In virum perfectum