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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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