And the mangled elk to the wild-wood rill,
(Sing ho! for the price of war!)
The nest-queen harks to her master's hurts,
(Sing ho! for the wounds of war!)
And the she-fox busies with woodland worts,
(Sing ho! for the end of war!)
The she-wolf staunches the warm red flood,
And the doe is besmeared with the spurting blood,
For 'tis ever the weak that must help the strong,
Though they have no part in the triumph song,