1. Those gardens when deserted by their folk
Find naught but shade and sheltering nook;

2. Their roses flashed as the morn's smile broke,
The streams ran singing round each lawn and brook.

3. The warriors looked. Their glances on them fed,
As each felt shame to see his comrade's head

4. Bowed earthward, shame to meet the eyes that said:
"This garden'sfigsize shall thee recompense."

5. Oft had the voices of the thickets led
Their hands to reap the vines ere well awake;

6. Now from sleep roused to hardest toil they sped,
To fill the baskets of the vintager.

7. He scorned their yielding, he of lion's tread,
Yet spared them, for he knew his Lord abhorred

8. All bloodshed and was of the righteous bred.
Else had his hands in carnage quickened

9. To waves that bore the drifting bodies red
Of all his foes; and sorrow swift and sore

10. Were the worst lot of those who lived and fled.
Nay, like Hell's fuel in his grasp flamed red