Though Red My Blood Hath Left Its Trail For Five Far Miles, I Shall Not Fail, As God In Heaven Wills! The Way Was Long Through That Black Land. With Sword On Hip And Horn In Hand, At Last Before Thy Walls I Stand, O Lady Of The Hills! No Seneschal Shall Put To Scorn The Summons Of My Bugle-Horn! No Man-At-Arms Shall Stay! Yea! God Hath Helped My Strength Too Far By Bandit-Caverned Wood And Scar To Give It Pause Now, Or To Bar My All-Avenging Way. This Hope Still Gives My Body Strength To Kiss Her Eyes And Lips At Length Where All Her Kin Can See; Then 'Mid Her Towers Of Crime And Gloom, Sin-Haunted Like The Halls Of Doom, To Smite Her Dead In That Wild Room Red-Lit With Revelry. Madly I Rode; Nor Once Did Slack. Before My Face The World Rolled, Black With Nightmare Wind And Rain. Witch-Lights Mocked At Me On The Fen; And Through The Forest Followed Then Gaunt Eyes Of Wolves; And Ghosts Of Men Moaned By Me On The Plain. Still On I Rode. My Way Was Clear From That Wild Time When, Spear To Spear, Deep In The Wind-Torn Wood, I Met Him!... Dead He Lies Beneath Their Trysting Oak. I Clenched My Teeth And Rode. My Wound Scarce Let Me Breathe, That Filled My Eyes With Blood. And Here I Am. The Blood May Blind My Eyesight Now ... Yet I Shall Find Her By Some Inner Eye! For God, He Hath This Deed In Care! Yea! I Shall Kiss Again Her Hair, And Tell Her Of Her Leman There, Then Smite Her Dead, And Die.