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The carriage finally arrives at its destination. |
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Our main character talks to a villigian of the region. |
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From the deepest valleys to the highest mountain peaks which the sun caress with care. |
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Carpathia! |
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All hail to thee! |
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Thy beauty is beyond compare... |
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When the soft white shrouds of morning dew lay down on the meadows green, |
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Thy prais is due, but keep thy poetry for the night you haven't seen |
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For when the sun doth set in |
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Carpathia... |
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And the worm that gnaws the grave, crawls hence forth from gulf and cave |
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And when the moon doth rise in |
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Carpathia... |
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Then the creature leaves the lair and the ghost is on the stair |
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For there is no such beauty in the morning light |
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Nor in the later hours of day |
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As when darkness fell in the deep pine woods |
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And the wolves go hunt their prey! |
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Ah, you should hear the sweet sullen song |
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Of the nightbirds call to the moon |
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And the glorious howling sound of the wind |
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In the wastes and all places marooned |
