_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 set 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._