。，There men held harangue.
Death to them who doubt the tale!。，Each against his fellow's shield
From the blessing to the board,。，
。，Who had housed him in the vast,
Ready to be hurled at need。，Ildico's chill little hand
Like the victims of the leech,。，Filled him, and around was glassed,
Still it haunts our source of sorrows,。，After battle keen to feed was he:
XVI。，On Alps, without a breast beguiled
When the voice within said, Dare!。，XXVII
Torch and steel and snorting steed,。，As in battle, for a nod
Sniffing pasture: grim below,。，
。，Clotted memory for a space:
Which they knew not, but huge pain。，Where he passed, there passed a sea.
Like that lake of blue intense,。，Plucked at the limbs that could remain
，And drew back to awful deeps。，Ready to be hurled at need