Great kings have arisen in the hollow depths of time,
They shall fall as well in ashen, ruined fields of crimson.
So majestic shall be their fall, to be held in the hymns of
nomadic Elven bards...
Great kings shall be crowneth in golden halls by their kin,
They shall be lamented by them as well, buried with their
swords, autumn scented.
So loud shall be thy mourning, to be heard and echoed amid
tombs of Dwarven lords...

A new dawn may not be witnessed, until the unholy shall
falleth-
Or all shall crumble to ashes, engulfed with eternal
night...
A spear and a sword shall shine, a cleric's prayer must be
sayeth.
Blood forged with steel, spell cast with wrath- may those
hold our boldness and might...

Man's sword, Dwarven axe, Elven bow. May those protect us
from the tainted.
Fury of nature has cleared the path for winter's winds.
Thy grief has brought velvet heavens, enshrouded with azure,
blossom scented.
Upon whom thy fury doth smile? Thou shall forsake all our
sins...

May we feel once again thy nocturnal embrace, Our Beloved.
May a pale moon's silhouettes veil thy sacred lands...
May every man find his destined betrothed.
May showers of heavenly light spread thy golden strands...
May a rising star heal thy ruins of sorrow,
May it's silvery frost cloak thy throne like nightfall's
wreath.
As the newborn tread upon the path of light, they shall
follow.
Thy king has arisen once again, to redeem us from death...