Charade I: Good Night

Sir Hilary charged at Agincourt;
Sooth, ’twas an awful day!
And though in that old age of sport
The rufflers of the camp and court
Had little time to pray,
’Tis said Sir Hilary muttered there
Two syllables by way of prayer:

My First to all the brave and proud
Who see to-morrow’s sun:
My next, with her cold and quiet cloud,
To those who find their dewy shroud
Before to-day’s be done:
And both together to all blue eyes,
That weep when a warrior nobly dies.