For Hostile Word Let Hostile Word Be

I Warn The Marauder Dragging Plunder, Chaotic, Rich Beyond All Rights: He'll Strike His Sails, Harried At Long Last, Stunned When The Squalls Of Torment Break His Spars To Bits.

Of All The Gods, Death Only Craves Not Gifts: Nor Sacrifice, Nor Yet Drink-offering Poured Avails; No Altars Hath He, Nor Is Soothed By Hymns Of Praise. From Him Alone Of All The Powers Of Heaven Persuasion Holds Aloof.

Fear Hurries On My Tongue Through Want Of Courage.

Self-will In The Man Who Does Not Reckon Wisely Is By Itself The Weakest Of All Things.

When A Man's Willing And Eager The God's Join In.