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  <node>
    <title>Ferg023</title>
    <Collections>Conary</Collections>
    <Contributor>Linen Hall Library</Contributor>
    <Coverage>1880</Coverage>
    <Creator>Linen Hall Library</Creator>
    <Date>Saturday, March 12, 2016</Date>
    <Format>TIFF</Format>
    <Identifier>Ferg023</Identifier>
    <ItemDescription>Manuscript</ItemDescription>
    <Keywords>Brooch, Comrades, Brave</Keywords>
    <Language>English</Language>
    <Path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/ferg023</Path>
    <Publisher>Linen Hall Library</Publisher>
    <Relation>Linen Hall Library</Relation>
    <Rights>Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA</Rights>
    <Scannedimage>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Ferg023_2.jpg</Scannedimage>
    <Source>LHL Archive</Source>
    <Transcript>﻿&quot; The onset shall be given, unless the heavens
Fall solid on us ! &quot; answered Ger and Gel.
&quot; The onset shall be given ! &quot; replied they all
Then Lomna, — laying his brooch upon the heap, —
&quot; Who first returns — but I shall not return —
To take his stone again, take also this ;
And, for the rest of what my sword has gained,
Share it among you. I forgive you all,
And bid you all farewell ; for nothing now
Remains for me but death : &quot; and with the word
He struck his dagger in his heart, and fell. 

&quot; Kings, lords, and men of war,&quot; said Ferragon,
&quot; Comrades till now, the man whose body lies
Before us, though we used to call him fool
Because his heart was softer and his speech
More delicate than ours, I now esteem
Both wise and brave, and noble in his death
He spoke me truly, for he knew my heart
Unspoken, when he said &#039;twas not through fear
Of death I spoke dissuading ; but through fear
Of conscience : but your hearts I better knew
Leaving unspoken what was in my own ;
For well indeed I knew how vain it were
To talk of pity, love, or tenderness
To bloody-minded and to desperate men.
Therefore I told you, and I told you true
What loss to reckon of your wretched lives.
Entering this dragons&#039; den ; but did not tell
The horror and the anguish sharp as death
In my own bosom entering as I knew
The pictured presence of each faithful friend,
And of that sire revered, ye now consign
To massacre and bloody butchery.
And that &#039;twas love that swayed me, and not fear.
Take this for proof : &quot; and drew and slew himself. 
</Transcript>
    <Type>Text</Type>
  </node>
</>
