Nocturnal spectre, supernal aggressor,
cast thyself down to the marshlands below.
Yan! Tan! Tethera!
Though, be hesitant not,
for I shall lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
where the Dacre Beasts prowl,
petrified, though still steadfast eternal,
in the realm of the elder lore.
Where blackthorn once rested and heather grew thick,
the cold stones of Lacra gaze down at us yet..
Glacial troughs carve pastures by the river,
white-vested wizards lay upon forlorn moors.
Condensed from the dew, the dry-stone cradle to majesty incarnate,
old monuments cherish the essence of Thule.