Its stone, as though it were a living thing,
Half minding me of some sharp serpent’s eye,
Shot sparkles at me. Straight I raised it up,
I blew the ashes from it and I spoke:—
“Who bore thee once on his long-mouldered finger?”
And then, to see if ’twere a man had worn it,
I put it on, and scarce the deed was done
When from without rang—“Halt! He must be here!
See you the grave? Then onward, onward, comrades!
We have our man!” and quick appeared the troop.