Who of all creatures, loved the least—”
“Blasphemer! God of Battles, He!”
Cried a priest.
“Peace!” and with his two hands
Has broken in twain his glaive.
Weaponless, smiling he stands—
(Coward or brave?)
“Traitor!” howls one rank, “Think ye
The Hun be our brother?”
And “Fear we to die, craven, think ye?”