The ticking clock besieges mortal kings,And fades the golden paint of empires old,It strips the feathers from the eagle's wings,And turns the burning summer into cold.Yet virtue stands against the passing shade,A fortress built where shifting sands decay,The noble deeds of honor do not fade,Though earthly monuments are swept away.For memory preserves the champion’s name,And locks his glory in a timeless chest,No passing wind can quench the holy flame,That burns within a brave, unyielding breast.Though time defeats the body and the clay,The victor's spirit claims eternal day
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