By Hook Or By Crook This Peril

Strife And Confusion Joined The Fight, Along With Cruel Death, Who Seized One Wounded Man While Still Alive And Then Another Man Without A Wound, While Pulling The Feet Of One More Corpse Out From The Fight. The Clothes Death Wore Around Her Shoulders Were Dyed Red With Human Blood.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.

He Lives Not Long Who Battles With The Immortals, Nor Do His Children Prattle About His Knees When He Has Come Back From Battle And The Dread Fray.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows; One Should Our Interests And Our Passions Be, My Friend Must Hate The Man That Injures Me.

The Lord Gives And The Lord Takes Away, As It Pleases Him, For He Can Do All Things.