the horsemen troop after troop, and the foemen pressed us sore—
They said to us—“Two things lie before you: now must ye choose—
the points of the spears couched at you, or, if ye will not, chains”.
We answered them—“Yea, this thing may fall to you after fight,
when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again;
But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death,
how much may be left of life: the goal is too dim to see”.
We strode to the strait of battle: there cleared us a space around
the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished fair.
To them fell the edge of my blade on that day of Sahbal dale,