In trance I hail a son of light
Woe stings my lord; the fire deer quake.
Vile, grey men seize his box long prized
to drift in time and rouse The Beast.
Zel gilds iron horns with ten sky jewels
a red beam scalds fair tribes of grace
runes blaze on hearts bound fast in coves
A wolf pack snarls; it rends the saint.
