"Sharp words we had before the fight;
But--now the fight is done--
Look, here's my hand," said the Victor bold,
"Take it--an honest one!
What, holding back? I mean you well;
Though worsted, you strove stoutly, man;
The odds were great; I honor you;
Man honors man.

"Still silent, friend? can grudges be?
Yet am I held a foe?--
Turned to the wall, on his cot he lies--
Never I'll leave him so!
Brave one! I here implore your hand;
Dumb still? all fellowship fled?
Nay, then, I'll have this stubborn hand"
He snatched it--it was dead.