"The whelming poison-pool is here;
And now availeth nought the blade:
O if my cherished trees might aid!
But now my feet fail. Leave me then!
And hold my memory dear of men."
He caught her in his arms again;
Of her dear side was he full fain.
Her body in his arms was dear:
"Sweet art thou, though we perish here!"
Like quicksilver came on the flood: