O Hyperborea, thy Sorcerous mysteries

Are fated to remain past thine alloted time, 

And bards shall celebrate thy fame in song and rhyme,

Chanting the vanished splendors of thy legendries.

Then shall thy high-spired cities lie beneath cold seas -

Cerngoth, Leqquan, tall-towered Oggon-Zhai sublime,

Whence broad-sailed  barques once ventured forth to every clime

From Muvian shores to far and fair Antillian keys.

 

Few shall recall those austral, lush Riphean Hills

North of whose slopes Commoriom in vine-clutched death

Slumbers for aye, nor grim and dark Voormithadreth,

King of the high Eiglophian peaks, whence icy rills

Once flowed through caverns black where now the Old Ones lie,

Awaiting that new Day when even death may die.

 

THE END.