Behold the angels sipping the wine of Christ,

Who do feign drunkedness.

Theirs is a sweet melancholy

That fuels the fires of hoary justice.

To smight and vanquish the lech that creeps

Unto such holy gatherings

In a grove come twilight.

Hair of gold unlike any brazen image crowns his hallowed countenance.

Gabriel strides forth in Hebrew garb as the very soul of light sings his praises.

The Agean Knights kneal before him.

Their arms they do relinquish as they look to his glory.

A beautiful garden

Is where the swords of God partake of his nectar,

Sustenance unto the gentlemen of my Christ.