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 HE victor stood beside the spoil, and by the grinning dead : The land is ours, the foe is ours, now rest, my men, he said. But while he spoke there came a band of foot-sore, panting men : The latest prisoner, my lord, we took him in the glen, And left behind dead hostages that we would come again. The victor spoke : Thou, Persian dog ! hast cost more lives than thine. That was thy will, and thou shouldst die full thrice, if I had mine.