Brave warden, protector of all; 
Bulwark that shelters from volley and squall. 
Like a sword and shield for a warrior to wield, 
With you I face mighty foes in the field. 
But the days of your youth have all come to pass, 
Weakened by wounds your crusades end is alas. 
Against beasts with no substance bravely you fought; 
But of wrought iron you simply are not. 
Branded with claws and torn by their jaws, 
This day the Gods don't favour your cause. 
Now after the battle in the gutter you lay, 
Broken and twisted in a state of decay. 
Rust and mould shall gnaw on your bones, 
For you there will be no funeral stones.

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