The Rotting Horse On The Deadly Ground

Wars of great kings and clash of armouries

Whose swords no man could tell, whose spears

Were numerous as wheat field's ears

Rolled over all the great lands, and seas

Were loud with navies, their devouring fires

Behind the armies burned both fields and towns

And sacked and crumbled or to flaming pyres

Were cities made, where treasuries and crowns

Kings and their folk, their wives and tender maids

Were all consumed. Now silent are those courts

Ruined the towers, whose old shape slowly fades

And no feet pass beneath their broken ports

I need no call of clamant bell that rings

Iron tongued in the towers of earthly kings

Take a ride on, ride on,

on your rotting horse

on that deadly ground

Take a ride, ride on,

on your rotting horse

with a pounding sound.

Here on the stones and trees there lies a spell

Of unforgotten loss, of memories more blest

than mortal wealth.

Here undefeated dwell the fog immortal

under withered elmes,

Alalminore one in ancient realms