SAMURAI, take thy blade! Time was when hot it played, Deep in some bloody glade, Where clansmen battled; Great Musamura, he Wrought well the steel to be, Worthy of such as ye, Ere match-locks rattled. Westward thine armies lead, Westward where sons of greed, Footsore and sore of steed, Shaggy are standing; Spawn of a Hell-gat land, Brutal of brain and hand Out on the Manchur strand, Swift is their banding. Nobles and freemen ye, Lords of the Inland Sea, Scions of victory, None ever thralled thee. They who insult thy name Once knew the bondman's shame, Once felt the shackles maim; Such never galled thee. Strike 'til the Russ has fled! Strike 'til the last is dead! Strike 'til the seas are red! Strike, it is Nippon calls! Strike, ye are Nippon's walls! Honor to him who falls! |