Must I accept the barren Gift?-learn death, and lose my Mastery?Then let them know whose blood and breathwill take the Gift and set them free: whose is the voice and whose the mindto set at naught the well-sung Game-when finned Finality arrivesand calls me by my secret Name. Not old enough to love as yet, but old enough to die, indeed--the death-fear bites my throat and heart, fanged cousin to the Pale One's breed. But past the fear lies life for all-perhaps for me: and, past my dread, past loss of Mastery and life, the Sea shall yet give up Her dead!Lone Power, I accept your Gift!Freely I make death a part of me; By my accept it is boundinto the lives of all the Sea-yet what I do now binds to ita gift I feel of equal worth: I take Death with me, out of Time, and make of it a path, a birth!Let the teeth come! As they tear me, they tear Your ancient hate for aye--so rage, proud Power! Fail again, and see my blood teach Death to die!
Blood in the water I sing, and one who shed it: deadliest hunger I sing, and one who fed it- weaving the ancient-most tale of the Sea's sending: singing the tragedy, singing the joy unending This is our shame- this is the whole Ocean's glory: this is the Song of the Twelve. Hark to the story! Hearken, and bring it to pass: swift lest the sorrow long ago laid to it's rest devour us tomarrow!