Worse than the lupine pest
Upon whose hoary crest
Old monarchs laid a price! 'Gainst him a pact
Of all the peoples must be made;
Rapine's his life, red ruin his dread trade.
The old grey wolf who prowled
Around the fold, and howled
Impotent rage to the black wintry skies,
Was no such foe as this,
Our Were-Wolf, whom the abyss