'Twas he that struck the stroke accursed -
Headless this day he bleeds."

"What Head is that close by--so still,
With half-closed lids, and lips that smile?
Methinks I know their voice: methinks
HIS wine they quaffed erewhile!"

"'Twas he raised high that severed head:
Thy head he raised, my Foster-Child!
That was the latest stroke I struck:
I struck that stroke, and smiled."

"What Heads are those--that twain, so like,
Flushed as with blood by yon red sky?"
"Each unto each, HIS Head they rolled;
Red on that grass they lie."

"That paler twain, which face the East?"
"Laegar is one; the other Hilt;
Silent they watched the sport! they share
The doom, that shared the guilt."

"Bard of the Vengeance! well thou knew'st
Blood cries for blood! O kind, and true,
How many, kith and kin, have died
That mocked the man they slew?"

"O Woman of the fateful eye,
The untrembling voice, the marble mould,