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Covered were the dead with clouds,
Dread mist passed o'er their former glory,
Under shadows of his cross,
Foundations weep, for kinsmen fallen.
Wounding men with sharpened blades,
Then did they lay down the weary,
Strong in might but weak in spirit,
They stood their souls beheld!
Gone now are a kinfolk slaughtered,
That men may heal and rise again,
To stand as towers under the heavens,
Hardened through the scars of loss!
Now warrior cries are distant echoes,
Their corpses cold and passed away,
Enlightened men, of new resolve,
That cross of old, with true blows fell!
But let we now as folk acknowledge,
Those brave men whose hand and heart,
A homeland, gathered strength to honour,
But wills of evil tore apart!
In their name we give remembrance,
A sepulchre of stone we guild,
(Keepers of stories untold)
Our hands we raise in gentle union,
Our futures now we shall rebuild!

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The Divination Of Antiquity


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