Night on bleak downs; a high grass-grown trench runs athwart the slope. The earthwork is manned by warriors clad in hides. Two warriors, BRYS and GAST, talking.
What shall we do for Love these days? How shall we make an altar-blaze To smite the horny eyes of men With the renown of our Heaven, And to the unbelievers prove Our service to our dear god, Love?...
We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee, As th'u, L've, were the d'ep th'ught And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we, Thy fires of thought out-spoken: ...