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.