"Sharp words we had before the fight; But--now the fight is done-- Look, here's my hand," said the Victor bold, "Take it--an honest one! What, holding back? I mean you well; Though worsted, you strove stoutly, man; The odds were great; I honor you; Man honors man. "Still silent, friend? can grudges be? Yet am I held a foe?-- Turned to the wall, on his cot he lies-- Never I'll leave him so! Brave one! I here implore your hand; Dumb still? all fellowship fled? Nay, then, I'll have this stubborn hand" He snatched it--it was dead.