Wars of great kings and clash of armouries   Whose swords no man could tell, whose spears   Were numerous as wheat field's ears   Rolled over all the great lands, and seas   Were loud with navies, their devouring fires   Behind the armies burned both fields and towns   And sacked and crumbled or to flaming pyres   Were cities made, where treasuries and crowns   Kings and their folk, their wives and tender maids   Were all consumed. Now silent are those courts   Ruined the towers, whose old shape slowly fades   And no feet pass beneath their broken ports   I need no call of clamant bell that rings   Iron tongued in the towers of earthly kings   Take a ride on, ride on,   on your rotting horse   on that deadly ground   Take a ride, ride on,   on your rotting horse   with a pounding sound.   Here on the stones and trees there lies a spell   Of unforgotten loss, of memories more blest   than mortal wealth.   Here undefeated dwell the fog immortal   under withered elmes,   Alalminore one in ancient realms