When, in the course of time spells growing weak
so loose the binding of the lord of night,
who stirs. While one eyed in the hall yet sleeps.
Shall thought and mem'ry from his throne take flight.
They, swift of wing, across the sea of dreams.
They, pinioned black, nightwing between the stars,
(where nothing is as nothing often seems),
to wake again the sleeping god of war.
Who, sharp beaked bird of prey, of iron will,
with eye of gold and talon silver sharp,
dreams. Perched upon the world tree Yggdrasil.
She, queen of night, who rules the pearl starred dark.
Then will she wake, to hunt the one who sees,
guard guide the seer to seek the hidden key.
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