Once more unto the breach, dear SERIN, once more;
Or close the Station up with our SERIN dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a pilot
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the Blasters, Lasers, and missiles; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful systems.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you SERIN!
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many ,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your FC; now attest
That those whom you call'd CEO did beget you.
Be copy now to pilots of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in Etherium Reach, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'For SERIN, and Etherium Reach!'