Fritz— He made the grave.
(He sits down on the log and takes his head between his hands.)
Canzler—"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."
No, Hartzel; as Fritz says, their ring was wrought
Far in the south at that old fire that burns
Eternal mid the hills. Of old they forged
Law for our fathers, and, with iron hands,
Welded it on them. For five hundred years
The noise of that old furnace filled the world,
And from her red mouth link on link her hands
Drew one continuous shackle, and the North
Walked heavily, until Val-father's spear
Flashed southward. Then the noise stopped. The great beast,
That wore for head and neck those seven hills,
Roused her and saw her whelps come bleeding back
And heard wild Tyr holloing the tribes for dogs
Round her on every side, and rose at bay
And clawed through bloody foam and ceased and saw
Her hills go round and round and with a crash
Stretched her vast skeleton over all the south.
Hartzel—Then she is dead.
Canzler— Rome dead?
Hartzel— If she is bones.
Canzler—-Bones, Hartzel, are not dead. The life returns.
The ghastly thing moves in the silent night
When swords are sleeping and the ear hears not.
Old hands scratch round old battle-fields and there
The skulls that wore the helmet don the hood,
And when the morning breaks no man will say.
"The thing that stands there is the thing that fell."
Our father found it so. For after that
Great hunt down in the south, the tribes lay down
And slept and woke and saw—they knew not what.
It wore a sword, but had no hauberk on.
'Twas robed in black and on each shoulder sat
What seemed an eagle in a vulture's plumes.
They, too, thought bones were dead, and seeing no
Mark of their swords upon it nor anywhere
The indenture of those old hills in the south,
They showed it all the paths among the tribes.
Fritz—Welcomed it to their homes.
Max— And took its ring.
Rudolph—And then lay down and slept and never woke.