That was so strong, and all this flower of life

Disbranched and desecrated miserably,

And minished all that god-like muscle and might

And lesser than a man’s: for all my veins

Fail me, and all mine ashen down.”

“When thou dravest the men Of the chosen of Thrace, None turned him again Nor endured he thy face Clothed round with the blush of the battle, with light from a terrible place.