The Tempter, looking on the War,
Was troubled by its turn,
For fiery grew the Faithful Ones
And fiery swords they bore
That made cold hearts again to burn
Or cut them to the core.

But heat is lost in winter air
And ice melts in the sun.
Likewise, in time, the fires grew dim
While coldness grew more fair.
By flirting with the other one
Each lost its chill or flare,

Until, at last, you could not tell
The Living from the Dead.
The Light and Dark were lost in Gloom;
And, from the road to Hell,
The Tempter smiled at this, and said,
'I fought that battle well.'