Page:The courtship of Ferb (Leahy).djvu/131



Mani it was who wounded Conor— two spears! it was not an appointment He killed Mani thereafter. That is the truth about him, Fiannamail.

Sad is this, you young men of Connaught. There is no down to your cushions. Your springing is a springing without (footstep?). You have found yourselves struck by a blow over the eyes.

What army was fairer than you were, and better for noble strife? Your form was a glorious form; your life thread is a bitter masterless possession.

The thread of your eyes is broken. You have found the drink of conquest, of death poison. Stubborn for them was the strife with you— the war departed in cold bodies.