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Swords glimmered up the pass Fringing the grim dark mass. There was blood on the grass; Red blood But the flood Far below lumbered on to the east and the dawn— When all men are gone. Shall not they, Hill and stream, As today Gleam and dream, Forgetting forever in majesty still That men climbed the hill or died on the river. High on the great black crags Like hags Brooding for death and slaughter, We waited With the thirst of our blades unsated And below us rippled the water. We two—you and I Last to die. At bay there we stood and the wind in our hair Shook the iron clawed brood of the black eagle's lair. They came in the flame of the thundering dawn Driven and drawn By the spate of their hate and the fate of their lust For the glimmering dust, They dreamed they could hold, the traitor of gold, The breaker of thrust. And we laughed in the bend of a curse that our blades, they were virgin of rust Then from his bed The great sun clambered red; His gleams lit up the lances and the banners of the foe; The cohorts clambered sealing our doom beyond repealing; Behind our boulders kneeling e hurled out lead below. Many a bastard there Of that dark band Clutched with a nerveless hand The mocking air. Man after man, one by one Dropped in the eye of the sun To the crack of the ball; Reeled from the sombre cliff Grim and stiff, And the river below drank his fall. Two men—and we laughed and we swore In the fringer of the rifle smoke's plume, Twomen—and we laughed at the roar Of a whole army bringing our doom. And our rifles stammered and yammered, Carving the air with red laces Till our powder was burning their faces As up to our muzzles they clambered. You rose, And you jeered— In the beard Of our foes You hurled gold. And some of them clutched it with screams, and some in the clutching grew cold. And you roared to the horde: "Here's the price of Hell's thunder!" And the leap of your sword Rent a bosom a-sunder. I swung up the stock Of my empty gun And the crash and the shock Broke the brains out of one. Then smoke veiled the sun And blood, cliff and rock. A reeking red carpet we made and we laid With the crash of my gun and the slash of your blade. Bullets jerked at us, Knives stung; Sword points dirked at us, Gun stocks swung. Like reddened leopards we sprung. And they forced us back to the lip of the pass that over the river hung. We were blackened with powder, Red with blood Ever louder we heard the flood. Your blade was a shard on a battered hilt, Your grip slipped on the blood you'd split. From my rifle the splintered stock was rent And the barrel was twisted, burst and bent. The last charge came—fierce faces rose To go blank under our last great blows. Flame in our faces waved its sheet And we felt the gulf yawn under our feet... Roaring our final oaths we fell And crashed together into Hell.