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THE BATTLE OF STIKLESTAD 103
Their own,
Paths they hewed fleeing
Among their companions,
Cowards felled brave men
Through fear.
Hard by the wood-side
One man bided,
Tore Hund.
Held he by witchcraft
His men together.
The battle-line saw he
Over the meadow
Writhe like a snake in
The fire,
Drawing together,
Twisting and breaking
In pieces,
Disgorging
Its bowels;
Into the forest
Spilled they,
Fled they all of them
Thither!
Darkened then slowly
The sun in that hour.
Mid-day was almost
As autumn’s midnight,
Home went the cattle,
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