I see the wolves gathered on the hill
And the carrion birds that fly
Etched against the (witching) moon
I was a string in Apollo's lyre
I was the sword in a warrior's hand
I was the crown on an emperor's brow
I was the seal on a sorcerer's heart
I saw the glory of Atlantis fall—the jeweled spires that would gleam no more
I saw the grandeur that once was Greece—its crumbling walls I now call my home
I see a woman crying on my mound—she has been lover and homeland to me:
Alas! I know I will not see her again—the kingdom of the shades is my home
Where the Sidhe play mournful tunes
Where the sea is black, without a shore
Where meadows are strewn with ash