Excerpt from "The Last Hero," by G.K. Cheserton

"The wind blew out from Bergen
To the dawning of the day,
They ride and race with fifty spears
To break and bar my way.
I shall not die alone, alone,
But kin to all the powers,
As merry as the ancient sun
And fighting like the flowers.
How white their steel, how bright their eyes!
I Love each laughing knave,
Cry high and bid him welcome to
The banquet of the brave.
Yea, I will bless them as they bend
And love them where they lie,
When on their skulls the sword I swing
Falls shattering from the sky.
The hour when death is like a light
And blood is like a rose-
You have never loved your friends, my friends,
As I shall love my foes!

Know you what you shall lose this night,
What rich uncounted loans,
What heavy gold of tales untold
You bury with my bones,
My loves in deep dim meadows,
My ships that rode at ease,
Ruffling the purple plumage of strange and secret seas?
To see this fair earth as it stands,
To me alone was given -
The blow that breaks my brow tonight
Shall break the dome of heaven.
The skies I saw, the trees I saw,
After, no eye shall see,
Tonight I die the death of God -
The stars shall die with me!
One sound shall sunder all the spears,
And break the trumpet's breath -
You never laughed in all your life,
As I shall laugh in death!"