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We were four around the bed,
the priest knelt down beside him
his mother standing at the head,
off her feet waiting for the bride
we were sure he was dead ,
but his eyes remained open.

not die overnight,
not killed during the day,
but in the twilight
his spirit died,
when neither sun nor moon shone
and trees just floated a ambergris.

was not killed by the sword, not by
spear or ax, but never uttered

word from back here,
I cut the delicate lace neck
my dear brother.

He did not hit his shot
and cowardice is behind
tremble in a place where the horns,
trail hard to find, because the horns
range on bows and dusk
blind hearts.

They lit a large torch, where rapids
waved their arms,
Sir John, the Knight of the swamp,
Sir Guy, the painful blow haughty
three times twenty plus ten men, hung
the brave Lord Hugh to final.

I'm three times twenty plus ten,
and my hair has turned gray,
I met Sir John Marsh,
long ago in a distant summer day, and I'm glad
think
at that time you start your life with my hands.

I'm three times twenty plus ten,
and my strength was in the past,
but long ago I and my men,
when the sky was overcast,
and mist was creeping up the stalks of marsh, kill
Sir Guy, the painful blow of pride.

And now all of you, gentlemen,
Please pray for Sir Hugh,
tough and honest,
and Alice, wife of a warrior.

William Morris