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A Hostile Fate (The Wayfarer Pt. 4) - text

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But lo, the exile beseeches,
He who art mournful of voice
The summer's bright warden to sing,
And so the harshness of frost dispel.
Yet sorrows announce, bitter of heart,
Eroding of life, a hostile fate,
A spirit as the sea-flood, wide,
A distant, pale sun fades for he.
Fallen is now this spleandour all,
Joys are broken, passed away,
The weaker remain, hold in this world,
Wax old and sere, age comes for him.
Yet sorrows announce, bitter of heart,
Eroding of life, a hostile fate,
A spirit as the sea-flood, wide,
A distant, pale sun fades for he.
Those yearned for he grieves, long of day,
And knows his friends of old, in earth decayed,
The sons of noble ones,
Are to the earth.
The sons of noble ones,
Are to the earth enshrined.
May not his body then, when life erodes,
Pain feel, nor withered hand move,
Nor shall his mind race to the dawn,
But may absolution come.

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