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- "The seas, they're... they're whispering!" |
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The black sun rises over the northern sky |
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Our prow breaks the ice before us |
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The sea below lies stagnant, its foetid breath the air of dead men. |
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Their eyes stare up at us, pleading to join them |
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The icy grave melts under the foul mist, poisoned wind from the east |
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The final judgment of dead races past. |
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Ravens bite at their flesh, and spit it back out into the mire |
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To join their parasitic host again. |
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Worse fates await those who defile their blood and honour |
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Look to the farthest northern shores |
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Beyond Cronia, beyond the sea, beyond your dreams |
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To the frozen throne, where he awaits. |
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"And they passed the Scythian archers, and the Tauri who eat men, |
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And the wandering Hyperboreai, who feed their flocks beneath the pole-star, |
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Until they came into the northern ocean, the dull dead Cronian Sea." |
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-- Charles Kingsley "The Heroes" (1856) |
