To The Survivors

 NOW they sing the hero loud; -- 
But they sing him in his shroud. 

Torch he kindled for his land; 
On his brow ye set its brand. 

Taught by him to wield a glaive; 
Through his heart the steel ye drave. 

Trolls he smote in hard-fought fields; 
Ye bore him down 'twixt traitor shields. 

But the shining spoils he won, 
These ye treasure as your own.-- 

Dim them not, that so the dead 
Rest appeased his thorn-crowned head.

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