Tain

Reading of ancient heroes
Hearing their chants of praise
Skin torn in strips like gyros
Deaths in a bloody haze
I cannot pray enough
Thanks to my God on high
Life is no longer rough
Good men don't seek to die
Yet who can tell the deeds
We, in this warmer age,
Do, in the former's weeds?
That would disgrace the page.
High and most bloody verse
Matches a good age worse.