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
