And from our limbs the purple blood-drops drip;
So with a mighty leap and grievous weight
My foot I bring upon my quivering prey,
With power to make the swift and strong give way,
An evil and intolerable fate.
Strophe III
And all the glory and the pride of men,
Though high exalted in the light of day,
Wither and fade away,
Of little honour then,