Chapter_208

2 0 00

The cloud lay on the nearest mountaintop

As from a giant’s chimney smoking there,

But Dymer took no heed. Sometimes he’d stop,

Sometimes he hurried faster, as despair

Pricked deeper, and cried out: “Even now, somewhere,

Bran with his crew’s at work. They rack, they burn,

And there’s no help in me. I’ve served their turn.”