For glorious splendid deeds, You are gathered as idle weeds. "O my men, my men! The mighty gods were jealous, Your virtues shone like a star; The enemy came from afar! "O my men, my men! Vengeance shall follow soon, Your people shall blast the foe Or ever the cold winds blow. "O my men, my men! My life is an empty shell, No one has heard my moan, I sit in the dark alone." Then of the gods they sang,—a moonlight song: "Sleep, O soft little winds, Restless whispering grass, Reeds of the water-ways sway not, 40 Sleep, that the gods may pass.
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