The valley of judg'ment
The forest of olde
Where'd come the dread presence
So knowne afore
Thou, who hath risen the oracle of lyes
Hast thou witnes'd a shepherd feed on his flocke?
The virtues of loss
The hymnes of decay
Dost thou have faith now
O dearest friend
And dost thou now doubt truth
To be a liar?
Or dost thou doubt lie
In thy promythian rage?
Whence came thine yoke
Of grande tradition?
Hast thou now not seen
The structure clear?
Alas, 'tis the world without end!
A quenchlesse fire
A nest of trembling feare
A path that leads to perill, sorrow and despaire
The virtues of loss
The hymnes of decay
Dost thou have faith now
O dearest friend
Alas, 'tis the world without end!