My old friends? But I know now. I’ve been taught ...
They cut away my two hands and my feet
And laughed and left me for the birds to eat.
34
“Oh, God’s name! If I had my hands again
And Dymer here ... it would not be my blood
I am stronger now than he is, old with pain,
One grip would make him mine. But it’s no good,
I’m dying fast. Look, Stranger, where the wood
Grows lighter. It’s the morning. Stranger dear,