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With fainting maids and shrieking matrons strew'd, As tho' the end of all things had been link'd Unto my fatal grasp.

''Sel. (eagerly.)''Thou did'st not slay him?

''Wog. (smiling contemptuously.)'' Asks Selred if I slew mine enemy?

Sel. Then, by heav'ns light, it was a ruffian's deed!

Wog. I cry thee grace! wear'st thou a virgin sword? Maidens turn pale when they do look on blood, And men there be who sicken at the sight, If men they may be call'd.

Sel.Ay, men there be, Who sicken at the sight of crimson butchery, Yet in the battle's heat will far out-dare A thousand shedders of unkindled blood.

''Eth. (coming forward.)'' Peace, Thanes! this is no time for angry words.

Wog. Fool, chosechoose [sic] the other blade! That weight of steel will noble gashes make! Nay, rightly guided in a hand like thine, Might cleave a man down to the nether ribs. (Sigurtha to Bertha, as she is recovering.) My gentle child, how art thou?

Ber. And no kind hand to hold him!