When we lifted him up, he would fain have pursued, but grew dizzy instead.
Break his sword and his spear!
Let this last prayer be said
By the bed
We have made underneath the wet wind in the maple trees moaning so drear:
"O Lord God, by the red
Sullen end of the year
That is here,
We beseech Thee to guide us and strengthen our swords till his slayers be dead!"