|
|
|
|
The Immortals
|
 |
I killed them, but they would not die. Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep, Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.
Then in my agony I turned And made my hands red in their gore. In vain - for faster than I slew They rose more cruel than before.
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|