Summoning
caradhras
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When winter winds are piercing chill,
and through the hawthorn blows the gale,
with solemn feet i tread the peak,
that overbrows the mountains vale.
Redhorn; my doom!
Where twisted round the barren oak,
the winter vine in beauty clung,
and howling winds the stillness broke,
the crystal icicle is hung.
Redhorn; my doom!
But still wild music is abroad,
pale, desert woods! within your crowd;
and gathering winds, in hoarse accord,
amid the vocal reeds pipe loud.
High upon the land,
on the highest (mountain) peak i hear
(the echoes of) the world profound.
- Album:
- Old Mornings Dawn
- The Demon Tapes … Anno Mortui Domini 1959-1961
- Miscellaneous
- Let Mortal Heroes Sing Your Fame
- Nightshade Forests (EP)
- Minas Morgul
- Dol Guldur
- Symphonic Metal VII: Dark & Beautiful
- Napalm Records All Stars
- Symphonic Metal
- Stronghold
- Napalm Records: With Us or Against Us, Volume VIII
- Orkus Compilation 18
- The Realm of Napalm Records
- With Doom We Come
- Lugburz
- Lost Tales
- Primal Rock
- Oath Bound
- The Urilia Text