No dying man could have
Lived through Durning Malk,
But hard Silvess Goring did.
Crawled away though he
Should not,
Salvation on him hid.
Shackles, blood, eternal night,
Tied to ice and stone.
Wrists afire on sharp, wet mire,
A Tribute martyr lay.
Pebble, stone and rock,
The Ocean’s freezing mist,
On shivering man sprayed.
And when dawn and
Murderers returned,
Silvess Goring had gone away.