| From the mist evolved the face as old as the soil itself
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| The emperor time yearning inwardly for the fallen realms
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| Deplore what once the pillars were of monuments now gone
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| To the skies I raise my summons of the cancelled ones
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| The ancient woods joined the choir of bemoaning shades
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| The oldest oak bent before the blood from earth’s entrails
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| Scattered funeral stars as thousand shrines of fallen glory
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| Thirst of the herd has forced the noble souls into mourning
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| The elders exiled to sail the immerse seas
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| Towards the cold vast caverns of retirement
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| On bereaved hills the gleaming advance temples grew
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| Yet mouldering straightways as ours never did
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| A dissolution overture proceeds
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| Clear within hearing in the darkening halls
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| Hateful scent announces the final
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| Approaching of grim death’s harvest
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| Frayed banners risen
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| Heralds of descension of the evening mist
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| The ancient forestland wells of wise lure
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| Once overwhelmed by the giant boulders
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| Emerge in the night’s afterglow as a tide of might
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| Rebirth of heathen hammers
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| A precious guest for a lost wisdom
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| Honour, strength, the disturbing swords of compassion failure
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| Spirit, pride, the phantoms of shallow inferior infamy
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| Could the sea turn abounding in springs
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| For the rivers flowing towards their wells
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| Thus regain the empires bygone of long
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| Even unveil the horizon heretofore lost |