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Behind the mysterious poem that inspired the Invictus Games

It may have only just found its place in the history books, but the inspiration behind the Paralympic-style multi-sport event that is the Invictus Games, takes its inspiration from a poem that is more than 100 years old.

The games, which begin this week, were championed by Prince Harry “to demonstrate the power of sports to inspire recovery, support rehabilitation and to demonstrate life beyond disability”.

Prince Harry with wheelchair athlete Anna Pollock as he attends the UK team trials for the Invictus Games in Orlando at the University of Bath on January 29, 2016. Photo: Getty
Prince Harry with wheelchair athlete Anna Pollock as he attends the UK team trials for the Invictus Games in Orlando at the University of Bath on January 29, 2016. Photo: Getty

The core mission of the games is reflected in their namesake poem by William Ernest Henley written in 1875 - which mysteriously remained without a title until it was published in an anthology of English poetry 25 years later.


Prince Harry Launches The Invictus Games In Toronto on May 2 2016. Photo: Getty
Prince Harry Launches The Invictus Games In Toronto on May 2 2016. Photo: Getty

It wasn't until it appeared in the Oxford Book of English Verse that the now famous poem was given the title Invictus, which means 'unconquered' in Latin.



Henley wrote the powerful poem - which includes lines such as 'it matters not how strait the gait' - at a time when he was told both his legs would require amputation because of effects resulting from tuberculosis.

The poem is recited during times of adversity and organisers of the Invictus Games say it captures the spirit of the event.

Photo: Getty
Photo: Getty

The Invictus Games first took place during September 2014.

This year more than 500 entrants will compete in 10 sporting events in the US.


'Invictus' by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.