The walls are breached and fires paint the sky,
A crimson hue on faces gaunt with fear.
The enemy is close, their battle cry
Is chilling promise drawing ever near.
I hold your hand, my love, no longer strong,
And in your eyes is reflection of despair.
Before they come, to do us cruelest wrong,
Grant me this wish, this last and whispered prayer.
Let not their hands defile and bring me shame,
Nor let their scornful eyes behold my pain.
Release my soul, preserve my cherished name
From brutal touch and from dishonour's stain.
Then join me soon, where sorrow has no sting,
And death itself can claim no conquering