“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.