Classic Poem

His outstretched hands did next forgiveness seek
Of one who long had prayed
This hour to see.
With hands close clasp'd, no words the knight essayed;
In tears he quenched a life-long enmity.
Thus did the Saxon's love triumphant vengeance wreak!

Then last, though not the least who'd borne the cross
And bravely gone to die
In flower of youth,
Young Eric caught the knight's atoning sigh,
Who joined his hands with those of faithful Ruth
Thus triumphed faith and love o'er pain and death and loss.

And what of him whose kind and skilful care
Had saved the life of three?
Forget they him?
Not so! a gracious pardon, full and free,
With thankful joy they bear to dungeons grim;
And one more doomed to die from death's fierce grip they tear.