Classic Poem

The Victor

The live man victorious
Rode spurring from the fight;
In a glad voice and glorious
He sang of his delight
And dead men three, foot-loose and free,
Came after in the night.

And one laid hand on his bridle-rein —
Swift as the steed he sped —
— O, ride you fast, yet at the last,
Hate faster rides, — he said.
— My sons shall know their father's foe
One day when blades are red. —

And one laid hand on his stirrup-bar
Like touch o' driven mist,
— For joy you slew ere joy I knew
For one girl's mouth unkissed,
At your board's head, at mass, at bed,
My pale ghost shall persist. —

And one laid hands on his own two hands,
— O Brother o' mine, — quoth he,
— What can I give to you who live
Like gift you gave to me?
Since from grief and strife and ache o' life
Your sword-stroke made me free. —

The live man victorious
Rode spurring from the fight;
In a glad voice and glorious
He sang of his delight,
And dead men three, foot-loose and free,
Came after in the night.English