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In a portrait of evil and beauty, sneers she, Empress of ravens and owls By a firmament flourished of darkness she's adorned with nettle and thorns Throned'neath the fiery deluge, the tears you once wept Then turned to tongues of flames under Samael's spell Thou givest to the prescribed that disdainful glance Wich damns the crowd gathered around the scaffold With branches as frame Artemis navigates the night While the horizon thou scan nigh the Duke of Rains Laid onto meads of decrepitude are crying the Legions of Pride "Non Servian!" "Tough wind, that moanest loud grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud knells all the night long; Sad storm , whose tears are vain, bare woods whose branches strain; Deep caves and dreary main, wait for the world's wrong!" From Letras Mania