On pain of War and force of Will,
The Dragon bit his tongue.
There was no Rage if he held still
The Flame within his lung.
All thought the Beast should fall that day
When no heat left his lips;
The cold glare in his eyes should stray --
The dead mass crush the ships.
But the Dragon's jaw set firm and strong,
No Fire escaped his breath.
All wondered what could so prolong
A surely coming Death?
No breath of Fire scorched them,
No Port or City burned.
The Dragon sought no Mayhem,
His chin he slowly turned.
There was no War -- only Will --
No Rage withing his lung.
The Peace remained steadfast and still
The Dragon bit his tongue.
